As often happens here on "The Journey that Matters," I have forgotten things I have blogged about. So, my apologies, dear friends, if I am repeating myself.
For one of my term papers this semester, I am using one of my favorite books/series as a case study. (I love being in programs where studying something you love is OK and you don't have to pick a specific topic.) For those of you who don't know, Catherynne Valente's Fairyland series is my most recent favorite. Four of the five books have been published, and a prologue online. They are published as middle range children's books--although no stories are only applicable to a specific age range. I am looking at fairy tales and the construction of definitions of "woman." (This may or may not change in the next 8 weeks. We'll see.)
But, on a completely unrelated note, the reasons I love this series are numerous. Valente approaches storytelling in a very postmodern way--stories are embedded in stories; the narrator speaks to the reader; nothing is really as it seems; foreshadowing exists, but mostly in literary allusions; the hero and the villain are not opposites but very similar--the list goes on and on. Like all good stories, it is, like Shrek, an onion. Layers upon layers. Story within story. One that you can return to time and again and learn more and have more adventures. Like September, the reader is in Fairyland on a Persephone visa.
And that's just it. Stories occupy a special place in human culture, as I'm sure I've mentioned. We return to stories all the time. We cannot help it. Like Persephone, we are bound to return. We can spend time away, but eventually we return. We all want to be stories--to be the heroes we read about. To have adventures. Storytelling is central to humanity. Stories tell us who we are, who we want to be, who we can be. They tell us what waits in the woods, and what is in space, and how to slay the dragon, and what is in the wardrobe or down the rabbit hole.
As the Doctor says, "we're all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?"
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Monday, October 26, 2015
The Long Durée
I've been thinking about my training in history lately, especially the idea of the long durée. For most of the last six years, I have been surrounded by students of history--or at least, on some level, in the general vicinity of them. This is the first time in my post-high school education when I have not been in a history program. And I'm starting to see how that has affected my way of thinking.
Students of history learn how to see processes, causation, correlation. We learn how to read and synthesize information quickly and accurately. We learn to see more that names, dates, and places. History is more than memorization of facts. Many of these aspects are only possible because most historians, now, have an understanding of history from a perspective of the long durée (or the long term, in English).
The long durée originated in the interwar period in economic history. The idea is that history cannot be studied as simply events in the short term. In order to understand how and why things happen, it is necessary to look at more than just the immediate causes. Imagine a picture: you only see what is happening in frame. You miss what led to those events and what is happening outside of the frame. The same is true of history. A picture of events doesn't show more than the immediate causes.
For example, a friend once asked me about the causes of the First World War. I told her that it was more complicated than she realized. The causes of the First World War, if you look at the short term, are mostly concerned with the politics around the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. But, in the long term, really go back to Napoleon, at least.
Coming back to the present, this idea affects how I think about the events we discuss in class. I know most of the other students think about things in some form of "long term" but I think it might mean something different to non-historians. In my race theory class, we talk about the socio-historical context. And everyone agrees that it is important when discussing current topics of race. But sometimes, my socio-historical context feels like it is much longer and deeper than others'. This is not a bad thing--we need diversity in experience or life would be boring. It's just that, sometimes, it's hard to remember that what I think of obvious context, or related ideas, is not that obvious. And by the time I remember and find a way to explain myself, the moment has passed. And I've been misinterpreted.
I'm not sure I had a point to this. It's just been something I've been thinking about. Studying history prepares you for so much, but it does not prepare you for changing disciplines. I can write and debate and explain ideas and draw connections and conclusions. But I cannot share the interconnected web of the past that I see as I am doing those things. And it's isolating.
[Other than this, life is going well. I really like my new job--a sign that things to tend to turn out for the best. Classes, overall, are going well. I'm working on my term papers now, so I'm sure I'll blog about them at some point. Thanks for reading what turned out to be more serious than I'd anticipated.]
Students of history learn how to see processes, causation, correlation. We learn how to read and synthesize information quickly and accurately. We learn to see more that names, dates, and places. History is more than memorization of facts. Many of these aspects are only possible because most historians, now, have an understanding of history from a perspective of the long durée (or the long term, in English).
