He who gives to the poor will not want, but he who hides his eyes [from their want] will have many a curse. Proverbs 28: 27
Honor the Lord with your capital and sufficiency [from righteous labors] and with the firstfruits of all your income.
Proverbs 3: 9
Give, and [gifts] will be given to you; good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, will they pour into [the pouch formed by] the bosom [of your robe and used as a bag]. For with the measure you deal out [with the measure you use when you confer benefits on others], it will be measured back to you. Luke 6: 38
In everything I have pointed out to you [by example] that, by working diligently in this manner, we ought to assist the weak, being mindful of the words of the Lord Jesus, how He Himself said, It is more blessed (makes one happier and more to be envied) to give than to receive. Acts 20: 35
Bring all the tithes (the whole tenth of your income) into the storehouse, that there may be food in My house, and prove Me now by it, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. Malachi 3: 10
Give to him who keeps on begging from you, and do not turn away from him who would borrow [at interest] from you.
Matthew 5: 42
Let each one [give] as he has made up his own mind and purposed in his heart, not reluctantly or sorrowfully or under compulsion, for God loves (He takes pleasure in, prizes above other things, and is unwilling to abandon or to do without) a cheerful (joyous, "prompt to do it") giver [whose heart is in his giving]. 2 Corinthians 9: 7
[Remember] this: he who sows sparingly and grudgingly will also reap sparingly and grudgingly, and he who sows generously [that blessings may come to someone] will also reap generously and with blessings.
2 Corinthians 9: 6
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. James 1:27
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
The Lost Notebook
I was in my room tonight and I wanted a book to between my laptop and my lap. I looked over and saw a notebook that was stuck between a bookshelf and my old nightstand. I opened it and discovered my school notes from my final semester at SSU. This means...I found the information about the D'Arcy family that I posted about earlier!!!!
So, as I mentioned, there was a D'Arcy who came over with William the Conqueror. His family was given power via William in the North England, protecting the country from those big bad evil Scots. ;) Several centuries later, big bad Henry VIII lowered them in status. They began to build up their fortunes again during Elizabeth's reign. When James I united Scotland and England, he gave the Darcys an earldom. The fourth earl died without male issue. Two of his estates were given to his daughter, Amelia. The bow on this package is that Amelia had a daughter, Augusta. This would be Augusta Byron Leigh, the key word being BYRON! Yes, Lord Byron's half-sister. I loves me some Byron.
Anyways, Robert D'Arcy was the last nobleman from the original D'Arcy who came with William the Conqueror and he died in 1778.
Austen most likely read David Hume's history and therefore knew about the famous family.
So, as I mentioned, there was a D'Arcy who came over with William the Conqueror. His family was given power via William in the North England, protecting the country from those big bad evil Scots. ;) Several centuries later, big bad Henry VIII lowered them in status. They began to build up their fortunes again during Elizabeth's reign. When James I united Scotland and England, he gave the Darcys an earldom. The fourth earl died without male issue. Two of his estates were given to his daughter, Amelia. The bow on this package is that Amelia had a daughter, Augusta. This would be Augusta Byron Leigh, the key word being BYRON! Yes, Lord Byron's half-sister. I loves me some Byron.
Anyways, Robert D'Arcy was the last nobleman from the original D'Arcy who came with William the Conqueror and he died in 1778.
Austen most likely read David Hume's history and therefore knew about the famous family.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Old Money
Response to comments from a previous post...
Bingley's money came from his father, who made his fortune in trade. It is new money. This is why Bingley is renting an estate. Because he is new money, his family does not have an ancestral home. It is why his sisters are hoping that he will marry Darcy's sister (new money + old name and old money).
It is hilarious that his sisters behave in such a superior manner to everyone, including the Lucases and the Gardiners, because their money came from trade.
Regarding Darcy...
