2011 realizing time really has passed when a 16 year old student said to me very wearily, "kids these days".
Which made me want to snap "yea you're right, kids these days...You kid!"
although I suppose she doesn't think she is one. That day she was wearing her I <3 BJ shirt.
Which wouldn't be anything, as BJ apparently refers to Beijing, (I asked) but at the end she'd written an "s" in black sharpie.
Clever.
Along with the middle schooler kid who wrote an essay on conformity about giraffes with phallic necks and another middle schooler who chose to write about buying jeggings for the topic "If I could change one mistake in my life it would be..."
I felt weariness.
I suppose that's how my shipping professor feels- a very old and dignified British man who speaks about ships as though he were from a time when those new fangled 'aeroplanes' just wouldn't do.
Our class is a lesson in failing geography
"is anyone familiar with the ports in Turkey? No?"
silence
"oh well.." continues with a disapproving stare.
"how about ***?"
silence
"ah that is a small port town in India on the southern part near the isles of ******
"Is anyone familiar with German geography?"
a german student raises hand
"have you heard of port vuw@&$?"
german student looks down in shame.
I suppose his distaste is justified, especially as I still giggle each time he says "seamen"
sigh.
Kids these days.
New year, I'm ready.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
am present.
my booklist has been taken over by a series of self-help books. Never thought I'd be the person to say, "so i was just reading this book about love languages and..."
=.=
But it is addicting, each seems to hold a promise of some self-improvement.
currently - how to control your emotions. ha great.
Was reading an interview, the writer was saying how hard it was for her to remember what person she was. Vague, but somehow I understand exactly what she means.
Floating along - in some space. And then suddenly with a jolt - perhaps on a bus, sometimes in the middle of a lesson, on an escalator. This isn't right. Wait I'm a alive. Where am I supposed to have been? And as I stumble and fall, it's like I've become an abstraction. And I have to grasp at something, some certainty, what was past what was present. What was merely a dream, what was real, what was imagined. what made me happy. what is being sad.
And then like those schoolday equations a=b=c, a=c.. slowly, the mind reaches and slow steps, dogs with caramel spots, ice cream left on a spoon, covers spread like the ocean, slow certainties, moment caught, bodies alphabet shapes, skylights from a bus, and the present is present. am present. and that is All There Is.
=.=
But it is addicting, each seems to hold a promise of some self-improvement.
currently - how to control your emotions. ha great.
Was reading an interview, the writer was saying how hard it was for her to remember what person she was. Vague, but somehow I understand exactly what she means.
Floating along - in some space. And then suddenly with a jolt - perhaps on a bus, sometimes in the middle of a lesson, on an escalator. This isn't right. Wait I'm a alive. Where am I supposed to have been? And as I stumble and fall, it's like I've become an abstraction. And I have to grasp at something, some certainty, what was past what was present. What was merely a dream, what was real, what was imagined. what made me happy. what is being sad.
And then like those schoolday equations a=b=c, a=c.. slowly, the mind reaches and slow steps, dogs with caramel spots, ice cream left on a spoon, covers spread like the ocean, slow certainties, moment caught, bodies alphabet shapes, skylights from a bus, and the present is present. am present. and that is All There Is.
Friday, November 5, 2010
New things.
I like.
Riding the tram in autumn. Especially at night when it's quiet and all you hear are the sounds of metal and rail.
Milk swirls in coffee. (everytime makes me hear that lyric - clouds in my coffee)
The diner scene in True Romance - it's perfect.
Looking out the window to see sky. If I could I'd walk around with my head tilted upwards. Or maybe ask for another set of eyes on the top of my head.
Disney songs. Walking around with a very serious expression and headphones. What hard-core music could she be listening to?
"He could clear the savanna after every meal! Lalalala"
Hku library 'leisure reading'. People don't do anything for leisure, much less read. so all mine :)
Black hair. Honey. The moment of a student finally understanding something. Rare but it happens.
Description in duras' the lover - the paper thin dress and gold heels. Bright umbrellas in grey rain.
Dreamless sleep.
Riding the tram in autumn. Especially at night when it's quiet and all you hear are the sounds of metal and rail.
