Brrrrrrr!

The Human Capacity for Generosity

This will be a quick and dirty post because I just don't have the time or energy to convey this in a witty manner, but here goes:

Today I was a volunteer bell ringer for the Salvation Army. Our organization volunteers to do this every year as a way of giving back to the community and supporting one of our member organizations. It is often a very rewarding way to give. It only takes one hour of my time, and since we ring the bell at the local Wal Mart stores, it has the added benefit of being extremely entertaining (think - people of walmart dot com)

So, today I was standing there in the freezing cold counting the minutes away, holiday hymns trapsing through my thoughts and this little boy, maybe 10 years old, walks up and hands me a dozen long stem cream and pink roses and asks if he can give them to me to say thanks for my time. I was so completely overwhelmed with appreciation!

The only downside is that I am allergic to roses, so I couldn't keep them. But this also gave me an opportunity to give even more. Every time a little kid put money in my kettle I would give them one of the roses and tell them to give it to their mommy. THe look of surprise and joy on each kids' face was worth the price of giving up such a sweet gift!

Some days go a long way toward making up for the many crappy ones in between!

Thanksgiving revisited

Well, now, at least my waistband is feeling it! Nice to spend a day with an adopted family. Great food, great company, now food coma.

Thanks to the Baker family for letting me a part of their traditions.

Thanksgiving

not feeling it.

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans!

So, in the midst of my despair, the Eternal one threw me a curve ball, distracting me from the dark place I was looking forward to hiding in for the weekend.

My poor, dear kitty, who has an affinity for swallowing plastics of any kind, including the wrappers to my lady products, suffered a terrible and debilitating stomach sickness beginning Saturday afternoon. Shortly after I returned from my Saturday class I found her heaving in the hallway. In getting that all cleaned up I discovered several more heaps in her room. I put her food dish up on a high surface, emptied her water dish, and began the vigil of watching to see what would happen.

Under normal circumstance, this would have warranted a trip to the vet - no big deal. But 21 months after losing my job and health care of my own, there is no way I can start an open-ended vet bill. So we wait. She continued to vomit thru the afternoon. Finally we made it thru 4 hours without a hiccough so I returned the water dish to her with a small amount of water in it. She proceeded to lap up 6 or 8 mouthfuls and promptly vomited it back up.

I got the pedialyte out and started drip feeding her a tsp every hour for the next (yes, all night long) 12 hours. About halfway thru Sunday I started introducing some light chicken and gravy, which she ravenously consumed. She began thwarting the pedialyte so I had to institute the turkey baster method of administration, and even tried dipping the chicken in it to get her to take something in.

Luckily she was not feverish and showed no other signs of discomfort. This morning I gave her a solid tablespoon of the chicken and put the water dish back down for her.Before I left for work she had mozied on over to her bed and looked like she was finally ready to settle in for a nap, the first real sleep she's had since all this started! I've had her looked in on and so far so good. Apparently she was still in her bed when my helper stopped by. She got up to visit with them and seemed pretty okay. Financial crisis averted for now!

The upside of all of this chaos is that I sailed thru what is usually the darkest weekend of my year. I guess in it's own way, this was the best kind of distracted to be, it left me no time to dwell on things I have no control over.

A Poem to Mark the Anniversary of My Mother's Departure from this World

32 years ago my mom left this world. I still cry like it was yesterday. I hear people tell grieving family members and friends that in time, their grief will subside and they will be able to go on with their lives. I don't think that is always the case. I know it hasn't always been for me. For me, the day to day activities of life have only been a means to distract myself from how awfully alone I feel, how betrayed I feel. Some days I just don't have the strength to pretend it all matters.



It’s been 32 years since God took you away.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
I sat in my classroom learning fractions and verbs,
While those who were with you got to hear your last words.

I was so angry with God I could not understand
How leaving two girls motherless could be part of His plan.
All these years later, and Angie’s with you now too,
I still don’t understand why He chose to take you.

The tears that I cry are the same as they were
I cry for you and I cry for her.
I feel so alone as I sit here and cry
And still I don’t understand why, oh Lord, why?


