Have you ever read a play? Well, other than Death of a Salesman (Arthur Miller, 1949) or The Glass Menagerie (Tennessee Williams, 1944) ... because we've all read those, haven't we. Don't worry, I didn't make a mistake with the punctuation in my last sentence. It wasn't really a question, but more of a statement.
Have ever read a play, just for the experience ... like a book? Me either, until this past semester. But maybe we should be reading plays for interest because doing so can give you some real insight into theatre and the ways in which a story is told.
For instance, why would a writer choose to tell their story as a play instead of a novel? Or a short story? Or a poem? It's an interesting question ... one that bears some thought, if you are interested in literature.
In my Literary Criticism class, we studied a play called, Heroes and Saints. It is the story of a Mexican-American family dealing with the affects of pesticide poisoning in the 1980s. Although the family is fictional, the story came as a response to the events surrounding the United Farm Workers' grape boycott and 36-day fast of the Union's president, Cesar Chavez, in 1988. It is similar to the Erin Brockovich story, except that those affected by the poisoning were all immigrant farm workers. Children were dying from bizarre diseases, infants were stillborn, babies were born with limbs missing ... the pesticides were gravely affecting the workers and their families.
The opening scene is of a group of children, moving across a field, erecting a cross, and hanging a dead baby on it ... in a mock crucifixion. Not a word is spoken until the silence is broken by a helicopter as it moves across the night, showering the crops (and the nearby residents) with the deadly chemicals. Pretty powerful, huh? The ending is equally as moving and you will come to love the characters in between. Once you know Cerezita, you will NEVER forget her ... I promise you ...
Heroes and Saints is one of three plays in Cherrie Moraga's book, Heroes and Saints & Other Plays (1994). Although we only studied one play, I read all three. All three plays centre around Mexican-American families and the struggles they face. Moraga is described as a Chicana writer, a feminist activist, a essayist/poet/playwrite and a lesbian. Her writing tends to focus on issues faced by the Mexican-American, the family dynamic, Chicanas, homosexuality and the Mexican culture.
I thoroughly enjoyed these plays and wish I could see Heroes and Saints in a theatre. So, if you want to read a play - just for fun and enjoyment - pick up this book ... or you can borrow mine ...
My Dad borrowed them if you can believe it. He borrowed my History books ... the ones I was forced to read for school. Honestly ... what is wrong with him? He packed them up and took them to the beach in Florida ... I swear to you, it's true.
In the History of the World: Part 1 class that I took last semester, I was forced asked to read two books and then write a paper (on each) answering one of three questions posed by the professor. Sounds easy enough, doesn't it? Ha!
I just tried to look pretty.
On the first day of class, the professor showed the students pictures of famous leaders (of state) or historical figures that most people would/should be able to recognize. I could name maybe three of twenty. I know ... that's ridiculous ... Now, perhaps, you can understand why it was important for me to take a course like this. I don't know world history very well.
So, to cover up my stupidity, I tried to look my prettiest.
I was eager to read the book, Hitler (Kershaw, 1991). Who wouldn't be? I mean, Hitler is probably one of (if not) the most notorious figures in world history. Kershaw is OBSESSED with Adolph Hitler. He has written no less than ten books on him and the whole Nazi regime. I am not obsessed, but I am curious. Hitler is not a biography but a look at how a guy like Adolph Hitler came to be in such a great position of (world) power.
You might think that Hitler was a man of prestige and influence from an early age. But, he wasn't. In fact, he was utterly forgettable and had few friends. He wanted to attend art school but was denied entrance more than once; it devastated him and he was left searching for direction in his life. He joined an extremist political group, and to the surprise of even himself, Hitler had a gift for speaking to groups of people. He was inspiring and full of passion. And, so the Nazi party used him as a face to inspire support from the masses. He inspired people to do really, really bad things. It's just too bad that he didn't use his gift for public speaking for good instead of such evil.
So, the book was interesting ... but I would rather have been reading James Joyce's Ulysses - which I still have not read, by the way. Ugh.
Earlier in the semester, I read Great Leaps Forward by Cyrus Veeser (2010). It profiles four state leaders and the way(s) in which they attempted to modernize/industrialize their countries at the turn of the twentieth century. Porfirio Diaz of Mexico, Mustafa Kemal of Turkey, Emperor Menelik II of Ethiopia, and Sun Yat Sen of China each tried to modernize their country so it could remain competitive and powerful in the world market. But it was also important for them to maintain the culture and tradition of their people. For me, this book was mildly interesting ... but it really wasn't the book's fault. It's just that I would NEVER read this book out of interest ... did you hear that, Dad? Not ever ...
