Category Archives: Grumbles and Rants

I Hate TV

I had to watch an episode of House for my school work.

I hate TV.

I hate how everything is broken up into tiny clips, chopped up by ads.

I hate how they build each clip to a roaring emotional rage, so you will stick to the channel even through the ads.

I hate how the roaring emotional swells make you glad for the commercial breaks to let your adrenaline come down.

I hate how every sound, every camera focus, every facial expression is design to jerk at primal emotional reactions. Pain. Rage. Lust. Fear. Danger. Grief.

I hate how well it can work.

I hate the subtle or not so subtle ways they say that living by raw, unrestrained emotion is okay, normal, good.

I hate that it can be so hard to tear one’s self away from a very vivid game of emotional puppetry, and yet there is never anything worth taking away from it.

I hate that it always pounds on the most primitive reactions of the body, and never goes deep enough to stir the soul.

Why don’t they just use bigger print?

Use less words and make them bigger. I don’t care how many syllables you use, but use less words.

This request is directed at textbook writers. Srsly. I used to tease my brother that he just went to the library and picked out his books on the quality of height and width, but it appears that textbook writers are confused about the fact that this was just a joke. Quantity does NOT equal quality. Once you reach a certain number of words on any given subject, you are not “exploring in depth.” You are “obfuscating”.

It’s bad enough writing a tedious book on a tedious subject, but do you have to obfuscate on top of everything else?

New Years Late–better than not at all

So because I am the last person on earth to “get with it,” I just finished watching a clip of London’s New Years display.

(1) I kind of wished they hadn’t used music and had just gotten better recordings of the sound of the fireworks, which is awe inspiring in and of itself. A good fireworks display always makes me think of the super-natural.

(2) Why does America have such sucky holiday traditions? I have never once in my life bothered to stay up till midnight on New Years Eve, never mind watched the boring ball drop in NYC. But I would totally make it to midnight every year to watch something like that fireworks show! Heck, I might even make a trip and pay some money to watch that live!

Okay, there, I went and watched a clip of “the ball” dropping, for the first time in my life. Can you say pathetic? PATHETIC! Pansies! How’s somebody supposed to get excited about the New Year watching that?

I mean, I dunno, I always kinda thought celebrating by blowing things up was pretty American. First Mexican Hammer Parties, now this. . .I feel so cheated, so gyped. If we actually had holiday traditions worth keeping, maybe I’d more of tradition keeper. As it is, the majority of American traditions mostly boil down to “eat and shop”. Don’t get me wrong, I like to eat, but I do a pretty good job of it year-round, so it kinda doesn’t make the holidays stand out much. And I never much liked to shop, so that doesn’t fall under the heading of “tradition I’d like to keep.” If you like to drink, the holidays can be a good excuse for that, I guess, but I don’t drink so how would I know? And maybe if you don’t live in an over-regulated state where it’s illegal to do fireworks yourself, you can do your best to be a pyromaniac yourself, as long as you have a big pocket and tolerant neighbors. Oddly, I don’t have any of that.

And then everyone thinks I’m a heathen because I don’t celebrate holidays. I don’t have money, and I make pies whenever I feel like it. What’s left?

I just somehow feel like a wanton display of excessive explosives should have been a no-brainer for this country. Instead, we’re all watching grainy YouTube videos of a London display, because we have nothing better in our own back yard. Dang!

I blame it on the position of the stars.

In particular, I blame it on the position of the one closest to us. The one that doesn’t want to show it’s face anymore until 9 am, and is already letting itself out of the door by 3 pm.

I know, I know, some of you are going to get all caught up in technicalities and tell me that has more to do with where the planet is, not where the star is, but you know what? The details are unimportant. The important thing is that something about lack of daylight makes me feel like the entire universe is in need of reforming, and pronto. To my specs, of course.

I am willing to be patient about it. I’ll even give it a good 6 months for all the kinks to be worked out, as long as we start seeing some substantial progress within the next two or three weeks.

This happens ever year, and every year I am summarily ignored by the universe. When I realized I am being ignored, I get kind of depressed. Some years I can pretend that progress is being made better than other years; I think this year I am ahead of the curve in terms of figuring out that my demands won’t be met. I think I usually make it to at least mid December, and I realize with a start that it is still November. This is going to make January and February very long. And March. And December.

