Yesterday, I wrote a bit about the love of reading. Related, but not the same, is the love of learning.
I think an illiterate person can have a love of learning, and you might agree. Reading certainly facilitates learning, at least formal learning or the learning of facts and ideas, but even those can be learnt without picking up a book or reading Wikipedia. In fact, there's something to be said for getting your information at least in part from experience, observation, and from other people who haven't formalized what they have to say in writing.
I take my curiosity for granted. I also take the ease at which my curiosity can be sated through technology for granted at times. But there are people who don't like to learn. I wonder, though, if it is just an aversion to the formalized education in their past and not an aversion to intellectual activity. I can say for myself, I hate learning maths and I didn't do so well with some science. As an adult, though, I used mathematics textbooks on their own to try to overcome my ignorance in it. During elementary school, I had a little computer gadget that only taught maths, and I loved that thing. I even get excited at the idea of learning maths. I just end up usually getting put off when I don't understand and the method doesn't adapt to my needs.
But some people won't seek opportunities to learn, or at least obvious ones. I don't tend to think that this is the result of people just being naturally different. I tend to think it's either exposure to some of the methods of formal education itself, social pressure from peers, or the inability for large institutions to adapt to the needs of the individual that causes this.
While my husband and I are figuring out how we want to parent our children, I think about what my duties are to our future kids. One is to provide for their needs and to respect their wants (even if we don't always give into their wants). Another is to provide a moral structure and character building. I don't think this is automatically religious, even though some may disagree with me. After that is to make provisions for an education and to help prepare them for the adult world in appropriate fashion to their age. It seems to me that almost everything else falls under one or more of those broad categories. Safety comes under needs. Multiculturalism falls under education, character building, and preparation for the adult world. Spirituality comes under needs, wants, moral structure, and education. And so on.
But I think two things are often ignored when discussing these duties. We should preserve curiosity and foster a love of reading. I don't think that this is always possible if you leave education totally in the hands of the government.
We probably won't be able to afford to send our kids to one of the more progressive private schools (although there is an Enki preschool near here). We are considering the option of home education, particularly with the resources that are provided in the community and the supports we are planning to both our lives and the lives of any children we may have.
It might seem weird that we are planning this so early, but I guess due to personal reasons, thinking about how we will raise our kids responsibly is vital before we begin to have them. I know the best of intentions can go wrong, and reality is a lot different than plans, but seeing how easily things can go wrong with no reflection or planning as you go based on the latest recommendations, I am glad we're thinking about these things with plenty of time to spare.
20 February 2008
19 February 2008
wrong number
I am sorry you rang the wrong number. I am not sorry that you might think somehow, some way you managed to call the States instead of your intended.
If you had allowed me to explain and not sighed and slammed the phone down
(as if I had willed you to misdial or
as if I had picked up the phone before your intended picked up
because we are on some international modern holdout to a party phone line, or
as if I somehow didn't have enough bitchiness in my day,
and willed the circuits to cross,
and ring my phone instead of his or hers...)
If you allowed me to explain, we'd not be going through this. I can only hope you will someday call me back and we can be penpals or solve the world's problems or maybe form an international coalition to support strong telecommunications networks. You can be president. I can settle for vice-president.
But I digress. I really hope you reached your party. I am really sure they were glad to hear from you.
If you had allowed me to explain and not sighed and slammed the phone down
(as if I had willed you to misdial or
as if I had picked up the phone before your intended picked up
because we are on some international modern holdout to a party phone line, or
as if I somehow didn't have enough bitchiness in my day,
and willed the circuits to cross,
and ring my phone instead of his or hers...)
If you allowed me to explain, we'd not be going through this. I can only hope you will someday call me back and we can be penpals or solve the world's problems or maybe form an international coalition to support strong telecommunications networks. You can be president. I can settle for vice-president.
But I digress. I really hope you reached your party. I am really sure they were glad to hear from you.
