Flip Side

Today I went back to school.

I've done this nine times, and there's always the same complex, convoluted taste in my mouth. The bitterness of work-dread and the sourness of regret and the sweetness of new challenges anticipated, they all mingle and swirl, and I don't know which one is dominant. I can tell they're all there, because I've learned to recognize them. They muddy themselves into a new taste, something ambiguous and unnerving and dangerous.

But today there was a new flavor, a new taste element twining and blending with the others.

Today I sat in my office, answered student emails, read texts for class, battled (unsuccessfully) with the procrastination troll that lives on my desk and looks just like the Internet. Colleagues stopped by the office intermittently to distract me. I thawed a block of spaghetti for lunch and I ate it. I printed my lesson plan. I went off to teach with subtle butterflies fluttering in my intestines. And it felt normal.

I felt normal. I felt like things were back as they should be. The world had returned to its usual method of rotation. Life went on, as usual. And--here's the surprise--that was a relief.

Last night a friend claimed that I value uniqueness above all else. I agreed; so my realization, that The Usual is a good thing, confuses me.

Maybe it's because my current Usual is a good thing. I like my setting, professionally speaking.

Vocation. Calling. Career. These words are weighed down with connotation, and I shrink to use them lightly, because they imply some sense of certainty of the future. That certainty just don't exist, folks; but the niche into which I nestled again today, breathing a sigh of comfortable relief, is something else. It's something different from the coffee shop or mowing lawns or cashiering at Wal-Mart. It feels...tailored.

Long live the dawn!

The Chameleon

Image via

Last week I drove from Sheboygan to Milwaukee on Christmas evening, and I drove through the town my parents live in on my way to the highway. I've done this before, and it affected me last time I did it. There's something quickening about solitude.

As I drove through Sheboygan Falls, I noticed something: I was changing.

I am one person when I am with my family. I laugh at our inside jokes, I adhere to certain standards of behavior and interaction integral to the family-community, I am Ian-At-Home.

When I am in Milwaukee, I am another person. I am different. I find different things amusing; my discourse is different. I am Ian-In-The-World.

Of course, this change is illustrative of what I taught my Rhetoric and Composition I students last semester. I told them about discourse communities, different bubbles of relation with different standards of interaction. I tried to communicate to them the importance of facilitas, Quintilian's conception of community-jumping--intellectual agility--the ability to switch between discourse communities with self-aware grace.

That's all very well, but I'm gradually realizing that I am what I say. My identity is determined by my interaction. Does that mean that when I pass through Sheboygan Falls, morph from Home-Ian to Elsewhere-Ian, my identity is shifting?

Or am I a chameleon? Am I the same person beneath my ever-changing skin? Do I alter my outside to fit in? And if so, who or what is underneath?

Is there anything underneath? What if my cyclical skin is all there is?

Long live the cold sweat.

Oblivious

I did a good thing today. I really want to tell someone about what I did, because it's a really good thing. I don't often do altruistic things. Not this altruistic. The good things I do usually benefit me somehow.

Some of the hows, because who doesn't like a numbered list? (Don't answer that.)

1. They make me seem more cool and/or awesome.

2. They make people like me more.

3. They make my superiors think I'm more cool and/or awesome, and therefore like me more, and therefore I am more successful.

4. It would be super-awkward not to do the good thing. (An example: I'm going somewhere with friends, and I'm the only one with a car, and all of a sudden the question "Wait, how are we getting there?" drops into the conversation like a stone thrown into a still pond, and nobody looks at me, but I know they're all thinking at me, so I offer.)

5. I have an image to maintain, a helpful, good-thing-doing image, and it's getting kind of rusty and disrepaired.

6. I feel sorry for someone, so in order to stop feeling sorry for them I do a good thing for them. It seems like it's altruism, but it's actually just selfish, because I'm doing it to make myself feel better.

See? Not really good. These all help Ian the Pontificator.

But today...today I did something good, and I can't tell anyone what it was, or it'll stop being good.

"Why?" you ask in an inexplicable Polish accent.

"Because, dear Olaf, the only real reason I'd tell you would be to make me look better, and that would just be a strange sad mess of failure," I reply.

