A Repository for Random and Disconnected Rants on the Course of Events of a Semi-Psychotic College Student Trapped at the Start of the 21st Century.
March 17, 2005
Recently my Mark Twain (he was really Samuel Clemons, I know) English capstone class had an interest set of parallel assignments based on Life on the Mississippi.
We could either A)Do a mini-research project and then have a 10-minute presentation in which you report your results
or
B)Write a one-page personal essay about a change or changes youve seen over the years.
Guess which choice 90 percent of the class chose?
The shorter assignment, B, seemed easier, though I tried to put a lot of effort into it. A combination of the second semester senior blues mixed with the fact my Dad finally got a job that will be moving him out of Sullivan, I was in a mood to wax both nostalgic and cynical about a town I grew up in.
My goal was to try the capture a hint of Twains mix of happiness and regret of how things change for good, for bad, forever. I took my best shot at it, and the result you can shortly read below.
Note: I cant vouch for all the facts included in this recollection. Any mistaken information I blame on the miscomprehensions of my younger self and not the present person who I am, since I simply wrote down what I remembered.
Fact or fancy, I thought you might find the perspective interesting.
Life on the Meramec, or at least a short distance from it
My father works for the Missouri Department of Conservation. Various promotions have bounced him from one side of the state to the other. In first grade, I worked it out that Id moved six times before I turned the age of six, and we still moved a couple times after that. Nevertheless, we finally did slow down and put down roots in a small town called Sullivan, Missouri. And now, after a record 15 years in one place, a new job opportunity has arrived and my family is looking to leave their house in Sullivan behind. While I have not lived in that house for nearly four years now, the news got me thinking about the pros and cons of the town I grew up in and how it has changed since 1991.
The politics have changed. It was long rumored that the long-standing mayor when we moved there was the head of the areas old Ku Klux Klan group. I didnt know anything about that. It was also rumored that KKK was crudely spray painted on the back of the businesses and clubs that want to welcome you to Sullivan sign, but I never checked that out for myself either. Whether the mayor was racist or not, I knew him to be ignorant. He once gave a lecture to a high school class despite the fact his hearing aid battery had gone dead. Whenever people would laugh, hed start laughing too before asking, Heh, heh, what? As you can imagine, we had much fun at his oblivious expense. While I dont remember any of the topics he raised that day, I believe we all left with the conclusion that any idiot can make it in politics. Despite the long-standing legacy he built as mayor his main accomplishment getting re-elected time and time again - he was finally pushed out of office by a candidate whose main campaign platform was the addition of a beer garden to the towns Fourth of July celebration. That woman was later bumped out herself, and I believe the replacement has been traded out as well, though I dont know who the mayor is now, nor do I care.
The population has grown, though the town hasnt broken five-digits yet and the population signs havent been updated in a couple decades. Shortly after my family arrived, a new subdivision was christened and was hoped to be the site of 600 new homes. It was also built on a field that used to have a creek cut through it and still flooded in the spring. Local word of mouth kept the development from growing to the commonly known, and frequently shared, fact that the creek wasnt as much diverted as filled in. Only in the past few years, as more homes were built on artificial hills as the original model homes were constructed has the subdivision slowly started to multiply as originally expected.
The public schools keep advancing and updating, following the earlier mentioned trends. There is more diversity in the classrooms and there are now more buildings to house them in. Ive seen several new playgrounds over the years with each new incarnation designed to be safer than the one before by adding tiny gravel bits to cushion falls, removing dangerous and suspect devices like teeter-totters and merry-go-rounds, and slowly converting everything to smooth, form fitting plastic. Granted, we still found ways to hurt ourselves; we just had to work harder at it. The new playground that interested me the most was one put in by the middle school where I lived. After the holes were dug, but before the new jungle gym and swings were cemented in the ground, a friend and I jumped in and out of all the future foundation holes. Our intent was to be able to go back someday and tell our kids someday wed been there at the ground floor. We raced each other, diving in and out of holes like gophers, and I think we both claimed to finish first; though it was really me. My last year of high school, a new school building was crammed onto the land next to the existing middle school. The old new playground is now a parking lot. The new new playground is set on the field where we used to play field hockey, kickball, and football. I can still claim to have been on the ground floor of this playground, but so many people share that argument that it makes me less special and unique than I once hoped to be.
