Monday, January 25, 2016
Teach for America
I don't know if I've ever mentioned this here, but I teach some law students who shall remain nameless a subject that will go unmentioned at a school that I won't specify. And I've been doing it for years, too, so for all you know everything I'm about to say is about some jamoke who graduated in the late aughts. Or perhaps it's about a composite character I invented based on some things that actually happened and some didn't. Like an old school Law & Order, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I love my students. For the most part. They're smart, they're articulate, they participate in class, and sometimes they're even kind of funny (and some of that is even intentional, I think). But I also hate them a good portion of the time. They view all deadlines as purely optional, if they even bother to take note of them at all. They ask me questions that I've already answered a dozen times, in writing, sometimes bold and underlined. They ask me for all kinds of help that has absolutely nothing to do with what I've been hired to do. I mean, I sympathize with your concerns about getting a travel visa, but I really don't think driving you to the consulate falls within my job description. And no, I don't think I should come to your Cinco de Mayo party. In fact, I'm really concerned about you even having that party, as it is a very tricky one to not make racist.
Anyway, I think everyone should probably teach at some point, because it really helps you think about how you do what you do and, better yet, how you learned how to do it. And also because it's awful. And great at the same time. And isn't that really what America is all about?
I don't know if I've ever mentioned this here, but I teach some law students who shall remain nameless a subject that will go unmentioned at a school that I won't specify. And I've been doing it for years, too, so for all you know everything I'm about to say is about some jamoke who graduated in the late aughts. Or perhaps it's about a composite character I invented based on some things that actually happened and some didn't. Like an old school Law & Order, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I love my students. For the most part. They're smart, they're articulate, they participate in class, and sometimes they're even kind of funny (and some of that is even intentional, I think). But I also hate them a good portion of the time. They view all deadlines as purely optional, if they even bother to take note of them at all. They ask me questions that I've already answered a dozen times, in writing, sometimes bold and underlined. They ask me for all kinds of help that has absolutely nothing to do with what I've been hired to do. I mean, I sympathize with your concerns about getting a travel visa, but I really don't think driving you to the consulate falls within my job description. And no, I don't think I should come to your Cinco de Mayo party. In fact, I'm really concerned about you even having that party, as it is a very tricky one to not make racist.
Anyway, I think everyone should probably teach at some point, because it really helps you think about how you do what you do and, better yet, how you learned how to do it. And also because it's awful. And great at the same time. And isn't that really what America is all about?
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Good Morning America
So this morning it took me an hour and fifteen minutes to make the six and a half mile trip from my house to my office. It was an amazing journey, which I assure you will be optioned for a major motion picture any time now.
The fun started when I got all the way to the train station before realizing I had left the house without, well, any of my belongings. No work bag, no gym stuff, no lunch. How this happened I cannot say; I can only blame Ashlee Simpson and her amazing hit single "La la" for distracting me, I guess.
After a quick dash back to the house, where I set off the alarm and caused what appeared to be a series of canine heart palpitations, I got back to the train, this time fully equipped for my journey. And lo, what luck! A purple line was waiting right there for me.
Now generally I am delighted to get a purple line because it goes straight to my office building, whereas the red line forces me to walk the unbearable distance of two blocks once I arrive downtown. But what I did not realize was that this purple line would, from the moment it was too late to transfer to any other line, make no fewer than four unplanned stops for an increasingly comic series of reasons. I believe the last one was that the operator was feeling despondent following the lackluster box office performance of Steve Jobs.
Nor did I anticipate that there would be not one but two pungent and vocal homeless individuals on this particular purple line. Which is fine for your garden variety trip down to the Loop; I enjoy random screamed expletives as much as the next person. But after forty-five minutes or so, some of the material starts to feel a bit recycled.
Anyway, I made it to work only slightly late, and I'm super middle class and this is America, so I am properly grateful. But man do they need to get that teleportation technology up to speed stat.
So this morning it took me an hour and fifteen minutes to make the six and a half mile trip from my house to my office. It was an amazing journey, which I assure you will be optioned for a major motion picture any time now.
The fun started when I got all the way to the train station before realizing I had left the house without, well, any of my belongings. No work bag, no gym stuff, no lunch. How this happened I cannot say; I can only blame Ashlee Simpson and her amazing hit single "La la" for distracting me, I guess.
After a quick dash back to the house, where I set off the alarm and caused what appeared to be a series of canine heart palpitations, I got back to the train, this time fully equipped for my journey. And lo, what luck! A purple line was waiting right there for me.