If I say what I did, and if I spread it around, it won't be a good thing any more. Which is indeed bothersome.

More bothersome, though, is the thought that perhaps even this blog post, vague though it be, divests my good thing of goodness. That would be an unhappy birthday.

Long live sneaky goodness.

Why Is He Wearing That?

The last day of the semester, I wore ratty clothes to teach. I usually dress pretty well, so the fact that I wore jeans and a t-shirt to class was peculiar. As a "fun" "cool" "awesome" end-of-the-semester activity, I asked my students to come up with creative reasons for my change of garb. Their responses, as they were written, are below.

…because it’s Friday. Not only is it Friday, but it’s the last Friday of class and comfort was in order to tackle it.

…because he was running late after returning from his secret life of fighting crime. He and his nemesis Fierce Frosty were engaged in a viscious battle and lasted a little too long.

…he wanted to demonstrate the importance of appearance, or he wanted to be casual, or he wanted to show us what we looked like when the class began.

…because he is letting us know that relaxation is nearing quickly. Christmas break will be very relaxing, which is reflected by Ian’s clothing.

…college. -_-

…because he ran out of clean “teacher” clothes and his laundry machines are broken.

…he either forgot about laundry Tuesdays or he has given up more than his students have.

…because he is conducting an experiment testing the psychological effect of unprofessional clothing.

…he’s feeling like relaxing on the last lecture of the semester. He dressed up almost every day during the semester, therefore he wants to wear some non-fancy clothes. It also is the last lecture so it really does not matter, the semester is basically over.

…he wants to camp out for the men’s basketball game tomorrow night. He wants good seats so he’s leaving right after class to go get a good spot in line.

...because his closet full of suits was taken by the dry clean workers and thereby putting a halt to his undercover spy business attire.

…it all boils down to the occurrence at Ian’s favorite drycleaners on 12th and State St. He often takes the large van of his there weekly to dry clean and press his impressive array of dress clothes. This morning, however, when he went to pick up the laundry, he was very disappointed because…

…either you’re too busy working on grad school things or you got beat up by a hobo on your way to class and you don’t have any more nice clothes.

…this morning Professor Dejong got attacked by a pack of wild dogs while walking to his car outside of his house. He began to run and eventually found a tree that he could climb. Turns out the dogs were more interested in his clothes than him. He took off his suit and threw it to the dogs. They took his clothes and ran off with them. He ended up taking his clothes from the next guy he saw.

…because it’s the end of the semester and it’s a Friday. There is no need to provide any further explanation.  

…because he can not only dress as a classy gentleman everyday of the week, but he also has a down to earth look. Casual Friday allows him to dress like a humble barista. Even professors need to let their hair down and kick off their dress shoes for a bit. They work harder than the students do in some instances.

…because it is the last day of class he wanted to dress more casually. Or, last night Ian was preparing to go to bed, but he realized he had no toothpaste. He threw on his current outfit and ran out the door. On the way to the store he passed the nurse’s dummies. They chased him all night and he fought for his life, then came to class.

…because he decided, “What the heck, it’s Friday!” Or maybe his dress clothes decided to wage a battle against each other, trying to figure out which were warmer in this approaching winter. I like option 2—battling clothes.

…because all of the rest of his clothes randomly burst into flames when he looked at them. He may have super powers that he doesn’t even know he has where he can suddenly make things burst into flames when he’s bored. OR he just didn’t want to wear a suit because jeans and a t-shirt are more comfortable. Personally, I think it’s the super power reason.

…because he can. Because it’s comfortable and it’s pretty much the last day of school. And the shoes aren’t that holey…I have a much older junkie pair of shoes. Maybe he’s dressed like this because he’s going to work at the “Roastery” and has to wear it. Or…he’s painting…who knows…

…because he wants to dress how he feels.

…because it’s the last day of the semester and he wants to be comfortable knowing the end (finals) is near. I mean I would do the same thing.

…I believe there is a secret society in Marquette University, that the last day of class is national jeans day for teachers because my physics teacher, along with Ian DeJong. They are all probably going to party and celebrate that they don’t have to be with us any longer.

