Every time I see this picture, I just laugh even harder.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Elitists
I think it's fine to be elitist about certain subjects if you really are that intelligent and know what you're talking about--when you're around other "legitimate elitists." But I don't think you should be elitist around people who don't know as much about that particular topic, and I especially don't think teachers should be elitist around their students. Obviously a) it makes the less-knowledgeable feel bad, but in addition b) it makes them strive to be elitist too.
I have a teacher (unnamed) who is very intelligent and well-informed in many subjects. He's someone I'd choose as one of my three lifelines on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire." He certainly has a right to be elitist on a plethora of matters, because he knows so much, and I imagine it's frustrating for him to be around people of lesser intellect. However, he's a teacher...and purposefully or not, he definitely affects his (perhaps more pretentious) students to adopt a similar elitist attitude. Yesterday, he was talking about poetry, and how there is a lot of Bad Poetry these days...mostly about "love, being lonely, and cute puppies." Okay, I suppose that's true, but for those of us in the class who aren't avid readers of poetry (aka. most of us), it's not fair to thrust this condescending mindset onto us. We laugh good-humoredly when he makes statements like this, because he's funny...but the next time we see a book of love poems at a store, we'll automatically remember his semi-snobby remark, and be too embarrassed or proud to think of giving it a chance.
Maybe that's a decision we would have made anyway, with or without the teacher's influence. But the fact is that being subjected to elitist thinking makes us more narrow-minded, and for students who are still learning and developing their own opinions, I don't think it's a good idea.
So I am trying very hard not to ever be a snob about any subject on which I am not a full expert (in other words, nothing).
Except the Twilight series. I really can't help but be condescending toward that.
I have a teacher (unnamed) who is very intelligent and well-informed in many subjects. He's someone I'd choose as one of my three lifelines on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire." He certainly has a right to be elitist on a plethora of matters, because he knows so much, and I imagine it's frustrating for him to be around people of lesser intellect. However, he's a teacher...and purposefully or not, he definitely affects his (perhaps more pretentious) students to adopt a similar elitist attitude. Yesterday, he was talking about poetry, and how there is a lot of Bad Poetry these days...mostly about "love, being lonely, and cute puppies." Okay, I suppose that's true, but for those of us in the class who aren't avid readers of poetry (aka. most of us), it's not fair to thrust this condescending mindset onto us. We laugh good-humoredly when he makes statements like this, because he's funny...but the next time we see a book of love poems at a store, we'll automatically remember his semi-snobby remark, and be too embarrassed or proud to think of giving it a chance.
Maybe that's a decision we would have made anyway, with or without the teacher's influence. But the fact is that being subjected to elitist thinking makes us more narrow-minded, and for students who are still learning and developing their own opinions, I don't think it's a good idea.
So I am trying very hard not to ever be a snob about any subject on which I am not a full expert (in other words, nothing).
Except the Twilight series. I really can't help but be condescending toward that.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Friends 2
There's friendship, and then there's intimacy. Until now, I never made a distinction between the two, but now I realize it is possible for one to exist without the other. To me, friendships are never stagnant...they are either growing or diminishing, and while growth should feel natural and genuinely easy, it also takes action. As time passes, friendships come and go. It's a cycle, and while a change can be initially upsetting or disappointing, you should trust that ultimately, it will be justified.
That being said, intimacy is maybe a whole other issue. Friendships fluctuate, but true intimacy does not easily disintegrate. Unlike friendship, intimacy can be stagnant, but I don't mean "stagnant" as in immobile, but rather, immovable--rooted and steadfast.
As I grow older, I notice various people edging slowly out of my life. Friend A, with whom I used to talk every day is now someone I see once or twice a year. Friend B comes along and fills the shoes of he who left. Whether the leaving is intentional or not is beyond the point. We all have excuses--busy lives, diverging paths. What's important is to acknowledge the consequence of these excuses. There comes a point when an inactive friendship morphs into a nonexistent one. Friend A, I used to come to you for every problem, big and small, significant and childish. Then when our communication lessened, I narrowed my dependence on you to more specific needs--I came to you with issues that "only you" would understand. And now? I feel like you hang in my life by a thread...Issues that once would have led me directly to you--they don't, anymore. They take a step in your direction, then hesitate and lead me to Friend B instead...because Friend B is usually there, and you are usually not.
But what I notice is that our intimacy is still here. In fact, it's as strong as a rock. I don't tell you things, but I could. I don't share with you every boring detail of my day, from when I wake up (it took me 5 tries to put in my contacts this morning) until I go to bed (re-watched my favorite episode of Big Bang Theory), but I could. I don't call you when I feel like crying or giving up, but I could, and believe me, I want to. Our friendship has changed...and you realize it, too. The rare times I do hear from you, you say, "This incident made me think of you...I want to tell you about it." But then, you don't. Consequently, I don't know about your life...at all. But I could. Would we be very much altered if I did? You don't know my life, but you still know ME better than most people
I can't stay quality friends with someone without a mutual active effort to keep the relationship alive. Eventually, it stops working, no matter how fond two people are of each other. But intimacy lives on.
