Open letter to academia

Honored faculty:

I came to college to learn. I take classes on things I want to learn about. Thus, I do not appreciate it when you make it physically impossible for me to learn. You assign readings and papers as if yours is the only class I'm enrolled in. What purpose can it possibly serve to snow me under with an enormous workload? It only makes me rush through each assignment, looking for what I'll need to know for a paper or a test. I forget what I read as quickly as I read it. The problem is not with me: the grand majority of my waking day is spent either in class or preparing for the following day's classes. I don't drink, so don't blame it on that, and I work nearly as hard on weekends as I do during the week. I can play your game; my 3.98 GPA attests to that. I make the grades, but don't fool yourselves that you're teaching me anything. What ticking clock are you running against? Why push so hard to get through so much? I would learn so much more if you gave me the time to think about what you're having me read. You say that if you were easier on your students then none of us would do the work. Well, as it is, none of us can do the work. I don't understand what you're trying to prove here. At this point in our lives, at this institution of higher learning, I don't understand how the argument I'm still getting for why things are the way they are is that the worst students need it to be this way. Hello, there are no bad students here. There might be slacking students, but intelligence is not lacking. Why not do something truly revolutionary and give us time to actually understand a piece, to discuss it and question its assumptions? Then we might remember something about it this time next year. I'm not learning; I'm walking miles on a treadmill and getting nowhere. My parents are not paying you 40k a year so that I can hate going to class.

Much love, Laura

Story of a Purdue Game

Fortunately for readers, this story does not capture the 6:15 wakeup call or the 7AM bus boarding. The bus trip isn't covered either, because the photographer was asleep. Nor did she document the incredibly rude Purdue fans she encountered before the game, because they are not worthy of space on her blog. That might have been slightly harsh. And she was too busy wolfing down her brat to provide photo evidence of that. Instead, we begin with the game, which took place in a even more out of the way part of Indiana than where her university lives.

Gooo Irish!















We sat almost on the top row beneath the Jumbotron. Yay shade. I still managed to get sunburned. Weirdest coincidence ever: one of my roommates from last year was sitting in the row in front of us. Go figure.




















LOOK at our positive yardage. Oh man, I was so happy. If my Irish could just play a whole game like they played in the second half, we would be good to go. Bring it, Duke. Anyway, I loved the game. Forward motion, Irish fans; forward motion.

Post-game, we embarked on a mission to find tasty liquid for our parched throats. Usually for college students this refers to alcohol; for us it means Starbucks. We're so cool. Purdue's Student Union building is not. Fortunately for them, we still found our Starbucks.




















"You cannot see me, I am a ninja!"

This would be when we were waiting for the bus to move to take us back to ND. Joey was trying (and failing) to make a ninja mask out of his sweatshirt.






















Much better. We got back to school by 7PM- that's 12 hours of football awayness. Shweet. Upon getting back to my dorm, we refused to move another inch and elected to experience ordered-in restaurant food for the first time in our college careers. Due to our incredible luck, we ended up ordering the best Mexican food I've ever had this far north, and it gave southern places a run for their money too. We capped off the day with, what else, a football movie- We Are Marshall. Apparently Marshall is a college, not a high school. Who knew? (Answer: Everyone on the planet but me). Good times.

YAY

I would just like to share that for the first time this semester, I actually came out of a class feeling excited and like I had learned something. And- better yet- I felt like I would keep learning for the rest of the semester. I'm even excited about starting my research paper for said class!

Yessss. The love of learning has returned. You had me worried for a second there, buddy.

Story of a Sunday

3 AM: Bedtime.

10 AM: Wake up. Roll over and go back to sleep.

11 AM: Finally up and moving. Check email and create to-do list of homework for the week.

11:45 AM: Finish putzing around on the internet and straighten room.

Noon: Wakeup call to still-sleeping boyfriend, as requested. Foiled by lack of TMobile cell phone service on campus, especially in boyfriend's far-flung nearly off-campus residence hall. Give up after 5 tries; commence homework.

12:30 PM: Consumption of yogurt and cereal.

1 PM: Call from mother, et al. Discover that father's presentation to the entirety of church was awesome. Big smile.

1:30 PM: Put laundry in washer; return to homework.

2 PM: Put laundry in dryer; continue homework. Give in to the distraction of roommate watching FIFA world cup quarterfinals.

2:30 PM: Boyfriend calls around this time; promises to show up soon. Happiness that he has not been struck down by the plague, but was merely sleeping.

