I've been thinking a lot lately, and we know how bad that can turn out :-)
I've been putting all this effort into becoming a teacher~and that's good. The world needs teachers. But I had this whole crazy noble "change the world one child at a time" naive mindset about it, and I KNOW that I know better than that.
I guess I'm realizing that I'm not going to make as big an impact on things as maybe I wanted. I'm not sure how to phrase it.
I want to actually affect change. And that can't happen teaching toddlers songs and colors and their ABCs. And while children and education, I believe, are not only major ways to do that, but major REASONS to do that, I can't figure out how to incorporate that into my day-to-day life.
I have a lot of ideas, a lot of opinions, and I don't feel like I will ever know just how they might have panned out because I don't know where to start.
It's not like I can say "scrap this whole education degree; let's go get a Poli-Sci degree!" because one, Amanda needs to eat and have a roof over her head while she does so; two, Amanda and Zach cannot live on Zach's income alone; three, Amanda cannot allow herself to be supported by her father for much longer and still keep all of her self-respect.
So I have to get a job soon, and the only thing I'm actually qualified for is childcare. But I know that it's a job with very little room to grow, and really no impact on social policy.
I feel like I'm coming to all kinds of realizations about myself too lat ein the game to be able to actually explore the possibilities. Most lobbyists, or even just people in politics, seem to have law degrees or political science degrees. They've done internships with influential people, internships that had them in DC or wherever for a summer. I no longer have the luxury of going to DC for the summer to do an unpaid internship. I have bills, I have responsibilities. I have a husband who I would have to leave behind for a summer, and that's just not gonna happen.
I guess I just don't know where to start. I mean, I've Googled it (which just shows you how little I actually know about getting started) and one site was all "run for local office". Well, durr. But if I don't know HOW to run, what qualifications I need, what I need to do, and even if there are positions to be filled, where does that get me? I guess I need to find out WHERE to find out that information...
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Some Things That Keep Me Up At Night
Sometimes, when I can't sleep, it's because my mind is racing.
It'll be filled with past expereinces, things I regret, things I still don't understand, and things I remember so vividly I can hardly bear it.
Sometimes, I'll be in a daydream-kinda state, laying there wishing I could fall asleep, and I'll go through some of those past events, and change them. But it seems I can never REALLY change them, or their outcomes. It's more like me wishing I had said MORE, done MORE, but never seeing what might have been had I done so. I'll replay conversations from years and years ago and say more than I did orginally.
Like tonight. Tonight my mind was all about regrets, all that kind of bullshit that 24 year olds really don't often think about, but here it is, in pretty much the order my brain decided to torment me in.
Like, I thought about my mom, and how while in some ways we were, and still are, very close, in some ways we are light years apart. Like how in ninth grade I was being bitchy in the car on the way to the mall and she asked me if I had ever had my period, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was old news: I'd started back in 7th grade, but really didn't think it was any of her damn business, so I never told her. I mean, I knew all I needed to know about sex and my body and shit from school, so there really wasn't any need to bring her into it. But then I think that maybe that was something she would have wanted to know, like, maybe that's some weird mother-daughter bonding thing, and I cheated her out of it. And then my mind starts to wander to what I would have wanted; will want some day when I have a daughter, and I know that I would want to know, and I feel worse.
Then thoughts of me not telling her THAT leads to me not telling her other things that may have been pertinent information for her, like when I started fooling around with guys and all that crap. Like, she probably should have been told, or something I guess, when I lost my virginity. I mean, I probably should have gone to the doctor or something, but I just didn't want to deal with her about it; I was so sure she'd just lecture me and do that over-bearing thing that she sometimes did, and I just wasn't going to deal with that from her. It was so much easier to just let her think what she wanted to think, because I'm still fairly certain that she didn't know half the shit I got up to in those years. Although, the one time I DID cut class, she knew within the hour and I was in deep shit. But that was school, and she may have had her connections there, but even so; I let her believe what she wanted. And again, I think about what I would have wanted in that position, and I would want MY daughter to tell me; I wouldn't want her to be worried, or to not trust me with that, not trust that I wouldn't freak out on her. I was just so damn uncomfortable talking to her about personal crap; still am. And it wasn't even the idea of talking about it that made me uncomfortable, it was the idea of talking about it with her. And then I feel bad about THAT.