There's nothing like a book...
...to make you feel better. It doesn't have to be a great book either. Just one that you can read and enjoy. For me, it has to be a book, and not online text. It is very hard for me to read things online. At least it is hard for me to read anything that is more than a page or two. It seems to be a different process.
I love the smell and feel of books. When I see one that strikes an interest in me, it feels like a large, undrunk cup of really good coffee. Or a wedge of decadent cake. It's sensual. I am about to tuck into that book (as the Brits say about really good and comforting food).
Right now I am reading _Brick Lane_ by Monica Ali. It reminds me a bit of _Jasmine_ by Bharati Mukherjee. The plots themselves only share the general geographical area from which the protagonists come (even though they are from different countries, religions, and cultures) and an immigrant experience in a Western country. But they have other things in common, such as the sense of fate and (perhaps a more Eastern tendency to) to see your life as a tale rather than a series of events. Both have legends about their protagonists early in the novel. Creation legends.
One of the differences I seem to see right away is that the protagonist of _Jasmine_ (I hesitate to call her Jasmine) had a more fluid identity and Nazneen of _Brick Lane_ seems very rigid in her understanding of herself (despite her resignation to allow fate to take its course). Maybe this sense will change as I get further in the book.
I wish I had brought over _Jasmine_ so I could re-read it after I finished _Brick Lane_, but I think I gave it away before I moved. It's been a few years since I've read it, and I wonder how it would feel now while I am going through my own experience with immigration (albeit to a culture that was the main root of my own culture).
So here I am, reviewing a book I haven't even halfway finished. I guess it is because it's the only media that you can really get into someone's mind. A film might more easily show how someone views the world, but it's more difficult for a film maker to show the thought process around the vision. And it's a more leisurely process, allowing for reflection and comparisons that happen during the process of reading.
I often wonder what makes me a "reader" when others in my family were not. I wonder about this more often now that we are looking to having children. How do I foster a love of reading in my children? Why do I want to? Do I truly see this as more beneficial than say a love of really good film, television (and yes, I believe there is good television), music, or an ability to live fully in the present and learn from our surroundings? Am I an intellectual snob for thinking a book is better than a good conversation?
When I try to read long works online and get restless and frustrated, I think I feel a bit of the things that people who do not tend to read books feel when they are forced to read books. Deep down I know it shouldn't matter if I am reading something off pages bound in a book or something in my browser window, but it does matter to me. It feels more clinical, more glaring, less organic. When I try to reason it out, I realise that none of that makes any sense. I am in love with the process of reading much more than I am in love with the language and art of good prose.
I love the smell and feel of books. When I see one that strikes an interest in me, it feels like a large, undrunk cup of really good coffee. Or a wedge of decadent cake. It's sensual. I am about to tuck into that book (as the Brits say about really good and comforting food).
Right now I am reading _Brick Lane_ by Monica Ali. It reminds me a bit of _Jasmine_ by Bharati Mukherjee. The plots themselves only share the general geographical area from which the protagonists come (even though they are from different countries, religions, and cultures) and an immigrant experience in a Western country. But they have other things in common, such as the sense of fate and (perhaps a more Eastern tendency to) to see your life as a tale rather than a series of events. Both have legends about their protagonists early in the novel. Creation legends.
One of the differences I seem to see right away is that the protagonist of _Jasmine_ (I hesitate to call her Jasmine) had a more fluid identity and Nazneen of _Brick Lane_ seems very rigid in her understanding of herself (despite her resignation to allow fate to take its course). Maybe this sense will change as I get further in the book.
I wish I had brought over _Jasmine_ so I could re-read it after I finished _Brick Lane_, but I think I gave it away before I moved. It's been a few years since I've read it, and I wonder how it would feel now while I am going through my own experience with immigration (albeit to a culture that was the main root of my own culture).