I would just try to look pretty.
And so, although I get to count them toward my self-imposed challenge, I am not sure that I can recommend them for reading pleasure. Unless you are a real history buff. Like my Dad. Maybe he would like to read my essays too?
At the end of the semester, the professor helped the class with an exam review by showing images of the historical leaders we had (supposedly) studied, along with some other key images we should have known ... like The Schlieffen Plan or the Tennessee Valley Authority. Do you know what The Schlieffen Plan is? No, of course you don't ... only a History Major has a handle on information such as this. Well, History Majors plus me, I guess ...
You want to know if I could identify more than three out of twenty images at the end of the semester, don't you? Of course, I could ... but I didn't know all of them.
So, I just sat quietly ... trying to look pretty.
Originally written in Oct/10, but not posted until now.
This has been a crazy week. In fact, the last six weeks have been crazy for me. It has taken some adjustment (by everyone) to get used to the idea of Jill Jones, University Student.
This past week I had one midterm, one quiz, and two essays due. So today, after I handed in the last essay, I decided that Addie C. and I should go out for lunch. To McDonald's, of course ... her favourite.
While we were eating, I asked her about school.
"So, Addie," I chatted, "are you still learning about apples at school?"
"Nope, that's all done now," she explained.
"Oh, I bet you'll talk about leaves soon," I told her, feeling fairly confident since I have been through the JK curriculum twice recently.
"Yeah, Mommy, we already do that," Addie told me. "It's called Fall."
"Oh, pardon me," I said. "I didn't realize you were so smart. I wonder if you'll go on a nature walk this year." I was sort of talking to myself, wondering if I could somehow swing tagging along as a parental helper.
"We already did that tomorrow," she informed me. Addie C. gets her "esterdays" mixed up with her tomorrows sometimes. "And me and Simone were partners. So we shared a bag and we go alot of leaves, too."
What? How could I not know about this?
This is what I have been afraid of.
There are things going on in my little girl's life that I don't know about. That I am not involved in. It's what I have been afraid of, and I was heartbroken.
When Caiden and Marnie were in JK, I dropped them off every day and picked them up every day. I talked to their teachers every day; I knew what was happening in the classrooms; I knew who was naughty and who was nice; and occasionally, I did things with the class.
But now, I am doing things in my own classroom. With my own classmates. It feels great being out there, back in the world, talking to people, learning new things. But sometimes I feel like I am missing out on the stuff with my own kids. Like the effortless chatter when they come through the door after school.
But I cannot just sit at home, in case something interesting happens at school, right? Or wait around with the hopes that I might get the chanve to help out on a nature walk. That would be crazy ...
But still, this is what I have been afraid of ...
"Come on, let's get a stir-fry," he said.
"Why?" she asked. "Let's get some pizza."
"I just want to eat something relatively healthy," he explained.
""What?" she said. "Do you think I am getting fat? Look at me. Do you think I am getting fat?"
"No," he answered.
"No, really," she pressed. "Do you think I've put on weight? Look at me."
"No, it's not about that," he said, getting frustrated. "It's about eating something with some nutritional value."
"Well, the only reason you need to worry about eating healthy is if you need to lose weight. So, you must think I need to lose weight."
He sighed, obviously frustrated.
"Listen, I ate at McDonald's AGAIN last night," he said. "And, I feel like shit. I just want some vegetables."
"Look at me," she demanded again. "Do I look like I need to worry about eating vegetables?"
A big sigh was (over)heard ....
This is a conversation I overheard standing in a food line in the University Centre. It made me chuckle for two reasons ... girls still have the same (body image) insecurities they did when I attended University twenty years ago, and the boy makes a good point about food options on a University Campus.
While the boy was right on point, the girl completely missed the point. The boy was concerned about health and not weight ... which was great to hear. He understands food as fuel for your body, and the importance of eating fresh food. The girl, unfortunately, was wrapped up in appearances.
As far as the choices available, I'm not really sure what could change or how to make it better. I mean, they are trying to make food for thousands of people ... there is no time to make large quantities from scratch. But what about a soup from scratch? With actual fresh vegies? Or a huge batch of fresh, homemade tomato sauce? Leftovers in the freezer?
Perhaps I am too ambitious. But I do agree with the young man in line behind me. Some fresh vegies would be nice.