…I have no idea why Ian is wearing such an outfit today rather than his usual apparel. As much as I wish I could think of a significant reason I can not rationalize any cause for this. Instead I shall impart upon thee the knowledge of chemistry jokes. Wanna hear a joke about nitric oxide? NO

…because Fridays are chill days. Plus he ran out of time do to his laundry while grading our Unit 4 papers. He only had dress socks that were clean. No button-ups or nice pants.

…It is clearly casual Friday or it may be due to his knowledge of the bring back courts. If that’s the case, then Daniels better watch his back. Ian is already ahead in the count based on his position to the scoring of his shoes with the holes. This creates a water that brings up the question of how is Daniels still around. This will all conclude at the bring back courts later tonight during the first time for slime!

Creativity at work. What a fine source of joy.

Long live the end.

Gotye Is A Pig

For the record, I don't consider myself a feminist critic, but this was just too great to pass up.

Truth is...over the past eight months I've become familiar, too familiar, more familiar than I ever wanted to be, with Gotye's ubiquitous single Somebody That I Used To Know. And, unfortunately, over that period of time, I've become fairly conversant with the song's lyrics. But they're just lyrics, ya know? Lyrics don't mean anything. They're just words that happen to fit with the music.

Somewhere in the last month I actually started thinking about the lyrics. What I've decided is kind of shocking and kind of hilarious: the "I" in the song is at best emotionally abusive, at worst some kind of chauvinist pig.

Evidence.

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me

First, almost too obviously, note the different attitudes toward this relationship. She feels happy, and She is willing to say that out loud. She talks about the relationship, expresses Herself, interacts. By contrast, He talks to Himself, does not engage with Her. His discourse is negative, too; He only sees Her relative to himself, as an item to improve His situation. She is open, positive; He hides His misgivings about the relationship behind a cloud of angst and terrible music.

Not only that, but...
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember

He feels lonely when She's around. Once more, He denies Her personhood, consciously or unconsciously. She is physically there; He can tell that--but emotionally He is detached. Why? Because "that was love". He misleads Her about His feelings because of some misguided application of an arbitrary emotion-construct He's seemingly plucked out of thin air.

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness 
Like resignation to the end, always the end

He focuses on the end of their relationship obsessively, addictively. What kind of healthy relationship has one person planning an exit strategy?

So when we found that we could not make sense 
Well you said that we would still be friends 
But I'll admit that I was glad it was over

Once again, the dialogue between the principals in this relationship is a model for how NOT to do relationships. After the breakup, She attempts to retain some level of civility, some measure of maturity, by trying to avoid bitterness and finger-pointing. He does not respond to Her--again--rather acknowledging to himself that He's glad that the whole mess is over. But He says "admit"! Isn't that a step in the right direction?

It would be, if the song were written as communication. If this were ostensibly a letter from Him to Her, such an admission would be responsible, though hardly pleasant. But this is an introspection, a journal entry rather than an email. The format of this song is private, personal, not communicative.

But you didn't have to cut me off

Well, She did. You were emotionally withdrawn and obsessed with "the end".

Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing

It's called "moving on". Try it.

And I don't even need your love

Yeah, see, that's why She cut you off. Because YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT HER.

But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough

Quick counting exercise. How many times has He mentioned His feelings of pain? Six times. Six times in 2 stanzas and this chorus. He obviously cares about how He feels; it doesn't occur to him that possibly, just possibly, She might have feelings too. Feelings that might bring forth these "moving on" and "getting past Him" actions.

No you didn't have to stoop so low

It's true. She didn't. But do you blame Her for "stooping so low" when you were doing things like not talking to her and building up your exit strategy?

Have your friends collect your records and then change your number

Hmmm, now this is interesting. For the first time we get hints of major, significant problems. Why does She change Her number? Could it be that He keeps calling Her, contacting Her, trying to get things going again? Is She actively trying to defend against someone who won't take "no" for an answer? Is He an obsessive ex?

Perhaps not. Perhaps this is Her way of emphasizing to Herself that She is done with Him. Perhaps She's even trying to hurt Him by emphasizing their separation. But changing one's number is a significant process. It's a lot of work. It's far more likely that She's changing Her number because He won't stop bothering her.

