life as understood

I know, I know, this looks long, but listen to this. Two things: first of all, I may have gotten one of my professors fired. Yow. Now don't worry, nothing terrible happened.

At first, I was a little wary about writing this down, because I didn't want to fall under the criticism of students, or especially Dr. Weed himself (the names have been changed). But then I figured, hey. I haven't done anything wrong. Plus, it probably wasn't actually my fault. Anyway, here we go.

Dr. Weed is technically a member of the History faculty. He just teaches a couple of folklore in film classes each semester, though, and no matter what the specific topic, they're all the same. The classes are quite famous in the slacker underground, though, because they are guaranteed A's for virtually no effort whatsoever. Also, you can take them for credit as many times as you want. Pretty much the entire hockey team is there. Anyway, I could go on forever about the ridiculousness of his classes, but I won't here. Suffice it to say, he often came to class under the influence of something or other. Who knows. The entire semester grade for his courses consisted only of an extremely simple, subjective worksheet from each film we watched, and then a quiz from each one as well. We were supposed to do the quizzes in class, using each other as study aids. No one ever got less than a perfect score on anything. In class, he would go on and on just talking about "the good old days, when everybody smoked in class" and "the f---ing dean" and other such subjects. My buddy Matt registered for the class a couple of years ago and by the time the semester began, he forgot that he had done so, so he never attended a single session. He didn't know he was supposed to be in the class at all. He found out when at the end of the semester, he had an A in folklore in film on his transcript. Good job.

So here's where I come in. I took his British Comedies class last semester. It finished out my history minor. I admit, I also took it because I had heard it was easy, but in all honesty, I was hoping to learn something still. I like film. The class, of course, was terrible. Dr. Weed was always a very nice guy, and sometimes funny, but I seriously gained nothing from it. He would just incessantly bash American movies, using terrible ones like "The Mummy 3" to compare to British classics, like Alec Guinness movies. Come on. That doesn't work. Anyway, the class was pointless. Once, halfway through the semester, he printed off maps of Europe so we could "see where England is." At the end of the term, when we did anonymous course evaluations, I was honest, as I always am on evaluations. That's what they're for. The professors tell you to be truthful. Usually, honesty works in their favor, anyhow.

My friend Brian had Dr. Weed for sports films this semester. It turns out, the man was irate about the first and only negative evaluation of the year, and possibly decade. "I guess that student didn't realize it was a comedy class," he said. I did. Anyway, Brian said that the evaluation caught the dean's attention, or something to that effect. Then, in the middle of a class last week, the dean came to class with an officer and pulled out Dr. Weed, who was mad. Then, the dean returned and said that class was adjourned for the day. Nobody knows what that was about, but if there was an officer there, surely something must have happened beyond just a negative evaluation. What we're assuming is that he had some choice words for the dean when she denied his request for sabbatical. He would always talk to us about his plan to sit on the beach in Cape Cod and doing nothing for a year and a half, anyway. He was excited. Sure. He thought he had found a way to somehow earn his tenured salary even less than he does when he's teaching. Then, yesterday, he was gone. The dean announced to the class that Dr. Weed had taken an early retirement for "health reasons," though for a 72-year-old lifetime smoker, he looked just fine. Besides, you don't just quit in the middle of a semester.

So, we're not really sure what happened there. I figure, if anything, getting rid of him will save the university tens of thousands of dollars, and he can spend as much time as he wants at Cape Cod now. He's old, and seemingly well-off, anyway. Maybe his 45 years of tenured teaching earned him enough to pay for that himself, instead of taking money from poor students' pockets. Oh well. Just don't tell the hockey team it was me. They'll pin me up against the boards, and I don't have chest pads or shoulder pads.