Note from Author:
This is my annual pity party. I'll feel better on Sunday and get back to business as usual for another 11 1/2 months.

Thanks for listening.
Michele

1 Year Ago Today

It's been a year since my baby sister took her last breath in this life. I still cry at least once a day. I've been in this state of barely hanging on for so long now that it's hard to breath easy when I'm not. I know I am supposed to be grateful for what I have instead of disappointed for what I have not, but that is so much easier said than done.

I have been blessed with two beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, creative, kind generous and loving children. That in and of itself should be enough. I have some terrifically wonderful women in my life that have been such a blessing to me in their undeserved friendship.

I have a roof over my head and food in my belly.

All of this puts me worlds ahead of the majority of the inhabitants of this earth.

So why is it, then, that the people that are missing from my life have left such gaping holes that some days, most days, I find it too impossible to just keep going? It's going to be a difficult couple of weeks and I hope that the people around me will just be understanding enough to give me the room to survive it the only way I know how.

Sometimes being the sole (soul?) survivor really sucks.

Finals Week

I know I owe a post or two, but it's finals week and I'm hip deep in projects that are really sucking all my creative juices. Also, we have a lot of events this month, so there's that!

Check back next week for an update, hopefully. New classes start on Monday so we'll have to see what kind of workload they bring!

Birthday Smirthday

So, Wednesday marks 41 times around the sun for me. Big whoop. I'm really not afraid of that number. I'm not angry about the stiffness in my joints every morning. I'm not resentful of the fact that I have to squint a little to read the Sunday crossword. I'm not even upset about the handful of white hairs that have suddenly popped up around my hairline. I'm not a vain person. I have always embraced the idea of growing older, always looked forward to proudly wearing my wrinkles earned through a full life. It's everything else attached to my birthday that makes me want to crawl in a cave and hide til next week.

My little sister was born in the middle of my 3rd birthday party and I've had very few pleasant birthday memories since. And now that she's gone I can't think of my birthday without thinking about her. And I can't think about her without thinking about all the crap attached to that.

Plus, thinking about my birthday makes me have to think about how yet another year has gone by and I'm further away from where I thought I'd be by now. I just wish my birthday would go away.

I'm really trying to get to the place where I can let all this go. I know I should be grateful for the blessings I have instead of being hung up on what I don't have. If you have any hints or tips on how to do that, let me know.

A Life So Tragic

Okay, So I know this isn't as tragic as I make it out to be, but this morning when I went to put jam on my pancakes (weird, I know, but stay with me) I noticed it smelled a little funny. So I thought I'd look to see if it had an expiration date. It did. It was Last month. I almost cried. The lonely hearts out their will understand my grief. I swear, it never occurred to me before that moment that I'd ever have a jar of jam long enough to reach an expiration date.

That is all.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empty_nest_syndrome

Oh, and Happy Birthday to Miss Sally. 80 years young today.

Take this jobsearch and shove it!

So, I've been looking for meaningful work for going on some 20 months now, and the really depressing thing is, I'm nowhere closer to an interview now, than I was then!

I've got until May before I finish school to get a degree that wont even qualify me for the job I have now and no money to continue my education after that.

Please, oh please, oh please universe, throw me a rope or something. Then at least if things don't start looking up, I'll have the resources to hang myself!

Prayer for the day: Please show me the direction I am supposed to be going in?

At least I made someone smile

So, my days are getting increasingly more crappy. I seem to fall apart over the littlest things anymore. I've done more crying this past month than I did the previous few years put together. I know I'm getting close to a breaking point and I try each day to find at least one thing to keep me going.

So, today, just as I was about to fall apart, I happened upon a woman in my Kroger store's frozen food section. She had the tell-tale head wrap of someone going through Cancer treatment. There was a section of Pink Ribbon items in the middle of the aisle and I could see her getting a little emotional as she rummaged through the bins.

As she came to realize I was looking at her she got that look. You know, the one that says, "Please don't look at me like I'm a contagious." So I quickly smiled and went on my way wondering if she thought I was a psycho or something.

