Online

If it weren't for the internet, a lot of things would be different. On the social side of things, I would have about 5 friends. (Whether or not I purposely distanced myself from IRL friends is another post)

So often, I hear things like "Online friends don't count" and "You can't really know a person unless you know them in person." On the other hand, I also hear a lot of what I said in my first couple of lines: "Online friends are real friends," "I love my online friends," and "the people I know on the internet are awesome."

The first set of statements is over-generalizing and too all-inclusive. The second set is generous. But, then, I suppose it all depends on your definition of "friend."

Oh, cyberbullying. It's so easy. You just sit down, decide you're right about everything, and type away. Like pretty much everyone on the internet, I have been on both ends of bullying on the internet. Recently, I've been trying to keep more to myself because of an incident that happened last summer on a crafting website's forum. I shared too much and someone decided to shame me for it. Endlessly.

Well friends, I stepped in it again. I asked for advice on the same forum-- in the same place as last time-- and got burned. This time, I asked for help in writing up an assignment for my lit class on fan fiction. The assignment is for the student to write a short piece of fan fiction while including some of the tenants of fiction we cover in the textbook. I thought it was a cute and fun activity-- it gets the student away from writing a boring old term paper that they probably won't enjoy.

I have done this before. I did it last year and had an expert come into the class and speak to them about writing fan fiction. This year, since I have such an early class, I didn't ask the expert to return because I didn't want to inconvenience her. So, I asked the internet.

Big mistake.

Most of the responses were warning me about copyright issues, which I hadn't thought of. That was helpful.

A few were very supportive and offered to help me form a good, solid overview of the beginnings of the subject.

But most were scathing: "Why would you teach something you obviously know nothing about?" "I can't figure out why you would pursue this subject as an assignment." "This is really not thought-through at all. You should consider changing your syllabus."

I'm paraphrasing, and I know that people from the website will read this and want to compare to the original post. For the record, the last one was from a private message sent through that website.

Maybe I'm crying "Wolf!" here. Much, much, MUCH worse happens every day. And I can't go all "YOU DON'T KNOW ME!" because I just can't. This is a forum that has 12,000 members. I should have known better. I shouldn't have asked for advice. I knew what was going to happen. Sort of.

When I started the thread, I really really thought that I would get some good input on how to write fan fiction  and how to convey it to my students. I didn't expect a parade. I didn't think people were going to come out of the woodwork to tell me that I was the most insightful and entrepreneurial teacher ever. I honestly thought I would get advice.

This has, of course, bummed me out. I feel defeated and deflated. I feel like never going back to that forum again.

I can't ask: "Why are people so much different on the internet than they are in person?" because I know the answer. No one is held accountable for being mean. The mods on the board I am talking about are amazing. They really are. They have so much more to deal with than my petty squabbles over a lesson plan and a handful of people sharing their opinions in a blunt and destructive way. But I asked them to shut the thread down, which they did in a timely manner. For that, I thank(ed) them. I didn't want to deal with it anymore. 

More than 70% of my Facebook friends list is made up of people I know strictly from this group. But I don't have all 12k of them as friends. Does that make those that are my "friends" any less valuable? I want to think no, but every time I get a little hurt, I withdraw a little more. I'm a pussy. I've said this countless times. When it comes to being social and nice and buddy buddy, most of the time I just can't do it.

So, am I a coward? Am I a social deviant? Do I suck at being a friend? I do consider my online friends to be just as real as my 5 "real life" friends.But at some point, I'm going to disagree with them.

But I come back with the belief that everyone I love is gonna leave me.

Bed. And Love. But not that way, you perv.

I wish I could sleep in my bed like a normal human being. Don't start on this whole "what is normal" or "what is it to be a human being" bullshit. You know what I mean. Don't be difficult.

As some may know, I used to sleep on my couch quite a bit. Andy snores (I once recorded him for a few seconds then played it back to him the next morning. He either denied that it was him or was ridiculously apologetic. I can't remember which. Maybe both.), I have major struggles with sleep, and Andy gets up way earlier than I, so I don't want to keep him up. A few months ago, I swore that I would get a new bed.

