Just a quick update:
I never finished Heart of Darkness nor would I recommend anyone to read it in this day in age. I give myself a gold star on my fridge for trying. I made it to page 60 yet only managed to grasp the most superficial and vague idea of what the plot may or may not be about.
Embarrassing part:
I was reporting my failure back to my mother and Sean and in a passing comment about the book I saw their faces freeze. They then approached the conversation carefully. I simply said that the book reminded me too much of Apocalypse Now and how silly that this Kurtz man is so sought after and mysterious EXACTLY like Marlon Brando.
Fact:
Apocalypse Now was based on the novella Heart of Darkness. They are so similar because they are the same story. The movie has just been set in an more recent war.
Result:
Sean thought I was using incredible wit to create a very dry humor joke. His shame was all that remained when he realized the truth. Mum sheepishly corrected me - thanks Tips.
Near disaster:
If I had gone to book club and mentioned this silly "link" on Tuesday, I would have definitely been asked to leave and never return. Maggie would have cut up my library card then lit it on fire in front of me.
Crisis averted.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Return of the Mack or...Mr. Bond
Tomorrow is the long-anticipated and most-exciting return of Mr. Bond. You will all be happy to know I survived my week of abandonment independence with style and maturity-ish. I have become devishly addicted to the Hunger Games trilogy and spent many a free minute whizzing through the books. I have also spent the time working. Not as much fun, but still a worthwhile experience. That and worrying.
Worrying is in my blood. I am at several intersections of heritage that have led me to this life and if you look at where I came from, it's not hard to see why I spend much of my life worrying. Not that I have had a stressful life but I have been surrounded by worriers. My life has still been pleasant with my family, however I find most of my relatives are worriers and also Hungarians, which naturally brings them into mental loops of worry. Glenn Turner once said "worry is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do but it gets you no where." How true it is, as I have worried about everything in the past week and I am still exactly where I was before. Worrying is so common in my family that when I told my stepdad that I was writing a post on worrying, he emailed the quote that has been stuck to our family fridge since as long as I can remember. Worrying is somewhat similar to my high expectations - outlandish and unfounded. I don't worry that Bond won't have a warm enough jumper for the week, I worry that while swimming in the Sea, he somehow managed to be consumed by a shark.
Anyway, I anticipation of his return, I had to make sure my schedule would be clear tomorrow so I have had to complete all my lesson planning today. I spent all day working, yet have managed to not complete my lessons. I have been distracted by the hair on the carpet (THAT needed to be vacuumed), dust floating in a sunbeam (how beautiful and wonderful! I wonder, is the dust always floating like that or only in this beam of the sun...), the state of my eyebrows (this sunlight picks up the hairs on my face too), and obviously this blog. Now I must get back to devising a scheme for teaching 2-dimensional symmetry, maybe I will worry about how my distracted lesson planning will impact the future educational studies of my children...
Here is the family quote:
When you worry, you go over the same ground endlessly and come out the same place you started. Thinking makes progress from one place to another; worry remains static.
Walker, Harold B
Worrying is in my blood. I am at several intersections of heritage that have led me to this life and if you look at where I came from, it's not hard to see why I spend much of my life worrying. Not that I have had a stressful life but I have been surrounded by worriers. My life has still been pleasant with my family, however I find most of my relatives are worriers and also Hungarians, which naturally brings them into mental loops of worry. Glenn Turner once said "worry is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do but it gets you no where." How true it is, as I have worried about everything in the past week and I am still exactly where I was before. Worrying is so common in my family that when I told my stepdad that I was writing a post on worrying, he emailed the quote that has been stuck to our family fridge since as long as I can remember. Worrying is somewhat similar to my high expectations - outlandish and unfounded. I don't worry that Bond won't have a warm enough jumper for the week, I worry that while swimming in the Sea, he somehow managed to be consumed by a shark.
Anyway, I anticipation of his return, I had to make sure my schedule would be clear tomorrow so I have had to complete all my lesson planning today. I spent all day working, yet have managed to not complete my lessons. I have been distracted by the hair on the carpet (THAT needed to be vacuumed), dust floating in a sunbeam (how beautiful and wonderful! I wonder, is the dust always floating like that or only in this beam of the sun...), the state of my eyebrows (this sunlight picks up the hairs on my face too), and obviously this blog. Now I must get back to devising a scheme for teaching 2-dimensional symmetry, maybe I will worry about how my distracted lesson planning will impact the future educational studies of my children...