Now generally I am delighted to get a purple line because it goes straight to my office building, whereas the red line forces me to walk the unbearable distance of two blocks once I arrive downtown. But what I did not realize was that this purple line would, from the moment it was too late to transfer to any other line, make no fewer than four unplanned stops for an increasingly comic series of reasons. I believe the last one was that the operator was feeling despondent following the lackluster box office performance of Steve Jobs.
Nor did I anticipate that there would be not one but two pungent and vocal homeless individuals on this particular purple line. Which is fine for your garden variety trip down to the Loop; I enjoy random screamed expletives as much as the next person. But after forty-five minutes or so, some of the material starts to feel a bit recycled.
Anyway, I made it to work only slightly late, and I'm super middle class and this is America, so I am properly grateful. But man do they need to get that teleportation technology up to speed stat.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Thank You, Dr. King
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day has always been one of my favorites. When I was still at a law firm, it was one of the few days that they actually closed the office, perhaps because they were afraid otherwise people would think they were racist. Of course, all the attorneys pretty much came in anyway, because we basically did that every day of the year. It was nice to work without the noise of secretaries screaming at each other about their lunch orders, though. Or the mail guy with the inane comments centered on what day of the week it was. I bet he's chairman of the firm by now.
Anyway, now that I'm in government, we fully believe in taking days off, and I am at home. I decided to observe the occasion by trying out a new fitness class, which will likely have me paralyzed in a matter of hours. Until then, though, I'm catching up on some writing and some household tasks. I haven't shred anything in like a year and a half, because I hate cleaning up the stray little shreddies afterwards, and therefore have a stack of financial statements about as high as my waist to get through. Also our front door won't stay closed for some reason, and the strategy of propping it shut with an umbrella is probably not optimal. So yeah, I won't be bored.
I do realize that it is more than a little bit sick to get up at my normal time on a day off and spend the entire thing working, but hey, we have to be honest with ourselves about who we are. I'm not the world's best relaxer, but I sure do know a thing or two about organizing a closet.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day has always been one of my favorites. When I was still at a law firm, it was one of the few days that they actually closed the office, perhaps because they were afraid otherwise people would think they were racist. Of course, all the attorneys pretty much came in anyway, because we basically did that every day of the year. It was nice to work without the noise of secretaries screaming at each other about their lunch orders, though. Or the mail guy with the inane comments centered on what day of the week it was. I bet he's chairman of the firm by now.
Anyway, now that I'm in government, we fully believe in taking days off, and I am at home. I decided to observe the occasion by trying out a new fitness class, which will likely have me paralyzed in a matter of hours. Until then, though, I'm catching up on some writing and some household tasks. I haven't shred anything in like a year and a half, because I hate cleaning up the stray little shreddies afterwards, and therefore have a stack of financial statements about as high as my waist to get through. Also our front door won't stay closed for some reason, and the strategy of propping it shut with an umbrella is probably not optimal. So yeah, I won't be bored.
I do realize that it is more than a little bit sick to get up at my normal time on a day off and spend the entire thing working, but hey, we have to be honest with ourselves about who we are. I'm not the world's best relaxer, but I sure do know a thing or two about organizing a closet.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Hollywood Minute
I've been catching up on movies lately, and not just the kind that air on the Hallmark Channel and star Days of Our Lives line reciter Alison Sweeney. We actually went to a movie theater for the first time since like July the other day, to see Joy with my mom. (At 10:20 AM on a Sunday, no less.) It was all right. I am officially no longer willing to give Jennifer Lawrence the slack to play women like twenty years older than her, but I always enjoy David O. Russell's dialogue and find it fascinating to see Elizabeth Rohm when she's not ruining Law & Order. And Isabella Rossellini should, I feel, be president of something.
We also watched the latest Mission:Impossible on demand. I like watching things on demand because by the time the cable bill comes I've always completely forgotten about watching them. Surprises are fun. The movie was entertaining, though it suffered from a shocking lack of people dangling off of very tall buildings. I guess I just don't find Tom Cruise believable playing a human being any more. And what is the purpose of Jeremy Renner? Just generally in life, even. I don't really get why he's there.
And yesterday we watched Ant:Man, which I ordered when I realized that I still subscribed to the DVD service but had not ordered anything for a year, choosing instead to leave two Key & Peele discs gathering dust at my mother's apartment. This one I actually enjoyed a pretty good amount. The first half hour or so was a bit slow, but once people started shrinking and riding CGI ants and shit, it was pretty amazing. I've got no beef with Paul Rudd, despite the fact that he does not appear to age, and I still have a lot of residual good will for Evangeline Lilly from the Lost years, which not even the terrible wig could destroy. It's a great choice if, like me, you suddenly realize you haven't watched any movies not made for TV over two weeks on a soundstage in Canada since Flag Day.