And a new bed I bought. The actual "bed" (frame, head, foot, etc.) went upstairs because the master bedroom's... uh... well, bed was on the floor. It just didn't seem right or adult or natural. But I also bought a new mattress and box spring for the spare room downstairs. I was sick of sleeping on the couch most nights, waking up smelling like pickles (just... my sweat smells like pickles. Sorry for ruining pickles for you) and covered in cat fur. Plus, Ein can't leave me to sleep on my own, so he would take up the end of the couch where I would ideally have my feet. It was uncomfortable and I blamed that on my sleeplessness. Wait. Other way around. You know what I mean.

So, now I have the bed pictured above in the down stairs spare room, also known as Mum's room. I told her she could have it if she ever (finally) comes to live with me.

I sleep there pretty much every night.

Now, some have said that it was healthy for couples to have their own space in the house, and even to sleep in separate rooms if that's what works and blah blah blah. I want to sleep upstairs. I want to sleep in the same bed as my husband. I was looking for a picture of the upstairs bed and came across this:

And we're awesome. That's all there is to it. 

We've tried just about everything to help with Andy's snoring. Nose strips, apnea tests, different positioning on pillows, drinking cold water before bed... Nothing has long-term results. But as I mentioned, it's not just the snoring. I'm defective as well; perhaps more annoyingly so.

Some people talk about how their partner is a pillow/cover/bed hog. I don't know what I fall under, but I am most comfortable in a very specific and usually impossible to achieve in a co-habitation situation position: in the top left corner on top of many pillows like a pet, all curled up and possibly one leg stretching all the way across the bed to dangle over the edge like bait for a shark-cat to come and attack. it has happened.

It's not fair to expect Andy to sleep with my shin in his face. It really isn't. So, I am stuck down here most nights, sad and mostly uncomfortable (I hate disturbing the animals when they sleep on the bed. But that's another FWP for another time) and completely lonely. I bring it upon myself. My brain is just defective. You have no idea how much lavender scented shit I have (presumably to help me sleep). Andy is wonderful and puts up with me trying to assuage my anxiety by reading cards, spraying lavender scented goop on our pillows, ritualistically applying lotion that promises to detoxify and help me sleep... while I sleep, and even a few times, let me apply lavender body butter to his chest so I could sleep on his chest (actually quite comfortable) and still smell the supposedly sleep-inducing scent. 

Each time, I end up downstairs... see above for the appropriate feelings and adjectives. 

I am just so anxious about falling asleep that I keep myself awake. Completely backwards, I know. There was one particularly bad incident in undergrad wherein I stayed up all night, intermittently sobbing and pacing the old apartment because I had to be up at 5:30 the next morning to go student teach. I was so upset that I couldn't sleep that I more or less deliberately kept myself awake. I phoned poor Dr. Kauer (I guess Dr. Beasterfield now...) at 5 am (god, I am such an ass), crying, attempting to explain to her why I couldn't teach that day. I can't describe how terrible I felt. I hate skiving off for bullshit reasons that are my own doing. 

She was quite nice about the whole thing and told me to get some rest, to email my supervising teacher  (Kendra) instead of calling her at the buttcrack of dawn, and to please not call her that early ever again. 

I just don't want people to think I am deliberately lazy about certain things. Look around my house; I am a terrible cleaner in my own home. My day isn't complete until I have stepped on cat puke or a half eaten mouse. Just saying. And I like it like that. But my job, especially when I was a student teacher, was the most important thing to me. I didn't want to be like every other half-assed student just attending college because mummy and daddy told me I had to (they didn't, for the record, but I did get my first laptop as incentive). 

Back to it, I just can't sleep. Part of me wonders if I just want to keep myself awake to be miserable. The rest of me disagrees in the fashion of saying that I feel physically ill if I don't get enough sleep. Then I go into that shame and guilt spiral, cry, and fall asleep 10 hours after I meant to. 

I want to just be able to accept my brain and bodily functions (or lack thereof) and fall asleep when I am tired and to hell with the conventions of sleep and wake cycles for everyone else. I'm a goddamned snowflake! But this snowflake can't tell when she is properly full with food, when she is thirsty as opposed to hungry (water is so amazing dude), when she is happy or sad between one second and the next... I'm a mess.

And so is every other snowflake out there. Fuck.