Realizing that I am doomed for the next several months makes me just want to get it all over with as quickly as possible–just hit the ‘fast-forward’ button until things are more suitable for my existence.

Which is all very silly, of course; but emotions generally are.

Nickel & Dime

Every time I get sick and tired of trying to count every penny and be careful to only buy what is only 100% necessary. . .I hear some story about how my brother came back against all odds in a computer game by doing just that. If you spend 4 gold to make your opponent lose 5 gold. . .eventually you can wear him down and come out on top.

I tell myself that, I know that. . .but it can still be pretty un-fun to do in real life. I just want to say, “Whatever! Monies don’t really matter anyway!” and do whatever. It’s not something I want to worry about, but right about now it’s not something I have loads of. I tell myself that it’s necessary right now, because I have a very specific goal I need to meet. But at the same time, I find myself hoping that when I get a job–a real job, not a $9/hr per diem nonsense pain-in-the-neck type job–I won’t have to worry about nickels and dimes any more and just focus on the dollar bills. I’m not talking reckless irresponsibility here–just not being such an OCD control freak about every little tiny monetary thing.

I remember one time there was an email–one of those mass-forwarding types–and one of the questions was, “If you had more money, what would you spend it on?” I was struck by one of my aunt’s answers, because she replied “Buy more gifts for other people.” It captured how I sometimes feel, when you see something and it totally screams someone’s name. . .but you don’t get it and give it to them because after all, it’s overpriced and silly, but you know, to quote the kodak/credit card ads, smiles can be worth it. Sometimes it is just about the people. Sometimes I don’t really care to eat out–my packed lunch is quite sufficient, thank you very much–but sometimes I’d rather hang out and the only way to be sociable is to be where people are, and people eat out all the time. Sometimes somebody has had a bad day and you’d like to buy them a candy bar or something as a way of saying “I know your day stinks, but I’ve got your back.” But when you are nickeling and diming yourself to death, you aren’t allowed to make such gestures.

There’s a certain strain that makes it sound like “frugality” is next to saintliness, or something, but the longer I try to keep track of everything I spend and make everything turn out all right. . . the more I understand what it means to be controlled by your possessions. It begins to drive me batty. Sure, life is full of choices, pros and cons, pluses and minuses. . .you do one thing, you will pay the price some other way. But I wish I wasn’t watching my pennies. I’m okay with the whole saving idea, I’m okay with the whole restraint don’t-buy-everything thing. But I do wish I could spend money without feeling like it was a wicked thing to do. Okay, that’s a little tongue in cheek, but really–it leaves me feeling kind of guilty, and why should it? I worked for. Because somehow money is supposed to be used for dutiful and responsible and necessary things, so every purchase–no matter the amount–leaves you wondering, do I really need this? Could I have gotten away without it?

And that’s obsessive. I’d rather be able to say, “Whatever, it was 5 bucks. The world is not going to end over 5 bucks,” then to sit there weighing every possible cost-benefit angle and trying to determine if this was really a frivolous purchase or really a necessary one. I tell myself this is so frustrating and pointless and can’t possibly really matter. And then I go back and crunch the numbers and realize that I’ll barely be making it even while nickle and diming. That should hardly come as a surprise. . . most people would say it’s impossible to do what I’m trying to do, anyway. But that doesn’t make it any more fun to second guess–six different times–any purchase I would think to make.

My brother can “micro” his way to victory out of impossible situations in his computer games, and I’m still determined to “micro” my way through college. But it’s beginning to feel exceedingly tedious. But there is only 9 more months left, and you can take a lot as long as it’s only for nine months, right? And then the sneaky voice in the back of my head says “if you get hired right out of school,” and before long it feels like I’m condemned to live a life of nickeling and diming forever.

Touching base

This has been a difficult semester for me, emotionally.

I think some of what I’m struggling with is disappointment. Consciously, I don’t think I expected much. Subconsciously, I think I was expecting a lot more than what I’ve been getting.

See, I never wanted to go to college for the sake of going to college. I only wanted to go if I wanted to learn something in specific. And I, in specific, wanted to learn to be a Physical Therapist Assistant. I didn’t realize exactly how much I was looking forward to learning until I realized how little I would be taught, reminded once again that the only thing college is really good for is a piece of paper that said you went, and the line on your resume saying so.