And as all these thoughts and mom-guilt were racing through my head, I remembered the day she told me that she and my dad were splitting up, because we had a fight.
I didn't like being in the house those days~I liked being at the neighbor's better, I was friends with the daughters and they all seemed very happy family, you know? And they invited me to go with them to watch the marching band because the oldest daughter was in it. So I went home to ask my mom if I could, and when she said "No" I pressed it, because I really wanted to and she was just giving me that bullshit "no, because I said so" answer that everyone hates to hear, and we ended up yelling at each other. Later she came to talk to me and ended up telling me that she didn't want me going because she and dad were planning on telling us they were getting divorced that night, and not to tell my brothers because dad wasn't home yet. And then, the next day, my friend up the street called in hysterics because her cat had gotten outside and they couldn't find her and could I please come help her look, and I was so happy for the distraction, but so pissed at her because her biggest worry was her stupid cat and my parents were getting divorced. But I went over to her house, and she was crying, and then I started crying and she was really confused.
And then suddenly, my mind flipped to a conversation I had with my math teacher in 7th grade~Mrs. Linehan~because my mother called her and told her about the divorce and that I might be distracted in class and whatever bullshit. I hated math anyway, it terrified me and I didn't understand any of it. So she was telling me that finding out about the divorce in the second marking period didn't really explain my lack of homework and bad tests in the FIRST marking period, so I'd better not try to use it as an excuse, and I was so intimidated by her that I didn't say anything. But tonight, as I was reworking the conversation in my head, I yelled and I railed at her, carrying on about how just because I just found out didn't mean that everything up to that point was great. I was ranting about my brothers, and how I never wanted to be at home, but I wasn't old enough to get a car and a job like Nick, and I wasn't as thick-skinned and tough like Tony, and so I was stuck and I knew that things weren't right because anyone who was in that house for any extended period of time could tell that something was wrong, and why didn't she think to ask me about any of it before, why didn't she want to know why I was quiet and distracted and why couldn't she have asked in a way that wasn't intimidating for a 7th grade introvert?
And then I flashed to my 8th grade math teacher, and how Gina Pietropalo and I used to get in trouble by shooting candy at each other from our necklaces, and how even though I can't remember his name, I remember him lecturing us for wearing glitter eyeliner, because didn't we know that glitter was made out of glass, and we'd end up cutting our eyes and going blind?
And then I couldn't take anymore of it and came out here to the computer.
So these are some of my Deep Thoughts; the demons that sometimes creep up on me when I'm close to sleep, and then keep me awake for hours on end. I've all but banished the worst of them; the true monsters RARELY come out anymore, but these are the stubborn small ones.
So, in about 5 and a half hours, I have to drive Zach to work, come home, shower, eat, dress, do my math homework (which is coming to me easier these days) and go to class. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep at some point in those hours to come~there's not enough time to take an Ambien safely, so whatever sleep it is will have to be natural.
Wish me luck.
It'll be filled with past expereinces, things I regret, things I still don't understand, and things I remember so vividly I can hardly bear it.
Sometimes, I'll be in a daydream-kinda state, laying there wishing I could fall asleep, and I'll go through some of those past events, and change them. But it seems I can never REALLY change them, or their outcomes. It's more like me wishing I had said MORE, done MORE, but never seeing what might have been had I done so. I'll replay conversations from years and years ago and say more than I did orginally.
Like tonight. Tonight my mind was all about regrets, all that kind of bullshit that 24 year olds really don't often think about, but here it is, in pretty much the order my brain decided to torment me in.
Like, I thought about my mom, and how while in some ways we were, and still are, very close, in some ways we are light years apart. Like how in ninth grade I was being bitchy in the car on the way to the mall and she asked me if I had ever had my period, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was old news: I'd started back in 7th grade, but really didn't think it was any of her damn business, so I never told her. I mean, I knew all I needed to know about sex and my body and shit from school, so there really wasn't any need to bring her into it. But then I think that maybe that was something she would have wanted to know, like, maybe that's some weird mother-daughter bonding thing, and I cheated her out of it. And then my mind starts to wander to what I would have wanted; will want some day when I have a daughter, and I know that I would want to know, and I feel worse.