So I guess my conscience is doing all right. He dug his own grave, and I certainly didn't do anything drastic enough to warrant a mid-semester forced retirement, anyway. This is just part of my campaign to save the university, which is more directly being accomplished through student government elections that are underway. But that's a story for another day. On a lighter note, I was contacted today by the International Writing Center Association for permission to publish "The Receptionist Monologues" as the feature reading on their website. This is fantastic news. I wrote the monologues with my co-workers and friends Audrey and Ashley a few months ago, and we presented it at the IWCA international conference in Las Vegas (I had to miss Dr. Weed's class). It was a big hit at the conference. Anyway, this is more impressive than my other publications thus far, even if it's only online. It's international, baby. (Canada, probably?) So that's something, I guess. But still, who's the nerd now? Yeah, I know. Obviously still me.

Yesterday at 1:30, an international student came into work to be tutored. That’s my work, not his. Anyway, he came in, and I think he was Korean, judging by name and complexion. The point is, he had written down on the schedule that his instructor for English 1010 was “M. Twain.” Naturally, I was curious. This was the first time I had heard of such a lecturer in our department. For clarification, as I was filling out his consultation form, I asked him directly who his 1010 instructor was. “Mark Twain,” was the accented, yet clear reply. “That seems highly unlikely,” I responded, but he didn’t hear me. Just as well. I didn’t need to make any enemies, and jealousy for this student had already begun to swell within me. This unsuspecting Korean exchange student —probably not even an English major—was being taught basic composition by possibly the greatest and most prolific writer in American history. Not only that, but I imagined that the class itself was a riot.

Still, a sort of nagging feeling existed. I couldn’t help but recall that not only did the father of American literature not actually teach 1010 in our department, but nowhere in the entire university. Also, he had been dead for over 90 years.

Having no alternative, I wrote down “M. Twain” on the consultation form and sent him in with his tutor, but not before glancing back at the large poster of Twain behind my desk. The poster bore the quote “The difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning-bug.” That was especially true for foreigners, I surmised. For the rest of the day, I went on a crusade to find out which of the firefly grad students who teach 1010 had been parading around as Sam Clements. Otherwise, this misled student wouldn’t get credit for his tutoring appointment. The impostor was probably Adam, since he has a mustache. Not only did Twain have a mustache, but generally speaking, mustache guys are sneaky.

Don't think I haven't noticed that I haven't included as much about Sarah in my blog as she includes about me. I'll justify myself by saying that her blog is the update blog, and mine is the, well, musing blog. Most of my musings are academic in nature, but that's surely not to say that most of my thoughts are as well. I guess I just generally prefer to keep private sentiments private as well, but this shouldn't be an excuse. Sarah is outrageously public with her affections, and as a service to my beloved, I shall now attempt some of the same.

A solid eight or nine months into marriage, I can safely say that it's still as if we got married eight or nine days ago, except we're not in Cancun. It's better, though, because normal college life is spectacular. Sarah makes it so.

She puts up with a lot from me, and takes it in stride. She never complains about my neuroticisms or my constant busyness. I'm gone a lot. She sends me periodic love texts throughout the day, and is always, ALWAYS happy to see me when I come home. Seeing her is a 100%-effective spirit-lifter for me as well. She's a straight-A student with pertinent research interests. She's by far the most attractive person in the History Department, man or woman. She manages to balance home life, studies, friends, spiritual, and all aspects of life with great aplomb. She is beloved by literally, absolutely all with whom she comes into contact. She is open-minded and able to connect to all, while still holding her own values and bubbliness intact. An essay of hers called "The Bluest Blue" is most prizeworthy. I hope it gets posted here beofre long. She is both the smartest and funniest girl I know, and will likely remain so indefinitely. Her selfless experimentations in the kitchen are second to none. She truly is a dream wife in so many ways, and I, the busy academic aspirer, so frequently take her for granted. No longer. She's the wonderfullest. That's right. The wonderfullest. I've smiled so much in the past eight or nine months, I can hardly stand it.

