on nerdcamp. on randomness. on eating veggie. 15 June 2008

I love nerd camp.
Nowhere else do I get to see 330 kids do Japanese Taiso on MU’s quad in the morning, teach a class and watch students get excited about writing / designing the MSA newspaper, hold a discussion on facebook and philanthropy (learning some cool new websites for myself in the process), see a steel drum band (did you know they originated in Trinidad and Tobago?), sit in a master class with Missouri’s Poet Laureate, all in one day.

It’s the happiest place on earth, but I’m also exhausted. You may have noticed I haven’t written in two weeks. The days here are so long, and yet the weeks fly by so fast.

 

So I’ve had a lot on my mind in the last two weeks (obviously. I’m working at a camp made of, by, and for gifted people…)

One theme that keeps popping up in my life is randomness. Mainly the complete randomness of friendship, and the random appearance of inspiration. Some examples:

1) Amanda and I went to a “The Network” event a few weeks ago, and sampled wine with other young professionals. I giggle at that term, “young professional”, though I suppose it applies. I am young. I am employed. I am trying my best to be successful and involved in the community. I own more than one pair of The Editor pants.
Anyway, we’re having a grand old time sampling wine and pretending to be grown up, and I start thinking about how strange it is that we came to be friends. We didn’t live in the same dorm freshman year, but we started to know each other because we both chose to take tap-dancing as our 1 hour activity credit. (Yes, destined to be BFFs.) We were acquaintances freshman year thanks to that, and then randomly ran into each other at the pre-class BBQ sophomore year. We sat with some friends and watched the fireworks (Drury! Nostalgia!) and then decided to meet for lunch the next day…and we met for lunch ever after.

2) I was apartment hunting in between meetings one day, walking near the square, and this cute little family stops me saying, “are you from the area?” and asks how to get to the nearest Braums. I point them in the right direction. Later that same night, I’m walking back to my car after A Midsummer Night’s Dream, feeling all warm and happy, and this car-ful of girls calls out to me, over the blasting Rihanna, “do you know how to get to Icon?” Why yes, yes I do. I’m cooler than I seem. Let me point you in the right direction.
Neither of these moments really had all that much significance, I realize, but I tend to pull significance out of the smallest corners of the day. It just made me really happy to imagine being a citizen of downtown, and knowing it’s my neighborhood. Let me show you around.

3) Finally, one night I was running to Dillon’s for some late-night grocery essentials, around 9:00, and I happened to overhear a conversation taking place near the display patio furniture. Some employees were taking their smoke break, and one of them was telling a story: “My son got the strangest voicemail the other day. Got it traced, and the number was in the Marshall Islands. All it is, is this foreign guy saying LIFE! LIFE! LIFE!”

The randomness of life is so beautiful. Every day 10,000 poems go unnoticed.

 

Ok so next. Love. Oh, if this isn’t on my mind at MSA and anyplace else… I really am working on curbing the obsession, and I’m making good progress. I didn’t read too much into the fact that the short films I liked the most at The Animation Show were the ones about awkward love. But seriously, watch this one.  (um…don’t watch it at work!)

In trying to think less about love, I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot. I’d like to think that it’s in a more healthy way. In observing how my mind works, hopefully I can figure out what isn’t working, and fix it before I get anywhere near a relationship again.
For instance, I had a little epiphany at the eye doctor last week. Will reserve any metaphors about “seeing clearly” and what not. But I’ve been thinking lately (partly thanks to Eckhart Tolle, partly thanks to various hit-and-miss boy situations, partly thanks to MSA and all the amazing people it brings my way) that I could be “in love” with everyone. Now I don’t mean that literally, of course. What I mean is the intense interest, the heart-pounding excitement at life I can feel while talking to someone, should not be reserved for those I’m “in luv” with…this is a big lesson to learn: that connections with ALL people can be valuable, because all people are valuable. And we are all connected. Knowing this also makes those near-misses easier. I don’t need just ONE person to fulfill my need for relationship. (well, some good old fashioned monogamy and all that goes with it is what I ultimately want…hear that, universe?) But there’s something about community. Something about being open to sharing life with everyone I meet. Being open to recognize the LIFE that is within them.