Progress had been made in Sullivan. Change has reduced corruption, or at least made it less profitable for those who engage in it. Built as a railway depot, the town has shifted its allegiance to Route 66. We now have an expanded highway strip with restaurants of every taste and size and a maligned, but surviving Main Street. We have a stoplight now, which surprised me on my first trip back to Sullivan from college. After years of public discussion, and the proud declaration that wed never need one, there it was stationed over the most dangerous intersection in town. It was located near my fathers work and I can think of multiple times while I was waiting for him in the parking lot and I heard the tell-tale crunching sound of an accident behind me, typically followed by police sirens 15 minutes later. When I first saw it, it hadnt been connected yet, but still was wrapped in the black plastic to protect in during its transit.
The light still strikes me as the biggest change to this town, though a few new stops signs (that have me breaking the law when I cruise through intersections that used to be non-stop) have similar impact. Sullivan is different, and life it a bit faster paced, but it still remains a small, sleepy town that is only slowly, and begrudgingly, accepting change.
For those of you who are entirely engrossed in the NCAA basketball tournament, you may have heard that MU barely squeaked its way into the National Invitational Tournament.
INSERT YOUR OWN, N.I.T. ACRONYM JOKE HERE (THOUGH I'D ASK YOU TO SKIP THE OBVIOUS, AND FRANKLY, OVERUSED NOT INVITED TOURNAMENT) -> __________________
Anyway, we played DePaul last night, or rather, got played by the Blue Devils and lost on home turf bringing our season record to a final (16-17).
As a seasoned Mizzou fan, I am neither surprised not too torn up. While we all typically react harshly to such news, most of us have learned to take it in strive. Of course, some people will still be stewing until next season, especially members of the MU Athletic Departent, but people like me with a lest vested interest in the team can shirk it off a lot easier.
Let me just repeat the MU sports fan motto a final time before moving on:
We'll do better next season.
Here's to a healthy and productive off-season. It came early this year, so we might as well make the most of it.
This is old new for those people who are constantly cruising the internet to get the latest gossip on Harry Potter, but I just heard of this recently, so I thought Id write about it now.
You can find the English cover here and the American one here.
I find the differences in emphases interesting to say the least. One tries to be dark and mysterious and one catches the title character in what looks to be a serious showdown. I cant speak for the artists on why they chose the scenes they did, though CNN.com has just posted an article on the designer of the American edition, Mary GrandPre, who I now envy just for the simple fact that shes already gotten to read the book.
I know there will be more Potter tidbits as we get closer to the July 16 sale date. J.K. Rowling, with her website, has been quite liberal with her gifting of hints.
I now diehard fans who went nuts with the announcement of the official title in December, as I remember doing. In another month or two well get the jacket blurb, which will only entice us more.
I dont know what Ill be doing when the book comes out. After consulting the wall calendar, I know its going to be the weekend, so I can try to finish the book in one day like last time. I chewed through the 870 pages pretty quickly. I purchased the book at midnight, started reading around 1 a.m. (I dont remember what for, but Id made some deal with my sister that included the pledge she could read the beginning chapter first), fell asleep around 7 a.m., woke up in the early afternoon and finished it after another seven hours.
Well see if Im up for the marathon then.
For now, Ill just have to content myself by looking at the pretty pictures.
Okay, so I bought my graduation cap and gown today. I havent done that in a while.
I cant recall filling out the paperwork for my high school graduation gown, though I can vaguely recollect the Jostens man who always seemed to be there in the spring trying to sell rings. I definitely cant remember doing anything for my middle school graduation which we had in my town because that was the only graduation a mentionable percentage of the students were going to get. I think I looked better in the gold middle school gown better than the black high school gown, though I didnt lose my cap beneath the bleachers during my high school graduation.