Milk swirls in coffee. (everytime makes me hear that lyric - clouds in my coffee)
The diner scene in True Romance - it's perfect.
Looking out the window to see sky. If I could I'd walk around with my head tilted upwards. Or maybe ask for another set of eyes on the top of my head.
Disney songs. Walking around with a very serious expression and headphones. What hard-core music could she be listening to?
"He could clear the savanna after every meal! Lalalala"
Hku library 'leisure reading'. People don't do anything for leisure, much less read. so all mine :)
Black hair. Honey. The moment of a student finally understanding something. Rare but it happens.
Description in duras' the lover - the paper thin dress and gold heels. Bright umbrellas in grey rain.
Dreamless sleep.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Physics
Never understood the physics of falling up stairs.
And yet it happens to me so often it's like a disease.
And all I can think as I try to pick myself up off the ground with some dignity is.. "how?"
And yet it happens to me so often it's like a disease.
And all I can think as I try to pick myself up off the ground with some dignity is.. "how?"
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
perspective
The life that I have is all that I have
And the life that I have is yours.
The love that I have of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have, a rest I shall have
And death will be but a pause
For the years I shall have in the long green grass
Are yours and yours and yours.
-WWII
apparently was used as a code
Funny to imagine secrets in an open heart,
war in a love poem.
And the life that I have is yours.
The love that I have of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have, a rest I shall have
And death will be but a pause
For the years I shall have in the long green grass
Are yours and yours and yours.
-WWII
apparently was used as a code
Funny to imagine secrets in an open heart,
war in a love poem.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
march madness
Whenever I tend to feel like a failure, I remind myself that it could always be worse.
During middle school, I made a very misguided decision to start playing basketball. It was a short-lived and horrific basketball season.
By then, I had achieved a height of four feet, wore thick glasses, and had no concept of athleticism. My only knowledge of basketball came from watching Space Jam during after school daycare, and even then I was pretty sure that Michael Jackson was the name of the lead. I'd heard he could also sing some.
My mother had already recognized my lack of sports ability. A pragmatist,she didn't see the point in wasting my time in encouraging something I didn't have, so she had failed to introduce my brother or me to any form of physical activity. (Well she made a mistake on him, the athletic overachiever that he is).
She bought us a basketball to play with when I’d told her I needed to practice, but neglected to install a hoop because it was too expensive. And you know, how necessary is a hoop in basketball anyway.
But being resourceful, we noticed a cluster of odd colored bricks on the wall above the garage, and figured it was a lucky coincidence - it could be our target.
So we spent our afternoons throwing the ball against the side of the house, aiming for the trio of bricks above the garage.
I was very dutiful during practice, running when the coach told us to run, tossing up the basketball for lay-ups. I remember feeling like it was such a pointless exercise, running back and forth. The coach only ever yelled two things, “Pivot!” and “Backboard!” And I had no idea what either instruction meant.
As no one bothered to explain the rules to me, I learned from trial and error. No running while carrying the ball. it was cheating to stop and then run and start dribbling again. Pushing and tackling - illegal.
I was a starter on the team so needless to say, most of our games were a failure. I don’t remember winning a single one, or even making a basket. The only thing I was somewhat good at was defense. I was good at knocking people over, and that was mostly an accidental skill. Already being low to the ground, people tended to trip over me.
The one time I did have the ball - after tripping a poor giant of a girl, my own teammate took it away from me. I'd been running the wrong way.
So when facing failure I think of basketball. It can't be as bad as that.
During middle school, I made a very misguided decision to start playing basketball. It was a short-lived and horrific basketball season.
By then, I had achieved a height of four feet, wore thick glasses, and had no concept of athleticism. My only knowledge of basketball came from watching Space Jam during after school daycare, and even then I was pretty sure that Michael Jackson was the name of the lead. I'd heard he could also sing some.
My mother had already recognized my lack of sports ability. A pragmatist,she didn't see the point in wasting my time in encouraging something I didn't have, so she had failed to introduce my brother or me to any form of physical activity. (Well she made a mistake on him, the athletic overachiever that he is).
She bought us a basketball to play with when I’d told her I needed to practice, but neglected to install a hoop because it was too expensive. And you know, how necessary is a hoop in basketball anyway.