Christmas was good. For specifics on that, surely my wife's blog will suffice. Our perfectly parked car was plowed by a snowplow, so we'll be driving back to Sun Valley this weekend to collect it. Finals ended well last semester, and classes are so far so good now. All of my classes this semester are extremely writing-intensive, and mostly creative writing, so chances are, you'll be hearing from me much more frequently. What a relief. I'm very excited to resume work on a story about a salesman, which I believe to be the best thing I will have ever written. I will be producing many creative works throughout the course of the next few months, though in a paradoxically regimental fashion. I also must begin work on a writing journal with entries at least four times a week. I toyed briefly with the idea of including the entirety of said journal in this blog, but decided that it would not only bog down the blog with such an excess of new information that it would be quite off-putting, but also limit my creative output to that which can or should be read publicly. In lieu of that, I will instead include the highlights on this blog as well as the "works" blog next door. I'm excited, though. Good things have happened recently which will augment all of this. Firstly, I helped facilitate the creation of the new position of "supervisor" at the Writing Center, which I then promptly filled. Basically, it's the same reception/administrative duties I've had recently, but with added power, and added free time for writing. Also, my nepotistic article "It Takes a Family to Raise a Village" appeared in the winter issue of Utah State magazine, just sent to bookstands and alumni last week. That was fun. Also, it's nice to have that project no longer hanging over my head, and the editor enjoyed working with me and may have future writing assignments as well. So there's that. Sarah's been under the weather as of late, and I've been not too far behind, but we should be on the upswing, and we're quite happy. Sarah's going to be doing a lot of cool stuff academically this semester as well. I'll get into more of our future exploits soon. But not too far in the future. We still haven't figured that out.

I fear my blog is beginning to disappoint. Well, that would be somewhat of a relief, actually, because that would indicate that someone would have read it at one point, which would have been validating. Anyway, I know I say this every semester, but the best is yet to come. That is to say, this crazy semester is just about done, and I'll have a whole lot more time next semester. I know, I know, I say that every single time, but check this. I'm running the front desk at the Writing Center for a whopping 15 hours a week next semester, and getting paid for each one. There's definitely plenty of free time in store. Also, I'll be taking three (3) creative writing classes, which means I'll be in the writin' spirit all the time. Speaking of which, it has recently come to my attention that perhaps my writings have garnered more readers than previously thought, so that's good news to any prospective fans out there, and even better news for me, as my creative writing portfolio will grow by a ridiculous amount. I'll be sure to keep the 'works' blog updated as best I can. In academic news, I've finished Don Quixote and Crime and Punishment and I'd love to talk about either one of them. They are now the two longest books I've ever read, and I did them both at the same time. Weird. I'm getting done with Fathers and Sons in the original Russian as well, which is requiring a great deal of time, and throwing me back toward looking into Russian Studies masters programs even more than literature programs right now. So there's that. I'm submitting my proposal tomorrow for my senior honors thesis on "Zamyatin's Real Dystopia" about his novel We and how it is a more effective dystopia than 1984 because in it, the state in essence convinces individuals to sacrifice themselves for the good of the nation, rather than forcing them to do so. Also, it very closely mirrors Soviet propaganda techniques in the 1920's, which is when it was written, though of course not published in the USSR until the '80s. Anyway, in other news, Thanksgiving with the in-laws was wonderful, finals are next week, internships for next year are still pending, and wifey is asleep, but baby, this one's for you all the same.

I don't know who to vote for. There, I admit it. I, me, who am supposed to be a brash, opinionated politicophile who has watched every debate and followed every news brief for the last few months, and when it comes down to it, I still don't know. I need to know, because the TSC does voting early, so today or tomorrow are my options, assuming I don't want to stand in line for literally two hours on Election Day itself. I might have to, though. Here's my thinking. I've been more or less for McCain all along, even though I greatly respect both candidates and think each of them could do well. But I'm somewhat of a conservative largely because I'm somewhat of a realist. And let's face it, a McCain administration is going to run into a lot more obstinacy from Congress, the American people, the media, and our allies abroad, simply because of his party in this ever left-leaning climate. Obama, therefore, might actually be able to get more done. Obviously, his rallying and fundraising ability has been incredible, and that's going on virtually no experience. If he can garner that sort of support for our nation and thereby unify us and increase our standing abroad and respect for the government at home, that's something I want to be a part of. So what now? I believe McCain is an incredible man, I LOVE many of his ideas, and I think overall, he could be one of the best presidents we've had in a long time. But, if he doesn't get much done, and if he's fought and dismembered on his every attempt at governing, maybe we need someone that won't face those sorts of obstacles. So, any thoughts? I turn to you, my dearest friends and family, for support in these troubled times. Please help me vote correctly.