Hm.

 

Ok one more thing. Decided the day before I left, over a delicious turkey sandwich at the Mudhouse, that I was going to try to eat vegetarian at MSA. At least one meal each day, if not entirely. I tried it for a week at MSA 06, after watching Supersize Me and reading Fast Food Nation at the same time. I love the IDEA of being vegetarian, for the health benefits, ecological consequences, animal right issues, all of it. I also think the structure of cafeteria food, though its selection may not be the best, is at least outside my routine, and so this is a good time to attempt something new. It’s actually been going really well. I think I’ve only caved TWICE this week. One chicken sandwich, and maybe some fish here and there. I’m not letting myself become smug, and I’m trying to not make too big a spectacle of it…though I am pretty excited. I’m falling in love with tofu. I’m all about hummus. I’m digging the leafy greens.

Things worth getting excited about 1 June 2008

1)  It’s summer dishes time again!  My favorite aisles at Target and Wal-Mart are filled with colorful plastic kitchenware…all for 1.99 or less.

2)  Foxboro Hottubs:  Green Day does 60s rock = my new summer soundtrack.

3)  Good friends who love nerdy board games.  Favorites:  Apples to Apples, Quiddler, Settlers of Catan, any and all trivial pursuit…

4)  It’s summer movie season.  Batman will be here before you know it.

5)  New Mountain Dew flavors! Glory be!

6)  David Sedaris has a new book, y’all: When You Are Engulfed in Flames

7)  In just one week I will be hanging out with 330 of Missouri’s smartest kids, working with the most positive, creative staff in the world. 

8 )  Ira Glass in St. Louis in September…though fall is really to far away to even imagine right now.

It’s all good.

I’m kind of in love 13 May 2008

Now don’t get any ideas, dear reader.  It is springtime in Springtown, and what with all the green grass and bunnies hopping and clear nights fit for strolling, a single girl’s in extreme danger of getting a little antsy.  But the love I’m talking about has nothing to do with a boy, and everything to do with just hanging out with me, and some totally amazing excellent discoveries.

 

1)  Park Central Library

I had some time to kill between meetings downtown last week, so I decided to kill it in the new downtown library. And I’m totally in love.  I can’t wait for the semester to end so I can spend some quality time with my computer and my Italy guidebooks and feel 10x cooler than I am while doing it.  (It’s that kind of place.)

I’m reminded, of course, of my first love:  Christian County Library in Ozark.  When I was pre-kindergarten-ish, mom would take me to story time in the kids section. 

This is where I memorized Old Hat New Hat before I was old enough to read. 

This is where I had my first experience at laughing out loud at a book, some book of poetry about vegetables…I don’t even remember the title, but I remember how excited I was to discover I could take it home.

This is the first place I put together “books” and “magical”, and somehow between the huge paper mache dinosaur, and the friendly little old ladies, and the story-themed costume parties, it stuck.

I’m still kind of in love with libraries.  I love holding a book from the Drury library that hasn’t been stamped checked out in eight years. 
Twenty years.

It’s just been waiting, all this time, for me. 

 

2)  RadioLab

I think I might just have a new favorite podcast.  It’s funny, smart, interesting, tells a good story, teaches good facts.  (Shoot. If it gave good hugs and looked good in shorts I’d ask it to marry me.)

RadioLab from WNYC is the perfect blend of nerdiness and “woah cool!” facts and humor and human connection.  Seriously. Stop reading and go to iTunes and download one.  I started with “Stress” and moved next to “Laughter”.

(A highlight:  female baboons prefer “Alan Alda” to “Schwarzenegger” males. “When it comes to evolution, nice guys do not finish last.”  Oh this makes no sense, you say?  Trust me.)

Of course I’m reminded of my first love:  This American Life.  It all started when I would listen to these while I did dishes in my apartment last year.  I’d heard good things and caught bits of episodes here and there, but it wasn’t until I stopped to really appreciate it by myself, for myself, that I discovered I was kind of in love with it.  Watching Ira Glass live a couple of weeks ago only made the heart grow fonder.  Hearing him say that at least 50% of his creative process is just trying to come up with good ideas, and that it took him a long time to get good at what he does.  It gives me hope. And it all has a lot to do with #3.