His name, Fitzwilliam, was his mother's surname. Fitz ("son of" from the French "fils" and Latin "filius") was often attached to the names of illegitimate nobility/royalty, mainly of Norman origin. Factoid - Princess Diana was a descendant of Charles II via his first illegitimate son, Henry FITZroy.
There are a couple of peerages with the name Darcy in them. Sir Richard D'Arcy was a Norman knight who helped William the Bastard overthrow the Saxon monarchy in 1066, thus becoming William the Conqueror. ;)
Austen does not explicitly tie the character of Darcy to this bloodline, but it is entirely probable that she knew of the history and assumed her readers would know as well. It's highly unlikely that she chose the name on a whim. In that case, Darcy isn't just old money. He's OLD money and possibly illegitimate royalty.
Emma, the only time (that I can recall) Austen even remotely hints at anything to do with slavery is in Mansfield Park. Sir Thomas Bertram has an estate in the West Indies, specifically on the island Antigua, and it was manned by slaves. The main character, Fanny, asks him about it one time and the subject is not discussed.
To a certain degree, the character of Fanny is essentially like a slave. She lives with her aunt and uncle, the Bertrams, but her father is from the lower class and she is treated from her first day of living with them as an inferior.
Mansfield Park contains the most symbolism of any Austen novel and is rather a bit like Jane Eyre in that respect. Like the chestnut tree in Jane Eyre, there are physical boundaries in Mansfield Park that represent greater moral issues for some characters. Similar to the game of charades that is played in Jane Eyre, the characters in Mansfield Park play a game called Speculation that can be interpreted as a metaphor for what is happening between one of the couples. Of course we know that Jane Eyre was written several decades after MP and Bronte was outspoken in her criticism of Austen. I just think it's interesting. :)
Bingley's money came from his father, who made his fortune in trade. It is new money. This is why Bingley is renting an estate. Because he is new money, his family does not have an ancestral home. It is why his sisters are hoping that he will marry Darcy's sister (new money + old name and old money).
It is hilarious that his sisters behave in such a superior manner to everyone, including the Lucases and the Gardiners, because their money came from trade.
Regarding Darcy...
His name, Fitzwilliam, was his mother's surname. Fitz ("son of" from the French "fils" and Latin "filius") was often attached to the names of illegitimate nobility/royalty, mainly of Norman origin. Factoid - Princess Diana was a descendant of Charles II via his first illegitimate son, Henry FITZroy.
There are a couple of peerages with the name Darcy in them. Sir Richard D'Arcy was a Norman knight who helped William the Bastard overthrow the Saxon monarchy in 1066, thus becoming William the Conqueror. ;)
Austen does not explicitly tie the character of Darcy to this bloodline, but it is entirely probable that she knew of the history and assumed her readers would know as well. It's highly unlikely that she chose the name on a whim. In that case, Darcy isn't just old money. He's OLD money and possibly illegitimate royalty.
Emma, the only time (that I can recall) Austen even remotely hints at anything to do with slavery is in Mansfield Park. Sir Thomas Bertram has an estate in the West Indies, specifically on the island Antigua, and it was manned by slaves. The main character, Fanny, asks him about it one time and the subject is not discussed.
To a certain degree, the character of Fanny is essentially like a slave. She lives with her aunt and uncle, the Bertrams, but her father is from the lower class and she is treated from her first day of living with them as an inferior.
Mansfield Park contains the most symbolism of any Austen novel and is rather a bit like Jane Eyre in that respect. Like the chestnut tree in Jane Eyre, there are physical boundaries in Mansfield Park that represent greater moral issues for some characters. Similar to the game of charades that is played in Jane Eyre, the characters in Mansfield Park play a game called Speculation that can be interpreted as a metaphor for what is happening between one of the couples. Of course we know that Jane Eyre was written several decades after MP and Bronte was outspoken in her criticism of Austen. I just think it's interesting. :)
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Did someone say opinionated?
When I was in Istanbul, I downloaded an audio book called This Is Your Brain On Music, by Dr.Daniel J Levitin. I listened to most of it on the looooooooong flights home, first to London then to San Francisco.