So here I am, reviewing a book I haven't even halfway finished. I guess it is because it's the only media that you can really get into someone's mind. A film might more easily show how someone views the world, but it's more difficult for a film maker to show the thought process around the vision. And it's a more leisurely process, allowing for reflection and comparisons that happen during the process of reading.
I often wonder what makes me a "reader" when others in my family were not. I wonder about this more often now that we are looking to having children. How do I foster a love of reading in my children? Why do I want to? Do I truly see this as more beneficial than say a love of really good film, television (and yes, I believe there is good television), music, or an ability to live fully in the present and learn from our surroundings? Am I an intellectual snob for thinking a book is better than a good conversation?
When I try to read long works online and get restless and frustrated, I think I feel a bit of the things that people who do not tend to read books feel when they are forced to read books. Deep down I know it shouldn't matter if I am reading something off pages bound in a book or something in my browser window, but it does matter to me. It feels more clinical, more glaring, less organic. When I try to reason it out, I realise that none of that makes any sense. I am in love with the process of reading much more than I am in love with the language and art of good prose.
18 February 2008
The brief rundown of an undocumented period
There's really been a lot happening in my life, and unfortunately, I haven't seen to it to document it here. I am not sure why. Perhaps laziness and frustration or even just forgetfulness.
I love England and London. I had a lot of preconceived notions about what it would be like to live here and the people I would meet here. I don't really think it's unusual to have these. I am pretty sure every person I've spoken with from North America has their own preconceptions. I don't even think these can be dispelled through a short visit. I learn more about my new home the longer I am here, and unlearn what I thought I knew about both the country of my birth and the country of my choice.
We've done some sightseeing. I see Big Ben and the London Eye on such a routine basis, it does indeed sometimes become routine. But I still get awed, even by these sights that are now common to me if I stop and reflect for a moment. Or if I see them from a different viewpoint. I think people who have lived here all their lives still get that awe.
When I used to live in one of the oldest neighbourhoods in the last American city I lived in, I'd often try to think about what the buildings were like 100 years ago. What the avenues looked like at night before it became lit by street lights. What it felt like to travel from one community to the next well before these smaller settlements became eaten up by the growth of the city and they became just different neighbourhoods (a journey that now takes less than 10 minutes by car). I'd find ruminants of this past in the old wrought iron gates that had spaces for lamps to light the paths and carriageways. Or where there was a stepping stone to mount your horse more easily. Or a boot scraper still embedded to the stoop in the older houses.
If you try to do that in London, it becomes overwhelming. Even when you pick things apart to the place where you can place things in their respective eras, you have to remember that so many times the city was renewed after a great destruction. Yet, you can still visit the Roman wall that dates from almost 2 millennia ago.
So every trip here's an adventure to me. We've done a lot of exploring, but I doubt I will see even a fraction of the UK, even if we live here the rest of our lives.
I'm adjusting to living with an extended family. Christmas was fun, but I felt a bit detached from what was going on. Financial stress in the larger family didn't help things. After the holidays, we decided to readopt a whole foods, no grains, sugars, or starch way of eating, and it's going well. Once we meet our health goals, we may move more towards "Nourishing Traditions" but haven't totally decided.
I miss a lot of my friends and family from the US. It's not even that I saw many of them often. It's just that even calling them is a little difficult due to time zone differences. Dad's also not doing well...even the mention of that makes tears well up. But I am committed to this, and I do not regret my move one bit. I think I was meant to live here, even sticking out so much with my broad accent and, when it comes down to it, yank values. By this I do not mean political conservatism, consumerism, focus on self-interest, or anything else that we like to see as critiques of the US and her citizens in general (believe me, we aren't exclusive owners of those traits, and we didn't invent them). I am talking more along the lines of the hypersensitive sense of justice, expectation of fairness, frankness, and general extroversion. But again, I don't think we own exclusive rights to these things, nor did I realise how powerful the culture we were raised in could be.