Here is the family quote:
When you worry, you go over the same ground endlessly and come out the same place you started. Thinking makes progress from one place to another; worry remains static.
Walker, Harold B
Monday, March 5, 2012
My Heart of Darkness
I have made it another day! Although today was altogether uneventful. I have begun Heart of Darkness for my book club which meets next week and I am not sure why I have agreed to this torture. I sadly left the novel to the last minute so reading it coupled with my isolation is enough to make me start to rock in a corner.
As a teacher, I push my children to focus, be better, learn more, and cram as much knowledge into them as I can before they fly off into the world of...year 3. However sometimes, I catch myself becoming one of them and I wonder why I am so demanding of their little minds. As adults we forget what it is like to read, write, or do anything that is beyond our capabilities. It is not like anyone is currently forcing me to complete an algebraic calculation or solve for x. Adults choose what they succeed at to continue doing for the rest of their lives. For books, if we don't like a novel for whatever reason, we put it down and choose another one. I find more often than not, I put down a book because it is out of my grasp, not because it is bad writing. I will read any poorly written book (Twilight) as long as it has a gripping storyline (Twilight), and an intense love affair (Twilight) usually between an immortal and a human (Twilight). However, throw me a copy of...well...Heart of Darkness, and I approach the book with resentment, boredom, and mind-wandering.
Children don't have the luxury adults have. I make them read nonfiction. I make them jump to the nearest ten before continuing to add the units. I make them research on sharks, light and dark, and insects. I of course don't have an issue with exposing them to things they might not be interested in or good at, I am all for that because you won't know what you like or what you are good at until you try it and practice makes perfect...there is also no I in team and absence makes the heart grow fonder, and any other cliche you want to throw in there.
I am just stating that sometimes we forget that a child might not be perfectly engaged when listening to the BFG because they don't friggen care. They may find Roald Dahl's made up words hard to decode and inaccessible. But it is adults that demand them to stay focused and try harder when it is something they would not expect of themselves. I am obviously not going to change what I teach the children because they drift off, but this new found awareness will make me call in to question how I teach certain topics and allow for some mental drifting without the harsh snap-out-of-its.
I do also now sympathize greatly with my teachers from the past and present and mostly my parents and my partner. I certainly wasn't and am not the easiest pupil but I am trying and isn't that what we also hope from our children? So back to the book. I read it because I know it is a significant piece of literature, but I do it with great turmoil. Averaging one page a fortnight isn't all that bad but it will be come Tuesday when Maggie asks my input on the author's take on good versus evil and the destructive nature of colonialism. Because after all, I may be a new generation of teacher but I guarantee Maggie is plain old school and I am sure I will get my knuckles rapped if I don't come up with the answer or if it starts to look like I am off with the fairies.
Here goes nothing. Zzzzzzzzzz
As a teacher, I push my children to focus, be better, learn more, and cram as much knowledge into them as I can before they fly off into the world of...year 3. However sometimes, I catch myself becoming one of them and I wonder why I am so demanding of their little minds. As adults we forget what it is like to read, write, or do anything that is beyond our capabilities. It is not like anyone is currently forcing me to complete an algebraic calculation or solve for x. Adults choose what they succeed at to continue doing for the rest of their lives. For books, if we don't like a novel for whatever reason, we put it down and choose another one. I find more often than not, I put down a book because it is out of my grasp, not because it is bad writing. I will read any poorly written book (Twilight) as long as it has a gripping storyline (Twilight), and an intense love affair (Twilight) usually between an immortal and a human (Twilight). However, throw me a copy of...well...Heart of Darkness, and I approach the book with resentment, boredom, and mind-wandering.
Children don't have the luxury adults have. I make them read nonfiction. I make them jump to the nearest ten before continuing to add the units. I make them research on sharks, light and dark, and insects. I of course don't have an issue with exposing them to things they might not be interested in or good at, I am all for that because you won't know what you like or what you are good at until you try it and practice makes perfect...there is also no I in team and absence makes the heart grow fonder, and any other cliche you want to throw in there.
I am just stating that sometimes we forget that a child might not be perfectly engaged when listening to the BFG because they don't friggen care. They may find Roald Dahl's made up words hard to decode and inaccessible. But it is adults that demand them to stay focused and try harder when it is something they would not expect of themselves. I am obviously not going to change what I teach the children because they drift off, but this new found awareness will make me call in to question how I teach certain topics and allow for some mental drifting without the harsh snap-out-of-its.