The long durée originated in the interwar period in economic history. The idea is that history cannot be studied as simply events in the short term. In order to understand how and why things happen, it is necessary to look at more than just the immediate causes. Imagine a picture: you only see what is happening in frame. You miss what led to those events and what is happening outside of the frame. The same is true of history. A picture of events doesn't show more than the immediate causes.
For example, a friend once asked me about the causes of the First World War. I told her that it was more complicated than she realized. The causes of the First World War, if you look at the short term, are mostly concerned with the politics around the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. But, in the long term, really go back to Napoleon, at least.
Coming back to the present, this idea affects how I think about the events we discuss in class. I know most of the other students think about things in some form of "long term" but I think it might mean something different to non-historians. In my race theory class, we talk about the socio-historical context. And everyone agrees that it is important when discussing current topics of race. But sometimes, my socio-historical context feels like it is much longer and deeper than others'. This is not a bad thing--we need diversity in experience or life would be boring. It's just that, sometimes, it's hard to remember that what I think of obvious context, or related ideas, is not that obvious. And by the time I remember and find a way to explain myself, the moment has passed. And I've been misinterpreted.
I'm not sure I had a point to this. It's just been something I've been thinking about. Studying history prepares you for so much, but it does not prepare you for changing disciplines. I can write and debate and explain ideas and draw connections and conclusions. But I cannot share the interconnected web of the past that I see as I am doing those things. And it's isolating.
[Other than this, life is going well. I really like my new job--a sign that things to tend to turn out for the best. Classes, overall, are going well. I'm working on my term papers now, so I'm sure I'll blog about them at some point. Thanks for reading what turned out to be more serious than I'd anticipated.]
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Boston Pics!
Here it is folks! Pictures of the past 6 weeks or so! Finally.
This one is from late July when my dad and I came out to find me an apartment. This is Boston Harbor from the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library.
My dad and I outside the Faneuil Hall Marketplace. It was 90+ degrees out and we'd walked a lot that day.
My dad and I again. This time, it was late August, when I moved out here. I forget where we were.
The inside of the Old North Church. The door to the steeple is behind the organ.
Inside the Museum of Fine Arts is a room in the salon style--where all the paintings are hung without curator remarks. This one is a recent acquisition and it is possible to stand almost where the painter's perspective is from. It was my favorite piece in the half we saw.
Selfie time! There was a fire alarm while we were at the MFA, so we all had to go outside.
The outside of the Museum of Fine Arts.
This is probably my second favorite painting we saw at the MFA (excluding Georgia O'Keefe). The donkey is the best.
My mom was there too! The three of us took a picture while killing some time on one of the piers at Boston Harbor. We all look pretty good!
The people I'm subletting from have two cats. The cats and I have an odd relationship. I still have the box on my floor. When it was hot, cat A (this one) would come in and sleep for hours at a time.
The "Make Way For Ducklings" statues in the Public Garden. The book takes place in Boston. Apparently, I have read this book.
The Swan Boats in the Public Garden. They've been owned and operated by the same family for like 100 years or something. They go around the pond and you can see geese and ducks and swans and stuff. It was a nice day when I went with the people I'm living with.
This last one I took the other day after working a 630a-1230p shift at Peet's Coffee (my new job). I really enjoy it. Although I look tired here. My fashion sense is a little more hipster than I would prefer, but it's comfortable and coffeeshop-esque.
That was quite a few pictures! I'll be taking more as the year goes on! I hope all of you are doing well!
That was quite a few pictures! I'll be taking more as the year goes on! I hope all of you are doing well!
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Boston Update
Hello all! I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. Things have been a bit hectic--moving, starting school, and starting a new job are all time and energy consuming. I have taken quite a few pictures but I have to get them off my phone and today is not going to be that day. Sorry!
I'm not sure I've specified what I'm doing. I'm currently living in Boston, attending Simmons College in the Gender and Cultural Studies MA program. Do to some SNAFUs I had to get a new job and I am currently working at a coffeeshop. I really enjoy it and it's something new and different. As far as school goes, my program is two years long. I'm taking the required gender theory course and a race theory course right now. Both of these are really interesting and I'm learning a lot already. (For example, lesbian communes are simultaneously the way to end the patriarchy and not the way to end the patriarchy. The truth resists simplicity.)