Then thoughts of me not telling her THAT leads to me not telling her other things that may have been pertinent information for her, like when I started fooling around with guys and all that crap. Like, she probably should have been told, or something I guess, when I lost my virginity. I mean, I probably should have gone to the doctor or something, but I just didn't want to deal with her about it; I was so sure she'd just lecture me and do that over-bearing thing that she sometimes did, and I just wasn't going to deal with that from her. It was so much easier to just let her think what she wanted to think, because I'm still fairly certain that she didn't know half the shit I got up to in those years. Although, the one time I DID cut class, she knew within the hour and I was in deep shit. But that was school, and she may have had her connections there, but even so; I let her believe what she wanted. And again, I think about what I would have wanted in that position, and I would want MY daughter to tell me; I wouldn't want her to be worried, or to not trust me with that, not trust that I wouldn't freak out on her. I was just so damn uncomfortable talking to her about personal crap; still am. And it wasn't even the idea of talking about it that made me uncomfortable, it was the idea of talking about it with her. And then I feel bad about THAT.
And as all these thoughts and mom-guilt were racing through my head, I remembered the day she told me that she and my dad were splitting up, because we had a fight.
I didn't like being in the house those days~I liked being at the neighbor's better, I was friends with the daughters and they all seemed very happy family, you know? And they invited me to go with them to watch the marching band because the oldest daughter was in it. So I went home to ask my mom if I could, and when she said "No" I pressed it, because I really wanted to and she was just giving me that bullshit "no, because I said so" answer that everyone hates to hear, and we ended up yelling at each other. Later she came to talk to me and ended up telling me that she didn't want me going because she and dad were planning on telling us they were getting divorced that night, and not to tell my brothers because dad wasn't home yet. And then, the next day, my friend up the street called in hysterics because her cat had gotten outside and they couldn't find her and could I please come help her look, and I was so happy for the distraction, but so pissed at her because her biggest worry was her stupid cat and my parents were getting divorced. But I went over to her house, and she was crying, and then I started crying and she was really confused.
And then suddenly, my mind flipped to a conversation I had with my math teacher in 7th grade~Mrs. Linehan~because my mother called her and told her about the divorce and that I might be distracted in class and whatever bullshit. I hated math anyway, it terrified me and I didn't understand any of it. So she was telling me that finding out about the divorce in the second marking period didn't really explain my lack of homework and bad tests in the FIRST marking period, so I'd better not try to use it as an excuse, and I was so intimidated by her that I didn't say anything. But tonight, as I was reworking the conversation in my head, I yelled and I railed at her, carrying on about how just because I just found out didn't mean that everything up to that point was great. I was ranting about my brothers, and how I never wanted to be at home, but I wasn't old enough to get a car and a job like Nick, and I wasn't as thick-skinned and tough like Tony, and so I was stuck and I knew that things weren't right because anyone who was in that house for any extended period of time could tell that something was wrong, and why didn't she think to ask me about any of it before, why didn't she want to know why I was quiet and distracted and why couldn't she have asked in a way that wasn't intimidating for a 7th grade introvert?
And then I flashed to my 8th grade math teacher, and how Gina Pietropalo and I used to get in trouble by shooting candy at each other from our necklaces, and how even though I can't remember his name, I remember him lecturing us for wearing glitter eyeliner, because didn't we know that glitter was made out of glass, and we'd end up cutting our eyes and going blind?
And then I couldn't take anymore of it and came out here to the computer.
So these are some of my Deep Thoughts; the demons that sometimes creep up on me when I'm close to sleep, and then keep me awake for hours on end. I've all but banished the worst of them; the true monsters RARELY come out anymore, but these are the stubborn small ones.
So, in about 5 and a half hours, I have to drive Zach to work, come home, shower, eat, dress, do my math homework (which is coming to me easier these days) and go to class. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep at some point in those hours to come~there's not enough time to take an Ambien safely, so whatever sleep it is will have to be natural.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
On fandom and writing
*This is actually two entries from my LJ that I've edited better and put here. Kind of an ease-in to my blog, I guess*
I'm sick of fics where, the morning after unprotected sex, the female protaganist is puking her guts up, and it's "Oh, it's morning sickness! I'm pregnant! And even though the sex was 6 hours ago, I'm already throwing up and my boobs are bigger!"