3 PM: Pull laundry out of dryer; fold; gather homework materials. Depart with boyfriend for that grungy site of studying and caffeine consumption, the student center.

3:15 PM: Begin agonizing over take home test for grad school class. Involves writing three "essays" in a total of 500 words. That's approximately 166.67 words per question. Great anxiety over proper wording; must be simple yet accurate.

6 PM: Dinner and a break from essay writing.

7 PM: Transfer study materials to a silent third floor classroom; continue agonizing essay writing.

9 PM: Bathroom break. Classroom containing laptop, cellphone, ID, keys, books, etc is locked upon return. Momentary extreme fear and desperate searching for building manager. Manager kindly unlocks door.

9:05 PM: Break to write a whiny, but hopefully somewhat humorous blog post.

I think I understand ritual suicide now

Don't say anything about the game. Just don't. When the highlight of my gameday experience is that the manager of the bar gave me a coke on the house, there are serious problems.

Joey and I are off to go get Chickfila at the local mall and cover up our pain with yummy food. I think it's a good strategy.

Oh college

Well, it turns out that it really is as crazy as I remember it being. I'd kinda forgotten (blocked the memory?) how it feels to work hard but always be behind. Like how I'm disregarding studying for my practice Spanish test right now. Of course, the night is young, the test is just a practice, and it's my only class tomorrow. But even if I were super crazy industrious and had studied all afternoon, there would still be thank you notes from my birthday to write, about seven letters that need writing, photos to print and send to far-off friends, and of course the mountainload of weekend homework to get started on. To all of this, I say: meh.

Besides the general complaining about classes = too much work, I have two major issues thus far this semester. I can't talk about the first one because various ND people read this and feelings might get hurt. But issue #2 is that I spend literally all of my time engaged in theoretical debates about abstract things. If I'm not in class "learning," I'm reading or writing so that I can further "learn." Or else working for a campus group in support of more abstract principles, or working for spending money so that I have the freedom to support the campus groups. I just spend my summer learning way more than I could ever learn in a classroom while at the same time knowing I was making a difference. It is almost unbearably frustrating to sit in lectures (/read books/write papers, etc) about things like how to make peace and how to love God when I could be out there ACTUALLY DOING IT, and probably learning a lot more. Part of it is selfish- I miss the feeling of being sure I was doing something positive. But it's also that I feel like I was unjustly placed in remedial algebra; this pace is just too slow for me. I know I can learn much more necessary, powerful lessons while working towards actual justice.

At this point, my mother is wondering why she's paying 47k a year for me to complain about the education I'm getting. It's just that learning theory is nothing like learning by doing. C'mon Mom- you learned more in a week of rounds in med school than you did in a year of textbook learning.

There are ways of coping. I'm planning on making time very soon for community service in South Bend. I'm reorganizing my priorities about campus groups and probably backing off on my involvement in a few. I'm involved in several groups that entail huge beginning of the year commitments from me, and I've been swamped handling that. My mom casually offered to fly me back to where I spent my summer for fall break; I'm thinking about it. If nothing else, this is a lesson in patience and growing where I'm planted. Not all of us can pull a Kristin and follow our passions (referring to my going-to-be roomie for this year who dropped out of school and is now a Dominican sister in Michigan).

In other news, Joey and I are going to the Purdue game. We have tickets and the student union is sponsoring a bus. We wanted to go to Michigan, but they ran out of tickets as we waited. It's ok, though, we have a plan. Last year we went to Michigan State and this year we're going to Purdue. That means if we go to USC next year and Michigan our senior year, we'll hit one of our four major rivals each year. I guess we're leaving out Boston College, but I don't feel the competitive urge to annihilate their team like I do for the four others. We're going to pretend that it's ok for peace studies majors to feel that way.

Also, having a starbucks on campus is very very bad. I broke my addiction this summer because no starbucks was in walking distance, but I have dramatically relapsed. It's bad.

Finally, for Linda- I've loved the 3 episodes of West Wing that I've had time to watch. I wish they had subtitles though! It takes so much attention to keep up with the episode.

Tada! The newest member of the Knights of Columbus. Congrats kiddo.

In Support

Win or lose, I love my Irish.

Soon, maybe not this season, but soon, the team that is struggling so much right now is going to be brilliant, and no one will doubt us. But until then, I'm not leaving any games early or switching the channel in the third quarter, and I will still scream myself hoarse at every game. Bring it, Irish.