I'm making friends in my program and I like where I'm living. One of the hardest parts has been relying on public transportation to get places, instead of being able to go wherever I want almost whenever I want. Although I have some practice with that, it's still an adjustment.
This is a picture of the Washington Statue in the Boston Public Garden that I took a few weekends ago. More pictures soon I hope!
I'm not sure I've specified what I'm doing. I'm currently living in Boston, attending Simmons College in the Gender and Cultural Studies MA program. Do to some SNAFUs I had to get a new job and I am currently working at a coffeeshop. I really enjoy it and it's something new and different. As far as school goes, my program is two years long. I'm taking the required gender theory course and a race theory course right now. Both of these are really interesting and I'm learning a lot already. (For example, lesbian communes are simultaneously the way to end the patriarchy and not the way to end the patriarchy. The truth resists simplicity.)
I'm making friends in my program and I like where I'm living. One of the hardest parts has been relying on public transportation to get places, instead of being able to go wherever I want almost whenever I want. Although I have some practice with that, it's still an adjustment.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Retail Life: Part Two
As most of you know, I'm moving out to Boston to go back to school. I'm doing a MA in Gender and Cultural Studies at a small school. I leave tomorrow and I'm fairly certain I've packed everything. I've not blogged much recently because I've been working a lot. And before I start the next chapter, I'm going to take a look back at the last year.
Just under a year ago I got back from York and I didn't know what was next. After a few months of a rather drifting existence, I started working retail in November. I didn't know how long I'd be there--I figured just for the holidays. But nine months later, I still have the job and am lucky enough to be transferring to a different store out in Boston.
I've complained about work sometimes, but everyone does. More than anything, I've learned a lot. I've learned how to be proud of my work when that work isn't academic. I've learned about team endeavors that aren't athletic. I've expanded my experiences. That isn't to say the past nine months have just been a social experiment; I needed the job and I've earned enough to make quite a few loan payments. And I was good at it.
I enjoyed the work, most of the time. I didn't enjoy guests getting upset at me for things that were so far above my pay grade it's hilarious. I didn't enjoy picking up other people's slack. I didn't enjoy some of the excesses of consumerism. But, like always, I enjoyed a job well done, being physically tired at the end of the day, having my hard work recognized, interacting with other workers.
I know retail isn't my future. But it has impacted me in ways that I probably can't even realize. I've learned lessons about interacting with new people. I'm able to answer phones and call people without freaking out (most of the time).
I was also able to use skills I've learned elsewhere to succeed at work. Growing up, my dad always told me to "run with authority" when I played sports. I've mentioned before my belief in "fake it till you make it", but this is applicable to retail too. If you act like you know what you're doing and make plans for the day with confidence, people listen and have confidence things will get done. There is a trick to it though. If you act like you know what you're doing, you actually have to learn what you're doing, because people will trust you to do more.
Another lesson I learned growing up was to do more than half a job. Saturday mornings would often include a conversation on emptying the clean dishwasher in our house. The job often fell to me, and being the literalist I was as a kid, I would empty the dishwasher; completely ignoring the dirty dishes in the sink. And then my parents would tell me, often a few minutes later, that I hadn't finished. Translate to the past year: given a task, such a "zone bras", I didn't just pick up and rehang stuff, I super zoned, putting everything in it's place. A job well done the first time will often result in less work. (Think of those classroom posters: "If you don't have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over.")
The last lesson I learned growing up that was helpful these past few months has been to never say "no". The first rule of improv is "never say no". I'm not good at acting and I'm positive I'd be terrible on stage. But it's a good rule of thumb. I'm not advocating being a "Yes man", but there is something to saying "sure I can do that" when you are asked to do something at work. Even "I'll try to get it done" is better than "no". "Never say no" is about being willing to do more, be more. Live more.
