tigriswolf: (a bird may love a fish)
You know what's... awkward? I've missed more classes this semester than in my Master's program and undergrad combined.
tigriswolf: (embrace your destiny)
So I'm going to turn that cannibalism idea into my final paper for one of my classes!
tigriswolf: (magic eater)
WHY do so many of my students use exclamation points when it's not dialogue?
tigriswolf: (blade of the queen)
I just keep thinking, Oh, baby girl, in the exact tone my aunt uses when she's completely baffled or sympathetic.
tigriswolf: (up to no good)
SPOILER: If the MINIMUM page count is FIVE, turning in Four & 1/2 WILL NOT GET YOU FULL POINTS.
tigriswolf: (unbroken (i rise))
So, have you ever been in an environment where people keep praising someone who failed you utterly and never even considered acknowledging it? Who not only failed you, but almost seemed to actively betray you? Who consistently did not do even the minimum of supporting or guiding you and then just - let you fall.

The person they continually praise is someone you never met. But they talk about her and suggest others go to her for guidance, and you have to bite your tongue because to speak of what happened will reflect badly on you - not her. It feels like nails on a chalkboard every time she's brought up but all you can do is sit there, fists clenched in your lap, and try to think of something else.

You can't warn anybody. It feels like as much of a failure as when you learned, miles from home, that she had betrayed you.

query

Feb. 6th, 2017 09:55 am
tigriswolf: (flutterby)
So, in 2015 I wrote a paper that included a section on literal vs metaphorical cannibalism as it relates to history, knowledge, and academia. I reread it today and now I want to turn that section into an article of some kind. That section is behind the cut below; does anyone out there want to take a gander and tell me if there's anything worth revising into an article?

Read more )
tigriswolf: (bounce)
Okay, so I met with my advisor yesterday to discuss this upcoming semester. As my only teaching experience has been an observer/TA in a classroom of six 60-90 year olds and tutoring a single student, I asked if she knew of a way to get some experience, to know for sure whether I actually like teaching or not.

As it turns out, there is a class of 85 students in need of an instructor. They’ve been scrambling to fill it and all you need is a Master’s degree and 18 hours of grad-level courses. I currently have 90 hours of grad-level courses and I got my Master’s last August.

So. Extra money and teaching experience.

The first class is on Tuesday.
tigriswolf: (berryjoy)
I GOT IT OH MY FUCKING GOD.
tigriswolf: (a bird may love a fish)
When you're waiting to hear back and it's possibly life-changing news -- God, time drags so slowly.

So, I’m exhausted and one of my chronic pains is really fucking hurting, so I’m gonna go to bed early tonight.

I finished my sixth book this week; that’s one each day so far, and then two I spaced out over Thursday-Sunday. I’ve decided to reread every book on bookcase and donate the ones I don’t like anymore/don’t know why I have.

I actually wrote yesterday AND today. Two drabbles yesterday, four today, and then another chapter for one of my WIPs. Well, more of an interlude, really.

I’ve been to two of my three classes; the third, I won’t have until the 23d because for some reason the semester starts on a Wednesday and the Monday the next week is a holiday so no school. It’s stupid.

.
.
.

God, I wish they would get back to me. I don’t want to jinx it. I already told my lilsis, my cousin, and my boss that it’s possible. I’m feeling a mixture of exhilarated and terrified.
It could be so good.

update

Jan. 8th, 2017 07:43 pm
tigriswolf: (power of a dream)
So tomorrow, I’m going back to work after three weeks off.

School starts on Wednesday.

I did not get any of the writing done over the break that I’d intended to. In fact, I think I wrote maybe a single poem? And that’s it. I just... never felt like writing, so I didn’t. December actually was the best I’ve felt (besides being sick for those few days) since June, and maybe the best I’ve felt emotionally in a long time. Of course, I did spend half of it with no responsibilities except buying presents and paying bills. So it was probably that plus actually taking antidepressants for the first time in my life that led me to feeling good.

