autumnreverie

I have finally made the first post on my new project blog, 13 Weeks of Shutter. I went to East Harlem as part of my project to see all the neighborhoods in Manhattan before I graduate.

...I have seen two people reading David Sedaris books while I have been reading a David Sedaris book (Me Talk Pretty One Day). The first one was reading the same as me, and tonight a lady was reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim.

...I overheard two dancers discussing ballet shoes. I was so excited about that haha.

...I saw an eleven-year-old boy breakdancing alongside his brother. Almost everyone ignored them. >:(

Here are songs I have bookmarked and am trying to learn on my GUITAR!

Love Story by Taylor Swift (chords)
Love Story by Taylor Swift (solo) (Gettin' pretty good at this one!)
You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift (chords)
Fireflies by Owl City (chords)
The Best Day by Taylor Swift (chords) (My favorite song right now. It makes me cry happy.)
Hey There Delilah by Plain White Ts (chords) (Pretty hard - I'm just a beginner!)

I started learning with GarageBand (seems few other Mac users know that GarageBand comes with free guitar and piano lessons!), and then bought this book from the Guitar Center. It doesn't have any reviews but I say it is pretty good!

http://chronicle.com/article/Graduate-School-in-the/44846

Reading this piece made me angry, but I have to give the guy props for doing his job as a professor and making a reader think critically about a text.

His basic thesis is that undergraduates in the humanities today don't understand the danger of attending graduate school with limited plans and finances. He makes grand generalizations (as may be his only option in making the point) that humanities undergrads in today's recession are over-praised for their inflated brilliance and refuse to accept the reality that going to grad school won't actually postpone their anxieties about the real world.

Now, maybe I come from a pool of above-average undergrad specimens, but I don't think any undergrads I know in the humanities are guilty of the misinformed perspective this William Pannapacker accuses us of. (Pannapacker is his real name - the article is written under his pen name, Benton, and then the footer divulges his real name, which I think is counterproductive.) No student I know would seriously pursue a PhD solely to create a safety net of professorship for themselves, even in this job market. Pannapacker seems to think a lot of us are planning to do this.

Young people can certainly be idealistic, and I'm sure there are a lot of college juniors and seniors whose inflated grades and praise have led them to believe that a life in academia is their passion. But how dare anyone invalidate that belief? It's hard to make my own generalizations, since I also have idealized principles about the "real world," but it seems that Pannapacker is trying to be a parent where he shouldn't, and he's doing so badly. He is, perhaps well-intentioned in his own way, trying to show undergrads in the humanities how to avoid misconceptions he suffered himself.

But he's going about it all wrong - accusing us of mass ignorance of the real world is hardly a fair option. Clearly, he did all right for himself by learning from his own early ignorance, eventually becoming a professor and loving it so much he has to write about it for scholarly publications. But thousands of others have learned differently from the same flawed assumptions about grad school and have turned away from it, going on to live valuable lives in some other way. Or maybe gone through with it and realized their mistake too late, only to find their passion somewhere else.

Or maybe they had a completely different set of mistakes altogether and currently sit floundering in a cardboard box in the South Bronx. Maybe I believe too much in societal predestination, but I generally think people's individual choices won't be the end of the world, and it's silly to assume that anyone's dreams (whether they're actual dreams or misinformed dreams) should be disparaged the way they are by Pannapacker.

Anyway, I also think that Pannapacker's own take on the matter is influenced by the volume of communications he has had with advice-seeking undergrads. He says the majority are spoiled A-students incapable of hearing any ignominious word against them. But it's just like the comments on YouTube - when there is so much text from so many people you don't know, you're bound to think they re all idiots, bar none. That's something we're all guilty of, but at least on YouTube nobody tells you to get less of an education.

Do the dream.

Go forth.

Be your dream self.

Believe in others.

More music.

Live your passion.

Get ready to...

---

And things I hope I can do better in the new year:

Listen more carefully, remember more vividly, spend my time in ways most valuable to me.

Life is so much better with this video in it:



I would marry him if that weren't a) crazy or b) impractical. AUGH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

I was in a funk there for a while, summer to October. Then things started looking up again. But I wasn't living my best. I need and want to find a way to see life as an inspiration again, as a blessing and a beautiful thing to share through honesty and humility and passion for what I do. I'm a little taken aback to find that I've regressed to pettiness (new computer? shouldn't be this big a deal) and disappointed to realize that the setbacks I noticed in my attitude are still there and I still need to work on them.

