Book characters

In class tonight, talking about literature, I mention that – and this is somewhat quietly after someone else mentions that she loves the character ‘so much’ – I mention that I kind of hate her.

The classmate who always sits by me says, almost immediately, “Hannah, you don’t ever like nobody,” and we both crack up, knowing that it is kind of totally true (at least in terms of the books we’ve discussed for class).

Post-a-day 2018

Advertisements

Writing papers

I panicked that I wouldn’t have enough to write about for a 6-8-page paper for class.  And so, I did loads of research, looking constantly for new sources to support just about everything and anything I was planning to say in the paper, and I collected it all in a Google Doc, adding the necessary commentary surrounding the citations, as I went along.  Eventually, I grew tired of doing this, and so decided to take a break by deleting the headings for each section of my drafty draft and deleting any quotes I’d found that I would not be using.

…And so, somehow, I am sitting here with some sections that have yet to turn from citations to paragraphs containing the citations and the majority of the paragraphs written out already, and it is over seven pages long…. single spaced.

Guess my plan now is just to cut out anything I found to be third-rate.  And, if that isn’t enough, second-rate comes next.  Always easier than having to fill in with tenth-rate crap after having concisely said everything I want to support a topic in a paper, but another two pages are required by the teacher.

But I still don’t want to do it.

Anyway…, here goes.

Post-a-day 2018

Take care, friends

I am strong as a person, and I know it – I can take care of somebody else, easily.

That’s why one of the most appealing things to me in a partner is someone who will take care of me…, because I sometimes just want to take a break from taking care of everyone else – of anyone, actually – and have someone do it for me, instead of the other way around.

But I feel as though I am failing as a friend, if I ask that of a friend… it’s only acceptable, it seems, with a partner in life…, but maybe that’s just because the best kind of friends aren’t really in my everyday life right now, and so I can’t even imagine it being acceptable behavior, their taking care of me for once.

And then this reminds me of something from today.

I stopped in on an old co-worker’s class today while I was subbing, and the prayer she read to begin class was about reaching out to those who seem upset or alone, because, how does one know that that person has friends to cheer him up?… I might be the only one who’s even considered cheering the person up, it said… perhaps the person feels just as lonely as I do, and just no one has ever taken the time to see, it read…

And I cried during the prayer, because I felt like that person who feels so alone, but who no one would consider might ever feel like she’s all on her own and alone, with no one even to check on how she’s really doing, and not just how she might look from the outside…

Post-a-day 2018

Stromae (and my solo gelato dance party)

Last night, waiting for my dinner to finish baking, I was dancing in the kitchen while snacking on some pre-dinner gelato (because when else is gelato so satisfying?), jamming out to a Stromae (pronounced like “maestro” split in half, the second half said first) song, when I suddenly recalled how spectacular his music really is.  I haven’t listened to almost any music lately, and so haven’t listened to any of his either.  When I taught high school French, I listened to and discussed his music all the time with students.  They had to find a new francophone song every month that they liked, and each student and each class went in all different directions.  But, without fail, a single Stromae song would come up once in a class, and then his entire repertoire would show up the following months from different students in that class.  They regularly requested his music, whenever we played music during work time in class.

We listened to a lot of French language music, and the kids knew I loved lots of it.  But they also knew that I liked Stromae for more than just his voice, and, at some point, they decided that I really loved him and his music.  I remember one specific incident of Stromae coming up in casual chat during class, and a student said, “Oh, we know, Miss —: you would totally date Stromae if you had the chance.”  I’m almost certain that I verbally agreed immediately, and we all laughed.    It was great.  (So many things those kids never knew about me and my life, but they always remembered anything they ever heard about dating or marriage.)  😛

If you don’t know Stromae’s music, check it out.  You can start with this English interview he did, which is great.  He still sings in French, and even dances a bit (he’s a spectacular dancer, by the way, as can be seen in his music videos), but the discussion is all in English.  I find the themes of his music to be powerful, though regularly dangerous and tough, even scary – but, to me, they are real and honest.  What’s more, they make for a great dance party any day, because the musicality is tops (especially so if you don’t understand the lyrics).  When I first heard of him, it was from a German kid when I’d first arrived in France for school.  He mentioned that the only French song Germans knew was this “Alors, on danse” song that I wasn’t too sure I’d ever even heard, but definitely had heard of.  That was the only line I understood when I first listened to Stromae’s music (“And so, we dance”), but it didn’t matter – I still loved it all.  Now, I just love it even more, because I understand the words.

(“Dodo” is one that gets stuck in my head most often these days.  It’s a prime example of what I mean by a tough song – a difficult theme combined with beautiful music.  I recommend you watch the video first, and then look up the lyrics.)

Post-a-day 2018

Words worth more than gold

After a discussion over the phone with a college student calling to ask for my monetary donation to the study abroad scholarships at her school, – which I exchanged for encouragement to the girl and for sharing with her various specialties related to where she would be studying abroad this coming spring semester (for which she continuously thanked me delightedly, and which she declared was a million times better for her life than a monetary donation to the fund would have been, anyway) – I wrote a sort of poem.

You see, she recommended I write it, because what I was sharing with her, she said, sounded like poetry.

So, find in the following photo the first draft of the poem we discussed today, which I said I would write for my weblog tonight, and which I tapped out on a typewriter(!!!) this afternoon.

Post-a-day 2018

Call me Ishmael

If another adult – recalling that I am, in fact, an adult myself – insists that I call him/her “Dr.”, because he/she ‘worked so hard for that degree,’ or because he/she is ‘so proud of having earned it,’ is that not quite comparable to my saying that people must converse with me in French, because I worked so hard to learn it and I’m so proud of being able to speak it?

(I’m not saying that it’s the same, but just comparable oddities with the same reasoning.)

It’s just a thought that came to mind today, and it has me a bit flummoxed.

I grew up in a world where we are all people, not classes or ranks, so I’ve never really been able to understand people’s required uses of name ranks (beyond someone’s voluntarily being respectful in addressing another, I mean [though even that gets me sometimes]).

Post-a-day 2018