There is a totally awesome fresh salad bar ... with a Southwest Salad that cannot be beat! So, if I lived on Campus, I would eat salad for lunch and dinner.
I wish girls did not have equate their worth with how they look. We have all done it, at one time or another. Fortunately for me, I have never had a weight problem ... yes, I know that I am lucky. This does not mean that I have always loved the way I looked. In fact, a couple of years ago, in a moment of self-(body)loathing, I checked out the BMI Index. I thought that it might inspire me to get my act together and get serious about eating healthy. And do you know what? My weight was in the healthy range for a woman of my height and age. And yet, I hated my body.
Women's bodies should not be skeletal. Bones do not need to be sticking out. And, skinny does not equal healthy. Do girls know this?
I say these things with caution because there is a large obesity problem in North America. No pun intended. People eat too much fast food, junk food and processed food. I have written about this many times.
When did food and eating become such a problem? Shouldn't it just be something you enjoy with some people you like? Guess not.
"Fine," she said. "I'll have a stir-fry. But I still don't think I need to."
Sigh ...
It is the same, but it is different, too. University, that is.
As I have mentioned before, the campus is mostly the same. Of course, many of the classrooms have been updated to accomodate the use of laptops ... which means there are electrical outlets at each desk space. The classrooms are equipped for multi-media presentations, and there is free wireless available in several buildings on campus.
For the most part, the students seem the same ... the geeks, the jocks, the artsy people, the cool chicks. Plus those guys who you know will get kicked out after the first semester... They all wear jeans and t-shirts, just like in the late '80s. Pretty much anything casual goes ... I saw a guy today wearing a rainbow-coloured belt ??
And, I feel the same; which is to say that I feel comfortable. I am looking through my same eyes; the only problem is that when people look back, I look a little different to them than I did twenty years ago. I feel comfortable in a classroom, and until my Early British Literature class, I felt fairly confident in my abilities. Don't worry, we'll discuss it soon; just not today.
The one thing that has changed significantly are the professors. When I was a student twenty years ago, the professors were impersonal and distant. They were there to lecture and bestow their knowledge upon us. The professors did not care to know our names or anything about us (the students) for that matter. I felt like a number in a sea of faces. And they certainly didn't care if you came to class or not.
Today, professors seem genuinely interested in getting to know their students. In each of my first two classes, we had to introduce ourselves ... because the profs want to learn our names. They are interested in the students' opinions and thoughts ... they encourage open discussion. Sometimes they even talk about themselves in a personal manner. One of my profs told the class she failed Economics when she was an undergrad, and she talked about her little boy. This would NEVER have happened twenty years ago.
Plus, each of my four professors has given their curriculum vitae (verbally) ... like they need to reassure us they are qualified to teach university-level courses.
The professors care if you attend their classes. They want you there, and they encourage it by providing marks for class participation. Each of my four courses awards marks for attendance, and participation.
Teaching styles have changed drastically. Professors lectured when I went to school twenty years ago. They stood at the front of the class in front of a lecturn and they spoke at us. Many times it was boring, and dry, and unengaging. Today, the professors teach. It is interactive and fun. In one class, we got into groups, moving furniture around the room and putting together very small presentations on literary terms. I will forever feel comfortable in defining ideology, paradigm and hegemony.
As I am sure you can imagine, laptops are everywhere ... these kids even sit in the hallway, and while awaiting a class, they pull out their laptop and log in. Right there. While sitting cross-legged on the floor. I just don't have the energy to do that. It's much easier for us old ladies to just pull out a good old fashioned paperback book and do a little reading if we're a little early for class.
The other thing that bears mentioning is the abundance of information that is available to students today. There is an obvious and enormous difference from twenty years ago, and the contrast in the level of understanding is incredible. No longer are you dependent on just your textbook for information or explanation ... you have the Internet at your fingertips. For instance, my professor referenced a book that further expounded on the point she was making. In days past, I would not have really thought any more about it ... what could I do, other than check the University Library? However, since it was an essay published in 1967, I would never have found it. Plus I had the title wrong. After just a few clicks, I had all the information I needed to appreciate what she was talking about. My History professor posts all his power-point lecture notes on-line for easy access to what he lectured about.
It is all about easily accessed information.
The University of Windsor Library has put together special resources for each department ... just to make things even easier for research. For instance, the English resource page links students up to further readings by era, but also gives access to newspaper publications dating back to the 1800s. You can read the newspaper from the day your Grama was born ... how cool is that? But you must have a Student ID to do it.