In recent years, I have taken to holding back my complaints about the world. My philosophy is, essentially, that nobody wants to hear about it. I figure, if I don't want to hear about other people's petty problems, since there's nothing they or I can do about them, then it probably stands for other people and my problems, too.

So, I keep things to myself. Sometimes, I will write out my grievances to the universe, in a journal or an unread blog (i.e. here) so that I can feel like someone is listening or sympathizing, even if only in interwebby space. Then I don't have to burden people with the uncomfortable situation that is complaining and commiserating. I don't know if I ever really seek overt, sympathy; I just want to vent and have a living, breathing someone to listen. Maybe I do want sympathy, but I would never admit that. Ha.

This is not to say that I hate listening to other people's problems. I have been told I am a good listener, probably because when I listen I either a) rack my brains for a solution to the speaker's mess of a life, or b) conclude to myself that there is no solution and so just keep my mouth shut.

At the same time, I think it has become increasingly difficult for people of this age - people who are hyperbolically connected through social media and texting and blah blah blah all our modern vices - to realize that their problems are really not of interest to the rest of the world. People in general are fairly mundane, nobodies essentially. It's silly to complain, because everybody complains, and it makes you even more of a nobody to continue complaining when a very small percentage of the world cares.

But in the end, eh, it's just another tally mark on the list of random things that make us human: we love to complain.

This weekend was superb. Friday was my friend's birthday, so we went to dinner and salsa dancing with a few of her friends from church. Everyone there was really nice, and it was enjoyable. Got a little dressed up and danced (?!?!). It was a little uncomfortable because the guys were all older and not my type at all, but maybe that was for the best since I had no idea what I was doing with my feet and made a fool of myself. I need to take lessons or practice more or something.

Then yesterday. Oh yesterday. HALLOWEEN. Got a free burrito bol from Chipotle by wearing a sham of a burrito costume - aluminum foil wrapped around my torso. God I love burrito bols. EVEN THE GUAC WAS FREE!! The guac guy behind the counter indulged my shout of glee when I discovered that EVEN THE GUAC WAS FREE.

The rest of the night was spent dressed as a doll, with pigtails, rainbow earrings, doll makeup, a dress, and stripey socks. I went out with a different friend and her boyfriend plus several other pals, and it rained on the parade. Only literally; the figurative did not apply, because people came out in full spirit despite the rain. In any case, the rain inspired us to find somewhere to dry off, and we did, in several bars. Got a little tipsy and enjoyed myself more than I would have if I'd been without substance (unfortunate but true). The night ended with my friend's boyfriend, dressed as Fred from Scooby Doo (the girl was Velma! Not the right pairing but it was cute), hurling in the middle of Waverly Place.

I celebrated the end of the holiday weekend today by working out, spending $65 at Trader Joe's and doing research in the library.

YEAH!

My first article for the magazine... Asterix & Obelix, naturally. I am not interested in journalism, but this internship is good so far. :)

Et même si la vie nous joue des tours
En attendant les beaux jours
Je rêve encore en silence

Et même si la vie nous joue des tours
Comme en rythme d'un tambour
Doucement mon coeur balance



And even if life plays its tricks on us
While I wait for the spring
I still dream silently

And even if life plays its tricks on us
Like a tambourine's beat
My heart rocks softly

I'm a bad translatorrrrrrrrr

I read back through this LJ and had lots of feelings. Those feelings made me want to write a pretentious little abstract of my life up until now, but in trying to inject it with honesty and realism, I think I missed the vein.

Where I am now, fall 2009:
- I'm feeling really done with academia. I think this is the more mature strain of senioritis, but I'm just ready to have a life and contribute to the world instead of sitting in a classroom where people bicker about whether things are constituents or not.
- I applied to Teach for America.
- I'm (supposedly) working on sociolinguistic teacher talk research.
- I have an internship with a prominent French culture magazine and I'm also working nights at the NYU library. Glamorous existence.
- This fall I feel much more isolated than last. Several of my good friends here have either graduated or moved off campus, so I don't see them much and that leads to relationships that trail away.
- A big step for me was de-activating my Facebook for a few weeks because it was enabling some bad habits I have. I had to re-activate it for my internship, which I think is ironic.