Levitin was a musician and producer before he earned a PhD and immersed himself in the field of cognitive neuroscience. The book is a bestseller and has been translated into over 15 languages. A couple of years ago, Harvard added it to their list of required reading for freshmen.
The book discusses the components of music and their relation to your brain (to sum up).
He describes how the brain determines that sound is music and how people hear things differently. This was very interesting to me because music is such a big part of my life and something that has puzzled me for a while. I am completely aware that a lot of people would call me picky. I'm fine with that, especially after encountering this book. I'm fine with it because I know now that what I hear is actually different than what you hear. There are some voices that almost cause me physical pain. I only need to hear a few seconds of a something and I know if my ears are happy or yelling at me. Music that has too much base increases my heart rate and highly irritates me. I've never been high and I don't really have a point of reference, but there is music that sends me orbiting somewhere around Neptune.
I have a Completely Useless talent for hearing singers/bands before they are "found" and thinking Oooohhh, this could be good. Other people seem to be able to make millions off of this, but I can't.
(I can give a list of these singers/bands on request)
Dr.Levitin has done a lot of work with neuroimaging and music, finding a link between music, movement and emotional states. His research with musicians of various skill levels has shown that the higher the skill level, the great activity there is between both hemispheres of the brain.
I've also come across a researcher who works with Alzheimer's patients. There are patients who can't remember their spouse of 40 years visiting them the day before, but they remember music from half a century earlier and can even recognize when a note or two of a song is purposely changed. The musical memory of some Alzheimer's patients functions just as well as healthy seniors.
Babies recognize pieces of music that were played to them while they were still in the womb. Babies as young as four months recognize when a familiar piece of music is purposely changed during research.
When people sing together, their brains release oxytocin, which builds trust and bonds people.
I'm sure we all have certain music that reminds of particular people or memories.
I've recently been watching home movies of Marine World and I tell ya, the music from the whale and dolphin show brings tears to my eyes.
I listen to The Carpenters as an adult because I remember my dad playing them when I was little.
The Jeopardy Think music will always bring back memories of my grandparents' house: jars of baby pickles, the cold brown tile of the kitchen, Grandpa in his long white socks, the clutter on the table, the big vase full of coins.
I go to a church that has some wonderful voices and some of my earliest and most vivid memories are of those voices.
I definitely know what I don't like and what I like.
I hope you do and that you don't let anyone (such as myself, haha!) talk you out of what you enjoy. If you enjoy it, then it is good music.
But I will still try to talk you out of listening to that Michael Bolton arias album.
And just for fun, listen to this... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYToP5ZfydE&feature=related
and then listen to this... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJnjcX8skXk
Levitin was a musician and producer before he earned a PhD and immersed himself in the field of cognitive neuroscience. The book is a bestseller and has been translated into over 15 languages. A couple of years ago, Harvard added it to their list of required reading for freshmen.
The book discusses the components of music and their relation to your brain (to sum up).
He describes how the brain determines that sound is music and how people hear things differently. This was very interesting to me because music is such a big part of my life and something that has puzzled me for a while. I am completely aware that a lot of people would call me picky. I'm fine with that, especially after encountering this book. I'm fine with it because I know now that what I hear is actually different than what you hear. There are some voices that almost cause me physical pain. I only need to hear a few seconds of a something and I know if my ears are happy or yelling at me. Music that has too much base increases my heart rate and highly irritates me. I've never been high and I don't really have a point of reference, but there is music that sends me orbiting somewhere around Neptune.
I have a Completely Useless talent for hearing singers/bands before they are "found" and thinking Oooohhh, this could be good. Other people seem to be able to make millions off of this, but I can't.
(I can give a list of these singers/bands on request)
Dr.Levitin has done a lot of work with neuroimaging and music, finding a link between music, movement and emotional states. His research with musicians of various skill levels has shown that the higher the skill level, the great activity there is between both hemispheres of the brain.