Last November, if asked about how I thought the year would play out, I'm not sure what I would've said. But I know I wouldn't've been able to predict how much this job has impacted me. And, although some of them will never know, I would like to thank all the people I worked with for making life enjoyable for the last nine months. I've truly enjoyed working with you and I wish you all the best.
Just under a year ago I got back from York and I didn't know what was next. After a few months of a rather drifting existence, I started working retail in November. I didn't know how long I'd be there--I figured just for the holidays. But nine months later, I still have the job and am lucky enough to be transferring to a different store out in Boston.
I've complained about work sometimes, but everyone does. More than anything, I've learned a lot. I've learned how to be proud of my work when that work isn't academic. I've learned about team endeavors that aren't athletic. I've expanded my experiences. That isn't to say the past nine months have just been a social experiment; I needed the job and I've earned enough to make quite a few loan payments. And I was good at it.
I enjoyed the work, most of the time. I didn't enjoy guests getting upset at me for things that were so far above my pay grade it's hilarious. I didn't enjoy picking up other people's slack. I didn't enjoy some of the excesses of consumerism. But, like always, I enjoyed a job well done, being physically tired at the end of the day, having my hard work recognized, interacting with other workers.
I know retail isn't my future. But it has impacted me in ways that I probably can't even realize. I've learned lessons about interacting with new people. I'm able to answer phones and call people without freaking out (most of the time).
I was also able to use skills I've learned elsewhere to succeed at work. Growing up, my dad always told me to "run with authority" when I played sports. I've mentioned before my belief in "fake it till you make it", but this is applicable to retail too. If you act like you know what you're doing and make plans for the day with confidence, people listen and have confidence things will get done. There is a trick to it though. If you act like you know what you're doing, you actually have to learn what you're doing, because people will trust you to do more.
Another lesson I learned growing up was to do more than half a job. Saturday mornings would often include a conversation on emptying the clean dishwasher in our house. The job often fell to me, and being the literalist I was as a kid, I would empty the dishwasher; completely ignoring the dirty dishes in the sink. And then my parents would tell me, often a few minutes later, that I hadn't finished. Translate to the past year: given a task, such a "zone bras", I didn't just pick up and rehang stuff, I super zoned, putting everything in it's place. A job well done the first time will often result in less work. (Think of those classroom posters: "If you don't have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over.")
The last lesson I learned growing up that was helpful these past few months has been to never say "no". The first rule of improv is "never say no". I'm not good at acting and I'm positive I'd be terrible on stage. But it's a good rule of thumb. I'm not advocating being a "Yes man", but there is something to saying "sure I can do that" when you are asked to do something at work. Even "I'll try to get it done" is better than "no". "Never say no" is about being willing to do more, be more. Live more.
Last November, if asked about how I thought the year would play out, I'm not sure what I would've said. But I know I wouldn't've been able to predict how much this job has impacted me. And, although some of them will never know, I would like to thank all the people I worked with for making life enjoyable for the last nine months. I've truly enjoyed working with you and I wish you all the best.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
The Key
"For me context is the key - from that comes the meaning of everything."--Kenneth Noland
This quote is one of my favorites. In finding the exact wording, however, I found the original speaker: Kenneth Noland. A 20th Century American abstract painter. Context is incredibly important in everything. It struck me first as a little odd but then as exceedingly fitting to abstract art.
Abstract art has a complicated reputation. People either "get it" or they don't. Many people don't see the point. I used to be one of them. Now, for two reasons, I rather like abstract art. First, you don't have to understand art for it to have meaning. It is the result of a creative endeavor that has been produced by a person. It is because it is. (I realize this is circular reasoning and a rather large logical fallacy.) Second, abstract art is just that. Abstract. Each piece means something different to everyone who experiences it. Like the wind. Or love. Now, you may interpret a painting as just some splotches of paint on a canvas. You may interpret it as the visual representation of a bridge or rain or hope.
This is where context comes in. The painter may have created something abstract because there are no words, or even pictures, that can capture what they want.