I checked out and as I was loading my items in my backseat I remembered I had swiped a bunch of "I survived" pins from the Macomb County Making Strides kick-off party. I dug down in my bag and found one and spied the lady pushing her cart into the cart corral a few lanes away. I got in my car and pulled over to her lane and got out and walked up to her car. Now I'm sure she thinks I'm a psycho. Who wouldn't?

I held my hands up to show her I meant no harm and then as she rolled her window down I apologized for staring, introduced myself and told her I noticed her looking at the Pink Ribbon stuff. She guffawed and said that if she broght another pink item home her husband would probably throttle her. I asked her if she knew that the American Cancer Society has resources to help patients and their families deal with a diagnosis. She said yes, she was already getting help from them.

Then I showed her the button and asked her if I could give it to her. She looked up at me with a hint of a tear in her eyes and nodded her head. She reached out with one hand and took the button, and with the other, grabbed my arm and said "Thank you!" I gave her a flier for "Making Strides" and walked back to my car.

It took me a few minutes to recompose myself. I may have had a really crappy day today, but for just a moment, I felt like a hero!

New Beginnings

If you could get a job doing anything anywhere, what would it be?

I would be teaching english and bible school in a foreign country. In a perfect world, I would be able to find a way to do this without the 7 years of school it would require for the degrees necessary to get one of these positions.

Any ideas?

FGOs

FGOs (Effing Growth Opportunities)

Saw this acronym on a post on one of the blogs I follow - gonna adopt it into my vernacular, I think. It aptly describes the last 10 years of my life. Wait, who am I kidding? It describes the last 41 years of my life~!

Fun with Videos

So, lately I've been playing around aLOT with You tube and google videos. It's amazing the amount of stuff that is out there. I was in one of the discussion forums for one of my online classes and the discussion led me to comment about an old drive-in that used to be located in my hometown. Right away I had to go to YouTube and look for a video of the old drive in concession bumper. I was blown away by all the clips they had related to that. Brought back such fond memories as I was tooting around looking for vids to post to my FB to share with the rest of my peeps.

It's like a whole new style of communication in the digital age, kind of like how early adapters used to use midi files to accentuate our "chat" conversations "way-back-when" lol!

Tell me some of your favorite places to walk down memory lane...

Conversations with myself

Well, there are a few things I'd like to say to a few people that just wouldn't be prudent at this time. So, I'm going to say them to myself.

Here goes:


*You really piss me off when you walk around here like little miss oh I'm so special and you're sweet to everyone but me. Get over it. I hurt your feelings. I said I'm sorry. Pull up your big girl panties and get on with life.

*I really can't figure out where I went wrong. How did you spend all that time with me and still end up thinking and acting the way you do?

*I really miss you and I don't think you put me high enough on your priority list. I feel like I should be more important to you.

*I don't understand why you continue to shut me out. I am the closest living relative they have on earth besides you. It hurts me to the point of crippling me that you won't let me be a part of their lives.

*So I took advantage of you. I was wrong to do that. But just for a moment I wanted to pretend that you hadn't done the same thing to me all those years ago.

*acknowledge me, dammit!

*I no longer have the desire to have a relationship with you. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me...I won't be fooled a third time.

*if I was any lonelier, I'd be a big-haired 80s rock ballad.

Because I need to do this more often

So I keep hearing (reading) all these complaints from posters that they're tired of the twitter affect on FB. They feel that people shouldn't post everything that pops into their head. But spontaneous disclosure is what social media is all about, isn't it? If we only posted an occasional update, that would get boring pretty quickly! On the other hand, there are a few of the "friends" on my wall I've had to block because apparently they DO post EVERY SINGLE THING that crosses their mind.


Now, don't get me wrong, there are occasions when I volley off a slew of posts in a short amount of time. I can see how it would get annoying if I did this consistently, so I am mindful not to get that carried away. And I try to not do it very often!

What I will throw out there is the Uber annoying FB game factor. I adore most of my friends and thank GOD most of them don't bother me with their mafia requests and crop building requests. But I think what really blows my mind is, where do they get the TIME to dedicate to these things? I really don't see the attraction. Wouldn't it be 10X more fun and rewarding to plant ACTUAL food and harvest ACTUAL food and then you could cook it up and eat it with your ACTUAL friends?