It was strange going around the tables. There were familiar faces. I saw a member of my old F.I.G. (Freshman Interest Group) standing in the line for printed announcements. I saw several people from my English senior capstone class, which had dismissed immediately prior to our dropping by. I also saw some faces that looked familiar, I guess due to the semi-frequent crossing of paths over the last years, though I have no idea who most of them were.
The whole process wasnt too bad. Apparently the university had the proper spelling on file for my diploma, though I learned it isnt productive to joke around with the Spelling Lady. You may mean well by trying to lighten her day, but she had processed so many letters that she doesnt have any brain cells left over to detect the ironic tonal inflection that indicates you are making a joke. Dont even try.
Id been planning on waiting before picking up items, but the 10 percent discount was enough for me to buy my cap, gown, and tassels (the red School of Journalism cord looks a lot cooler than the plain white College of Arts and Science cord). I held off on ordering invitations and/or thank you cards, though I did get some order forms so I can procrastinate looking at them over the upcoming Spring Break. I laughed at the price of the diploma frames and refused to make eye contact with the college ring guy.
Back in high school, my Dad told me to hold off getting an expensive class ring and save it up for my college one; he didnt know Id already been leaning toward the classic aluminum-colored Lustrum model. I do think, however, he knew I wouldnt care to spend good money on a university ring four years down the road. I love MU, but Im not a ring person and even one of the cheaper investments of $195 isnt going to change me into one.
I still dont know if Ill be honors eligible at the end of the year. Greek honors start at the 3.5 average G.P.A. Ive been hovering at 3.49 for about a year now. I hope to still pull one off, which is why I started studying for midterms the week before they came for a change. I wont know for sure for a couple months, though.
I have a meeting with the head advisor of the English department tomorrow morning. I am getting my paperwork filed a bit closer to the deadline than I would care to be, but I believe it to be solid. Since I only have already jumped through various hoops for the journalism advisors, I know that if I pass the one journalism class Im taking this semester, everything will be just fine.
Ive got the outfit and the paperwork pretty much taken care of; Im just not sure about the spirit. Graduation no longer feels like the hazy, nebulous event that would sometime come in the distant future like it did four years ago. But it doesnt feel like it is only two and a half months away either.
I doubt the feeling will come when the invitations do. In fact it will probably wait until after the event comes and goes. Thats how it was in high school. Though only time will tell if things are different.
Either way, I have an extra black gown I can go trick or treating in come next October.
DING DONG!
And what are you young man.?
Im a college graduate! Im poor. Can you give me some money?
SLAM!
Hersheys would do! Or a Snickers! I just got out of college. Im hungry too!
Last night, for church I showed up in slightly disheveled appearance. This is partly due to the fact that when my usual ride to church knocked on my door, I was sitting before my computer, dripping wet, clad in towels and franticly typing.
Last night we premiered a new format for our weekly Royal Ranger meetings. Were having a winter camping outing in three weeks and wed like to have everyone earn the Winter Camping Merit. Notice how one neatly ties into the next? We just finished the Pinewood Derby little racecar season two weeks ago (with the girls besting the boys for the second year in a how) and were going to start hitting the books extra hard to make up for lost time.
The old system was to let the boys run around before church, getting rowdy and slightly on edge, before herding them into a small room where they had trouble keeping calm and quiet and later splitting up into other rooms where it was only slightly easier getting them under control and working on requirements.
The new setup was to lock up the sports equipment before hand, to cut down on some of the distracting adrenaline and testosterone that later lingered and made concentration difficult throughout the evening. To prepare for the campout, a lot of information has to be sorted through and recorded in activity books, so that meant the commanders have to do a bit of work before hand too (so there would be no running around in circles before the meeting for us well not while playing sports, but I certainly circled the secretarys office a couple times while waiting for the 100-odd pages of copies to print off).
