The Latest?

I haven’t updated in a while. Gah!

Um…

Let’s see. What to tell you…? What can I say…?

This Thursday various universities in Ontario, Canada will mail their acceptance/rejection letters to Teachers’ College hopefuls. For a little while now, I’ve been preparing an alternative plan. Not merely in case I don’t get in. And not just because I have doubts about whether or not my applications were successful. Rather, because I’m not certain that I ought to go just yet.

In my life it’s becoming evident that I need to embark on an adventure of sorts. Preferably one that will lead to personal advancement and intellectual self-exploration. Among other things, I can sense this need in my personality. (Although in my late 20s, I don’t feel as though I know who I really am as an individual. I find this highly disturbing. Especially as there are people who are younger than me who possess a greater sense of self.) I still want to teach. However I’m not 100% positive that Teachers’ College will give me the awakening that I need. At least, not right now.

I’m thinking of pursuing what originally put me on the path to wanting to become a school teacher–ESL teaching. Currently that’s what I do for a living. However everything about my present position is marginal. I want a complete experience, involving cultural immersion.

Thus I’ve begun a sort of “side” operation. In addition to my newfound love of grammar (mentioned in an earlier post), I’ve been working on cover letters and polishing my resume. I also started a database in MS Access–of school addresses.

One way or another, I am determined.

I need to steer my own destiny. (I say “steer” because–thank God–I now believe that at times it’s best to simply pursue a “direction”…And let things evolve thereafter.) Everyone expects me to go to teachers’ college. It’s what I’ve told them about in email conversations, on the phone…It’s what I’ve chirped about ever since last autumn. And I used to be very keen on going. But that fervor has died down tremendously. At one point I panicked: “What if I don’t’ get in!?!”

But you know something?

I will not be broken. I already have a BA in English Literature. Rejection from another institution cannot take that away from me. It cannot destroy my health or my future prospects.

Furthermore, a Bachelor’s Degree in Education cannot guarantee one a perfect future. Spending time with professional teachers taught me that the profession’s rumored job security is exactly that–a rumor. Nothing is guaranteed. No matter what job you have.

And so, I wait.

Depending on the type of postal service the schools use, I could get some responses as early as Friday. I expect to know everything by April the 7th.

In other news…?

I see that in my previous entry, I referred to Dorian Grey, of The Picture of… As a bit of a jerk. That word doesn’t do his cruelty justice. I haven’t been giving the novel the attention that I should have. (Which is a shame, as it should be a short, quick read.) Still, as I progress, I seem to remember him as being vile and wretched. A bastard, really.

Ah well. No matter.

Off to bed…

Speaking of my library…

Last night I visited my stash of old textbooks. After a few moments of fretting, I picked up The Picture of Dorian Grey. I love this book to bits. For those not in the know, here’s the quickie version of the story. (If you do know this book, please excuse my slang and unintentional errors):

Basically, from what I recall…TPoDG is about Dorian, an evil hottie who owns an enchanted portrait of himself. It stays in a hidden room of his house and acts as an unusual preservative–specifically, everyone in Dorian’s world ages, while he remains young. Meanwhile his portrait gets premature wrinkles, and bags, and sags…Basically, it doesn’t get ugly. It gets fugly. Which it should, because from what I remember, Dorian’s a pompous jerk of the highest order. (Believe me. That’s nicer than what I really wanted to call him.)

*SLIGHT SPOILER ALERT*

Thankfully in Dorian’s case, his picture isn’t a thing of beauty forever. He gets his. But I won’t say how.

Besides–I can’t remember the details. But it was good.

So, why Dorian?

It’s the ultimate tale of hubris gone wrong. It’s funny, spooky, and intriguing as hell. And Oscar Wilde writes with such intelligence and effortless, infinite beauty….If I could’ve, I would’ve married him.

As for my other bits and pieces…Right now I’m going through a phase of re-reading. I’m trying not to borrow anything from the library unless it’s Canadian Literature–which I have very little of. It certainly looks like I won’t have to. When it comes to the “Classics”, my cups runneth over.

While I was looking last night, I was slightly ashamed: I have an embarrassing number of “big name” books that I purchased just for the sake of having. These, combined with my never or partially-read textbooks, are overwhelming.

Among my goodies I noted that I have…

1. The Bluest Eye – The only Toni Morrison novel that I have every truly, deeply loved. Apart from the lead character’s terrible experiences of abuse, I lived it. I spent nearly all of my early childhood wondering why I wasn’t white, thinking of how my life would be easier that way…Wondering why the hell God would make me a part of a culture that people enjoy mocking.

2. Yet another Keats anthology. Full of his fantabulous poetry. Since I have two, I figure I should pass one on to a friend…

3. Tom Jones. I never finished it, but if I remember it correctly, like the singer, he was popular with the ladies. 😛

4. Martin Chuzzlewit. The. Juiciest. Dickens. Novel. Ever! Maybe something’s wrong with me. But I think this is the only book of his that I have ever appreciated. Believe me. I have others. And I was either a) too young to value them when they were foisted upon me…Or, b) in the case of the books I bought for fun, I couldn’t sit still long enough to be interested in what was going on. Unfortunately I never finished Chuzzlewit. And that’s a shame because it was hella-funny. Sorry, Dr. Higgins.

Plus, Jude the Obscure (finished), Their Eyes Were Watching God (finished), Don Quixote (started it), Vanity Fair (ditto), two Shakespeare anthologies (I only read what I had to), and countless others.

You know, I think of the times I’ve promised myself that I’m gonna give up television. With all the books I have yet to discover, I don’t really have an excuse.

Finished!

After reading it sporadically over the past little while, I finished One Good Story… today.

Overall, it’s a great read. An excellent work of Native Canadian literature. I found it witty, charming, and insightful, with plenty of things that made me go “Hmmm“.