I finally got my auto-drip coffee pot. Hot damn, Ethiopian Yirgacheffe whenever I want! I am totally off black tea now. It's funny, I used to drink black or green tea a couple times a week. In fact, I went about 6 months just drinking tea in place of coffee. But somehow, I got so sick of tea (our family drinks it instead of water), that I won't touch it. At least for now anyway. I am a bit addicted to a few Twinings herb teas. Yum.
Smoke-free for about 3 months. I didn't bother writing the date down because I guess I didn't think I'd stick to it.
We're planning a possible trip to another EU country this year. I am really looking forward to it. In the next few weeks, we might take a trip to the coast.
I love England and London. I had a lot of preconceived notions about what it would be like to live here and the people I would meet here. I don't really think it's unusual to have these. I am pretty sure every person I've spoken with from North America has their own preconceptions. I don't even think these can be dispelled through a short visit. I learn more about my new home the longer I am here, and unlearn what I thought I knew about both the country of my birth and the country of my choice.
We've done some sightseeing. I see Big Ben and the London Eye on such a routine basis, it does indeed sometimes become routine. But I still get awed, even by these sights that are now common to me if I stop and reflect for a moment. Or if I see them from a different viewpoint. I think people who have lived here all their lives still get that awe.
When I used to live in one of the oldest neighbourhoods in the last American city I lived in, I'd often try to think about what the buildings were like 100 years ago. What the avenues looked like at night before it became lit by street lights. What it felt like to travel from one community to the next well before these smaller settlements became eaten up by the growth of the city and they became just different neighbourhoods (a journey that now takes less than 10 minutes by car). I'd find ruminants of this past in the old wrought iron gates that had spaces for lamps to light the paths and carriageways. Or where there was a stepping stone to mount your horse more easily. Or a boot scraper still embedded to the stoop in the older houses.
If you try to do that in London, it becomes overwhelming. Even when you pick things apart to the place where you can place things in their respective eras, you have to remember that so many times the city was renewed after a great destruction. Yet, you can still visit the Roman wall that dates from almost 2 millennia ago.
So every trip here's an adventure to me. We've done a lot of exploring, but I doubt I will see even a fraction of the UK, even if we live here the rest of our lives.
I'm adjusting to living with an extended family. Christmas was fun, but I felt a bit detached from what was going on. Financial stress in the larger family didn't help things. After the holidays, we decided to readopt a whole foods, no grains, sugars, or starch way of eating, and it's going well. Once we meet our health goals, we may move more towards "Nourishing Traditions" but haven't totally decided.
I miss a lot of my friends and family from the US. It's not even that I saw many of them often. It's just that even calling them is a little difficult due to time zone differences. Dad's also not doing well...even the mention of that makes tears well up. But I am committed to this, and I do not regret my move one bit. I think I was meant to live here, even sticking out so much with my broad accent and, when it comes down to it, yank values. By this I do not mean political conservatism, consumerism, focus on self-interest, or anything else that we like to see as critiques of the US and her citizens in general (believe me, we aren't exclusive owners of those traits, and we didn't invent them). I am talking more along the lines of the hypersensitive sense of justice, expectation of fairness, frankness, and general extroversion. But again, I don't think we own exclusive rights to these things, nor did I realise how powerful the culture we were raised in could be.
I finally got my auto-drip coffee pot. Hot damn, Ethiopian Yirgacheffe whenever I want! I am totally off black tea now. It's funny, I used to drink black or green tea a couple times a week. In fact, I went about 6 months just drinking tea in place of coffee. But somehow, I got so sick of tea (our family drinks it instead of water), that I won't touch it. At least for now anyway. I am a bit addicted to a few Twinings herb teas. Yum.
Smoke-free for about 3 months. I didn't bother writing the date down because I guess I didn't think I'd stick to it.
We're planning a possible trip to another EU country this year. I am really looking forward to it. In the next few weeks, we might take a trip to the coast.