I've also come across a researcher who works with Alzheimer's patients. There are patients who can't remember their spouse of 40 years visiting them the day before, but they remember music from half a century earlier and can even recognize when a note or two of a song is purposely changed. The musical memory of some Alzheimer's patients functions just as well as healthy seniors.
Babies recognize pieces of music that were played to them while they were still in the womb. Babies as young as four months recognize when a familiar piece of music is purposely changed during research.
When people sing together, their brains release oxytocin, which builds trust and bonds people.
I'm sure we all have certain music that reminds of particular people or memories.
I've recently been watching home movies of Marine World and I tell ya, the music from the whale and dolphin show brings tears to my eyes.
I listen to The Carpenters as an adult because I remember my dad playing them when I was little.
The Jeopardy Think music will always bring back memories of my grandparents' house: jars of baby pickles, the cold brown tile of the kitchen, Grandpa in his long white socks, the clutter on the table, the big vase full of coins.
I go to a church that has some wonderful voices and some of my earliest and most vivid memories are of those voices.
I definitely know what I don't like and what I like.
I hope you do and that you don't let anyone (such as myself, haha!) talk you out of what you enjoy. If you enjoy it, then it is good music.
But I will still try to talk you out of listening to that Michael Bolton arias album.
And just for fun, listen to this... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYToP5ZfydE&feature=related
and then listen to this... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJnjcX8skXk
Friday, November 18, 2011
A Tale
My earliest memory of Charles Dickens is reading those little Great Illustrated Classics of his novels. You know, the ones made for children that have delightful pen and inkish drawings and are in inch thick? I had Oliver Twist, David Copperfield and A Tale Of Two Cities. Today, kids have Harry Potter, Twilight, Diary of Wimpy Kid, and I don't even know what else. I had Great Illustrated Classics. I was also very fond of The Count of Monte Cristo, which deserves an honorable mention even though it wasn't written by Dickens. Anyways...
My favorite singer was attached for several years to a musical version of Tale. I kept up with it as he did workshop after workshop, a semi-staged reading, etc. I was so excited when the show finally had its out of town tryout in Florida. I thought Hm, Florida - never been there...
So off I went by myself on the red-eye to Sarasota. Can't say that I enjoyed the place very much. It was October and standing outside at midnight and sweating while waiting for a cab isn't my idea of fun. It was hot, it was smelly and even the beach wasn't pretty. I know, I know, I need to visit the Atlantic side of Florida. Maybe I will. When I run out of other places to go.
I digress.
The show was a little rough around the edges, but the director did some great things and the cast was good. I saw it twice, since I've been around long enough to see good things die for a multitude of reasons, some of which have nothing to do with how much people actually enjoy it.
It did make it to the Great White Way eventually, but alas, somewhat ironically, did not have a long life there. In the era of Wicked, Hairspray and Jersey Boys, the media simply doesn't have a taste for these kinds of musicals. Epic shows from classic literature, about love and forgiveness, are so 80's. ;) If Les Miz opened tomorrow, it would probably be universally panned.
I convinced my aunt that we had to go see it, so off we went to NYC for a few beautiful October days. I found us a cheap hotel up in the Bronx and we did some sightseeing that I had never done, which was sad considering how much I had been there previously.
Whoever invented student tickets/obstructed view should have a theatre named in their honor. We saw the show a few times, each time from the front row (I think the students tickets were $25). I saw the composer on the street and talked with her, she was so nice.
Although some of the reviews were downright scathing, the one think they all had in common was praise of the lead. And indeed, he was terrific. After all, I don't fly across the country on a red-eye for just anyone.