Yep, things are definitely different. But in a strange way, it is all still the same. Except now I have to attend classes, do the assigned reading, complete the assignments on time, attend class and participate ... and try to get supper on the table for three hungry kids and a husband, too. But more on that another day.
She had been there hundreds of times before, maybe even thousands. But this time was different. At the age of forty-one, she had come to this store in search of back-to-school supplies ... for herself. Although she was very excited, she also felt a little silly, which is the reason she brought her daughter. Perhaps passers-by would just assume the supplies were for the little girl.
"Oh, Mommy," said Martie, holding up a package, "look at these pretty markers."
"Those are highliters," the woman explained. "They are used to mark the important things that you read ... so you won't forget them." Hopefully she wouldn't forget them.
"Can we get the pink ones?" Martie asks.
"Sure."
The woman and her daughter wandered around the store until they had found all the necessities.
"These are the cutest notebooks," said the cashier. "I think I am going to pick some up for myself."
"Do you attend the University?" the woman asked.
"Yeah," the young girl answered, with a little sparkle in her eye.
"Does anyone use actual notebooks to write notes in class?" the woman asked. She was truly interested in the answer, and waited while the cashier thought for a minute.
"Nope. Pretty sure most people use their laptop for notes in class," the cashier reports. There is a small (okay, it's very large) pit in the woman's stomach. "But sometimes I use a notebook. But not very often ..."
The woman laughed. What else could she do, really? When she last attended an institute of higher learning she felt fortunate because she had inherited her Grampa's electric typewriter after he retired. Honestly. The forty-one-year-old woman could hardly imagine unpacking a laptop to take notes in class ... wasn't that a lot of work just to jot down some notes?
"You know ... I am taking some classes at the University this Fall. And, I am going to use notebooks ... and pencils. I don't care what everyone else is doing ..." she told the cashier, with a little sparkle in her eye, trying to be very self-confident and defiant.
"Well," she said, handing the woman her bag full of back-to-school supplies, "there is nothing wrong with old school."
Wait ... she wasn't totally old school. She has an iPod and a cellphone like everyone else in the free world. She knows about Twitter. It wasn't as though she wasn't current and hip and trendy. Okay ... maybe not totally hip and trendy. But still cool, right?
But she wasn't nineteen years old anymore either. The woman brought perspective and maturity to the university campus this time around. She brings experience. And, she also brings a different level of commitment and an interest that she did not have twenty years ago. This time, she would learn things with a deeper understanding. That is not to say that she did not learn things before. Because staying out with friends until dawn and then doing the same thing the next night was a skill that came in handy for dealing with newborn babies and sick children.
There is nothing wrong with writing notes ... the woman wanted to be a writer afterall. And writers write. Some authors still write their novels long hand ... not very many, but there are some who still do.
Yep, the woman thought, there is nothing wrong with old school.
But she was in the spirit of learning. A laptop on campus could come in handy ... she did have a blog to maintain and she can't study the entire day. She turned to her daughter and said, "Come on, Martie. Let's go check those cute laptop bags I've seen in all the magazines."
Disclaimer: Although this is a fictionalized account, the facts are true - school supplies were purchased and the cashier did tell the woman she was "old school." Real names have changed to protect the innocent.
In September 2006, I brought my oldest child to a strange building full of strange people and left him there ... to find his own way in the world. I was filled such apprehension and anxiety ... I think, because I wanted him to love school so much. Like I did/do. And I wanted him to dazzle the strangers, just like has dazzled his father and I. I ached for him while he was away; he was constantly in my thoughts, hoping he was able to manage without me to help guide him. Pretty pathetic, huh?
Let me assure you, I have changed since those early days. In fact, I have twice the number of years of parenting excellence since then. And, I have a much different perspective.
Today was the first day of school for two of my three children. Number three came along for the ride, so she could check out her classroom and officially meet her JK teacher. Excitement abounded as we approached the school this morning ... oh, and the kids were pretty pumped, too.
It wasn't until the early 1800s that public education began to form in Canada. Prior to that, each family was responsible for educating their own children. Can you imagine the collective scream of joy on the day all the kids went to the first school? Woo-hoo!!
Although we each have our own reasons, I thought I would share the reasons I love school so much ...
(10) I get use the bathroom in private, without someone knocking on the door. Whether I am in there for two minutes or thirty, over the summer months it was a rare occasion if there was not a knock on the door ... usually because somebody wanted "something" (see #6).
(9) I can actually finish what I start ... all in a row, without interruptions. Many posts throughout the summer have been written one sentence at a time; but now, here I sit, typing away ... sentence after sentence.
