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. 

Bella Swan and Feminism.

Some may have seen this image floating around, complete with a caption indicating that Mrs. Cullen herself is responsible for setting feminism back 20 years or so.

Really? A.) Why are you putting this much time and effort and stock into a character in a book that you so clearly loathe? Is it because you have run out of things to blame? B.) Why does it even matter? Have you read the books? And if you have (as I have), you'll see that the entire Twilight series is just throwaway fiction aimed at a very specific demographic that was lucky enough to become something of a worldwide phenomenon.

Other books have been similarly criticised for encouraging kids to drink, smoke, do drugs, run away from home, use curse words, have sex... the list goes on. And yet, you still find it necessary to blame one thing for whatever you think is wrong with the world today.

Here is the bottom line: If you think that Bella Swan, an insignificant character in an ultimately insignificant fantasy book series is the worst thing to happen to feminism since the phrase "Make me a sandwich, woman" was first uttered, there is something wrong with you and your view of the world.

If parents and caretakers cannot put any piece of fiction into context (I love The Catcher in the Rye. Am I going to run away from school and smoke and drink and get a prostitute then pussy out and send her away? No.), then YOU (the caretaker) are the one setting any important movement in humanity back. If Bella Swan's ultimate goal in life is to have a hot, old, immortal, creepy husband, then fine. If a girl (or boy, I'm not here to judge) is daft enough to think they should emulate such a character, the problem there started at home, not from an idea in a book.

Good day.

Shit got busy.

With the start of the new semester, my life got very busy. Four courses at Radford, one at ITT, and a plethora of life obstacles in between made my day-to day plans change completely. This is a typical week in the life of Shaylin:

M: Wake up at 6, get ready for work. Get to RU by 10 am (for office hours). Teach from 11-1, an hour break, 2-3, get home. Grade, take care of the animals, work on the house, something to keep me busy until 10 or so when I go to sleep.
T: I don't have class until 5, and office hours at 4. However, I find it hard to do anything during the day when I know I have to be somewhere in the evening. I just... can't. So I sit around and kint and feel sorry for myself.
W: Same as M, but I have to get straight from RU to ITT (get done with RU at 3, take the bus back home which lasts until 4, drive to ITT and plan like hell before class starts at 6), and stay there until 9:30. 10:30- home, bed.
R: 10-12, clean Steven's house. Then the same as T.
F: Same as M without the office hours.
Sat: Work on the house or help Tristan with her homework
Sun: See Sat.

It's not as busy as it could be. However, it's busy for my lazy ass. I've been working on the Beekeeper's quilt along with about 1k others and have contracted the hexipuff disease. I ordered some Phat Fiber and have been spinning a lot lately, too.

For the most part, we are all okay. We lost Andy's granddaddy today. My Auntie Gail is failing on us, as well. At least mum will get to go out to see her next week (in Oregon!), though.

I've had a disgusting eye infection or something for like a week. I don't want to go to the Dr. I'm hoping it'll just... go away or something. I can't wear makeup or contacts because it irritates my eyes too much.  But at least my skin is better. I still have those not-quite-healed-but-not-quite-scarred marks all over my arms and legs. It's not an ideal situation.

School is going decently. 102 is... well... just not really clicking for me this semester. It just makes me angry for some reason. I love research and of course I love teaching, but something is off. I suspect that it's because my class and I have not yet connected properly and the students seem to think that it's a waste of their time because of how I conduct the class. There are things I could do differently, I suppose, but it's always worked for me in the Spring. Just something about the Fall...

We're making progress on the house. I painted half of my bathroom and Andy cut a cat door hole in the door to the basement. I've been trying to keep up with laundry and dishes and have basically given up on my garden for the year. That's all I've got for now.

The Fresh Prince Was a Bogus Premise.

I've been thinking about this for a week or so now.

Bullshit.

I had to go back and watch the whole thing over. Very little context is given, but my inner book critic is telling me that his mom just got sick of him and kicked him out, passing his wall-tagging ass off  on some richy-rich relatives. She wasn't concerned for his safety. What mother sends their child from Philadelphia (at the age of like... 16? is that how old he was supposed to be?) to fucking Bel-Air? 

I'm with Affleck on this one.

I get it. It's supposed to be your classic fish-out-of-water plot premise that somehow managed to last for a few years and is still etched into the hearts and minds of my fellow children of the 90's. It was ground-breaking, I guess. What other tv shows before it had shown a wealthy family of black people taking in a hoodie from off the streets of Philly, and were shown in a positive light? Sure, the whole family had that Uncle Tom-esque generic Oreo feeling about them, but at least on the surface they were good people. At the same time, you had other odd barriers being broken by Urkle on Family Matters (ever seen a Blerd before? I didn't think so) and having both shows being marketed to youth to show (hopefully) equality across the board. 

What I have the problem with is  the titular character in the first place. Maybe it's because I'm not a mother, but really, who just sends their kid off to the West coast? Just... sends him! "I begged and pleaded..." WTF? Moving sucks. Mom, why? Why did you send your Fresh Prince to Bel Air? You make no sense. Your logic is flawed. 