I guess that I don't need that though 
Now you're just somebody that I used to know 

Again, He refers to Her relative to Himself. He defines Her by Her interaction with Him, by Her impact on Him. In His mind, She exists because of Him.

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over

The voice of Her: and She begins by mirroring Him. But there is an important difference between their two voices: as we might expect of Her, She points to specific reasons their relationship did not last. No, She doesn't specify how exactly He screwed Her over, but we do glean that She felt betrayed, frequently, within their relationship. This is another important difference between the two of them: Her negative feelings spring from problems within the relationship, and He seems bothered by how She responded to the breakup.

But had me believing it was always something that I'd done

I'm no psychologist or counselor or anything, but I'm pretty sure this is abusive behavior. Convincing someone that what you're doing to them is their fault? Manipulative at best, abusive at worst.

But I don't wanna live that way 
Reading into every word you say

So She tries to move on. She has grown tired of His uncommunicative, angsty stupor, and she's done with it. So She tries to move on (which eventually sparks His unreasoning wrath).

You said that you could let it go 
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know

And that's the trifecta: He's uncommunicative, He's abusive, and He cheats on Her. This is a bit more oblique, but it's pretty clear for a' that: She did catch Him messing around with a former ex.

A disclaimer--this stanza is from Her point of view, and therefore subject to Her bias. That being said, Her ethos is much more acceptable than His; She uses examples and simple language, and makes Her priorities clear.

There are multiple repeats after this section, things we've already discussed. What seems clear is that He, the primary speaker in the song, is emotionally abusive, does not communicate his feelings, does not approach relationships correctly, views Her as less than a person, and cheats on her.

She, on the other hand, has her faults, but seems to be a well-adjusted human being, for the most part. She copes well with the breakup, apparently. She clearly enunciates her problems with Him, and She has a plan to move forward without Him.

And now we come to the really serious point of this blog. Because Gotye has made it clear that the male voice in the song represents his voice. He draws on previous experiences, emotions he's felt, pain he's endured. While art must not be assumed to be 1:1, documentary-style representations of aspects of the creator's mind, this piece of art has particularly been linked, by the creator himself, to his mind.

Hence, Gotye is a pig.

Long live wild overexaminations.

You're My Only Hope

Violence pervades art from its earliest iterations. Cave drawings? DEERS GET STABBED. Seminal literature? Let's go kill Humbaba. Even the Bible gets after it pretty quickly: the second generation of humans get all fratricidal on each other.

I'm in a graduate school class discussing the representation of violence in literature. Our final project involves looking at two films depicting violence in America. (There are more guidelines, but those are the bare bones.) Now, I've got some ideas for films to examine. Films like The Departed, There Will Be Blood, No Country For Old Men, Heat, Zodiac, Terminator 2, Road to Perdition, Miller's Crossing, The Silence of the Lambs, The Boondock Saints (just kidding)...

My problem is that those are the stock films. Those are the easy ones. Those are the simple answers. Of those nine films, 6 got Academy Award nominations. All of them have been recognized as important and vital. So I won't be saying anything new when I point how awesome these films are at representing violence.

That's where I need you, friends, neighbors, enemies, and conscripts. I need your input. When you think about "violence in America", what films come to mind?

I covet your responses. Tweet me @thepontificator. Email me. Leave a comment here. Contact me on Facebook.

You don't have to say WHY your film represents violence in America. I just want to know WHAT film comes to mind when you think of violence in America.

Long live collaborative inspiration!

Let's Get Into Small Groups Now

Today I taught: today they learned.

A strange feeling of warmth...

A novelty? No. I have heard the click of understanding locking into place, multiple times, before.

What dazzled me today was that they enjoyed it. They interacted not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

I have prepared for sullenness. When I need to, I will pull out my sheaf of cards with their names and call on them.

I have yet to pull out the cards.

They know more than I expected! And they make connections I did not expect! And they care, which I expected least of all!

This is special. The joy I feel now may ebb, come October or Thanksgiving or even next week. It may last all semester, only to vanish next spring.

It may last until I die. It may crescendo and never stop crescending.

I will grip the joy I feel tightly, with both hands of my mind. I am good at this. I am fit for this. I am called to this.

I was born to this.

Long live euphoria.