Long Overdue

Cool stuff I got for my birthday that I was totally not expecting:
A surprise dinner party, for a total of 14 super cool people, at my house, orchestrated by my parents
TWO kinds of cake for said party
A letter from my best friend growing up, who hasn't talked to me in five years
A letter from one of my favorite teachers, who I also haven't heard from in five years
TWO purses that I like- and anyone who knows me knows it's very dangerous to try to guess what purse I will like. I'm picky. Now I have FOUR PURSES! What the crap? Soon I will have to change purses daily.
One of those nifty moleskine notebooks from Borders- I've always wanted one, and never bought it for myself.
The West Wing, Season 7- also my parents. I'd never seen WW before, but it's intriguing.
Sidewalk chalk, play dough, and a puzzle from one of my favorite ND people
My favoritest Romero quote ever as the Daily Quiet eMoment that I get emailed every day ("We can not do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that...") [Sorry if that quote's off, I'm going from memory]
And lots more stuff. But these were the super-awesome things I want to remember.


In other news, I'm back at ND, second day of classes, somewhat in over my head, but coping. I'm thinking deep breaths and happy thoughts. (Saying deep breaths to myself is more calming than actually taking deep breaths. It's weird).

My little brother, part two

Mom: Have you gotten any calls from any well-wishers today?

Me: No, no phone calls.

Mom: Oh.

Mark: Go get your cell phone!

(a minute later, my cell phone buzzes)

Mark (over home phone): Hi Laurie, happy birthday!


That kind of cuteness is going to be very dangerous for some nice little girl someday.

My little brother, ladies and gentlemen

Me: (to the cat, who had just bitten my ankle) Yeow, Jasmine, that hurt!

Mark: She doesn't care. All she cares about is a steady food supply. (pause) She's like the Native Americans.

Me: ??! (yes, I made that exact noise.)

New edition of Murphy's Law

Whenever you set aside a day for getting several things accomplished, inevitably nothing will get done.


Harrumph.

Hitting Snooze

I use my cell phone instead of my alarm clock to wake me up in the morning. It may seem weird, but if I use my alarm clock, I know exactly where the button is to turn off the alarm- not just snooze, mind you, but off. If I use my cell phone, I can hit a button on the side of the phone to make the thing snooze. To turn off the alarm, I have to go through the effort of opening the phone (which then shines a light in my face) and finding the right button to push.

So far, so good. But recently I've developed a nasty habit of not even consciously realizing that I'm ignoring my alarm. If it's out of reach, I wake up for a moment then fall back asleep almost instantly, and my family can tell you that this alarm is loud. If it's within reach, I grab it and hold it in my hand as I fall back asleep, unconsciously pushing the snooze button on the side until the poor alarm gives up after an hour or so. Then I end up waking up at 1PM instead of 9AM (as happened today). It doesn't seem to matter how much sleep I've had, and I always wake up not remembering doing any of this.

Any ideas? I'm going back to school next week, where a full night's sleep is a luxury and 8:30 classes come early. Sad face.

Home again, home again

Neat links. My type-A personality particularly loves the Schoolhouse 2 app; I promptly made course folders for this semester and I've enjoyed messing around with the various assignment/task/scheduling features. Fun stuff.

In other words, I'm back from the beach. It was a grand adventure and a good refresher course in Relaxing 101. Joey's uncles were excellent and generous hosts and Joey and I enjoyed peace and quiet together.

Today I headed up to Mark's school for Mass, carefully sitting on the other side of the church from him so as not to embarrass him. Fie on tweenhood. I saw a few teachers who are still there from the days that I ruled the school, which was nice. Mark and I went out for Coldstone ice cream after school. Despite his whiny and sometimes selfish moods, he's really turning out to be a good kid. When he's not upset about something, he's very compassionate and attentive to the feelings of others. Since when does my little brother offer to celebrate my birthday this weekend by doing whatever I want to do? He's a good listener and does what he can to help fix others' problems. And as it turned out, I made myself so invisible at Mass that he didn't even know I was there until later, so he wasn't avoiding me. He makes me feel old when he acts so grown up.

A song that spoke to me today...

All in all it's just another day now
You're falling down; what you gonna do?
Standing on top of the world tonight
No ones looking back at you.

Stand tall
It's going on, It's going on
It's gonna be just fine
You're holding on, holding on today

Lifehouse has its moments of brilliance. Music can either help me get through something or make it worse, but it's definitely a big source of solace and wisdom. Is anyone else like that, or am I just weird?

Insomnia

Why is it that when one most needs to sleep, one is most awake? There's a trick to making yourself sleep when you need to that I've never quite learned. I think it's a doctor thing. My parents are out in two seconds. Must have been med school.