To make peace with this, I like to think that maybe she had bigger dreams to chase so she sent her kid off. But why wait so long? He was clearly able to take care of himself, yet she didn't toss him out on the streets. She made sure he was taken care of, and well. Maybe she couldn't take care of him herself, but there we are getting back into dangerous stereotype territory. Maybe she was just sick of him. We can just go with that.

This bothers me more than it should. I am annoyed and sometimes even kept awake at night over the success and resulting lasting fame this thoroughly mediocre and ridiculous show basis has been given. I for one don't lament it's cancellation nor its star's slow decline into Scientology. But it's still annoying.

Funk and Bond Girls

5 years ago today, something very bad happened to my family. I don't want to talk about it. In fact, I never talk about it. Let's move on.

Today I woke up in a bit of a funk. Maybe it's memories, subconsciously weighing on my brain and ringing my eardrums like triangles. Maybe it's low blood sugar. Maybe it's too much sleep. It's actually probably all three.

I'm shaking and my head feels like it's about 5 lbs heavier than it should be. I feel a manic cycle starting. Or ending. Or something. I feel frenzied, like my nerves are dancing relentlessly through my body and not staying put where they belong. Wandering around at all hours. Just generally being dicks.

I can't decide. I've started two new knitting projects today (hexapuffs and some handspun mitts). Pictures will come up later. I'm too hot. The A/C is on as are all the fans in the house. I have a tank top on. I don't like how my arms feel naked. Therefore, I put on a long-sleeved shirt over my tank. But it's open-buttoned and only half sleeved. Were I not writing right now, I would go upstairs and put on yet another shirt over the others. It makes too much sense to just wear one layer.

There is a Bond film in which some babe is all painted gold. Don't fuss at me for not knowing anything more specific than that- I've never seen a Bond film, nor have I had the desire to. At any rate, she complained of her body temperature going up during filming due to the gold paint trapping her heat against her body. Even though she was mostly naked, she was boiling in her own skin. Mythbusters did their take on it and determined it to be a valid claim.

I think that the same can be said of contacts. I sleep with mine in regularly, and it seems that the longer I have them in, the worse my head feels. Not just pressure on the eyes or sinuses or even brain pain, but just an overwhelming feeling of crappiness. After Basic Training, I once kept the same pair of contacts in for a year and 3 months straight. No, really. I didn't take them out to wash them, sanitize them, wiggle them around, they never popped out, nothing. At just about the one year mark, I started to have what I call "brain zaps." Kind of that sudden rush of vertigo and rushing sound in your ears that is related to pre-syncope. It happened to me several times a day. My only explanation was that my contacts were making me feel like shit.

So maybe I need to go take my contacts out. I feel awful today regardless, but I'd like something to lessen the suffering. Things need to slow up a little, I think.

Hallelujah, AK3, and a long drive home

First, I'd like to acknowledge that today was good. Sort of. Okay, it was okay. I woke up at 7, intending to have a full day before work, but ended up going back to sleep at 8 or so until 12 noon. Sigh. I WILL bring those goddamn books back to the library tomorrow. Probably.

Work wasn't terrible. I got a little bit of a blow hearing that I would only have one class next quarter with ITT. It'll be Mondays. I  guess the curriculum is changing (thank god) so they can't have certain classes until the curriculum is set. I hope it's better than it is now; it's incredibly discontinuous and nonsensical as-is.

Also, I've been farting up a damn storm today. Last night we had tacos and I consumed the better part of a can of black beans. This is in addition to the hearty veggie-filled breakfast I had and the immense amount of pizza I consumed for lunch. I mean, my ass is fucking sonorous tonight. No one really talks much about their farts, which I find to be a shame. I am super proud of mine, especially when they frighten a nearby animal or even startle me. And I know that it's coming...

There are too many versions of "Hallelujah" out there. I prefer the Rufus Wainwright version, but the Jeff Buckley one keeps coming on my Pandora. Don't get me started on KD Lang's-- it's awful. AWFUL. You heard me. Also, I've been thinking a little about Alkaline Trio lately. A lot of the more influential men in my life have had a deep love for the band, and I've always thought them to be badass and hardcore and all like FUCK YOU MAN IMMA ROCK AND ROLLER but... They aren't. I don't want to call them pussies by any means, but I can't make peace with those who give bands like Fall Out Boy shit for being what they are, but then claim that Alkaline Trio is the best, most hardcore fucking band ever. Just my opinion. Also, "Help Me" sounds like "Lovefool" by the Cardigans. It kills me.

Apparently the drive home doesn't take as long as I thought it did. I only spend 20 minutes on the interstate, as it turns out. Tonight I was late in getting home because I was inspired by Heather and her love, David, who sometimes stops to get a pregnant Heather a "midnight milkshake." Andy and I have been crazy short on money, cash or otherwise, but today I found some change and thought it might be nice to stop and get a midnight milkshake. *Shrug* that's all I've got. That's about as sweet as I get.

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.