I've been to a lot of shows in a lot of places, but never to one where everyone in the theatre was practically foaming at the mouth over it. I sat and listened to lifelong New Yorkers rave about and mention critics by name who had panned it. The chatter in the ladies restroom was especially enlightening. ;)
Sad to say it closed after a few months without recording by the OBC. A year or two later, they pulled together a semi-staged concert version in England, but with some cast changes. They were smart enough to retain the best part, though. A sample follows... This is the song he sings when he has his I'M IN LOOOOOVE!!! momemt and it is reprised in the final scene when he sacrifices himself so Charles can live. *sniff*
And FYI - the audio quality isn't very good because I pulled it from a radio interview.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fsdz4fVyKMY
My favorite singer was attached for several years to a musical version of Tale. I kept up with it as he did workshop after workshop, a semi-staged reading, etc. I was so excited when the show finally had its out of town tryout in Florida. I thought Hm, Florida - never been there...
So off I went by myself on the red-eye to Sarasota. Can't say that I enjoyed the place very much. It was October and standing outside at midnight and sweating while waiting for a cab isn't my idea of fun. It was hot, it was smelly and even the beach wasn't pretty. I know, I know, I need to visit the Atlantic side of Florida. Maybe I will. When I run out of other places to go.
I digress.
The show was a little rough around the edges, but the director did some great things and the cast was good. I saw it twice, since I've been around long enough to see good things die for a multitude of reasons, some of which have nothing to do with how much people actually enjoy it.
It did make it to the Great White Way eventually, but alas, somewhat ironically, did not have a long life there. In the era of Wicked, Hairspray and Jersey Boys, the media simply doesn't have a taste for these kinds of musicals. Epic shows from classic literature, about love and forgiveness, are so 80's. ;) If Les Miz opened tomorrow, it would probably be universally panned.
I convinced my aunt that we had to go see it, so off we went to NYC for a few beautiful October days. I found us a cheap hotel up in the Bronx and we did some sightseeing that I had never done, which was sad considering how much I had been there previously.
Whoever invented student tickets/obstructed view should have a theatre named in their honor. We saw the show a few times, each time from the front row (I think the students tickets were $25). I saw the composer on the street and talked with her, she was so nice.
Although some of the reviews were downright scathing, the one think they all had in common was praise of the lead. And indeed, he was terrific. After all, I don't fly across the country on a red-eye for just anyone.
I've been to a lot of shows in a lot of places, but never to one where everyone in the theatre was practically foaming at the mouth over it. I sat and listened to lifelong New Yorkers rave about and mention critics by name who had panned it. The chatter in the ladies restroom was especially enlightening. ;)
Sad to say it closed after a few months without recording by the OBC. A year or two later, they pulled together a semi-staged concert version in England, but with some cast changes. They were smart enough to retain the best part, though. A sample follows... This is the song he sings when he has his I'M IN LOOOOOVE!!! momemt and it is reprised in the final scene when he sacrifices himself so Charles can live. *sniff*
And FYI - the audio quality isn't very good because I pulled it from a radio interview.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fsdz4fVyKMY
Pride and Prejudice
In response to comments from the previous post:
All English majors at SSU have to take a senior level theory course. I had already taken this course with another professor and I found out that Bob was going to teach it using the novels of Austen as the objects to be interpreted through the lens of theory. So we read Williams, Derrida, Hillis Miller, Cixous, Showalter, Brooks, Greenblatt, Said, Lacan, Foucault, etc. I took the course again because there was no way I was going to miss it and we just listed it as a single author course and not the theory course that I had already completed. It was the most enjoyable class I've ever taken.
He told me that he was going to teach it the previous semester and asked me which novels I thought we should use because he didn't think there would be room in the syllabus for all of the. So I agonized for hours and hours and sent him this long explanation and justification. And he ended up doing all of them. Curse him. :)
I do not think that Elizabeth is indefensible.
When we were reading P&P, I was basically the only person who wasn't defending her. As an aside, you can use her own words and self-assessment of her behavior to critique her. Elizabeth faults vs. Darcy's faults, the century old discussion!