Anyhoo, that's what I've got to say about that!

Dissappointment

An actual Rage for a change:

I'm so tired of being the one everyone can count on. Why do I feel the compelling need to always come thru for others when noone feels compelled to be that for me? I have had it with trying to plan and put things together for everyone else, and then when I expect something to go my way, well. See what I get for expecting? Nothing, usually!

That's all I have to say about that!

My biological clock stopped ticking...

I saw this cute movie the other day called TiMer. The premise of the story is that people can go to this electonics company and have a timer implanted on their wrist. The timer will countdown the exact hours, minutes, and seconds until you can expect to meet your soul mate. Only the timer doesn't activate until your souldmate has a timer installed also.

The idea got me thinking, my luck is so awful when it comes to matters of the heart, I'm quite certain if I installed one it would immediately display negative 175,316hours 15 minutes and 18 seconds(20 years)

If you know any decent eligible bachelors, point them my way!

Count your blessings

Yes, well, after all this time, you think I would get it. I've heard this so many times you would think it would be second nature. Yet after I've taken action to correct a wrong done to me I continue to brood over the fact of the initial wrong-doing instead of being satisfied with the ultimate outcome! What's the matter with me?


So tonight I had a conversation with my friend, the psychic. I don't pay for her services, well, just that once, but that was only for fun, mostly. I guess I'm one of those people that doesn't really want to know the future. But I don't play the lotto or read my horoscope of wish to be filthy rich and so on and so on...I digress...

So, we were talking, and as per usual she was asking me how to market her services. Now, I can't help you if you don't really want help. There's nothing more aggravating than someone asking you the same questions, over and over...yet when you say to them, "hey, I told you this last time. Didn't you try it?" and they say no, they didn't try it...what do you do with that?

So during our conversation, she pointed out the same thing she pointed out the last few times we've talked, always unsolicited, that I have this really great energy about me and the only thing preventing me from achieving my goals is my underlying attitude of having been cheated out of something. She called it my "woman scorned, but not just by love" attitude. And I always reply with, "If only you knew."

And I thought to myself, yeah, I've heard this before. And I said as much to her. So my question is this: If knowing you have a problem is half the solution, what the hell is the other half? How do you let that go? How do you release that and move on? Cuz I'll tell you, I've tried, and tried and tried.

As I was pondering this with her, I mentioned that I don't really hold any resentments toward anyone in particular, anymore. I've worked really hard this past year to forgive those who I have held the burden of resentment towards. And while we were having this conversation, I realized, it isn't someone else that I'm bitter with about any of the past grief in my life. It's me.

I realized I am mad at me! I've spent the better part of my adult life feeling duty bound to a bunch of people that never asked me to do that for them. That was my own doing! Nobody forced me to put myself last. There is no written law that says I had to put everyone else first and sacrifice my own satisfaction. As a matter of fact, the very people I felt honor-bound to please and take care of were mostly selfish people that never took my feelings into account in there decisions and actions. So why did I feel the need to do so? It's mostly me that I'm angry with! How could I have flittered away so many years?

Hmmmm, this is going to take some serious meditation and prayer.

How to forgive oneself.

Suggestions appreciated...

The Boss of Me

So, one of the "perks" of my job is that I spend a lot of time networking at events that usually include some of the heavy hitters in our local communities. Particularly, of late, we have had a lot of engagements and office visits with the local sheriff, who is currently running for the first ever County Executive office in our county. He is, without a doubt, one of the most recognizable faces in the area. Regardless of what you think about his policies or his platform, you cannot argue that this man exudes public office.

I've listened to many political and public figures go on about how they were ordained to do what they were doing, even as they were being prosecuted for some awful betrayal of their position, and always I've thought to myself, "How in the world could they have believed that?" But just a few encounters with this sheriff and you know, he was meant to sit behind a mahogany desk and pen his name to policy.