At any rate, I don't sleep well. And I want to be able to do something more about it than just taking pills or forcing myself to cry so I become tired.

n.b.: I have a theory about forcing yourself to cry and trying to force yourself to have an orgasm. In both situations, the harder you try, the less likely it is to happen and the more silly and frustrated you feel. And you won't be able to sleep after either. 

Monday, I'm in Love

I actually like Mondays. I don't like all of the "blergh Monday" attitudes that float around every seven days. I love my job, I love going to my job, and I love starting a new week. In fact, I might say that Saturday is my least favourite day of the week, followed by Friday. The anticipation of a weekend is what turns me off of Fridays while the anxiety of accomplishing something every weekend crushes Saturdays for me.

I don't work on Saturdays. That might sound like a "duh" statement, but as I am a teacher, that may sound odd to some. Sure, I have papers to grade, emails to respond to, lessons to consider, etc. But, I figure if most Christians can take Sundays off without feeling bad at all, I can take Friday night through Saturday night off like the rest of the Jewish world does.

Granted, most Jews don't do ANYTHING if they observe the Shabbat, including cooking and cleaning, but I like to think of it as my day of reflection and personal improvement. For instance, oh hell now that I think of it, this past Saturday I just went shopping and took a long nap... At any rate, I usually MEAN to do something like write a pattern for knitting or crocheting, get some crafting done, mess about with my garden, play with the dogs for a longer than usual amount of time, that sort of thing.

Why wouldn't someone like this? It's a day of rest! For me, it really isn't. As mentioned before, I get a little anxious about what I am accomplishing each weekend. Sunday I couldn't care less about because it's just... I dunno, the day before Monday to me. Back to the anxiety: There is this overwhelming feeling of needing to look back on a given day and say what I have done and be proud (for lack of a better word) of it. I have had professors that hands down would not work on Sundays due to religious beliefs. That is what I am doing with my Saturdays, in case you were wondering. I have also seen professors fall behind on their work perhaps not simply due to the fact that they take an entire day off, but I'm sure it doesn't help matters.

Then there's Monday. The coffee tastes better (Foglifter is amazing in case you were wondering, and it comes in Keurig cups!), the shower feels warmer, the animals act better... Everything just seems to fall into place for me on Mondays. By Friday night though, I need that break. I suppose that's another reason that I don't look forward to weekends: by the end of the week, I am completely out of spoons.

Oh! The spoon theory. Let me briefly explain: The idea is that you have a limited amount of "spoons" representing an action you are able to complete each day. You have a set amount of spoons depending on your condition, and once all of your spoons are gone (or, once you get to the point in the day where you cannot physically or mentally do anything else), you're SOL. You're done. You can't gain spoons back. They may replenish daily (I feel as thought mine are more of a weekly thing but I'll explain later) but again, every single action you take removes a spoon from your day.

So, yes. My spoons are more of a weekly thing. I start off with an immense amount of spoons and they kind of roll over into the next day. But by Friday, all of my spoons are gone. At 3 pm, when I am done teaching for the week, I am spent. I cannot bring myself to do anything regarding work. I suppose my spoons replenish over the weekend. I do not have a debilitating physical illness, but my depression more often than not takes the front seat by the end of the week. 

Needless to say, it's disheartening at best. I hate the feeling of weakness that enters me by the weekend.

But, I still have Monday to look forward to. That's something, at least.

I'm Sorry and I'm Afraid.

Not really and I suppose.

A while back, I decided to stop saying "I'm sorry" for things I'm not really sorry for. For instance, if I bump into someone on accident and upset something about their personage, I'm sorry. If they bump into me and expect an exchange of "pardon me"s and "I'm so sorry"s, they can forget about it. A student is demanding something unreasonable that they feel they are entitled to?

Shaylin, I need you to tell me my exact grade over the internet even though it's not secure and kind of frowned upon and I also need you to tell me whether or not I am going to pass your class even though my performance has been pretty crappy over the past 10 weeks and I need a detailed list as to why I might not be passing so I can argue with you over it, endlessly, over the internet.

A common response would be: "I'm sorry Student. I cannot do that."

Shaylin's response:

I'm afraid that I cannot do that. Please see me in person (as per your syllabus) about your grade if you have concerns. Otherwise, all grades at listed on D2L (kind of like blackboard).