Anyways, this was one of those times when everyone was fearfully silent and just the two of us were talking. He very calmly suggested to me "Do you suppose this is because you hold women to a higher standard than men?"
This was one of my Lightbulb Moments with him.
I thought for about three seconds and said "Yes."
This explained more to me about myself than any other single statement. Ever.
I think I will write more about that in a later post.
Regarding the Bingley family wealth....
Here is one of the most irritating and fantastic things about Austen.
She will mention something of vital import ONCE, almost in passing, as if she just threw it in there as an afterthought.
My favorite example of this is in Sense & Sensibility. Colonel Brandon and Willoughby engage in a duel. A DUEL!! For someone like Marianne, can you get more romantic than that??? But most people don't catch it and it has only been included in one film version. The scene is not dramatized in the novel, as you will never find a single scene in any Austen novel that takes place with only men involved. I don't have the book in front of me as I write this, but the line is something like "They met at an appointed time without serious injury to either party." That's it!! The characters in the novel never discuss it. Irritating Austen!
Your homework is to find out why Bingley is wealthy. :) It's fairly easy to find, it's towards the beginning of the book.
"I could easily forgive his pride if he had not mortified mine." -Elizabeth Bennett, Jane Austen
All English majors at SSU have to take a senior level theory course. I had already taken this course with another professor and I found out that Bob was going to teach it using the novels of Austen as the objects to be interpreted through the lens of theory. So we read Williams, Derrida, Hillis Miller, Cixous, Showalter, Brooks, Greenblatt, Said, Lacan, Foucault, etc. I took the course again because there was no way I was going to miss it and we just listed it as a single author course and not the theory course that I had already completed. It was the most enjoyable class I've ever taken.
He told me that he was going to teach it the previous semester and asked me which novels I thought we should use because he didn't think there would be room in the syllabus for all of the. So I agonized for hours and hours and sent him this long explanation and justification. And he ended up doing all of them. Curse him. :)
I do not think that Elizabeth is indefensible.
When we were reading P&P, I was basically the only person who wasn't defending her. As an aside, you can use her own words and self-assessment of her behavior to critique her. Elizabeth faults vs. Darcy's faults, the century old discussion!
Anyways, this was one of those times when everyone was fearfully silent and just the two of us were talking. He very calmly suggested to me "Do you suppose this is because you hold women to a higher standard than men?"
This was one of my Lightbulb Moments with him.
I thought for about three seconds and said "Yes."
This explained more to me about myself than any other single statement. Ever.
I think I will write more about that in a later post.
Regarding the Bingley family wealth....
Here is one of the most irritating and fantastic things about Austen.
She will mention something of vital import ONCE, almost in passing, as if she just threw it in there as an afterthought.
My favorite example of this is in Sense & Sensibility. Colonel Brandon and Willoughby engage in a duel. A DUEL!! For someone like Marianne, can you get more romantic than that??? But most people don't catch it and it has only been included in one film version. The scene is not dramatized in the novel, as you will never find a single scene in any Austen novel that takes place with only men involved. I don't have the book in front of me as I write this, but the line is something like "They met at an appointed time without serious injury to either party." That's it!! The characters in the novel never discuss it. Irritating Austen!
Your homework is to find out why Bingley is wealthy. :) It's fairly easy to find, it's towards the beginning of the book.
"I could easily forgive his pride if he had not mortified mine." -Elizabeth Bennett, Jane Austen
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Pass the Butter?
I decided to start writing on this blog again because I have an idealistic hope that it will somehow help me. Due to a number of issues, I have felt this semester as if I have some kind of academic PTSD (no offense to any true sufferers of the diagnosed medical condition). I have struggled with writing and my schoolwork. I feel like I know nothing and I'll never be a good teacher.
My experience as a student in Istanbul left a lot to be desired.