And it doesn't hurt that he's a very good looking man, either. He's got a pearly white smile and a metro feel about him. He's always very well put together. His personality is the frosting that keeps you coming back for more. He seems genuinely concerned and considerate of those he meets. If he is at n event and "the people" want pictures of him, he never tires of it. He smiles, and puts his arm around the squirming, squealing girl, the star-struck woman, the admiring man, no one seems to be out of the demographic that he attracts.

So, tonight, I am tooting around the local festival taking my friend's girls on some rides when we encounter the rock-star himself. He winks at me and inquires as to how I am and reaches his arms around to give me a proper hug, not one of those wimpy photo-opp ones, and squeezes me and plants one on my cheek and turns to the girls and engages them in conversation. I introduce him and tell the girls what and who he is. They seem a little awestruck. (I totally get that!) And eventually he gives me a parting hug, and off we go.

Later, as we are standing in line for a ride, one of the girls turns to me and asks me if I knew him? I asked her if she thought he seemed like the kind of guy that just goes around hugging random people? She turns to me with the most honestly naive face and says, "Well isn't he the Boss of all of You?"

"All of Who?" I inquired.

"All of You grown-ups!" she exclaimed.

I smiled and nodded and assured her that yes, yes he was in fact the Boss of Me!


My lol moment for the day

Happy Anniversary

So, I called Miss Sally this morning and when she answered the phone I chimed "Happy Anniversary!"

"Who's Anniversary is it?" she replied.

"Um," I paused, waiting for her to catch on. "It's June 10th, Grama."

"June 10th," she mused. "Who's Anniversary is June 10th?"

"Um, Grama, it's June 10th, Happy Anniversary." I deadpanned, hoping it would dawn on her so I wouldn't have to say it.

Silence on the other end of the line. "Um, Grama?"

"Oh, Shit!" as the realization struck her. "I'll be damned!" she exclaimed. "You know, I remembered Selena's birthday yesterday and called her to tell her Happy Birthday. I even looked at the calendar and thought to myself, 'What's on June 10th?' But for the love of God, I completely forgot my own anniversary! Well, isn't that something?"

*********************

I guess that's a testament to the adage, "Life goes on" It's been 5 1/2 years since my Papa passed. They would have been married 15 years today. Of course, they had been together nearly 35 years before that. Still, it made me a little sad to think I was the only one that woke up this morning and noted the passing of this significant date.

I can remember the day he proposed to her. I had just acquired a new vehicle that day, a Le Baron that Papa had bought from a friend after it had been in a rear end collision. He and a few of the guys had worked pretty hard on it and got it in pretty good working shape. That day I was taking her out for her maiden cruise when some friends of the family suggested we all take a ride to a local eatery, The Green Lantern, for their renowned pizza.

So, into the Le Baron we crammed. How we all fit, I'll never know. We had pizza and beer and really enjoyed the lovely spring evening and the good company. At some point someone suggested we go to Chi-Chi's cantina for some Margaritas. Back into the Le Baron we went and headed over. We were having a great time, enjoying the music and the sweet tanginess of the tequila and lime saltiness. As was typical, Papa was soaking up the attention with his beer-boozy boisterousness. Atypically, my Grama was actually having a pretty good time, too.

There was a young couple at a near-by table. At some point in the evening we realized that he had proposed to her and she had said yes. Not to be outdone, my Papa, with much pomp and circumstance, loudly proclaimed his undying love for my Grama, and proposed she finally allow him to "make an honest woman of her". Surprisingly, she said yes. Everyone cheered as we ladies quickly sprang into party-planning mode and put the foundation of the wedding plans together. They were married around 6 weeks later, surrounded by friends and family, in my aunt's and uncle's backyard on the afternoon of June 10, 1995.

Happy Anniversary Grama and Papa - and we miss you Papa! Kisses to heaven!

Soooo Tired!

Burning the midnight oil bears a hefty price tag. This has been an hulascious semester. When I get home from work I just want to take a nap and next thing I know, I'm sleeping thru the night. I'm looking forward to resting on Memorial Weekend and hoping that by then I'll have recovered and be ready to roar thru the last 3 weeks of my semester break.

Hopefully by then, I'll have the motivation to write more that a paragraph of piss and moan.