(8) The quiet. I now hear the breeze through the trees, the hum of my laptop. Not that I don't love the sound of all those giggles, but I have listened to them for nine weeks in a row and am now taking some pleasure in the breeze outside my window.
(7) I don't have to watch Hannah Montana or The Wizards of Waverly Place until after five o'clock each day. Or, the Jonas Brothers. Ugh. I am sure they are all nice kids and stuff, but ... Plus, I know all the words to their songs and I'm starting to laugh at their jokes ... this is troublesome for me.
(6) The number of times that I hear, "Mom, can I (insert most annoying thing your child asks for here) ..." will be greatly reduced. Between the three of them, it seems as though they are at me most of the day for food, drinks, or suggesting fun activities ... like painting (a favourite amongst all girls, I think) or going to the park/beach/grandparents.
(5) My sense of guilt will decrease greatly ... guilt over being a boring Mom. It has been difficult to entertain three kids, all at different stages of development, each with their own interests. And, frankly, a mom's energy level diminishes over the course of the summer ... at least this mom's energy level does.
(4) Stuff that I organize will actually stay organized for longer periods of time. That right, toys will stay in their places and clothes will remain on their hangers in the closet.
(3) I don't have to eat at specific times. If I don't feel like eating lunch until 1:30pm, I can get all crazy and eat my lunch at 1:30pm! Breakfast and supper, however, will remain on schedule ...
(2) Speaking of schedules, I get to have a structure to my day ... which I love. I'll admit that it was harder and harder to jump out of bed (ready to take on the day) as the summer holidays drew to an end. But now, I'm back on track with time-specific goals that must be met!
(1) And, the #1 reason that I am glad it's back-to-school time, is the smiles that greet me at the end of the day. The smiles that assure me friends were played with, new things were learned. And when they can hardly wait to tell you about something really cool that happened at school ... I love when that happens, too.
So, I have my quiet back and I enjoyed a guilt-free coffee this morning. But between you and me, the real reason I am so happy school is back in session is because, if the kids are all back in school, it also means it is time for Mommy to go back to school.
Two days until my first day of school ... but who's counting?
... featuring Addie C. Jones.
Over the last couple weeks of June, Addie C. and I had to visit the University a few times. She would hit the campus running, her pace slowing only when it was time to get back into our van. But she had lots of things to say along the way.
"Is that the Aversity? The place with the pictures of the beer bottles all over it?" This is overheard on the way to the Aversity, as we drove by the Hiram Walker plant on Riverside Drive.
"Nope, but University is a place just like this ..." I explain. At least it was when Jonesy and I were last on Campus.
"Hello!" or "Hi! I'm Addie." Addie C. says hello to everyone - outside landscapers, construction workers, secretaries, students, rocks, grass, puppies named Cooper ... everyone. Until someone says "hello" to her and then she wants to hide.
"What's that drink, Mommy?" Addie C. asks, pointing to a vending machine.
"That is Full Throttle Energy Drink," I tell her.
"Can we get some?" she wants to know. "Puleeeeeeeeese..."
"No. You may NEVER have that drink. Not ever."
And I am very serious about that.
"Can we go up those stairs 'cause I've never been there before." This is not really a question, because she is already half way up the stairs before she has finished the statement.
"Mommy!! Don't leave me ..." screamed at the top of her lungs, as she is running "full throttle" across the campus.
"I don't like that building with all the weeds on it."
Addie C. is referring to Dillon Hall, once known as Assumption Hall. It was built in 1928 and is the most architecturally beautiful building on campus. Plus ... it holds a special place in my heart because I had many, many classes in there and I had my picture taken in front of it (with those beautiful weeds as a back drop), wearing my cap and gown after my graduation with my Grampa.
"Addison, if you don't stay with Mommy, I will not bring you to visit the University again." As she is running "full throttle" across the campus.
"Do they have a garbage at this place? At the Aversity?" Addie C. asks.
"Yes, they do," I explain. These are the types of conversations I participate in.
"Then why do people just throw their stuff on the floor?" she wants to know, as she points out a dirty kleenex on the ground.
"I don't know," I tell her honestly.
She has a point. Why don't people use the garbage bins that are scattered around campus?
"She is just beautiful." Commented by a young girl waiting in a line behind us. She was probably thinking that her children will never run around all crazy like this little girl. See you in a few years ... 'cause that is exactly what I once thought.
Just wait until she visits the Aversity when all the full-time students return. Wait ... would you take crazy Addie C. Jones to a crowded University Campus? Me either.