I think I just hit the university there at the perfect not so great semester. There was a new dean (or someone high up, can't remember exactly) who had the bad habit of scheduling meetings during one of my classes and my professor ended up cancelling over a full month of class. The problem is that we were still responsible for ALL of the reading and anything was fair game on the final. I had another course in which the professor cancelled a few weeks of class, which caused her to cancel the midterm and give a final instead. My grad program in the US doesn't usually have final projects and final exams - both of the classes I have mentioned did.
The main person in their international student office was on maternity leave and her replacement looked like a deer in headlights. The standard mode of operation in Turkey is chaos and confusion and the university is not immune to this. They gave me exactly one piece of paper at orientation, the activities calendar. No welcome packet with campus services, instructions on how to register - nothing. ALL of this very important information came to me in a very poorly constructed email. Their online registration system had a number of bugs that caused me a lot of stress. I couldn't get into a Beginning Turkish course that fit my schedule and practically beg a professor to add me. She wouldn't.
So. Yeah. Not what I had hoped.
While I was in Istanbul, someone very dear to me died unexpectedly. I can count on one hand the people who have truly changed my life. Bob was one of them. He was the Mad Scientist in my universe, the one who stuck electrodes in my brain and made it shoot off fireworks of love, fear, exhilaration, doubt, pleasure and all the other things that we are taught can't live together. A lot of students absolutely loathed him and left their opinion at ratemyprofessor.com as proof of their loathing. They are fools. If you want to build a beautiful home, sometimes you have to burn down the old one.
In my first semester with him, he called me "a good Christian woman" in front of the whole class, most of whom were scared to death of him. This amazed and amused me, mainly because I had never said a single word to him about my life or how I live. It amused me because the class was deathly silent as he sat across the table from me and began to discuss something from the Bible. It was a Literary Analysis Seminar, a junior level class, and to this day I cannot remember what we were reading or how it in any way related to something Biblical. The kicker here is that Bob claimed to be an atheist. I laughed when I wrote that. Bob the Atheist made me more keenly critical of and involved with my faith than anyone else in my adult life.
He was an incredibly demanding teacher and he gave from the deepest and most passionate part of his being. He poked, he prodded, he peeled back the layers of dead skin to the part underneath that was pink and struggling to sustain itself. He made me aware of my weaknesses, my biases, my strengths and my voice. I spent three hours a week with him and he understood things about me that no one else seemed to understand. He understood why I loved Edith Wharton's Archer and Ellen and why I was the only person in class who didn't defend Elizabeth Bennett.
In my final semester with him, he told me that he thought I should go straight into a PhD program. I was shocked. I had another professor tell me something different. But what stood out to me was the explanation he gave. He said I should do that because I had passion. Granted, this was during the Theory/Austen course, where I ruined his life by pointing out the source of Bingley's wealth. I guess you could say I was passionate in that class. But his explanation wasn't because he thought I could get into a program easily due to good grades or something like that. It was because I had passion. And that was Bob. Passion. Passion for learning, passion for teaching, passion for the grey lumps in the skulls of his students.
And there I was, literally on the other side of the world. And he was dead. I didn't get to say goodbye to him. I didn't get to go to his memorial service. All I could do was sit in my room with peach colored walls in Istanbul and cry.
I still cry.
I cry because I am walking around campus or driving and I think of something I would want to tell him. And I remember that he isn't here. I want to tell him about how I am leaning towards Sociolinguistics and how the student I tutored received the highest grade in her class. I want to talk to him about all the books we never talked about, I want to talk with him about the speech President Obama made when Bin Laden was killed and how brilliantly the speechwriter used pronouns. I want to see him smile that Bob smile.
The point of this self-indulgent ramblin (but really, blogging is the epitome of self-indulgence) is that I think something in me withered up since he's been gone. It's been years since I had such a problem writing. It's like waiting for the toast to pop out of the toaster when you don't have any bread.
So that's what I'm doing with this blog.
I'm trying to make bread.
My experience as a student in Istanbul left a lot to be desired.