This also happens with language. While it is malleable, language is incredibly confining. Pain, for example. Doctors ask, at least in America, to rate pain on a scale of ten. If all your life you've only experienced minor injuries, your definition of what "10" is will be significantly less than someone who's broken their femur or experienced childbirth. Brian Regan, a comedian, has a bit about pain and hospitals, available here.
My point is language is dependent on who is speaking. When I say to my friends, "You're a dork", I don't mean that to be an insult. I generally mean something along the lines of: "I like you. You are funny. The things that make you you are interesting." When I say to my friends, "You're an idiot with a stupid face" (not that I say that but I think it an awful lot), I mean something closer to, "You are one of my favorite people and I miss you." Neither of these statements are said with malice, but they well could be. Context, though, defines their interpretation.
This is not limited to language. I visualize most things, even non-visual things, as snapshots. Every interaction is a polaroid and my brain is littered with them--taped across the walls of my self, scattered across my mental floor, woven into the quilt I wrap my consciousness in to sleep. The stark white borders separating experiences in some places, but in others, I've cut off the borders and taped pictures together to form a whole. The smell of freshly brewed coffee has two notable pictures: one from elementary school and one of my grandparents. The pictures of York are borderless and stitched together haphazardly; they spread across my mind like dandelions in a yard.
Meaning is derived from context. A fact has meaning because it was chosen and because it is being used. Nothing exists in a vacuum. Who we are is defined by our experiences. The language we use, and the definitions of the words therein, are defined by people over time.
Context provides depth. It is the difference between wading in a puddle and swimming in the ocean.
This quote is one of my favorites. In finding the exact wording, however, I found the original speaker: Kenneth Noland. A 20th Century American abstract painter. Context is incredibly important in everything. It struck me first as a little odd but then as exceedingly fitting to abstract art.
Abstract art has a complicated reputation. People either "get it" or they don't. Many people don't see the point. I used to be one of them. Now, for two reasons, I rather like abstract art. First, you don't have to understand art for it to have meaning. It is the result of a creative endeavor that has been produced by a person. It is because it is. (I realize this is circular reasoning and a rather large logical fallacy.) Second, abstract art is just that. Abstract. Each piece means something different to everyone who experiences it. Like the wind. Or love. Now, you may interpret a painting as just some splotches of paint on a canvas. You may interpret it as the visual representation of a bridge or rain or hope.
This is where context comes in. The painter may have created something abstract because there are no words, or even pictures, that can capture what they want.
This also happens with language. While it is malleable, language is incredibly confining. Pain, for example. Doctors ask, at least in America, to rate pain on a scale of ten. If all your life you've only experienced minor injuries, your definition of what "10" is will be significantly less than someone who's broken their femur or experienced childbirth. Brian Regan, a comedian, has a bit about pain and hospitals, available here.
My point is language is dependent on who is speaking. When I say to my friends, "You're a dork", I don't mean that to be an insult. I generally mean something along the lines of: "I like you. You are funny. The things that make you you are interesting." When I say to my friends, "You're an idiot with a stupid face" (not that I say that but I think it an awful lot), I mean something closer to, "You are one of my favorite people and I miss you." Neither of these statements are said with malice, but they well could be. Context, though, defines their interpretation.
This is not limited to language. I visualize most things, even non-visual things, as snapshots. Every interaction is a polaroid and my brain is littered with them--taped across the walls of my self, scattered across my mental floor, woven into the quilt I wrap my consciousness in to sleep. The stark white borders separating experiences in some places, but in others, I've cut off the borders and taped pictures together to form a whole. The smell of freshly brewed coffee has two notable pictures: one from elementary school and one of my grandparents. The pictures of York are borderless and stitched together haphazardly; they spread across my mind like dandelions in a yard.
Meaning is derived from context. A fact has meaning because it was chosen and because it is being used. Nothing exists in a vacuum. Who we are is defined by our experiences. The language we use, and the definitions of the words therein, are defined by people over time.