But being resourceful, we noticed a cluster of odd colored bricks on the wall above the garage, and figured it was a lucky coincidence - it could be our target.
So we spent our afternoons throwing the ball against the side of the house, aiming for the trio of bricks above the garage.
I was very dutiful during practice, running when the coach told us to run, tossing up the basketball for lay-ups. I remember feeling like it was such a pointless exercise, running back and forth. The coach only ever yelled two things, “Pivot!” and “Backboard!” And I had no idea what either instruction meant.
As no one bothered to explain the rules to me, I learned from trial and error. No running while carrying the ball. it was cheating to stop and then run and start dribbling again. Pushing and tackling - illegal.
I was a starter on the team so needless to say, most of our games were a failure. I don’t remember winning a single one, or even making a basket. The only thing I was somewhat good at was defense. I was good at knocking people over, and that was mostly an accidental skill. Already being low to the ground, people tended to trip over me.
The one time I did have the ball - after tripping a poor giant of a girl, my own teammate took it away from me. I'd been running the wrong way.
So when facing failure I think of basketball. It can't be as bad as that.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
autumn nights
I saw stars for the first time in weeks last night.
I was frustrated because I'd just missed the bus, and the next one wouldn't be for half an hour... And as I put down my bag to sit and pout, I looked up. There they were. The moon, stars - caught in the sky which was black and slick as oil - still wet from the past days of rain.
And breathing - I heard the waves taking the shore, footsteps of children running on the sand, and the sounds of silverware and diners from the restaurant balcony - and above it, peaceful again those stars waiting to be noticed.
On these types of summer autumn nights, I think of days from elementary school
We'd just seen the disney Pocohantas - and so for weeks my brother and I would play Indians in the backyard. We were the Indian tribe - and the sun was the settler. Our land was the shade, and wherever the sun hit belonged to 'them'. As the day passed, the sun rose further and further, and pushed out, we were stuck playing in the tree branches, shaking our fists at the sun until eventually it crept away to nighttime. Victorious, we would light a bonfire and chase fireflies with glowing ember sticks. We'd smoke makeshift "pipes" that were stuffed with old herbs, and hollered disney rhymes of what we thought was an indian song.
(which actually thinking now was a really inappropriate song from peter pan - 'what makes the red man red? what makes the red man redddd. you squaw! go fetch firewood!")
I remember mostly the moments before the sun would set and we could claim 'our land' - lying under the oak tree, where there was a slight mossy bank scattered with dark violets. And we would lie there breathing in violets, waiting for the shadows to come back, while the sunlight filtered down in streams through the oak leaves lighting up the helicopter seeds which floated and clung to the branches around us.
i confess i do not believe in time.
nabokov
I was frustrated because I'd just missed the bus, and the next one wouldn't be for half an hour... And as I put down my bag to sit and pout, I looked up. There they were. The moon, stars - caught in the sky which was black and slick as oil - still wet from the past days of rain.
And breathing - I heard the waves taking the shore, footsteps of children running on the sand, and the sounds of silverware and diners from the restaurant balcony - and above it, peaceful again those stars waiting to be noticed.
On these types of summer autumn nights, I think of days from elementary school
We'd just seen the disney Pocohantas - and so for weeks my brother and I would play Indians in the backyard. We were the Indian tribe - and the sun was the settler. Our land was the shade, and wherever the sun hit belonged to 'them'. As the day passed, the sun rose further and further, and pushed out, we were stuck playing in the tree branches, shaking our fists at the sun until eventually it crept away to nighttime. Victorious, we would light a bonfire and chase fireflies with glowing ember sticks. We'd smoke makeshift "pipes" that were stuffed with old herbs, and hollered disney rhymes of what we thought was an indian song.
(which actually thinking now was a really inappropriate song from peter pan - 'what makes the red man red? what makes the red man redddd. you squaw! go fetch firewood!")
I remember mostly the moments before the sun would set and we could claim 'our land' - lying under the oak tree, where there was a slight mossy bank scattered with dark violets. And we would lie there breathing in violets, waiting for the shadows to come back, while the sunlight filtered down in streams through the oak leaves lighting up the helicopter seeds which floated and clung to the branches around us.
i confess i do not believe in time.
nabokov
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)