But I do feel lighter, emotionally. And hopeful, despite the fuckery in DC.
tigriswolf: (old man of the forest)
Two As and two Bs for my first semester of the doctoral program! Considering I stopped caring about one of the classes halfway through, I'm happy with a B.
tigriswolf: (old man of the forest)
So, in two separate classes this semester I've had other students tell me that they really enjoy my writing.

I have no idea how to take compliments in person. But it really made me happy.
tigriswolf: (pour some liquor in it)
This has been a terrible, confusing year, and I’m so fucking tired of it.
tigriswolf: (mushroom head)
In 1987, the year before I was born, Freire said, “Language gives you a glimpse of how people survive,” (p. 137). It’s a cliché, perhaps, but who writes the history books? Whose exploits are recorded, remembered? When looking into the past, who is the default and who, it seems, never lived or did anything of worth at all? If there is no record of your existence, did you? I used to write frantically, skipping words in their entirety, messy and confusing, my opinions and my beliefs, my hopes and my fears, and I imagined that someone, somehow, someday, would find it and read it and know I had existed, that frightened and angst-filled 13-year-old. I wrote and so I would be remembered. I write. I have written and I will write. I will still be writing tomorrow and next week and decades from now. I’ll look back at that diary I kept in middle-school and I’ll remember the girl I was, the girl who couldn’t begin to fathom the woman she’d grow up to be.
tigriswolf: (adorbs)
I just called both my senators! Holy shit, wow. Left a voicemail with one and talked to a person who took my number for a callback at the other.

Also, of course, my premium for insurance is going up almost $200 next year, so I’m scrambling for something else. Having insurance this year was AMAZING and I’m so fucking frustrated.

And I have THREE major projects all due the same week that I really need to power through.

But I have rainbow hair now, and I keep smiling every time I look in a mirror, so there’s that.
tigriswolf: (growing up (hurts))
So, I have to write two papers on Freire for the first week of December: one is about his concept of conscientization and the importance he placed on dialogue in emergent literacy while the other is a synthesis of his and Macedo’s book Literacy: Reading the Word and the World.

I thought his work was apropos before last week. But now? Now it’s like holy shit.


Freire in 1987: “When you use ‘minority’ in the US context to refer to the majority of people who are not part of the dominant class, you alter its semantic value. When you refer to ‘minority’ you are in fact talking about the ‘majority’ who find themselves outside the sphere of political and economic dominance.”
tigriswolf: (magic eater)
I shiver and want to cry every time I watch the last race in Secretariat.

Muscle relaxers are not conducive to doing schoolwork. Or focusing. I do have doctor's orders to not take stairs, so I've emailed my teacher (who is also my new advisor) about moving class Tuesday night if at all possible. The only elevator in that building has been broken for nearly a month, so I've gritted my teeth twice and taken the stairs but my knee screamed for the remainder of that night and the next day both times. What I don't understand is how the people who work in that building haven't raised a fuss to get it fixed. Isn't it breaking all sorts of regulations for accommodation?

update

Oct. 28th, 2016 12:22 pm
tigriswolf: (lips as red)
I voted this morning; an hour in line, less than a minute at the booth.

Now I’m waiting to hear back from the doctor. Because my entire body is no longer hurting, I can tell where I might actually be injured (mildly). And it looks like there more damage (but still mild) to my car than I saw yesterday.

There was schoolwork I needed to do yesterday. There’s schoolwork I need to do today. But I literally do not give a shit. I’m not doing it.

But, amazingly, I actually slept last night because my aunt the nurse suggested a generic sleep aid. I fell asleep and STAYED ASLEEP ALL NIGHT LONG. I can’t remember the last time that happened.
tigriswolf: (pour some liquor in it)
You get rear-ended literally a minute away from your job, causing you to be even later while also shaky and hyper-alert, on top of being tired because you sleep like shit. Also, you have class so you’ll have to go up and down three flights of stairs because the elevator is still broken, using your knee that doesn’t work right because it’s lost most of its cartilage.

Yeah. Should’ve just stayed in bed.

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