I'm sick of lousy characterization; of character assassination, of seeing dialogue for non-American characters using American idioms and phrasing. A character who speaks with a heavy accent and doesn't have a good grip on idioms and common American metaphors does not suddenly say, "That was freakin' sweet, homes." And God forbid we do a little research, people. If you're going to write fics for a show that doesn't take place in America, please do not have your setting be in Chicago. And if you do write it in the appropriate setting, maybe you should know a little something ABOUT the place. The British drive on the other side of the road, but they don't really refer to it as "the wrong side"; for example. "He got into the wrong side of the car and began driving."
I had the good fortune to read a story that was set in a town near where I grew up, and I was so happy~she included little tidbits with the local colloquialisms and really made it seem like she knew what she was talking about. Turns out she did, and I was thrilled :-) Yes, it's called a teeter-totter, and I'm thrilled you put that in there.Speaking of, much in the way a teeter-totter is to a western new yorkers as a seesaw is to other people, don't have a Brit call fries fries. Chips and Crisps may SOUND like food-related street gangs, but I promise, you catch on quick.
And if you're going to write about weapons, the firing of weapons, the loading of weapons, or the cleaning of weapons, maybe you should learn a little about said weapon. Perhaps even enough to know that a revolver that holds 6 bullets will not fire 8 rounds.
I know I'm not the only one who gets irritated by this~You read the info/summary for a fic, for whatever fandom you're into, and it sounds good. So you click the tag and start to read. It starts out good, but somewhere around the 4th or 5th paragraph, things go haywire. It's like a completely different person wrote it from then on. And what started as a story with promise ended up as something you felt you had wasted time on.
My MAIN point is this: the author has glorious feedback. Granted, most of the feedback praising the story is vaguely coherent and full of typos, but whatever; a bunch of people read it and thought it was solid gold dipped in platinum. Now you have to decide whether or not to leave feedback~and you don't want to lie, you can't respond, "I loved your story, it was awesome!" but at the same time, in light of all the other glowing reviews, you can't very well say, "Listen sweetie, your characterization is off, your grammar and spelling is hellacious, and your format is wonky so every apostrophe has been replaced with a little rectangle."
At that point, you start to wonder if you're a snob, and then you try to rationalize, "Well, maybe she's only 12 or 13." So you check the profile page, and find that the author is older than you are; certainly old enough to have learned the basics of structure and grammar and all that. And then you don't know what to think, except that you feel a little sad.Because if it's not your best effort; if you haven't been over it forwards and backwards and then had a beta or two go over it; if you haven't thought, "I know it's AU fic, but would ____ really react like that?"; then what on earth are you doing posting it for other people to read? Also annoying? The summary that says "I suck at sumerys and this fic probably isn't any good but PLZ PLZ reed and revue!! NO FLAMES!"
Quite frankly, bitch? I won't flame you, but I won't say you don't have it coming.
Now, I don't follow all the standards of conventional English. But the difference is, if I need to, I can. One of my English teachers in High School~it was either Beth or Mr. Ferguson~made this excellant point.
"In creative writing, you can take as many liberties as you want. Grammar, sentance structure, format, whatever. But before you can break the rules, you have to KNOW the rules."
I'm sick of fics where, the morning after unprotected sex, the female protaganist is puking her guts up, and it's "Oh, it's morning sickness! I'm pregnant! And even though the sex was 6 hours ago, I'm already throwing up and my boobs are bigger!"
I'm sick of lousy characterization; of character assassination, of seeing dialogue for non-American characters using American idioms and phrasing. A character who speaks with a heavy accent and doesn't have a good grip on idioms and common American metaphors does not suddenly say, "That was freakin' sweet, homes." And God forbid we do a little research, people. If you're going to write fics for a show that doesn't take place in America, please do not have your setting be in Chicago. And if you do write it in the appropriate setting, maybe you should know a little something ABOUT the place. The British drive on the other side of the road, but they don't really refer to it as "the wrong side"; for example. "He got into the wrong side of the car and began driving."