Another commander and I spent a lot of time over the weekend laying out the lessons for the next three weeks. We plotted out the next three meetings, even inserting extra time to help kids who missed a week to catch up, in hopes of keeping everybody on track. We even purchased a box of folders (only one color, orange, to keep them from fighting over preferred hues. Also, when they take the folders on the campout, orange folders are less likely to be misplaced and abandoned in the bushes) to help them keep track of their handouts and requirements.
Of course, the system works better if the commanders remember to print off the requirement lists with the space to write down the information we tell them is important.
So, right before my ride called to let me know he was on his way, I had popped out of the shower, recollected this unfinished detail, and was desperately trying to crank out (type up and format) what would end up being six pages of the winter camping merit.
Thus, when I arrived at church, with somewhat grizzly hair and a four-day growth of facial hair wearing dress pants with a hole in them paired with a COLORADO t-shirt, you could tell Ive had a long day.
The meetings went well. The lesson plans have already been altered it hurt us that the adult church service was shorter than usual due to the pastor being gone due to a family emergency. The fact that its hard to go from fun and games one week to more pencil orientated work the next also slowed us down.
Still, were ultimately on track and very thankful we built the extra time in for the Rangers which well be taking advantage of shortly.
As for the rest of my week prior to my towel clad typing session, Ill try to backlog as many of the worthwhile entries that I can. Privacies issues dictate I cant go into certain details as to actual questions on the G.R.E. or details concerning the drunks I was, literally, chasing this weekend. Some things just cant be shared in cyberspace.
Suffice it to say, its been a very productive week; especially when Id show up to class. That reminds me, even though my five-day growth of hair remains un-mowed, I should really get to moving on. An application to graduate school assumes that one is going to pass the classes they are currently enrolled in. I dont want to challenge that supposition as this point in my academic career. Im sure my parents are with me on that one.
I hope everyones life is going as interestingly, if not just a little bit slower paced than mine. Either way, I hope to catch us with you all at some later mile marker down the line.
Take care and dont forget to gird that towel tightly or finish your work earlier whatever works best for you.
Note: I was going to make a G.R.E/GREat joke, but my friend Erin has already used that device. Flittering through my head for another gre- word, gangrenous was the next one that came to mind. The adjective that is sometimes defined as suffering from tissue death seemed apt to describe the experi-ence that cost me countless brain cells sacrificed in the name of higher education.
G.R.E || COLLEGE
The pair that best matches the above relationship is:
A) A.C.T. || HIGH SCHOOL
B) ROY || SIEGFRIED
C) BUNS || HOTDOG
D) SUFFERING || PAIN
E) ALL OF THE ABOVE
Let me translate for those of you who havent been running over practice analogies for a verbal examination. The G.R.E is to test the culmination of all youve learned in college and can help determine whether or not youll be accepted into a graduate program at an academic institution. It's not always required, but it cert
To be honest, Im still not quite sure what the G.R.E. stands for. Ive already recycled most of my studying materi-als, but let me poke through the bin that sits at the foot of my bead (or the head, depending on the position I take on my bed right before my political science reading puts me to sleep) and Ill see if I can find anything illuminative.
Okay, the Graduate Record Examina-tions are no walk in the park, at least they arent based on my experience with walks in the park. The general subject test is comprised of an analytical essay writing section, a quantitive math portion, and a verbal vo-cabulary and reading comprehension segment.
There is a confidentiality clause one must sign before taking the test, so I cant repeat any of the questions in part or in their totality, but I can describe the my mindset while going through the process in general.
First off, the signing of the legal privacy document was the most difficult part of the test. Im not joking. There was a long paragraph that any prospective test taker must copy and reproduce, in its entirety, at the bottom of the page. It is meant to not only ensure applicants are aware of the rules it provides a handwriting sample to compare future scribblings to (its a holdover from the written exam, and even through I was taking the faster, computerized version of the test, it still required my John Hancock (and the equivalent of listing a few dozen of his cousins).
It sound easy, I know, but the tricky part was the following bolded direction: DO NOT PRINT.