I think I just hit the university there at the perfect not so great semester. There was a new dean (or someone high up, can't remember exactly) who had the bad habit of scheduling meetings during one of my classes and my professor ended up cancelling over a full month of class. The problem is that we were still responsible for ALL of the reading and anything was fair game on the final. I had another course in which the professor cancelled a few weeks of class, which caused her to cancel the midterm and give a final instead. My grad program in the US doesn't usually have final projects and final exams - both of the classes I have mentioned did.
The main person in their international student office was on maternity leave and her replacement looked like a deer in headlights. The standard mode of operation in Turkey is chaos and confusion and the university is not immune to this. They gave me exactly one piece of paper at orientation, the activities calendar. No welcome packet with campus services, instructions on how to register - nothing. ALL of this very important information came to me in a very poorly constructed email. Their online registration system had a number of bugs that caused me a lot of stress. I couldn't get into a Beginning Turkish course that fit my schedule and practically beg a professor to add me. She wouldn't.
So. Yeah. Not what I had hoped.
While I was in Istanbul, someone very dear to me died unexpectedly. I can count on one hand the people who have truly changed my life. Bob was one of them. He was the Mad Scientist in my universe, the one who stuck electrodes in my brain and made it shoot off fireworks of love, fear, exhilaration, doubt, pleasure and all the other things that we are taught can't live together. A lot of students absolutely loathed him and left their opinion at ratemyprofessor.com as proof of their loathing. They are fools. If you want to build a beautiful home, sometimes you have to burn down the old one.
In my first semester with him, he called me "a good Christian woman" in front of the whole class, most of whom were scared to death of him. This amazed and amused me, mainly because I had never said a single word to him about my life or how I live. It amused me because the class was deathly silent as he sat across the table from me and began to discuss something from the Bible. It was a Literary Analysis Seminar, a junior level class, and to this day I cannot remember what we were reading or how it in any way related to something Biblical. The kicker here is that Bob claimed to be an atheist. I laughed when I wrote that. Bob the Atheist made me more keenly critical of and involved with my faith than anyone else in my adult life.
He was an incredibly demanding teacher and he gave from the deepest and most passionate part of his being. He poked, he prodded, he peeled back the layers of dead skin to the part underneath that was pink and struggling to sustain itself. He made me aware of my weaknesses, my biases, my strengths and my voice. I spent three hours a week with him and he understood things about me that no one else seemed to understand. He understood why I loved Edith Wharton's Archer and Ellen and why I was the only person in class who didn't defend Elizabeth Bennett.
In my final semester with him, he told me that he thought I should go straight into a PhD program. I was shocked. I had another professor tell me something different. But what stood out to me was the explanation he gave. He said I should do that because I had passion. Granted, this was during the Theory/Austen course, where I ruined his life by pointing out the source of Bingley's wealth. I guess you could say I was passionate in that class. But his explanation wasn't because he thought I could get into a program easily due to good grades or something like that. It was because I had passion. And that was Bob. Passion. Passion for learning, passion for teaching, passion for the grey lumps in the skulls of his students.
And there I was, literally on the other side of the world. And he was dead. I didn't get to say goodbye to him. I didn't get to go to his memorial service. All I could do was sit in my room with peach colored walls in Istanbul and cry.
I still cry.
I cry because I am walking around campus or driving and I think of something I would want to tell him. And I remember that he isn't here. I want to tell him about how I am leaning towards Sociolinguistics and how the student I tutored received the highest grade in her class. I want to talk to him about all the books we never talked about, I want to talk with him about the speech President Obama made when Bin Laden was killed and how brilliantly the speechwriter used pronouns. I want to see him smile that Bob smile.
The point of this self-indulgent ramblin (but really, blogging is the epitome of self-indulgence) is that I think something in me withered up since he's been gone. It's been years since I had such a problem writing. It's like waiting for the toast to pop out of the toaster when you don't have any bread.
So that's what I'm doing with this blog.
I'm trying to make bread.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
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