See you then!

School Break

School will be out soon and I CAN'T WAIT! I have 4 mrkt classes left, 3 IT classes left, 3 econ classes left and 6 Engl Comp 2 classes left. After that I'll have 5 weeks before my summer classes start. I am so looking forward to the respite. I think I might take a weekend and go somewhere in the RV. Got any ideas for a 3 day weekend?

Emily Dickinson on the Individual

Most of Emily Dickinson’s poems champion the importance of the individual over that of the group. She seemed to have had an immense disdain for those who blithely followed the conventions of society with little thought of their own. The reclusive life she preferred for herself was greatly reflected in her works. She disagreed with her family’s views of culture and religion leading her toward transcendental reflections of what she thought to be a better way to connect spiritually to the world. Ms. Dickinson’s poems demonstrate an opinion against the ridiculousness of the achievement of recognition and status, she wrote of the need and the right of the individual to maintain its integrity.

In “I’m Nobody, Who Are You?” perhaps one of Ms. Dickinson’s most famous poems, she bemoans the inclination of most people to want recognition. In the first stanza she warns of the dangers of voicing one’s interest in remaining anonymous, cautioning that one will be ridiculed if “they,” meaning the majority, find out. She mocks those who go around constantly boasting of themselves, vainly attempting to keep their names in popular circulation. She quite cleverly compares them to croaking frogs, ever noisily reminding the world of their existences.

Her poem, “Much Madness is Divinest Sense” further demonstrates her perspectives on society’s intent to squash the individual. The speaker intimates that it is always up to the collective to decide what is sane and what isn’t, “Assent and you are sane, Demur you’re straight way dangerous.” And once they decide you are insane, you will be “Handled with a Chain.” The speaker is not implying that the majority is right all the time, but still, as an individual, you cannot be accepted unless you agree with them. The world can sometimes be so brutal to individuals as to subdue them.

In keeping with her theme of the rights of the individual over the group, Ms. Dickinson’s “Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church” can be viewed as a commentary on how a person should live their spiritual life. Here the speaker asks the reader to consider the transcendental ideal that God “transcends” the physical world and should be experiences by the individual through their experiences with the natural world. It mocks the very idea that God can be experienced in a group setting after all.

In “What Soft Cherubic Creatures” Ms. Dickinson reveals the hypocrisy of the group versus the individual. She exemplifies women, who are expected to put on a made-up “face” for society, yet reveals that upon closer inspection, the “freckled human nature” can be seen. The speaker is commenting on the pressure of society to behave a certain way, while hiding one’s true passions, yet another way the collective subdues the individual. In her article “Writing Poetry Like a Woman” Corinne Blackmer discusses how conventional “feminine verse” of Ms. Dickinson’s era usually touched on domestic topics while Ms. Dickinson “wrote poetry that defied all conventional gendered norms” and “ridiculed the pretensions to virtue and self-righteous piety of these “angelic” creatures. Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay entitled Self Reliance said, “It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after one's own. But great is the man who in midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.”

In “Alone, I Cannot Be” Ms. Dickinson writes in defense of keeping one’s own company. The speaker is telling the reader of the “recordless company” she keeps in her solitude. One can imagine the countless hours the poet spent alone writing her poems. It can be inferred that Ms. Dickinson was plagued by a constant companionship of voices, either imagined or conjured by her creative endeavors. Either way it would seem she is happier for their company, than for that of their warm-blooded counterparts.

In further examining her continued struggle to champion the rights of the individual, it is imperative to examine Ms. Dickinson as an unpublished poet. Her advisor, mentor, and publisher, Thomas Higginson, continually counseled against the publishing of her poems, citing that her poetry would be misrepresented in print form. Ms. Dickinson’s style of writing so defied the conventional forms as to render it nearly impossible to adequately reveal its original intent. She exemplified her feelings about this in the poem, “Fame is a Bee.” Over the course of her lifetime Dickinson maintained control and ownership in order to write, as Sharon Cameron states, "in public while effectively exempting her writing from public legislation" (Cameron, "Amplified Contexts", 241). Writing in this way, perhaps Dickinson felt she was protecting herself against the sting of the bee.