I do also now sympathize greatly with my teachers from the past and present and mostly my parents and my partner. I certainly wasn't and am not the easiest pupil but I am trying and isn't that what we also hope from our children? So back to the book. I read it because I know it is a significant piece of literature, but I do it with great turmoil. Averaging one page a fortnight isn't all that bad but it will be come Tuesday when Maggie asks my input on the author's take on good versus evil and the destructive nature of colonialism. Because after all, I may be a new generation of teacher but I guarantee Maggie is plain old school and I am sure I will get my knuckles rapped if I don't come up with the answer or if it starts to look like I am off with the fairies.
Here goes nothing. Zzzzzzzzzz
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Peaks and Valleys
Anyone who knows me, knows my emotions tend to peak and valley more than Frodo's route to Mordor. With age I have gained the wisdomosity to recognise when they will be valleying, which is of course a great step. They always say the first step is admitting you have a problem. Well done. Now what to do with that information.
First of all things that I now know set me off:
- loud noises
- bad smells
- crowded spaces
- disappointment
- shattered expectations (which goes hand-in-hand with my "problem" of setting extraordinary expectations, leading to my hopes always being shattered. For example a typical night out would result in a daydream of starting the dancing on the dancefloor, being watched while I complete an outrageous routine in a circle - usually involving several others joining in to my steps, being signed to a dance team, and as a result hosting SNL...it could happen.)
- douchebaggery
- snarky comments - from others, never my own
- hunger
- not being able to get a hold of someone by either phone, text, email
- negative feedback
That is a small list considering some people are set off by women in the work force...right?
One of my moment's of revelation was when I worked at a call centre and boss made all the supervisors take a personality test as a part of team building. We all found our results dead ringers of who we were and I was quite pleased with mine until I got to the second last comment "often plagued by dark thoughts, if you hear 99 positive comments and 1 negative, the 1 will stick in your head to fester." The test was overall positive and things I happily related to, but this one seemed to just stay in my mind. I turned it over and over in my mind and made a list of my so-called "dark thoughts." What a bullshit test.
Anyway, I have come up with several coping mechanisms to overcome my mini-rages such as
- watching episodes of Seinfeld (this is interesting to mention that this is opposite for my mother. In fact, this could be added to her list of things that set her off. One day I was home sick on a day that coincided with one of her mornings off. Just as my mum was about to sit down - cheeks centimetres hovering over the couch, I flicked to an episode of Seinfeld and she sprang back up like a Jack in the Box. She unleashed a slew of curses and refused to watch such "infuriating garbage" and if I didn't turn it she would withhold love from me from the rest of the morning. My mother feels very similar to South Park)
- reading - fiction, non-fiction can never break me from a funk, who wants to get out of their mood by reading about other people's struggles? Not me.
- writing
- dancing to Whitney Houston's I wanna dance with somebody...RIP
- looking at pictures of baby animals particularly kittens, puppies, pandas, piglets, and rodents (odd choice, I know, but have you seen a baby mouse? You are dead inside if you don't at least let out a sigh)
- speaking to my family and Mr. Bond - obv
I have recently been put to the ultimate test of emotional strength and positivity. My partner in crime, Mr. Bond has ventured to the lovely Mauritius for a work trip. Now before you start to groan, I want to clarify I am a fiercely independent person - I live in England away from all my family and friends for Christmas sake, so give me some credit. As I look out the window of my London flat, I think I recognise one of the emotions at play - jealousy. Bond has already messaged that he is starting to tan while I am here with my British tan (white as snow) and looking at a Spring grey sky.
I am also nearly in complete isolation this weekend. I spent a lovely Friday night with my closest friends in London and had a fabulous time but I needed to return to the flat to lesson plan and get back to life. The weather and workload are keeping me from exploring the city but now I know why solitary confinement is a severe punishment in prisons. I have begun to scratch out a daily tally chart on the wall with my fingernails and I swear Pinkball is following me with her eyes. I will play a game of monopoly with her later to make sure she stays happy enough to not kill me in my sleep.
Coupled with my beginning insanity, I do generally miss Mr. Bond as he is very fit. And funny. Oh and I do generally love him. Also, I am beginning to starve as he does cook the majority of the meals to ensure my bones don't crumble by the age of 30, my teeth stay in my skull, and I have something called an "immune system" to fight "sickness". I have begun to boil and chew my shoe leather as I saw it in an episode of Due South once.