22 October 2007
New Land Hoy
I dount I would have believed you if you told me the last time I posted in this blog that I would be living in a foreign country in the autumn. I am impressed that we were able to get everything we needed to get done for the move, and I am so happy that we are finally here.
Adjusting to living with my husband's family has been tough. It's not that they are not welcoming and good people, it's that I am not used to it. Those who know me might describe me as slightly particular when it comes to my environment. I like things a certain way, and I am used to a great deal of solitude. I feel, in a way, that I am a teenager again. On top of that, there are cultural differences that I think are influencing things. I am used to being an assertive American, and like it or not, English people tend not to be assertive. Or when they are being assertive, it's not the direct and open assertiveness North Americans are used to.
But again, this is not being written to be critical of my husband's family, but to describe what I need to learn to deal with. I am not sure how long we will be living with his parents, but even if we were to move tomorrow, these differences are things I will have to learn to live with with the greater culture of England and the UK.
Other than that, when they say that England is damp and cold, they mean it. I have lived in some of the coldest, most inclimate places on Earth, and I have not been so consistantly cold as here. It's not the temperature, really, but this persistant damp. Even when you are hot you are damp. I've walked into highly heated stores, broke out in a sweat, had to return outside, and felt colder than when I walked in.
But really, I am having a good time. I am enjoying this time with my husband, learning about his country and his culture. It's funny that English people believe that their culture is dead, and that they've become diluted by immigration and changing values. If they could only see themselves from the outside looking in, I doubt they'd hold that view for long.
Adjusting to living with my husband's family has been tough. It's not that they are not welcoming and good people, it's that I am not used to it. Those who know me might describe me as slightly particular when it comes to my environment. I like things a certain way, and I am used to a great deal of solitude. I feel, in a way, that I am a teenager again. On top of that, there are cultural differences that I think are influencing things. I am used to being an assertive American, and like it or not, English people tend not to be assertive. Or when they are being assertive, it's not the direct and open assertiveness North Americans are used to.
But again, this is not being written to be critical of my husband's family, but to describe what I need to learn to deal with. I am not sure how long we will be living with his parents, but even if we were to move tomorrow, these differences are things I will have to learn to live with with the greater culture of England and the UK.
Other than that, when they say that England is damp and cold, they mean it. I have lived in some of the coldest, most inclimate places on Earth, and I have not been so consistantly cold as here. It's not the temperature, really, but this persistant damp. Even when you are hot you are damp. I've walked into highly heated stores, broke out in a sweat, had to return outside, and felt colder than when I walked in.
But really, I am having a good time. I am enjoying this time with my husband, learning about his country and his culture. It's funny that English people believe that their culture is dead, and that they've become diluted by immigration and changing values. If they could only see themselves from the outside looking in, I doubt they'd hold that view for long.
22 May 2007
New Published Articles
Check out my recently published content on AC:
NBC's Medium, Family Television with a Supernatural Twist
NBC's Medium, Family Television with a Supernatural Twist
17 May 2007
Mom, Dad, and high spirited strife
I called my mother today, something that usually leaves me frustrated and lonely. I do love my parents, but I hate how they often make me feel about myself. Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised. Tonight, instead of feeling like being shoved into a time machine and sent back to my teenage years, I just feel a bit sad for both of them.
My parents don't have a happy marriage. Until tonight, I thought theirs worked because of a friendship they shared after making a relationship last for more than 30 years. A bond that involved surviving poverty, addiction, and more mundane, but still poignant tragedies. Often I felt that I didn't quite understand their attraction, but I was convinced it was there amidst the arguments, silent treatments, and other forms of emotional abuse they heaped upon each other.
Mom told me that she despised Dad. This isn't a shock, really. I always thought they strongly disliked each other about 25% of the time. She went on to relate how serious their insults have become. Dad has become bitter and his insults are cutting too close to home. Mom is resentful of Dad's moodiness, and Dad, although voiceless in this particular conversation, I know is dealing with cancer, the operations that are disfiguring his face, and the stress of living in a home that is no longer truly his.