Let's talk about Psychs, baby!

So I had a psychic reading today. It wasn't at all what I expected. I have always been open minded about the mystical gifts, but also have always been very skeptical of those that perpetrate deceptions in the name of those gifts. I was fully prepared to hear a lot of leading questions and was fully prepared to answer them in the vaguest manner possible.

I was pleasantly surprised.

Although she said she gets the impression that I'm something of a wall-flower and that I need to get out more. :)

She said that if I get invited to go do speed dating in June/July I should jump on the opportunity.

If you'd like more information, let me know. I've got her contact info.

Peace!

First Essay for English Comp 2 - Thematic Analysis

Okay, I know I still owe you a copy of my hate language essay, and as soon as I locate it I WILL post...but this one I wrote in about an hour and 20 minutes and I'm particularly proud of it. If you'd like to read the short story that it is based upon, you can check it out at the link below:

http://cai.ucdavis.edu/gender/thelesson.html (you'll have to copy and paste to your browser - apparently blogspot add links isn't working properly at this time!)

Enjoy:


Thematic Analysis of Toni Cade Bambara’s The Lesson

In her short story, The Lesson, Toni Cade Bambara explores the theme of innocence versus experience through the eyes of a group of adolescents from the ghetto. These kids are introduced to the world outside of their neighborhood by a woman, Miss Moore, whom we learn is a college educated, proper speaking, black woman who has taken “responsibility for the young ones’ education” (Bambara 1.) Bambara takes the theme even deeper in relating how ignorance of one’s circumstances is a sort of innocence, to be broken by the experience of becoming aware of them. This theme is further articulated by Bambara’s concealment of the name of the main character until later in the story, as this awareness begins to creep in to Sylvia’s consciousness even as she vehemently attempts to deny it.

Early in the story we are introduced to the contempt the youth have for Miss Moore by the way in which Sylvia describes her. It becomes apparent that the youths view her as an impediment to their enjoyment of their surroundings, as plays out in Sylvia’s description of their hatred for her, “And we kinda hated her too, hated the way we did the winos who cluttered up our parks and pissed on our handball walls and stank up our hallways and stairs so you couldn’t’ halfway play hide-and-seek without a goddamn gas mask.” (Bambara 1) We can see that this group of kids is interested only in their own self-gratification. They are resentful that this woman has come into their lives and is attempting to “educate” them, especially since school is out and they have better things in mind to occupy their time.

Miss Moore’s “lesson” on this particular day takes this group out of the comfort of their home territory. They are taken by taxi to the city to visit the FAO Schwarz in Manhattan. They are made aware of just how out of place they are by the instantaneous exposure to ladies in stockings and “One lady in a fur coat, hot as it is. White folks crazy.” (Bambara 4) In addition, they are confronted by the reality of their socio-economic positions in life when they begin to look at the wares offered in the windows and in the displays of the store. At one point the characters describe the difference between the prices of a “handcrafted sailboat of fiberglass at one thousand one hundred ninety-five dollars” (Bambara 25), with a sailboat set they can buy at the local bodega for about fifty cents. Although Sylvia wants desperately to know what a real boat would costs, she won’t give Miss Moore the satisfaction of asking her directly, demonstrating her resistance to being removed from her provincial bubble.

As the story continues Miss Moore describes what a paperweight is used for and we realize that there are differing levels of socio-economic position even amongst these poor kids from the ghetto. She questions where her “pupils” do their homework to which she gets varying responses. Junebug explains that he doesn’t have a desk. Big Butt says he doesn’t have homework and Flyboy professes to not have a home at all. Mercedes, we learn, not only has a desk but has scented stationary that she received as a gift from her godmother. (Bambara 15) In attempting to reach these “students” to help broaden their horizons Miss Moore is continually confronted with a cultural mindset of accepting mediocrity. When Sylvia realizes that all of the items in the store are so far out of the realm of anything they will ever have as long as they remain in their mediocre, ghetto dwelling lives she becomes angered. We see that she is becoming aware of her circumstances. It is at this time that Bambara finally gives her a name.