The other day, we strode across the University of Windsor campus - Addie C. and I - like we owned the joint.
Okay ... it was 9:15 on a Friday morning and all the regular students were at some summer job earning money toward their education. Or, they were still sleeping. But still ... I was on campus and I was handing in papers. Important papers.
Papers - a portfolio of my writing, to be exact - that will determine whether I will be admitted into Creative Writing I.
I guess, that if I am not signed into the class, I will know that I should pursue another goal in life. Which is good ... because I don't want to spend a couple of years studying, only to be told at the end that perhaps I should move in another direction.
For now, I must wait. But I have registered for my other classes. Do you remember this process of selecting what you will study for the next semester? It's a little scary ... pieces of paper scattered about, each one with very important tidbits of information, laptop glowing with overuse, and a woman mumbling to herself, generally ignoring her family and their needs/wants/whining/fighting.
Back in those old-fashioned days of the late 1980s, we would pick up a newspaper that listed all the courses being offered, and then try to coordinate a schedule that did not include any classes on Friday. In my first year, we actually had to stand in a line and hand a paper to someone (like, a real person ... I kid you not) with the course numbers we wanted to take. S/he would then tell us whether the class was full or available. If it was full, you had to submit an alternative ... which meant that you had to be prepared for any scenario. Or, you had to be prepared to come back later that day and wait in a very long line again ... without a Blackberry to entertain you. I am sure that I do not have to explain the stress this type of situation would create for a person like me.
In my second year, there was new state-of-the-art technology, and we could register by phone - similar to banking by phone. That is how I registered for my classes for the rest of my university career. And, if a class was full, you could end your session, play around with your schedule (ensuring no Friday classes), and then call back.
Now, of course, everything is done over the Internet. Which means you must use a computer. A computer who does not know when someone is special ...
My Mom has always told me that I am special ... I am seeing now that she may have a point. But being special is not always a good thing. In the interest of being politically correct, the correct terminology for a girl woman person like me is not "mature" but a "returning" student ... a student with an Honours Degree who needs to pick up some required (undergrad) courses in order to be allowed admittance into a Masters prorgam. In the University computer, I am coded as a Semester 8 Student ... which my Mom might call "special," or you might call "mature" but that the computer only knows as "returning." Which is NOT a first-year student ... keep this information in mind.
When I first looked into pursuing some education in Creative Writing, I met with a professor. A really nice guy, he told me that to enter into the Masters program, I first need to have an undergrad degree in English ... which is no problem because I have already taken several English courses, and will only need to pick some required courses to qualify for an English degree. However, one of those courses is a first-year course and you must be in your first year to register for it. But I am a Semester 8 student, remember? I am special.
So, my first hurdle was to convince some poor English professor to take pity on me - because I am old and special - and sign me into their already full Writing About Literature course. But I did it, and was ready for the next challenge.
I hope it has not escaped you that in a few short weeks, I will be sitting in a university classroom with a bunch of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds. I will appear to them to be an old lady ... I could be their mother. Ugh. This sends Jonesy into fits of laughter.
The second hurdle to overcome in the world of "course registration" came when I tried to register for my second course, Contemporary Literary Theory. One must have a minimum of Semester 3 standing (check, because last I inquired 8 is bigger than 3) and have taken one other English course. This is where the problem lies ... the computer does not recognize the courses I took as part of my previous degree ... my old degree is not sharing its information with my new plans in the computer. So, I (once again) had to get special persmission to be signed into the course. Once again, my Mom was right ... I am special.
I actually registered like an average (that is, un-special) student for my third course, Early British Literature. And, as already mentioned, I am awaiting news on my fourth course, Creative Writing I. Now the hard part begins because I have to wait for the summer to be finished. But, who wishes the summer away? Me ... that's who.
So, as we strolled across campus the other day - well, Addie C. ran and I walked at a normal pace for an almost forty-one-year-old woman - I felt excited. Excited for the Fall Semester to begin. Excited for possibilities. Excited for the Back-to-School shopping.
Excited for Frosh Week ... because if I am registered in first-year courses, I can attend all the Frosh Week Activities, right?
The other night I awoke from a dream laughing and felt extremely happy. Like, over-the-top elated with happiness. I did not feel stress or worry or pressure to get something done. It was like I was in a bubble and couldn't hear anything from the outside world. I felt carefree and without concern for anything. It was freeing, this sense of happiness.
I haven't felt that kind of unburdened joy in quite some time.