Although we have been tested nearly every time we inhale, we aren’t really learning. At least, we aren’t learning efficiently. The teachers say to us “When you get to clinicals, you’ll be surprised at how much you know.”

But I’ve been working on weekends, and that is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because I am still learning so much there. A curse, because I can see how poorly I’m being taught and how little I’m learning at school. A blessing, because it’s one of the few days that doesn’t seem like an utterly futile waste of time. A curse, because I know everything that I am learning right now, I could be learning a thousands times faster on the job, and getting paid for it besides. A blessing, because it helps me keep my sanity in the midst of my non-learning. A curse, because it’s one more day I have to set my alarm, one more day I can’t sleep as much as I want, one more day leaving me just a little less able to handle the emotional load.

I am mad. I am disappointed. I am disgusted. I hate the feeling of judgment every time they hand out another test—another test on irrelevant material. Sometimes I am sad for us all, working so hard at accomplishing nothing. Sometimes I feel like I’m overwhelmed with helplessness. . .how did we get to such a place where we have so much bureaucratic red tape that we have to spend 2 years just to get to the point where we can learn the organic way—on the job. Why do they say we all need to be educated formally first, when they don’t answer the questions, don’t know the answers, don’t explain the nitty-gritty detail or the theories behind what we’re doing. . .When all they do in school is make us toe an invisible line that no one pays any attention to in the real world?

Some teachers are sympathetic. . .but they can’t do anything different, because of the college, because of the accreditation board, because of all of these nameless, faceless people above them on the food chain who have already decreed what is best for us. How did we get here?

I can’t even take the textbooks, teach myself, and take the boards. You aren’t allowed to take the boards until you’ve graduated from an accredited program. How did we get here?

I marvel at the complacency of those around me. . .they too realize that this is busy-work and nonsense, but seem to so easily accept that that’s just the way the world is. It just is. As though they cannot even comprehend of it being different. The world is such a twisted place that people have come to expect it to be that way. They don’t look around at their classmates and hurt, because they know that there are about 1,483 different better ways to learn.

Some of the teachers are rigid. They explain to us how they know how to teach, and this is how we learn. I sit there and think, “Lady, you and I must have totally different definitions for the word ‘teach.’”

Every subconscious hope I’ve held for school has crumbled in this semester.

All that remains is that, if I stick it out to the end, I can take the boards, and then I can participate in real-life. But the here and now is just not worth much, and we all know it.

I’ve dealt with it by trying to do independent research so I can at least learn something. I’ve complained. I’ve occasionally challenged teachers who weren’t earning their paychecks. I’ve ingested quantities of sugar enough to convince some people it’s my form of alcohol. But mostly I’ve become discouraged and frustrated. I feel like I am putting in far more than I am getting out.

The sensible thing to do, then, would be to stop putting so much in. To stop trying so hard. To just make it through and not worry about doing well.

But I can’t shake the feeling that “sensibleness” is the answer to the question I asked earlier. How did we get here? By being sensible. By not trying. By not caring. By just accepting the way things are. By not being angry at people who waste our time. By not challenging people who won’t work. By not refusing to complacently accept whatever was spoon-fed into their mouths. By not making waves and just going along with it all.

So I struggle in between. On one hand, I don’t want the stupidity of this world to drag me down to an emotional break-down. On the other hand, I don’t want to accept the stupidity of this world. It is wrong, and it isn’t okay.

“We have been indoctrinated in political courses, and in just the same way was fostered the idea to live comfortably, and all will be well for the rest of our lives. You can’t escape your environment and social conditions. Everyday life defines consciousness. What does it have to do with us? We can’t do anything about it?

But we can–everything. But we lie to ourselves for assurance. And it is not they who are to blame for everything-we ourselves, only we. One can object: But actually toy can think anything you like. Gags have been stuffed into our mouths. Nobody wants to listen to us and nobody asks us. How can we force them to listen? It is impossible to change their minds. ”

“The circle–is it closed? And is there really no way out? And is there only one thing left for us to do, to wait without taking action? Maybe something will happen by itself?”