I've spent most of this week hanging out with various people and quietly ignoring the less desirable tasks that need to be done before I go back to school. I wrote a few pages of my paper and read some of the first chapter of a required book, but my efforts have been rather half-hearted. My room remains in a state of total disrepair and disorganization; I have even less motivation to bother about that. The reality of all of this will likely come crashing down on me when I get home on Tuesday, but until then, I intend to enjoy Florida beaches and the company of my boyfriend and his uncles. Yay for disregarding responsibility! But is it really disregarding when I know that I will take care of it later? I'm way too type-A to really disregard responsibility. I just fool myself for a while and pretend to.

This week, in my blissful and willful ignorance of duties, I went to lunch with a woman from my parents' office and a woman from church, Pat and Carma, both of whom are delightful and fascinating people. I ate yummy pizza with Matt and Joey, which Matt paid for after we griped too much about not having summer jobs (oops and hehe). Joey and I hung out with his Life Teen friends and played a monumental game of Apples to Apples. Joey's parents cooked an amazing dinner and invited me to partake of their feast, after which the infamous Taboo team of Joey, Eric, and I destroyed the opposition team of Meghan and Mr & Mrs Grone. Tonight Mom and I met up with some Girl Scout friends for our traditional Olive Garden yearly dinner and pirate-themed birthday party (for three of the four women present). Joey and I also deeply enjoyed Grumpy Old Men, a hilarious gem of a movie that I had somehow never seen. Mark (under my supervision) made a peanut butter pie, and then we served it to my parents' prayer group. Hurray for relaxing and spending time with friends. Maybe that counts as a responsibility too. :-)

Ok, bed time. Theoretically, Joey is picking me up for our road trip at 9 tomorrow morning. Heh, heh. Hopefully we'll leave before noon and make it to the beach when it's still light outside. The beauty of our trips is we are such relaxed go-with-the-flow travelers, and we always end up having a good time. Note to self: treasure these last few days of freedom. When I get home, it will be all about getting ready to go back to school, and as much as I'm looking forward to it, vacation does have its perks.

Mmm

More for Maria than anyone else:
While picking up the fixings for a peanut butter pie I'm about to make with Mark at the grocery store, I stopped by that coffee house that has become so well-liked by certain members of my church. I am now sipping a nice frozen mocha, and I agree, mmm. The guy behind the counter was nice too. Basically, I'm just affirming that you guys have good taste. :-)

Awesomeness

Dailylit.com

Pick a book and subscribe to the RSS feed, and they send you a short segment (takes about 5 minutes to read) as often as you like, for free. I would never pick up some of the classics on the site during the year, but in these bite-sized portions they become much more manageable. I'm reading The Hound of the Baskervilles first. :-)

Random observation about myself, for future reference:
I crave security and safety, but I do crazy and silly things. I just sent a long email to someone who used to be a big part of my life, but we haven't spoken in five years. I asked if he wanted to go get coffee and catch up. Where the heck did that come from? Other examples: going to school 12 hours away, my summer service program, encouraging my family to run out to the beach amid a thunderstorm.
Official conclusion: My mind makes no sense. If I were an android, my positronic net would be fused and I would have exploded by now.

Concentrated Summer

My normally several-month-long summer has been condensed into four weeks (at least the part involving family, high school friends, and stuff like that). I feel like the all-the-rage concentrated detergent bottles. Use half the liquid for the same kick. Anyway...

My family returned home today after three days at the beach. Perhaps it wasn't as extravagant as some years (blame Notre Dame, not me...) but at least I feel like I've fulfilled my Quality Time Quotient for a while, something that is often hard to do in the craziness of being home. Wanting to spend time with everyone makes it hard to be home sometimes. We walked/ran on the beach, avoided getting sunburned (most of the time), ate seafood and pizza and fudge, drank "fancy coffee," browsed shops in the village, read our books, watched lots of Star Trek episodes, and in general did our best to chill out.

We also almost got killed in a nasty thunderstorm... fortunately no one was electrocuted. We had just arrived Monday afternoon, and we of course had to go see the beach as soon as we got our stuff in the room... so we walked out, ignoring the drizzle that was increasing to a steady rain. It was about a two minute walk to the beach, past the pool and under trees. We made it to the beach, took note of the large and angry-looking storm clouds behind us, and hunkered under one of those metal-framed pop-up canopies some wiser family had abandoned. We were pretty much soaked and the beach was deserted. The choice was to try to make it back to the condo thing, through the rain now coming in sheets, towards the quickly-approaching lightning, or hope that it would blow over our heads momentarily. We stuck it out, playing it brave for Mark, with Dad chancing touching the metal frame once in a while to keep the canopy on the ground. It was pretty much incredible, especially because no one got hurt. Good times.