She went on to talk about how she wish she left him years ago, but she stayed with him for the kids, especially me according to her. I ignored her bid for martyrdom on my behalf, and listened to her claim that Dad married her for her steady income. I wouldn't doubt that he saw that as an attraction, but I doubt that it was all he saw in her. And it totally discounts the years of work he put in, especially after his sobriety.
She spoke for about ten or fifteen minutes. I didn't know what to say to her to make her feel better. I repeated my offer to take Dad here for a while this summer. I don't think her claims are totally out of line. I love my father deeply, but his depression rages deeply. He has a cruel streak, and I've been on the receiving end of it on more than one occasion.
My father's cruelness, however, is usually rooted in situations that cause him fear, anger, frustration, or sadness. I am not excusing it, but it's his coping mechanism. On the other hand, I don't think that my family has always extended the consideration he deserves. While his cancer is not life threatening yet, he has had medical problems that have threatened his life. He's also almost completely deaf.
He doesn't need to be coddled, but I think he is often ignored. Because he can't hear well, people don't bother communicating with him. He's also a man who has earned some peace and quiet. Something he's not getting in his home. My mom has earned it, too. I am just coming to the conclusion that they will never find it while they are still together.
But who am I to make any judgements about the situation there? I left home. I left the area. I don't regret it at all, but I often think that my family thinks I should.
I doubt that my parents will divorce. But before tonight, I thought there was more to their relationship than a shared past and a house they own on paper. I wish for the best for them. I just doubt they will overcome the crap that stands between them.
My parents don't have a happy marriage. Until tonight, I thought theirs worked because of a friendship they shared after making a relationship last for more than 30 years. A bond that involved surviving poverty, addiction, and more mundane, but still poignant tragedies. Often I felt that I didn't quite understand their attraction, but I was convinced it was there amidst the arguments, silent treatments, and other forms of emotional abuse they heaped upon each other.
Mom told me that she despised Dad. This isn't a shock, really. I always thought they strongly disliked each other about 25% of the time. She went on to relate how serious their insults have become. Dad has become bitter and his insults are cutting too close to home. Mom is resentful of Dad's moodiness, and Dad, although voiceless in this particular conversation, I know is dealing with cancer, the operations that are disfiguring his face, and the stress of living in a home that is no longer truly his.
She went on to talk about how she wish she left him years ago, but she stayed with him for the kids, especially me according to her. I ignored her bid for martyrdom on my behalf, and listened to her claim that Dad married her for her steady income. I wouldn't doubt that he saw that as an attraction, but I doubt that it was all he saw in her. And it totally discounts the years of work he put in, especially after his sobriety.
She spoke for about ten or fifteen minutes. I didn't know what to say to her to make her feel better. I repeated my offer to take Dad here for a while this summer. I don't think her claims are totally out of line. I love my father deeply, but his depression rages deeply. He has a cruel streak, and I've been on the receiving end of it on more than one occasion.
My father's cruelness, however, is usually rooted in situations that cause him fear, anger, frustration, or sadness. I am not excusing it, but it's his coping mechanism. On the other hand, I don't think that my family has always extended the consideration he deserves. While his cancer is not life threatening yet, he has had medical problems that have threatened his life. He's also almost completely deaf.
He doesn't need to be coddled, but I think he is often ignored. Because he can't hear well, people don't bother communicating with him. He's also a man who has earned some peace and quiet. Something he's not getting in his home. My mom has earned it, too. I am just coming to the conclusion that they will never find it while they are still together.
But who am I to make any judgements about the situation there? I left home. I left the area. I don't regret it at all, but I often think that my family thinks I should.
I doubt that my parents will divorce. But before tonight, I thought there was more to their relationship than a shared past and a house they own on paper. I wish for the best for them. I just doubt they will overcome the crap that stands between them.
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