I have begun to notice a slight shift in my positivity and I believe I might, just might, be heading for a valley. In preparation I have made my desktop a picture of a baby piglet, purchased the Hunger Games trilogy, made a Whitney playlist consisting of I wanna dance with somebody, and planned out a rigorous skype schedule. I am also writing this blog daily to see how I do. Check back daily to see if Pinkball has locked me in the bathroom and supplied me with only my wellies for a meal.
Now for a cheer-you-up, take a gander at what I mean:
Baby badger. Awww
First of all things that I now know set me off:
- loud noises
- bad smells
- crowded spaces
- disappointment
- shattered expectations (which goes hand-in-hand with my "problem" of setting extraordinary expectations, leading to my hopes always being shattered. For example a typical night out would result in a daydream of starting the dancing on the dancefloor, being watched while I complete an outrageous routine in a circle - usually involving several others joining in to my steps, being signed to a dance team, and as a result hosting SNL...it could happen.)
- douchebaggery
- snarky comments - from others, never my own
- hunger
- not being able to get a hold of someone by either phone, text, email
- negative feedback
That is a small list considering some people are set off by women in the work force...right?
One of my moment's of revelation was when I worked at a call centre and boss made all the supervisors take a personality test as a part of team building. We all found our results dead ringers of who we were and I was quite pleased with mine until I got to the second last comment "often plagued by dark thoughts, if you hear 99 positive comments and 1 negative, the 1 will stick in your head to fester." The test was overall positive and things I happily related to, but this one seemed to just stay in my mind. I turned it over and over in my mind and made a list of my so-called "dark thoughts." What a bullshit test.
Anyway, I have come up with several coping mechanisms to overcome my mini-rages such as
- watching episodes of Seinfeld (this is interesting to mention that this is opposite for my mother. In fact, this could be added to her list of things that set her off. One day I was home sick on a day that coincided with one of her mornings off. Just as my mum was about to sit down - cheeks centimetres hovering over the couch, I flicked to an episode of Seinfeld and she sprang back up like a Jack in the Box. She unleashed a slew of curses and refused to watch such "infuriating garbage" and if I didn't turn it she would withhold love from me from the rest of the morning. My mother feels very similar to South Park)
- reading - fiction, non-fiction can never break me from a funk, who wants to get out of their mood by reading about other people's struggles? Not me.
- writing
- dancing to Whitney Houston's I wanna dance with somebody...RIP
- looking at pictures of baby animals particularly kittens, puppies, pandas, piglets, and rodents (odd choice, I know, but have you seen a baby mouse? You are dead inside if you don't at least let out a sigh)
- speaking to my family and Mr. Bond - obv
I have recently been put to the ultimate test of emotional strength and positivity. My partner in crime, Mr. Bond has ventured to the lovely Mauritius for a work trip. Now before you start to groan, I want to clarify I am a fiercely independent person - I live in England away from all my family and friends for Christmas sake, so give me some credit. As I look out the window of my London flat, I think I recognise one of the emotions at play - jealousy. Bond has already messaged that he is starting to tan while I am here with my British tan (white as snow) and looking at a Spring grey sky.
I am also nearly in complete isolation this weekend. I spent a lovely Friday night with my closest friends in London and had a fabulous time but I needed to return to the flat to lesson plan and get back to life. The weather and workload are keeping me from exploring the city but now I know why solitary confinement is a severe punishment in prisons. I have begun to scratch out a daily tally chart on the wall with my fingernails and I swear Pinkball is following me with her eyes. I will play a game of monopoly with her later to make sure she stays happy enough to not kill me in my sleep.
Coupled with my beginning insanity, I do generally miss Mr. Bond as he is very fit. And funny. Oh and I do generally love him. Also, I am beginning to starve as he does cook the majority of the meals to ensure my bones don't crumble by the age of 30, my teeth stay in my skull, and I have something called an "immune system" to fight "sickness". I have begun to boil and chew my shoe leather as I saw it in an episode of Due South once.
I have begun to notice a slight shift in my positivity and I believe I might, just might, be heading for a valley. In preparation I have made my desktop a picture of a baby piglet, purchased the Hunger Games trilogy, made a Whitney playlist consisting of I wanna dance with somebody, and planned out a rigorous skype schedule. I am also writing this blog daily to see how I do. Check back daily to see if Pinkball has locked me in the bathroom and supplied me with only my wellies for a meal.
Now for a cheer-you-up, take a gander at what I mean:
Baby badger. Awww
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