I've been busy trying to catch up with my high school friends too. Margy, Liana, and I met for Chickfila lunching goodness, and I saved Christine from agonizing over the finals for her summer classes at UGA by whisking her away for a picnic and free outdoor movie in downtown Decatur. The picnic was great, as were the desperately competitive rounds of Taboo between the two of us and Joey and Dan; the movie got viciously rained out (I seem to be getting soaked in freak storms a lot lately). We took refuge at Dan's house and watched Batman instead. I am now deeply in need of my Akeelah and the Bee fix, however; my family won't watch it with me. I was so psyched to see it and have been sadly disappointed. Takers?

Tonight brought some much-needed room-cleaning time. I never unpacked my college stuff when I came home in May, I just packed out of boxes for my summer. Now I have college stuff and summer suitcases to unpack and organize. I went through most of the "random stuff" boxes tonight, sorting out stuff that doesn't need to come back to school with me, and putting the re-packed boxes out of the way downstairs. The process inevitably involved sorting through the books-to-read-or-reread box, and now I'm shifting from foot to foot in anticipation of the books I want to read. I'm leaving about half at home. I should leave them all. I didn't read a single book for fun during last school year (breaks don't count). But how sad is a bookshelf full of just mandatory reading? I think my soul at least needs the promise of non-academic books. And now that I have accomplished one goal for the night (writing a mondo-huge and disjointed blog post (yes, my to-do list actually says those very words)) I think I'm going to indulge my insatiable written-word craving.

One last thing: I'm reading Snow Flower and the Secret Fan on the high recommendation of many people, and I have to ask of those who've read it, what's with all the hype? I'm not impressed, but I'm holding out for that kick-butt chapter that makes it all worthwhile.

Displacement

My program/class this summer assigned a book by Henri Nouwen and others called Compassion. At times I cursed this book for the way it explained service, because it claims that service is only truly possible if we first have a deep relationship with God. I would agree that it helps, that it keeps you from serving for the sake of serving and points you towards what you're called to do, but I would argue that simply because I have the faith of a rather desperate agnostic does not mean that I can't serve and offer compassion.

Sorry for ranting. There were parts of the book that spoke to me, and one was the chapter on displacement. It started by talking about voluntary displacement- the times in our lives that we decide to make ourselves uncomfortable in order to reach out to others. My eight weeks of service was the most radical voluntary displacement I have ever done. The first part of this chapter has you ready to move to Calcutta and work with Mother Teresa's nuns, so passionate is its speech. But then comes the catch: involuntary displacement, the ways in which we struggle in our ordinary lives that we have no control over, are also calls from God.

"If voluntary displacement is such a central theme in the life of Christ and his followers, must we not begin by displacing ourselves? Probably not. Rather, we must begin to identify in our own lives where displacement is already occurring... Our first and most difficult task... is to allow these actual displacements to become places where we can hear God's call... In and through this recognition a conversion can take place, a conversion from involuntary displacement leading to resentment, bitterness, resignation, and apathy, to voluntary displacement that can become an expression of discipleship. We do not have to go after crosses, but we have to take up the crosses that have been ours all along" (Nouwen, et al. 70-71).

I both love and hate that sort of uncomfortable wincing that comes with realizing how blind you've been. The mantra in the back of my mind since I've been home has been, "I don't want to be here, I want to go back." I am being uncomfortably and involuntarily displaced, and I naturally rebel against that. But that's not the healthy and moral thing to do, is it? Thanks for your questions in your comment on my last post, Maria- they made me think.

Also, I've started a site, mostly for my own use, to collect and organize the nifty bits of wisdom I keep finding all over the place. I have recently fallen in love with the label function of Blogger. Yay! http://wisdomcrumbs.blogspot.com/

Last but not least- a big, happy, grateful, public thank you to Miss Linda, Mr. Jeff, Annie, and Chloe for letting Mark and I crash at their place last night. It was my parents' 25th wedding anniversary yesterday, and we tried to let them have the house to themselves. Of course, rather than go quietly, they brought the cake I had made them and champagne over to Linda's house to share before going home for the night, but what can you do. They're where I get my stubbornness from, but also my life, so I can't be too disgruntled.

Peace be with everyone :-)