Yet it was very familiar. I think I might’ve read it during my undergrad days.

That’s the cool thing about being a Lit major. Your textbooks instantly guarantee you a cool library.

Didn’t See it Coming

I never thought I’d admit this. But I miss grammar.

I miss teaching it. I miss explaining–and reading up on–things such as conditionals, modal verbs, and the present progressive tense.

Yes, I’m an ESL teacher. But my current focus is on basic literacy skills.

Thus, feeling out of the loop, I’ve started doing the exercises found @ this site. I’ve also started pouring over Grammar for English Language Teachers (by Martin Parrott, Cambridge University Press) and Understanding and Using English Grammar.

Yes, I do it on purpose. Yes, in my spare time.

Why?

Because I’m nerdy like that–that’s why.

“Nobody move, this is perfect…”

If you know the song that those lyrics come from, click here. “Perfect” always makes me smile. And imagine. And dream of love…

You know something?

I can’t decide if I would love or loathe life in Singapore. This debate keeps coming to mind ever since the story ages ago of that young American who risked getting (literally) whipped for vandalism. And now, just when I practically forgot that that country existed, they legalize chewing gum.

It has to be “therapeutic” gum, mind you. But it’s a start.

Every now and then I am reminded of how lousy I am…

When it comes to keeping in touch with my friends. I keep letting people fall through the cracks. Just this Monday I was thinking that I hadn’t written one of my university buddies in ages.

I kept telling myself to write her…And write her.

The next thing I know I wake up to hear that explosions demolished a set of subway stations and trains in Spain, where my long lost friend now resides.

The world stops for a moment as I try quietly to convince myself that everything is fine. I’m not hysterical, like I was on 9/11. I have family members who work in NYC. One was in the Trade Center, but she survived. Nothing bad happens to any of my friends. Ever.

I repeat this lie to myself several times throughout the morning. Maybe my friends have been fine. But two good acquaintances of mine have died tragically over the past several years–each time, the circumstances of their demise have been publicized heavily in the news.

I don’t have my friend’s phone number but I have her email address. I send off a frantic message, and…

She’s okay. Thank God. She doesn’t live in Madrid.

But nearly 200 innocent lives were lost.

When will it end!?!?!

I usually try to be positive, but really. How did we wind up in such a scary, disgusting world?

The Good Ol’ Hockey Game

Is this justice?

I’m not much of a sports chick. I don’t pay enough attention to say I’m truly a fan. I can’t even remember the score of any game I’ve ever seen.

But what is up with the violence in hockey? Just today I heard fans on the radio saying something like, “Oh, you have to have fights @ a [hockey] game. I wouldn’t watch otherwise…Heh heh heh.”

Please.

I hear they’re not going to outlaw fighting @ hockey games. In response to that idea, I quote some lyrics I once wrote:

“No one makes a law ‘less someone dies.”

Why is violence in hockey necessary?

Better yet, how? Really. I would like to see someone try and give me a legitimate reason…

I don’t care to diminish the importance of the sport as a national (Canadian) pastime. But the object of hockey is simple. Get the puck in the goal. Not go beat your bro to within an inch of his life. People should be able to play without wondering if they’ll finish a game in one piece.

A Little Reality

Goes a long way.

Right now I’m thinking about the way that happenings in the media can cause you to examine their real-life implications.

The Apprentice continues this week. Last week, of course, they fired Omarosa. I didn’t watch her departure, but believe me, I’d been waiting.

Like Dubya, Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth is one of those people who I hope is decent in real life. Because her televised persona has me reeling.

I think the people @ Black Enterprise got it right:

“…there is a large and growing contingent of black women professionals, including The View’s Star Jones, and many of the female employees at BLACK ENTERPRISE, who believe that Omarosa’s behavior projects the most negative stereotype of black females in corporate America: angry, conniving, defensive and impossible to work with”

It is sad to say, and it is something that I don’t care to discuss in great detail right now. But people like Omarosa are dangerous. Never mind how they behave as individuals. When their behavior is broadcast in the media…

Arrrgh!

As I said in the Television Without Pity forums:

“‘I think of my mother, my aunts and cousins, my friends, and myself…Hard working (Strong Black) Women* doing our best to stay afloat. And then I think of Oma, and I want to give her a shake.

[One of the reasons I dislike Omarosa is because of t]he fallout that I knew would come as a result of her behavior. When I think of all the media sheep who were watching her and are now dumb enough to have lowered their expectations and narrowed their minds, along the lines of unspoken statements such as, “So. This is how a black woman behaves on the job…'”

Because of our culture, people from marginalized groups (i.e. minorities) who are thrown into media environments where they are among mainstream groups (i.e. Caucasians) are seen as “ambassadors” or accurate representatives of their “people”. You can use the explanation I gave, juxtaposing any contrasting groups–women among men, young people working with older adults. I don’t care. Naive consumers suck up these images, often heralding them as accurate. I don’t need the kind of representation that Omarosa brings.

*mocking Omarosa’s public claims that her failure on The Apprentice depended from the fact that people resent her being a “Strong Black Woman”. She failed and was eliminated because of her behavior. No more, no less.

Currently I’m reading…

One Good Story, That One

It’s a collection of short stories, by Canadian author, Thomas King

Thus far, it’s wonderful. The title story features an amusing re-telling of Adam and Eve’s fall from grace. Their new names?

Ah-damn and Evening.

Like the author, the main characters are Native. I enjoy the way King captures his characters’ vocal cadences. As for “Totem”–which I finished last night–the story’s images of wailing Totem poles still haunt me. In our society we still see the remnants of man’s attempts to eliminate various cultures. In spite of our attempts to hide or overlook our collective history…We often don’t know what to do when past evils bleed through to the present.