Certainly what this decision represents for me is not a decision between two parties or even two men, but two separate ideals: idealism and realism. The title phrase voting "correctly" is actually more appropriate than perhaps it seems, because I aim to vote based upon set ideals that are important to me. If I succeed, then it's correct. Such a decision, of course, a person may only make for himself, but I still need help.

Another interesting factor is the discussion of urgency. If I believe that McCain is the right man to bring about the sort of change necessary right now, but that reactions to his administration will mire the GOP, and perhaps the presidency, in demobilizing cynicism and backbiting, perhaps my generally conservative ideals would actually be better preserved in the long run with Obama, simply because he will restore the respect to the office necessary to effect real change in the future, perhaps even by conservatives. So here's another question: do I vote for instant help, or extended relief? Obviously, the very idea of conservatism lies within gradual, steady change, so do I vote for a liberal candidate to bring that about in the long run?

The question of idealism vs. realism is so convoluted in this issue, and each absolute could represent each candidate so many times over, even within my own set of values, that I suppose it loses all validity as a basis for my decision.

Perhaps I should just vote on hair, or hotness of wife (or VP) or something. I will now open up the floor to input along those lines as well, but only if all else fails. It seems that I won't figure anything out by today, so consider this note open until the 4th.

If the family blogging has indeed become a spousal competition, surely I am losing. I blog tonight by virtue of a recurring illness that has strapped me to the couch for the entire day. I've definitely never had as many health things come up in my life as in this past five months of marriage, in which I've been uninsured. Hopefully that state will be resolved very soon. This particular illness is probably a function of having my stomach explode following our Homecoming loss to Fresno State yesterday, in which we were beaten at the literal last second on a mind-blowing 57-yard field goal. This, after the kicker had missed an approximately 21-yarder earlier in the game.
I'm in a one-credit Honors course on preparing grad school applications, and it's actually been my second-most demanding actual course this semester. The necessity to infuse my essays with some sort of academic direction has forced me to actually figure it out, and at least for the time being, I know what I want to do. I'm currently looking into PhD programs in literature, especially with emphasis opportunities in creative writing. California schools top my list right now, but nowhere is out of the question. I've submitted my proposal to the Honors office for my big, final senior thesis, which will be on the ideological threads and fears running through a few seminal works of 20th century dystopian literature, and assessing how far we've come today in dealing with those same issues. This sort of study of political and social ideological trends through literature is what I would like to spend my career doing, as far as I can tell right now.
This new direction of mine, or rather, clarified direction, is being greatly augmented by the first-most demanding course this semester- Studies in Prose, in which we are studying Don Quixote in depth, its position as the first novel, birth of realist literature, convoluting of history and fiction, reality and representation. It is without a doubt the most interesting course I've ever taken, and one that totally restores confidence in my decision to be an English major. The course is taught by a Dr. McCuskey, who is notorious in the department for his excellence in thought and teaching, but whose classes I've been unfortunately unable to take until now. I'm working on an independent research project with him right now, in which we're reading Crime and Punishment together and assessing Don Quixote's influences on Dostoyevsky's early career before he wrote The Idiot, which is entirely based on Quixote. We've also discussed our share of sports.
I've fallen in love with working with Dr. McCuskey, who looks to me a little like Dr. Cox from "Scrubs", which character, of course, is the protagonist's mentor. My friend Vienna says he looks like Hercules. Sarah surmises that we each view him the way we want to, which actually follows right down Cervantes's line of thinking, where outward, subjective representations of reality are all we as humans have to truly understand people. So, good job, babe.
Wow, look how nerdy I am. Also, Steve, Brandon, and I are currently enrolled in a hockey class, which we enjoy twice a week in nearly-full pads. We're getting a ton better, and I'd say I could actually be considered a decent skater now. It's a hard game to get down, but so, so much fun.
Sarah and I are heading down to Vegas at the end of the week, so I can present a monologue at the National Peer Tutoring Conference, along with a couple of friends and colleagues. The school is paying for most everything, so it should be a great weekend, despite the lameness of said conference.
The Homecoming dance was fun, and for further details, I urge readers to reference my foe Sarah's blog. Suffice it to say I am now a true Aggie. Score. Don't tell anyone it took me until senior year.