Context provides depth. It is the difference between wading in a puddle and swimming in the ocean.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Retail Life
The thing about working retail is that it makes you, at least in my experience, more understanding. There is nothing to make you nicer to other retail workers than dealing with jerks. From angry people on the phone to screaming children to people who leave things where they don't belong (either two inches away from its proper space or the other side of the store). You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their cashier.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, "You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him." While I wouldn't say retail workers can do nothing for the people in the stores, the idea remains. If you are rude, your cashier isn't going to go out of their way to help you. If you demand the worker "look in the back" for something, you're not getting what you're looking for. If you get mad at the person on the phone trying to transfer you to the correct department, well, they aren't going to try terribly hard to connect you. And I'm sorry. That's probably not what you want to hear. But, you might say, I'm the customer, I'm always right. Sorry Charlie. You're not.
Picking up after people is not my job. I don't get paid to pick up empty beverage cups or the toys left in my area. I don't get paid to fold the clothes you decide to leave inside out on the top of hanging racks yards away from where they belong. There are fitting rooms if you want to try something on. It is not job security for me. It is simply more work. "Keeping the salesfloor looking neat" is not the same as "picking up after guests".
This is reading a lot like a rant. And I guess it sort of is. I know most of you aren't the kind to act this way. I wasn't raised to treat people that way, and if I didn't own it, I wasn't supposed to touch it. (I will admit, there are times when kindness and understanding is not possible, but, generally, kindness helps.)
And that brings me to my point. I have a life philosophy that we are here to make life easier for others. Not, like, in massive self sacrificing ways. Because you do need to take care of yourself first; like on airplanes, put your own oxygen mask on before helping others. But in little ways that are not hard and don't detract from your quality of life. Like saying hello to you cashier before you tell them how many of something you have. Saying thank you when someone tells you they'll transfer you to the person you want.
People don't often. Which is why I'm not terribly surprised when, at least in America, we still have to fight for basic rights. If you help someone, or increase their quality of life, you are not losing something. It's not like you have a limited supply of "thank you's" and rights are not zero sum.
Working retail has shown me a number of reasons to despair about society. But it also gives me hope. Talking to my work friends, who deal with the same people and are tired of the same things, but who are still nice and kind when it matters, who are, by and large, good people, balances out the bad. I've learned a lot about myself and about people working retail.
So, how do you treat your cashier?
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, "You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him." While I wouldn't say retail workers can do nothing for the people in the stores, the idea remains. If you are rude, your cashier isn't going to go out of their way to help you. If you demand the worker "look in the back" for something, you're not getting what you're looking for. If you get mad at the person on the phone trying to transfer you to the correct department, well, they aren't going to try terribly hard to connect you. And I'm sorry. That's probably not what you want to hear. But, you might say, I'm the customer, I'm always right. Sorry Charlie. You're not.
Picking up after people is not my job. I don't get paid to pick up empty beverage cups or the toys left in my area. I don't get paid to fold the clothes you decide to leave inside out on the top of hanging racks yards away from where they belong. There are fitting rooms if you want to try something on. It is not job security for me. It is simply more work. "Keeping the salesfloor looking neat" is not the same as "picking up after guests".
This is reading a lot like a rant. And I guess it sort of is. I know most of you aren't the kind to act this way. I wasn't raised to treat people that way, and if I didn't own it, I wasn't supposed to touch it. (I will admit, there are times when kindness and understanding is not possible, but, generally, kindness helps.)
And that brings me to my point. I have a life philosophy that we are here to make life easier for others. Not, like, in massive self sacrificing ways. Because you do need to take care of yourself first; like on airplanes, put your own oxygen mask on before helping others. But in little ways that are not hard and don't detract from your quality of life. Like saying hello to you cashier before you tell them how many of something you have. Saying thank you when someone tells you they'll transfer you to the person you want.
People don't often. Which is why I'm not terribly surprised when, at least in America, we still have to fight for basic rights. If you help someone, or increase their quality of life, you are not losing something. It's not like you have a limited supply of "thank you's" and rights are not zero sum.
Working retail has shown me a number of reasons to despair about society. But it also gives me hope. Talking to my work friends, who deal with the same people and are tired of the same things, but who are still nice and kind when it matters, who are, by and large, good people, balances out the bad. I've learned a lot about myself and about people working retail.
So, how do you treat your cashier?
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