I sat stunned in the waiting room of the MU Testing Services center (because youre not allowed to proceed into the test room until youve completed all the extra forms). I havent written in cursive regularly since middle school when one wise English teacher, who had spent much time trying to decipher my hieroglyphics, suggested I should print when I turned in handwritten assignments. Another instructor encouraged me to develop word processor skills, as quickly as possible. So for over eight years, the only cursive letters I ever jotted were the A, B, C, E, H, I, L, M, S, and T that I would scribble when I signed a check (and if it wasnt a check for something important, I sometimes write Caleb, make a S shape, and twist some twirls and whirls around until I feel like stopping. For this reason, I understand how six distinctly different versions of Shakespeares signature have been discovered and how probably more a waiting to be discovered being misplaced in a back drawer of the credenza of history.
Even after feeling foolish earlier in my test preparation trying to recall how the quadratic formula was applied and how to determine the slope of a line, I discovered previously unexpected lows. I was reduced to drawing only one or two letters as a time while I tried to visualize the long-neglected letters.
Worse yet, the document was on carbon paper, which meant I was denied the luxury of erasing my frequent mis-takes. I messed up simple letters like Ts. Even though I know you go up and slide back down the way you came before ducking back to cross it later, if it came after a series of loopy letters (like Bs, Ds, or Hs) I would also make it loopy as well, making it appear like a fish with an incomplete tail fin.
I hope there is never any reason to examine the statement. I would have a hard time reading it and I was the one who put it down there in the first place. I also know I wouldnt be able to pick out my paragraph out of a lineup, because none of the letters would be recognizable (for reasons like the T explained above, the appearance of the letters differed even in the same sentence, or in some cases, word).
The good news, is as I stated before, this was the most difficult part of the exam. I had done some test preparation leading up to the test, especially the morning of. The only area that tripped me up was the not-so-optional extra portion of the test. I was warned that there may be an extra section inserted in the test, to help gauge the difficulty of the test and help direct future revisions of the exam. The possibility was described in such a blasé, half-hearted manner, however, I didnt expect it to come up.
Three hours into the test, I was ready to be done. Id finished the writing section and a math section and was on the last question of the verbal section. I was tempted to just quit before answer the last question, but I decided to stick it through and answer things properly. Wearing a smug smirk, I finished the last question and leaned back in the chair to wait for unofficial test results.
Another 45-minute 30-question quantitive section greeted me instead.
Grr !
Forty five minutes later, and without any smarmy look, I sent my final answer spiraling through the computer to complete the calculation of my final scores. Since I was taking the test electronically and every portion of the test was being automatically scored, I had the option to immediately learn my unofficial scores. I clicked that, yes, Id like to know.
Another window popped up, telling me it wasnt too late to go back, and I could still back out. Yes, keep going, I selected.
Are you really, really sure, I was asked again. I wasnt nervous the first time the question popped up, but repeatedly confronting the question was slowly ratcheting up the tension of the situation. I needed the numbers, even if they werent official, for my graduate school application so I knew I needed to keep going, but I was actually a bit nerv-ous when I tapped, yes, for the final time.
Big breath
The MUSchool of Journalisms page on masters degree applicants sets the minimum GRE score to be 1,000. If your college grades have been a bit rocky, it suggests you score 1,100 to counter-balance that. Talking to a woman in the gradu-ate studies office, I was told to shoot for around 1,250. Granted, the site says reaching the minimum scores doesnt guarantee anything, but it is welcomed like an extra wool blanket on a frosty winters night.
I took a long look at the scores and blinked. I think I blinked a couple more times after that, not trusting my mental calculations. I crunched the numbers, and my forehead, three times before I let myself start trusting them.
1,240! Since the verbal and quantitive points are given out in 10-point increments, I had been only one question off my goal. Considering there were moments of self-doubt in the previous week where I was worried about earning the minimum four digits, I was very delighted with myself.