First of all, yes, we're back in the west, and back in school. This is a very good thing. There's much to be documented, and believe me, it will be done once I get a second where my conscience isn't telling me to do something else instead. I just thought it prudent to note to my viewer(s) that my lovely wife Sarah has started a blog "for our family". And while I applaud her efforts and encourage her to write at all opportunities, I fear the worst for my own beloved blog. I know it may seem that I neglect the electronic face of my muse all too often, but I'm determined to keep it functioning. And rest assured, Sarah's divisive actions will not be ignored. We will respond thoroughly and swiftly in defending the individual writes and liberties that have long made this the greatest blog in the family. And by "we", I mean "I".

Two weeks from now, we'll be on the on the happy road west, back from whence we came, away from doorbells and disinterest. The company is making me work on Wednesday the 20th, despite the fact that school starts Monday the 25th 2000 miles away, and all of our belongings are in two different cities at two hours apart from Logan, in opposite directions. We should be able to move everything into the new apartment, but in all likelihood, our late arrival will leave us bedless, as the apartment complex has only one or two they give out to the first-comers who need them. My quest for knowledge this summer has been put to a decisive end by my wife, who triumphantly returned my copy of The Sound and the Fury to the Fairfax County Public Library unfinished. After reading two other 20th century classics earlier this summer, and thus widening my distance over Sarah in the race to read as many of the "1001 books you must read before you die" as possible, she pulled some sneaky witchcraft and checked out the first Harry Potter for me, knowing I would become addicted. I'm on the third one now, and they are indeed very enjoyable, as I suspected they would be, but I fear now that I still have four and a half of those to go before I can fully return to more dignified literature. Once again she has bested me, and I have to give her credit. But this is far from over.

One thing I looked forward to this summer, in addition to being married to Sarah, was having free time to write, above all else. I should have known, of course, that such a dream could never be realized. Especially not when halfway through the summer, our tyrannical leaders have decided to overstep their supposed contractual bounds and increase our hours by taking away three of my mornings every week, instead of one. Now Sarah and I see each other in passing between the bedroom and the bathroom between brushing our teeth and getting out of the shower. Fortunately, she's still lovely when she's just woken up, though. I'll abstain from venting about the company and managers that misrepresented themselves to us at the recruiting stage, though I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. I am, in fact, making a lot of money. I'd rather have more time instead, but I guess that's why I'm an English major and not an aggressive businessman like the managers and most others here. I hope they really are happy. I'll be quite satisfied writing and teaching literature in my mid-sized western college town. Sundays remain for us a day off, but hardly a restful one. We've spent time now at Williamsburg and Jamestown, the National Archives, the monuments, Old Town Alexandria, the National Cathedral, and now Gettysburg. Independence Day watching the fireworks from the foot of the Lincoln Memorial over the reflecting pond to the Washington Monument was pretty spectacular. This is a great city which contributes to the overall worthwhileness of the summer, even if I'm not spending the summer getting publication credits, like my compatriot-rivals. And besides, we'll be back in Logan in no time. It's hard to believe we'll be going back at all, but we've got at least one more fantastic USU schoolyear ahead. And this time we'll have money.