Friendship and intimacy are not inseparable. It's just such a shame when one exists without the other.
That being said, intimacy is maybe a whole other issue. Friendships fluctuate, but true intimacy does not easily disintegrate. Unlike friendship, intimacy can be stagnant, but I don't mean "stagnant" as in immobile, but rather, immovable--rooted and steadfast.
As I grow older, I notice various people edging slowly out of my life. Friend A, with whom I used to talk every day is now someone I see once or twice a year. Friend B comes along and fills the shoes of he who left. Whether the leaving is intentional or not is beyond the point. We all have excuses--busy lives, diverging paths. What's important is to acknowledge the consequence of these excuses. There comes a point when an inactive friendship morphs into a nonexistent one. Friend A, I used to come to you for every problem, big and small, significant and childish. Then when our communication lessened, I narrowed my dependence on you to more specific needs--I came to you with issues that "only you" would understand. And now? I feel like you hang in my life by a thread...Issues that once would have led me directly to you--they don't, anymore. They take a step in your direction, then hesitate and lead me to Friend B instead...because Friend B is usually there, and you are usually not.
But what I notice is that our intimacy is still here. In fact, it's as strong as a rock. I don't tell you things, but I could. I don't share with you every boring detail of my day, from when I wake up (it took me 5 tries to put in my contacts this morning) until I go to bed (re-watched my favorite episode of Big Bang Theory), but I could. I don't call you when I feel like crying or giving up, but I could, and believe me, I want to. Our friendship has changed...and you realize it, too. The rare times I do hear from you, you say, "This incident made me think of you...I want to tell you about it." But then, you don't. Consequently, I don't know about your life...at all. But I could. Would we be very much altered if I did? You don't know my life, but you still know ME better than most people
I can't stay quality friends with someone without a mutual active effort to keep the relationship alive. Eventually, it stops working, no matter how fond two people are of each other. But intimacy lives on.
Friendship and intimacy are not inseparable. It's just such a shame when one exists without the other.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Ministry of Fear
Favorite Quotes:
It was a long time before they told him about the war, and that involved an enormous amount of historical explanation. What seemed odd to him, he found, was not what seemed odd to other people...the fact that we were at war with Italy shook him like an inexplicable catastrophe of nature. "Italy," he exclaimed. Why, Italy was where two of his maiden aunts went every year to paint. He remembered too the Primitives in the National Gallery and Caporetto and Garibaldi, who had given a name to a biscuit, and Thomas Cook's. Then Johns patiently explained about Mussolini.
Ha ha ha.
When he thought of her it was with an absurd breathlessness. It was as if he were waiting again years ago outside...and the girl he loved was coming down the street, and the night was full of pain and beauty and despair because one knew one was too young for anything to come of this...
"Is life really like this?" Rowe asked. Mr. Prentice leant forward with an interested air, as though he were always ready to abandon the particular in favour of the general argument. He said, "This is life, so I suppose one can say it's like life."
Her face looked ugly in the attempt to avoid tears; it was an ugliness which bound him to her more than any beauty could have done; it isn't being happy together, he thought as though it were a fresh discovery, that makes one love--it's being unhappy together.
She looked at him with a kind of middle-aged tenderness, as though they'd grown through love into its later stage.
It was a long time before they told him about the war, and that involved an enormous amount of historical explanation. What seemed odd to him, he found, was not what seemed odd to other people...the fact that we were at war with Italy shook him like an inexplicable catastrophe of nature. "Italy," he exclaimed. Why, Italy was where two of his maiden aunts went every year to paint. He remembered too the Primitives in the National Gallery and Caporetto and Garibaldi, who had given a name to a biscuit, and Thomas Cook's. Then Johns patiently explained about Mussolini.
Ha ha ha.
When he thought of her it was with an absurd breathlessness. It was as if he were waiting again years ago outside...and the girl he loved was coming down the street, and the night was full of pain and beauty and despair because one knew one was too young for anything to come of this...
"Is life really like this?" Rowe asked. Mr. Prentice leant forward with an interested air, as though he were always ready to abandon the particular in favour of the general argument. He said, "This is life, so I suppose one can say it's like life."
Her face looked ugly in the attempt to avoid tears; it was an ugliness which bound him to her more than any beauty could have done; it isn't being happy together, he thought as though it were a fresh discovery, that makes one love--it's being unhappy together.
She looked at him with a kind of middle-aged tenderness, as though they'd grown through love into its later stage.
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