This is not to say that I am in a deep depression and walking around in a constant state of gloominess. But I am saying that I always have something on my mind and something I need to get done ... what to make for school lunches, a book to read, a temper tantrum to resolve, a snack to prepare, an errand to run. I am saying that I am a Mom responsible for three young children. I am happy, but I am not carefree. In fact, I'm not sure that I have ever been carefree ... it's sort of how my brain operates.
Are you happy with your life? Are you doing what you want to do with it? Are you spending your time in a way that makes you feel good (inside)? Do you do things with a sense of purpose, or do you do them because you feel like you should?
Recently I read No Impact Man by Colin Beavan, and wrote about his project to live for one year without having any impact on the environment. Click here, if you want a refresher.
One of things that Beavan discovers (quite unexpectedly, I might add) while living an impact-free life are the things that really make him happy. He learns about what things he truly enjoys doing. He begins by recounting a typical day ... he rushes around in the morning to get his daughter to her babysitter; then he rushes off to work; he works through his day, often spending ten hours at his craft, and sometimes becoming impatient for the work day to end; and then he rushes to get his daughter from the babysitter; on his way home he picks up the take-out du jour for supper and then continues home to get his little princess fed, bathed and tucked in for the night. He and his wife then share a night in front of the television and their laptops simultaneously until they are finally ready to go to sleep. And then they get up the next morning to start all over again.
Sound familiar?
But while working on the No Impact Project, he took the time to consider whether he felt happy about how he was living his life. Not just with regard to the environment, but with respect to how he spent his time. Why did he work for ten hours a day, when seven or eight was enough? Why didn't he take his little girl to the park more often? He tries to answer his own questions by suggesting that people work long hours so that they can buy stuff or do stuff or pay off stuff. Because the more stuff you buy or the more fabulous (and by fabulous, I mean expensive) the vacation, the happier you feel, right?
Psychologists refer to this phenomenon as the hedonic treadmill. When you buy something, it gives you a burst of pleasure. It makes you feel good, this thing you have purchased. Likely, you are excited because it is something that interests you or will make your life easier in some way. I feel this way after buying a book ... before I am even finished reading the book I bought, the thrill wears off and I am looking for the next one.
Beavan considers (in a very clever and unassuming way) whether he is spending his free time in a way that makes him feel fulfilled. Does rushing around until you literally drop on the couch each evening make him feel fulfilled? Does it make you? Could you be happy with the things you have currently, without having to travel around town all the time, picking "stuff" up or dropping "stuff" off? Do you ever do things because you think you should, or to keep up with your neighbours or your co-workers or your friends? Do these things that you feel obligated to do make you feel happy inside? Are they necessary for existence? For instance, is it really necessary to have really super green grass? Or, the biggest television money can buy? Or, a new car every three years?
That is a lot of questions to ask yourself. And you might not like the answers, if you are honest with yourself.
For me, it is the reasoning behind the decision. If you really enjoy gardening and take pride in your yard/landscaping/garden, then ... yes, it is necessary for you to have super green grass. Because it fills you with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, and you enjoy working on it. But should you feel obligated to make your grass as green as your neighbour's? Or your Dad's? Or your friend's?
And, if you feel the need to run out and buy a pair of very expensive shoes because a colleague at work bought a pair, then I question your motives. Unless shoes are your sole reason for existing.
Beavan recalls rushing to get to the park, so his daughter could start to have fun. He was almost pushing her along the sidewalk and became frustrated when she stopped to play with a chain hanging off a fire hydrant. But it was then that he realized his daughter was already having fun.Because, sometimes, it is the walk to the park that is the fun part.
Could it be that the real excitement we all crave is in the journey along the pathway of life? Not in the destination?
Why can't we enjoy the here and now? I realize that we all have to earn a paycheque in order to survive, but we don't have to make earning money the centre of our world. We don't have to rush through life, trying to get more; instead, we could just enjoy ourselves. Why did I have to challenge myself to read one hundred books? Why couldn't I just enjoy them at whatever was a comfortable pace? I'll tell you why ... because I was looking for the burst of excitement that comes from accomplishing something other than seven loads of laundry all in one day.
The thing is ... psychologists have learned that the happiest people are those who do not live on the hedonic treadmill. They enjoy what is happening in their lives now. They do not live for tomorrow. And they do not buy things to make themselves feel good about what themselves. They do not feel obligated to do things ... they do them because they want to.