I've been catching up on movies lately, and not just the kind that air on the Hallmark Channel and star Days of Our Lives line reciter Alison Sweeney. We actually went to a movie theater for the first time since like July the other day, to see Joy with my mom. (At 10:20 AM on a Sunday, no less.) It was all right. I am officially no longer willing to give Jennifer Lawrence the slack to play women like twenty years older than her, but I always enjoy David O. Russell's dialogue and find it fascinating to see Elizabeth Rohm when she's not ruining Law & Order. And Isabella Rossellini should, I feel, be president of something.
We also watched the latest Mission:Impossible on demand. I like watching things on demand because by the time the cable bill comes I've always completely forgotten about watching them. Surprises are fun. The movie was entertaining, though it suffered from a shocking lack of people dangling off of very tall buildings. I guess I just don't find Tom Cruise believable playing a human being any more. And what is the purpose of Jeremy Renner? Just generally in life, even. I don't really get why he's there.
And yesterday we watched Ant:Man, which I ordered when I realized that I still subscribed to the DVD service but had not ordered anything for a year, choosing instead to leave two Key & Peele discs gathering dust at my mother's apartment. This one I actually enjoyed a pretty good amount. The first half hour or so was a bit slow, but once people started shrinking and riding CGI ants and shit, it was pretty amazing. I've got no beef with Paul Rudd, despite the fact that he does not appear to age, and I still have a lot of residual good will for Evangeline Lilly from the Lost years, which not even the terrible wig could destroy. It's a great choice if, like me, you suddenly realize you haven't watched any movies not made for TV over two weeks on a soundstage in Canada since Flag Day.
Saturday, January 02, 2016
Out With the Old, In With the New
What can one say about 2015? The biggest news story of the year was probably Donald Trump, which makes it sound a lot more like, say, 1988. And if you listen to the rhetoric involved, maybe more like 1958. Bernie Sanders became everyone's favorite curmudgeonly old person not featured in a Life Alert commercial, while Hillary Clinton got in on the Jurassic World craze by rebooting herself repeatedly. Suddenly everyone hated True Detective and loved Fargo, while remaining largely indifferent to the existence of CBS. No one could figure out if we're done with comic book movies yet or not. It was a strange time, the type we'll probably look back on someday and be largely unable to distinguish from the year that happened before or the ones that have passed since. And now it's gone.
On my end, I have to say that 2015 was pretty good, and not just because 2014 was about as bad as they get. Having a nephew has been great, and not just because I get to enjoy not being the person who has to get up in the middle of the night with him. It's genuinely fascinating to watch a little person develop, and then go home and still be able to pretty much do whatever it is I want to do exactly when I want to do it. Aubrey has also been a fine addition, especially once she got past her early bouts with rug peeing. She's adorable and always doing something crazy I can laugh about, much like Lindsay Lohan in her prime. So I guess we'll keep her.
Happy new year, friends. As meaningless observances go, this is a pretty good one.
What can one say about 2015? The biggest news story of the year was probably Donald Trump, which makes it sound a lot more like, say, 1988. And if you listen to the rhetoric involved, maybe more like 1958. Bernie Sanders became everyone's favorite curmudgeonly old person not featured in a Life Alert commercial, while Hillary Clinton got in on the Jurassic World craze by rebooting herself repeatedly. Suddenly everyone hated True Detective and loved Fargo, while remaining largely indifferent to the existence of CBS. No one could figure out if we're done with comic book movies yet or not. It was a strange time, the type we'll probably look back on someday and be largely unable to distinguish from the year that happened before or the ones that have passed since. And now it's gone.
On my end, I have to say that 2015 was pretty good, and not just because 2014 was about as bad as they get. Having a nephew has been great, and not just because I get to enjoy not being the person who has to get up in the middle of the night with him. It's genuinely fascinating to watch a little person develop, and then go home and still be able to pretty much do whatever it is I want to do exactly when I want to do it. Aubrey has also been a fine addition, especially once she got past her early bouts with rug peeing. She's adorable and always doing something crazy I can laugh about, much like Lindsay Lohan in her prime. So I guess we'll keep her.
Happy new year, friends. As meaningless observances go, this is a pretty good one.