“I am in the herd, and a coward. It’s all the same to me as long as I’m fed and warm.”

“So you will not be the first to take this path, but will join those who have already taken it. This path will be easier and shorter for all of us if we take it by mutual efforts and in close rank. If there are thousands of us, they will not be able to do anything with us. If there are tens of thousands of us, then we would not even recognize our country.

If we are too frightened, then we should stop complaining that someone is suffocating us. We ourselves are doing it. let us then bow down even more, let us wail, and out brothers the biologists will help to bring nearer the day when they are able to read our thoughts are worthless and hopeless.

And if we get cold feet, even taking this step, then we are worthless and hopeless, and the scorn of Pushkin should be directed to us:

“Why should cattle have the gifts of freedom?

“Their heritage from generation to generation is the belled yoke and the lash.” ”

Kinda sorta back on my feet.

I still find myself being snippier than I mean to be, but I feel like, at least emotionally, I’ve kinda gotten back up. I’m still working on being resigned to two of my classes being utter wastes of time, but it is mitigated in part by the fact that twice–twice!–in the last 10 days I’ve been able to catch up on missing curricula by picking the brains of practicing PTs (e.g. people at work).

There are two classes in particular that stink. In one class, the teacher is simply incapable of answering any question, of any degree. (That’s the one where I catch-up at work.) In the other, it keeps descending into a bigger and bigger joke every time we show up. Ironically, that’s probably the class that will break my good grades. The material is not difficult, but the tests are stupid, questioning things like the names of bacteria and obscure numbers—in general, the tests are on the LEAST useful of the information presented; therefore, the normal means of studying (picking out the important information and learning it well), is futile. And when studying hard does not result in the grades one wants to see (and indeed, one cannot figure out any better way to study), one rapidly looses desire to study for the tests.

Having said all that, I think mostly I’m just going to be a basket case every time a bunch of tests all pile up on each other. I don’t like all this “judging” business, and it makes me go to pieces. Need to work on that.

(Therefore, posting will still be dependent on my sanity, which I have decided is of greater value than sticking to a self-dare of writing every day.)

Beat your head against the wall; repeat until the problem goes away or you lose consciousness, which ever comes first.

This storm was predicted to be the storm of the winter.

The roads were awful this morning, but school wasn’t closed.

Usually I ride in with the boys, but we were all betting the school would close, if not soon than half-way through the day. So that wasn’t going to work. The boys called home when they got to work and said the roads were really bad and has the school closed yet, and what is wrong with them anyway?

This was not an encouraging report, and besides, several people had told me that the teacher had said if the roads were bad, she was going to cancel lecture even if the school didn’t close.

So I stayed home.

She had lecture; half the class showed up and half didn’t.

Now half of us are behind the other half. (And I’m in the wrong half!)

Then they closed the school at 1:30.

Stuff like this makes me want to beat my head against the wall and say “why? why? why? why?” Everyone has to commute to that school; the roads were expectedly, undeniably bad. If you know at least half of your students can’t or won’t make it in, why keep the school open?

While I’m indulging in complaining. . .while I’m glad that I do not have any teachers that make me emotionally or psychologically upset this semester, I still managed to get a doozy. She does not seem to be competent for the post; we ask questions and she says she doesn’t know. We are confused, and she says she is, too. She tells us to cross things off our learning packet because she doesn’t understand them. She hasn’t read our books and doesn’t know what’s in them. The only thing she can do is read slides aloud, but, no offense, I learned how to read a long, long, long, looooong time ago. Even if I am only 24.

I mean, yes. It is a hobby of mine to try to stump the teacher. They all say “I don’t know” at some point or another. But, for one thing, these questions I’m stumping her with are not obscure questions; they’re very basic. For another, I’m not the only one doing it. And it’s chronic on her part. Finally, she some how manages to come into every class seemingly more abundantly under-prepared than her students. And I know we’re a pretty brilliant, driven bunch of students, but still. You’re out-preforming your students in under-preforming? And I’m paying you? Not funny.

She did not make any more friends when she administered her first test, which was poorly written. And then poorly graded. I got points off because I listed “eye protection” as a protective barrier against bacteria. (It was fill-in-the-blank.)

“But it is a protective barrier, right?”