It is hard to be different from others though. I think it is a natural instinct (for most people) to want to be liked; to want to fit in with everyone else. Probably because it is easier; but also because when you buy a new patio set and your friends all tell you how much they like it, you probably mistake that for them really liking you, too. And it makes you feel good. So sometimes it is difficult to do what is right for you when it makes you stand out from everyone else. For instance, what if you didn't want to have a patio set in your backyard, like all your friends? Instead, you decided scatter lawnchairs around your yard and to refurbish an (old-fashioned) picnic table for those nights its not too hot to eat outside. Would you feel self-conscious because it is different from all your friends' backyards?
I believe that it is much easier when you do something because you strongly believe in it, rather than because you are forced to. Perhaps it makes you feel good to refurbish something, instead of buying something new because it has become important for you to re-use and re-cycle. Beavan had a self-realization every time he found a way to get what he wanted without having to buy something new ... like his refurbished bike. However, you may not have the same feeling if the reason you did not purchase the new patio set that you love so much was because you were unable to afford to.
Am I making any sense? I feel like this is a mix-up of the many thoughts spewing out of my brain.
When I was an infant, I had an infection in my shoulder. The infection caused damage to the bone and the way that it would develop. I was lucky that the infection set in my shoulder instead of my hip ... but I do not feel lucky because it makes my body different from yours. One of my arms is more than four inches shorter than the other, and the range of motion is restricted. Sometimes it is not noticeable at all; other times, I'm sure it is all people can see - depends on what I am wearing and doing. Jonesy has always said that it is part of who I am and I should embrace it but I would do anything to make it go away because it makes me different from you. Of course, it is much easier to deal with now, as an adult, but there were some very upsetting times when I was growing up. I have been forced (by Mother Nature or Fate or some other natural force) to deal with an arm that makes me different (for my whole life) ... but I don't believe in it. I don't want to do it.
However, I do strongly believe that the state of our food supply and its production is atrocious and I would talk about it until I was blue in the face if I thought I could make a difference. I don't mind telling you that I am willing to pay a little more for a food item if it is organic or local or nutritionally sound ... even if it means I buy a little less. I don't mind telling you that giving my children carbonated drinks or KoolAid is unthinkable. I look forward to picking blueberries with my kids in the summer ... because it is fun and because I gain some satisfaction in harvesting the food we are going to eat. I don't mind telling you that I make the majority of our food from scratch ... please note that I am not telling you that I always enjoy doing it, but just that I do it. And I don't mind telling you these things because I feel very strongly about them and I don't care if that makes me different from other people. It is important to me. However, I have been questioned about my strong ideas with regard to my food choices and talked about behind my back ... because I do not choose to give my children sugary drinks and prefer organic, locally grown food if I can find it. But I don't care.
As Beavan takes away all the modern conveniences and technology, he begins to realize what is important to him. For the first time in his life, he actually prepares food for their meals ... and he enjoys doing it. He learns that television is really not all that important. He learns about really doing things with his time, and the art of conversation ... with people instead of keyboard. He wrote, "Four weeks after the project began, we weren't just changing the way we lived; changing the way we lived was changing us."
So, I ask you ... are you enjoying the here and now? Are you making the most of your free time? Are you doing what is right for you, even if it makes you a little different from your friends?
It is in this spirit of relishing the journey along the pathway of life that I share some exciting news ... I am returning to University of Windsor to study Creative Writing and Literature, working toward a Masters Degree. I have found a real love for writing, and I want to learn more about it. I want to study the great writers and I want to learn more techniques. I want to broaden my knowledge and investigate whether I could actually earn some $money$ as a writer. As is usually the case with me, I feel like education is the place to start ... the publishing industry, the art of writing, the History of Language. Yes, that is the actual name of a course I will be taking. Okay, maybe I'm a little more interesting in Creative Writing I, but I will endure learning the History of Language if it will get me where I need to be. And who knows, maybe I will enjoy learning the history of language. After all, I do love words.
And so where does this new turn of events leave my challenge? Let's be honest, I was probably not going to read one hundred books in one year. However, I will continue to read over the summer, and blog as I go. But the pace is sure to slow because my kids want me to conduct a summer school of sorts ... more about that on another day.
And, I'm hoping to be able to find the time for my blog while I learn more about Creative Writing ... a professor has already warned me that two of my four courses are very "writing" heavy, but I'm sure I'll have time for a few Addie C. stories at least. After all, she starts school in September, too. And wherever Addie C. goes, a story is sure to follow.
So, don't give up on me if I have not written for a few days. I love this too much to walk away from it.