I had the good fortune to read a story that was set in a town near where I grew up, and I was so happy~she included little tidbits with the local colloquialisms and really made it seem like she knew what she was talking about. Turns out she did, and I was thrilled :-) Yes, it's called a teeter-totter, and I'm thrilled you put that in there.Speaking of, much in the way a teeter-totter is to a western new yorkers as a seesaw is to other people, don't have a Brit call fries fries. Chips and Crisps may SOUND like food-related street gangs, but I promise, you catch on quick.
And if you're going to write about weapons, the firing of weapons, the loading of weapons, or the cleaning of weapons, maybe you should learn a little about said weapon. Perhaps even enough to know that a revolver that holds 6 bullets will not fire 8 rounds.
I know I'm not the only one who gets irritated by this~You read the info/summary for a fic, for whatever fandom you're into, and it sounds good. So you click the tag and start to read. It starts out good, but somewhere around the 4th or 5th paragraph, things go haywire. It's like a completely different person wrote it from then on. And what started as a story with promise ended up as something you felt you had wasted time on.
My MAIN point is this: the author has glorious feedback. Granted, most of the feedback praising the story is vaguely coherent and full of typos, but whatever; a bunch of people read it and thought it was solid gold dipped in platinum. Now you have to decide whether or not to leave feedback~and you don't want to lie, you can't respond, "I loved your story, it was awesome!" but at the same time, in light of all the other glowing reviews, you can't very well say, "Listen sweetie, your characterization is off, your grammar and spelling is hellacious, and your format is wonky so every apostrophe has been replaced with a little rectangle."
At that point, you start to wonder if you're a snob, and then you try to rationalize, "Well, maybe she's only 12 or 13." So you check the profile page, and find that the author is older than you are; certainly old enough to have learned the basics of structure and grammar and all that. And then you don't know what to think, except that you feel a little sad.Because if it's not your best effort; if you haven't been over it forwards and backwards and then had a beta or two go over it; if you haven't thought, "I know it's AU fic, but would ____ really react like that?"; then what on earth are you doing posting it for other people to read? Also annoying? The summary that says "I suck at sumerys and this fic probably isn't any good but PLZ PLZ reed and revue!! NO FLAMES!"
Quite frankly, bitch? I won't flame you, but I won't say you don't have it coming.
Now, I don't follow all the standards of conventional English. But the difference is, if I need to, I can. One of my English teachers in High School~it was either Beth or Mr. Ferguson~made this excellant point.
"In creative writing, you can take as many liberties as you want. Grammar, sentance structure, format, whatever. But before you can break the rules, you have to KNOW the rules."
Something New
I've had a LiveJournal for a while now. A few years, I guess. And I mainly use it for fic searches, music, and keeping in touch with other friends who have LJ. And that's not going to stop, I guess.
But I have something to say, something that's worth...I don't know, READING. And LiveJournal is kind of outdated for stuff like that. I put personal, petty bitching in my LJ. This is for, as it has been put, my Deep Thoughts.
So this might get updated a little less often. Those Deep Thoughts don't come to me the way they used to, but sometimes, I'll find myself just letting my mind wander, and suddenly BAM!
I'll be riding in the car and I'll be in deep theological debate with myself. I'll be arguing with myself, getting all confused because after a while, I can't figure out what part is what I think and what part is the other half of my brain playing Devil's Advocate.
And yes, I know how that may sound, and feel free to tell me I'm crazy.
But that's what this is for. To have my internal debates regarding religion, philosophy, what the hell we're all DOING here.
So stick around. I come up with some pretty crazy shit.
But I have something to say, something that's worth...I don't know, READING. And LiveJournal is kind of outdated for stuff like that. I put personal, petty bitching in my LJ. This is for, as it has been put, my Deep Thoughts.
So this might get updated a little less often. Those Deep Thoughts don't come to me the way they used to, but sometimes, I'll find myself just letting my mind wander, and suddenly BAM!
I'll be riding in the car and I'll be in deep theological debate with myself. I'll be arguing with myself, getting all confused because after a while, I can't figure out what part is what I think and what part is the other half of my brain playing Devil's Advocate.
And yes, I know how that may sound, and feel free to tell me I'm crazy.
But that's what this is for. To have my internal debates regarding religion, philosophy, what the hell we're all DOING here.
So stick around. I come up with some pretty crazy shit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