Even as Sugar attempts to engage Miss Moore regarding the lesson of the day we see Sylvia beating a hasty retreat back to her provincial bubble. Then she realizes that she can’t close that box again once it has been opened and she becomes even angrier with both Sugar, for wanting to engage this new awareness, and Miss Moore, for perpetrating this heinous act upon their innocent minds. Bambara’s theme is once again reiterated in the notion that some of the best lessons in life are learned not from the classroom, but from experiences, experiences that both enrich us, and rob us of our innocence.

How Come?

in TV and in the movies, law enforcement people always reach in their pocket and retrieve just one single business card at a time...and always with just two fingers? How cool do you have to be to only carry one business card at a time and never in a card holder?

I'm supposed to be writing my first essay for Engl Comp 2 on Toni Cade Bambara's short story, "The Lesson". It's supposed to be a thematic analysis based around the general theme of innocence vs experience. The idea is that we somehow relate this to the idea of economic disparity between the population that lived in teh projects of the Bronx vs the Manhattenites in the late 60's. Also the theme needs to relate to the notion that education can be a bridge to cross that casm dividing the haves from the have-nots.


But what I really want to write about is the sub-theme of delusional satisfaction vs reality dissatisfaction. I want to analyze the very substance of how humans are wont to shoot the messenger, especially when said messenger is the one that throws a monkey wrench in what is otherwise our blissful denial of what is seriously dysfunctional in our lives. The lynching of the wool puller, so to speak. I think that would be a far more relevant analysis.

But I know this professor well enough to know that if I vary too far from what he is looking for he won't even give me a fair evaluation, so I guess, for this one time, I will play by the rules, however distasteful that may be...sigh...

Tired, Tired, Tired

I'm so tired! I have to take these student success seminars for an extra 10 points toward my econ class...so the first one was time management. We had to do this exercise where we calculate the amount of time we spend on each of our daily tasks to determine how much time we have to study. According to what I proposed, I wanted to study approx 14 to 15 hours per week. All things accounted for, I have approx 17 hours avail. That means that sleep and everything else accounted for, if I put in my proposed hours of study each week, I end up with 2 hours of free time - total...ugh!

The up side of being this busy and tired all the time is that I hardly notice that my bff has abandoned me for some as of yet unknown infraction on my part, nor do I have time to think about my situation with the house, nor do I have the time to experience empty nest syndrome. Which is all a good thing, cuz mostly I'm just sad about my work situation...apparently I am a little too "me" for some of the clientele. Once again, it is up to me to adjust to make everyone comfortable...Someday, when I win the lottery, or marry an uber rich man on his way to his funeral, or some such other extremely feasible means of becoming independently wealthy, I am soooo not going to miss all this petty BS!

New Year, New Decade, New Outlook

So 2010 is looking an awful lot like 2009. And let's all agree that 2009 was just awful!

So what can be done about it?

I wake up every day and think to myself...self, this is the day we are going to be wowed by humanity and our faith will be restored! And sadly, every night I put my head on the pillow and pray, "Please God, let me say good bye to today and may tomorrow be better."

Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't experience blessings every day. Some small, some subtle, some may go unnoticed and for that I am truly sorry.

But really, folks...How much yuck is one person supposed to take?

Well, at least now I am back in school. That should keep me busy enough to keep my mind off of the rest of the yuck.

Soon I will be moving out of my home...and I still haven't decided what to do about that. I have options, which is a blessing many folks don't have. And I am very appreciative of that, even if I don't always express that.

I suppose I need to get around to finishing up the packing. I've been cracking at it a little at a time. I suppose the procrastination is my way of avoiding the inevitable. I know it won't work, but hey, I'm human.

Well, it's late and I have an early morning meeting.

I leave with this prayer:

Dear Heavenly Father, please look after my children. Guide their actions and decisions along a path that will find them safe and protect them with Your Holy Spirit. Give them the strength to face the challenges of each new day. Help them to see Your ways. Protect my friends and family and co-workers. Give peace to those who are troubled. Heal those that are sick. And may we all delight in your will and walk in your ways. Amen