Because, what is it to be "Sorry?" To be truly and honestly regretful toward an event or attitude? No, it's now just a filler to reassure the other party and mollycoddle them into a false sense of security. It's like "I love you." Or, alternately, "I hate you." It's a diluted phrase that has lost significant amounts of meaning, true meaning, over time.

So, I'm not sorry. I am not sorry for the things I cannot control, things that are not inherently my fault, or... really anything. I am only sorry when I've done something wrong.

But. "I'm afraid?" Alternately, "I fear." That's a suitable substitution, right? Student, I fear I cannot give you this information because I don't feel like it and it's in my syllabus that you cannot demand insane things from me at all hours of the night. Student, I fear that you are taxing me and my resolve to maintain this career path of mine with your ridiculous capacity to send incomprehensible emails. I'm afraid for your future. But I am not sorry.

At any rate, that's my stance for tonight. I have much more to say, but I think I need to put it into another post. 

It's work(ing) again.

I'm trying really hard to get into "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman. I'm on page 63, and it's really really odd for me not to just devour any book that is put in front of me.  I've been trying for 3 days now, and it's just not grabbing me. What's this business with the man getting sucked into that chick's vagina? I mean... really. And the dead wife? Suddenly I'm like on a Nordic ship or something? Tell me it will even out and make sense because right now, I'm about to give up.

Today I cleaned Steven's house for the first time. It's so nice to move about in a fully air-conditioned house. Frank kept trying to eat (no, really, BITING) the vacuum cleaner. Aside from that, there were no hangups or anything. We are also boarding Frank and Herma this weekend since Steven will be camping. I really really wanted to go, as I haven't been properly camping since that awful week in Florida the month I turned 20. Ugh. But really, I love camping. However, I have to work.

Speaking of work, the adjuncts got a nice nasty email from the new Dean, who my students are calling "The Trunchbull," but I am starting to refer to as "Umbridge." One, no letting class out early. Like I do that anyway. Any of my students will tell you that I am super strict, down to the second, about what time I let them go. Second, no talking about suicide, death, or drugs in class. : / I'm pretty sure I can avoid the subjects, as I'm really just doing composition, but it's still kind of annoying being told what I can and cannot do. Three, even though classes are only 11 weeks, I am expected to keep my students for the full 3 hours during week 12 (finals week). I had something in the back of my mind trying to stretch out the time, but I really cannot guarantee that they will stay the whole time. They are adults, for fuck's sake. If they feel like they are done, they are done. And as it's the last "class" of the semester, they ARE done. Finally, something about failure advising. This one gets my goat more than the rest combined.

I need to tell a handful of students that they are failing and advise them as to what to do about it. I'm getting fussed at constantly about not doing this and not documenting it in our system. Guys. What can I do? How do I tell a student he/she is failing if I never see them? Call them? Leave a message since none are answering? Email? Fuck if I know. What it really bothering me here I think is that no one told me that this was something I needed to do. Apparently it was a mid-term thing, and we are going into week 9 now I think. How can I do what I'm supposed to do if I don't know that I am supposed to do it?

Things are starting to look a little up. I sincerely look forward to Radford starting. I will be so busy this semester, but I think it's for the best. It's less time for me to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I'm quite curious about how many classes I will be getting at ITT. If I get something similar to this quarter, September-December will look as such:

M: (RU) 11am-4pm (ITT) 6-10:30
T: (RU) 5-6:15 pm
W: (RU) 11am-4pm
R: Steven 10-12 (RU) 5-6:15 pm
F: (RU) 11-4 (ITT) 6-10:30
Sa: (ITT) 9am-1pm
Su: Dead.

It's worth it though. I work best when I am obligated and busy. I haven't missed a day at ITT because I know how important it is that I be there. There have been days that I could have called in; should have called in. See also: my fucked up face from eczema. I'm going to make sure all my shit is in order for Radford. Last semester I was plagued with a terrible classroom (fucking trailers) and electronics that were constantly out of order. This semester, I'm going to make sure all of my stuff is up on D2L early and that my students are sure of every single thing that's going on. I will answer my emails as best I can. I will probably stay in my office hours longer than I advertise. I will grade things as soon as they come across my desk. I am going to do all these things because I must, and I want to.

That's all I've got now.