“Well, yes, but not what I was looking for. I was only looking for gown, gloves or mask. That wasn’t in my notes.”

“So it doesn’t matter if it’s true, as long as it’s in your notes?”

“Well, it does have to be true, but it does have to be my notes.”

Whatever. I was disgusted, but since reasonable conversation didn’t resolve the issue, I didn’t see any reason to create animosity at the beginning of a semester over 2 points. (Classmates felt otherwise; they looked up, found it in her notes, and demanded I go and get my 2 points. Confronted with her own notes, she did cede the points, but that’s not the point. The point is, if you are fighting with the part of your class that is well-behaved, responsible, on-time, attentive and producing a high level of work, you’re in trouble: that’s usually the last segment to revolt.)

We’ve been told we should go respectfully and diplomatically to talk to the dean. The problem is trying to discuss the problem without sounding like we’re whining. How does one go about saying “Um, I’m wasting my tuition on this teacher.” without sounding like a prima dona?

Hal-le-lu-jah. . .

Hallelujah: for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. The kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever. King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. Hallelujah!

Sometimes this seems like the only thing worth saying.

I would like, right about now, to whine, rant, complain, moan, and generally bewail the entire state of the universe. Unfortunately, I seem to have discovered that whining is like drinking. . .once you start, it’s hard to stop, and it’s altogether too easy to get a lot more caught up in it than you meant to. Not that I know much about drinking, except by hearsay, but I have a good deal more personal experience in whining.

It’s not that life is always a bed of roses. . .not that that’s a particularly grand metaphor, but still. It isn’t that there aren’t things that are whine-worthy (to say nothing of true, grounded and valid complaints); it’s just that whining and complaining rarely makes anything better, usually makes it worse, and generally leads one to sense of self-entitlement, -justification and -absorption. In other words, it’s a really, really bad habit to get into, and it’s rather difficult to do by halves—it has more of a snowballing effect, growing and growing wildly out of control.

But still.

Sometimes it looks awfully tempting anyway.

Petty grievances and annoyances fester, spurred on by stress and expectations (self and otherwise), pool in self-pity—-until it seems that anything in the world that is not perfectly inline with the chosen view of perfection is nothing short of a personal onslaught: the entire universe conspiring against one person, in a gleeful attempt to break them.

Over-dramatic? Maybe; so is a lot of whining.

Sometimes I think that maybe be the reason why we’re inclined to think the universe is conspiring against us is because we’re even more offended by the thought that the universe plain doesn’t care. That it’s impassive, and you utterly don’t matter. We rather like to think we’re more important than that, so we’re more willing to think that it’s us against the world than that the world doesn’t care.

The universe doesn’t care. It cannot care.

What about God?

Hallelujah: for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. The kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever. King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. Hallelujah!

Care for Health Care

The other day a classmate and I were discussing how stressful some healthcare jobs were, and how poorly some fields were treated. I mentioned that that was one of the reasons why I didn’t support healthcost coverage for everyone—it universally pressures people to care about money not care—and added that I didn’t currently have insurance myself.

“Yeah, well, that works fine,” she replied, “until the first time something catastrophic happens to you—” The same old line everyone has always thrown at me.

“Yeah, but, when you have something catastrophic happen to you, and the nurses are too busy and overworked to remember to reposition you and you get grade 4 bed sores that get infected and you die of blood poisoning, what good is insurance going to do you?”

People try to tell you that you may not be able to afford an apple, so you’d better get insurance, even if it is crappy insurance. But if all you can get is a rotten apple, what’s the point? You can pick those up for free off the ground, without even paying for insurance.

In my opinion, health care should be worried about the quality of health care; otherwise, we don’t have health care. We have overcrowded institutions with-over worked staff, and insurers who won’t pay for much more than a shovel to dig your grave (everything else is a “luxury”). Okay, yes, there are a lot of stupid-over-priced things. . .like putting a canvas strap to hold your toes in on a wheelchair and adding another $300 (yes, that is three hundred dollars) to the price tag. But insurance isn’t going to fix that. Transparency, responsibility and a good healthy dose of competition might.

Likewise, all the insurance in the world is not going to save me in the event of a catastrophic event. “You get what you pay for” is not just a trite saying; it’s an unfortunate reality of life.