I was so thrilled, after I turned in my scratch paper I even attended my next class of the day, even though it was only 20 minutes away (my first class of the day I had sacrificed for the sake of finishing the test). When the teacher asked if anyone had done anything interesting, as he often does to start our Monday class, I quickly shared my ac-complishment. I knew the applause I got from my classmates, as led by my teacher, wasnt heartfelt, but I certainly didnt let that hurt my ego.
Starting with a cursive curveball and ending in a sitting ovation, I had a trying experience that I hadnt expected, but I seemed to overcome anyway.
Once you reach a certain point in life, tests become less obvious. By that I mean, one goes through a trial but there is no printed answer sheet, No. 2 lead pencils, or a matronly time keeper reminding you that the clock is counting down. College is winding down, and even if I get accepted to graduate school, the number of blatant tests I have left to take is numbered. The examinations will keep coming, of course, but they will take the form of conversations, debates, interviews, lunches, and other less obvious assessments.
Ive finished one of the last transparent tests and, by golly, I did well despite my brains attempts otherwise.
Well see how I do with the next one called life.
Note: I wrote a lot of this Sunday. I was in the unexpected position of being up at the same time the polls opened in the Middle East. I hadnt planned to be up this late/early, but since Residential Life prevents me from sharing certain types of information in public, the root of the original clause of this sentence can only be explained in a forum separate from the public sphere of the Internet so ask me about it in person sometime.
There is a nine hour difference between Missouris and Iraqs time zones (if the international clock on the wall of the Missourian [which was put up in 2003 to help us think globally in the revving up to the second round of the Gulf War. It has since had the dateline city Baghdad replaced with Tehran and Damascus, though the London clock to its right has remained unchanged except for batteries]). Night owl Americans go to bed hearing about the budding news of the day and wake up to find out things turned out in the east. Its like seeing the opening of an all night marathon, falling asleep, and waking up in time to catch the final 15 minutes when the guy get the girl, the bully gets his comeuppance, and the wised mentor (who may or may not have died partway through hour four) appears to smile down on our hero (either from their rustic porch or from amongst the clouds, depending on the previous sce-nario).
Iraqs had a happy ending Sunday. However, that was only the end of this chapter. The Next Generation sequel is already under production and well be watching closely to see what happens next.
FLASHBACK POST: Carpe diem-ed!
Congrats, Iraq!
You had an opportunity and you seized it.
Once again, you trumped the experts pessimistic expectations.
- Turnout was higher than previously estimated. Roughly 72 percent of the country of 14 million turned out to vote. Granted, it was less than the 100 hundred percent turnout in the last Saddam-run election, but this time the num-bers and the results are less suspect than the elections that proved every single person voted for Hussein (though I might ask, what kind of jerk with an over-inflated ego expects us to buy such a vote anyway? Oh yeah the spider-hole-hiding kind).
(Note: Once more accurate numbers came in, and were better adjusted to the percentage of people eligible to vote, 62 percent of the country was said to have participated in the democratic process. This is equal to
I have a few, different links that you could consult to look at the American voter percentage turn in 2000 and 2004, but let me summarize those numbers: Iraqi voters turned out in the same percentage as American crowds, if not a little better. Considering this was the first real election in decades, voting stations were being conjured from scratch, terrorist threats were well known, and security was a big question throughout the day, the fact that voters turned up, let alone in the millions, was a miracle.
What percentage of Americans would still strive to vote under similar circumstances? I dont want to know the answer, but its certainly something to ponder.)
The violence was far reduced than predicted. It is very sad that anyone had to brave bombs, bullets, and any other form of violence to cast their vote, but it shows they believe in hope. Even those who paid with their own lives ensured their voices were heard.
The pages in the history books are turning faster than ever.
This signals the ending of a darker chapter of history. The next few papers appear to be comprised of lighter fare. Granted, its like when the witches show up in Shakespeares Macbeth; things remain dark, but at least the black comedy is a nice departure from the blood and gore of the previous few acts.
Things are changing, and while that remains a constant, it is important to note they are changing for the better in Iraq thanks to the coalition partners who are trying to provide a protective sanctuary for the country to grow its own form of freedom from within.