I think I'm too serious. I also have too few good memories that result from actively living my life, and too many days of my life erased by doing nothing important.

Lurking high-school LJ posts of people I'm not LJ-friends with is realllly interesting... I miss high school. I'm probably the only one who does. I wish I had been more confident back then to take advantage of the social experience. I never really hit my stride socially in high school. Or college, come to think of it. I can live vicariously through people I don't know very well, but if I know people who have better friendships than me, I get very very jealous.

I have a small sliver of hope that someone from my past is interested enough in living vicariously through me through my LJ... but eh, if not it's cool.

I have never read French texts as incredibly frustrating as the pop-lit mysteries we're reading in my senior seminar, Le neo-polar. I have to underline and look up at least ten words per page (at least!), and it is helping neither my comprehension nor my self-esteem.

Whining: When do I get to be fluent? When do I get to read popular novels like a native and not feel that my nine years of studying this language have been useless? NINE YEARS. I've read books upon books throughout those nine years, yet I am suddenly seeing words I've never seen or heard before? Is every language like this? Is this even fair? Why am I doing this to myself?

So right now I'm using the "Tea House" theme for Gmail, which changes according to the time of day. I really love that kind of dynamic theme, and I was using the "Bus Stop" one, which changed with the weather, for a while until I decided I liked the tea house one better. The one thing about the tea house theme, though, is that the little fox is always out doing something or other in the garden. Even now, it is 12:22 a.m. and he is working his sad little tail off in the dark!! GO TO SLEEP, FOX! You make me sad.

This guy has an amazing portfolio - looking at his food pictures, I actually said to myself, "That is one beautiful sliced radish." It was amazing and bemusing.

In other news, the most recent blog project I started has already gone down the drain; I think I'm ok with not having a purpose-driven blog right now. LJ should be enough, and I have a real journal that has been feeling neglected for a while.

I want to join fun clubs this year. I don't want to do my research anymore. I am basically failing at that and I wake up sweating every morning from nerves that I will shame my university, my country and my family.

Why is it always the bathroom where I organize my thoughts the best? It's not like I necessarily spend that much time there, but somehow anything involving mindless routine - showering, brushing my teeth - lets my mind wander and sometimes sifts the best thoughts to the top of the pile. (The slush pile?)

I have grand plans for productivity on my airplane home this Friday. I raided my local library for YA fiction. I'm excited to read Gossip Girl in public and (hopefully) not be ashamed. Please, GG, live up to your reputation. I also want to write some vignettes for my new project. I don't think I write as well longhand as I do with a keyboard, so we'll see how it goes.

As usual, thinking about the future worries me. But I'm trying this new thing, optimism. It's a real treat in the morning when I remind myself that I can change how I think and that I don't have to resign myself to anger and boredom every day.

People getting their degrees in computer/tech related stuff should feel very lucky that their talents are actually in demand right now. I feel like the internet is saturated with start-ups and engineering opportunities. It's also full of creativity, so much so that I often can't take it all in at once, otherwise it numbs me. I am starting to understand the fear that technology brings information overload, and I recall that there are actually legitimate cases of people taking in too much knowledge and becoming obsessive. That is weird.

I'm really stressed about school right now. Red tape is everywhere. It's like a red spiderweb and I'm stuck thrashing in it, trying to find a way out.

I just found out, looking at my degree progress report, that I essentially took an entire semester's worth of courses (16 credits) for nothing. They don't count for anything. My three German courses and a stupid elective course about Versailles. I suppose it's not a big deal considering I didn't take them all at once, and everyone should be allowed some electives, but it's making me nervous because I have to petition to stay at NYU another year to do my research and finish my major and minors. They're trying to take away my financial aid for this next year because I've done 125 credits already and typically people graduate after 128.

I've also been having nightmares lately about assorted acquaintances. For example, this morning at 2:15 I woke up abruptly after an otherwise normal dream about an amusement park that struck me with fear when one character, a boy I work with in the fifth grade class, miscalculated his cannonball jump into an elevated swimming pool. His expression of glee morphed instantly into blankness as he hit his head on the wooden rim and tumbled 20 feet to the ground, blood gushing from his injuries.