 

3) Stories

This one is not as easy to articulate, but I’ll try.  I’m fascinated by people’s stories, how stories are how we define ourselves, how life and relationships gain deeper meaning through them.

I often (and this is where it gets weird, stick with me) get caught up in the stories of strangers.  It’s why I love a good true story on TV, am drawn to nonfiction writing, and often find myself inspired after trips to Wal-Mart… 

There’s a middle-aged, fatherly man running the speedy checkout one Sunday night.  As I walk up he looks lonely, tired.  I strike up conversation, nothing terribly meaningful, just that my one item is possibly my smallest purchase ever.  And as I walk away I smile and so does he.

What’s weird is part of me really wants to know why he is lonely and tired.  Part of my heart wants to help him.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately that stories are a way to help. 

People who are lonely, depressed, overwhelmed, often just need to feel heard and understood.

Nonprofit organizations need money, there are plenty of people in this town with money to give, but the link has to be more than a vague “cause”, no matter how important the cause may be.  The cause has to be about people, the story of the real man who battles mental illness and can’t hold down a job, the real kid whose life is forever changed by seeing Peter Pan on stage for the first time.

Real connections that remind us we’re all in this together.
Hm. I could think about this for two hours. So I’ll stop now.

…

So let’s not kid ourselves here, all this talk about being in love is bound to make a girl think about being in love, especially with the amount of Michael Buble and Cole Porter I’ve been taking in lately.

I’m trying my hardest to live what I believe to be true:  that what matters is that I’m in love with life, that I’m enjoying things exactly as they are right now, and if I can handle that, then eventually I’m going to bump into the guy who is kind of in love with the same things I am.

Or I won’t.  And that’s the thing, right? I’m supposed to be okay either way…I think I can do that, but sometimes I worry I’ve seen too many Meg Ryan movies, and I won’t be okay until Billy Crystal runs to me on New Year’s Eve and makes me cry through affectionately recalling inside jokes.

Rejection. 29 April 2008

So…remember a few weeks ago I said a new “big goal” was to submit to the online nonfiction journal BREVITY before the end of May?  Well I did it!  The deadline for submissions before summer was actually April 15…cheeky magazine and your clever deadlines…I got it in on time, and then waited patiently.  Just yesterday I got a response via e-mail.  These folks are an electronic journal and they don’t mess around. You submit via email, they respond via email.  Subject line:   “re: submission”.

 

Dear Ms. Jenkins,

Thank you very much for your recent submission to BREVITY.  We are shocked (though pleased, as well) by the number and quality of submissions we are receiving these days, and the calls are becoming more, and more difficult.

I am sorry to say that we will not be able to use your essay, but we appreciate your sending it for our consideration.

Good luck with your writing.

Rachael Peckham
Managing Editor

 

And there you have it.  My first rejection from a “real” literary magazine.  And I couldn’t be more thrilled. (Could be slightly more thrilled, of course.  But rejection is good.  Makes you grow, yadda yadda. Right?)  And still I’m glad that I followed through and gave it a try.  I’m inspired to keep on trying.  Just today I discovered SMITH magazine.  Six-word memoirs. Are you kidding me?! I’m in love.

And besides…maybe I don’t want to be published in a journal that adds unnecessary commas to common phrases like “more and more”.  (Ok I admit that was petty. But I was rejected.  Let me be a little bitter.)

 

BLOGUMBO 28 April 2008

I thought of this title a while ago, and you know I’ve been excited to use it ever since.

I feel like my entries lately are quite sundry and varied, like my thoughts. I don’t post very often, but I do collect snippets on sticky notes and envelopes, e-mails to myself, just waiting for the day I put it together. Like today. 

So here we go.

BLOGUMBO. You know, like the soup.

 

FIRST a movie:

Saw Baby Mama with one of my bffs last night.  I can now confirm what many people have no doubt suspected for quite some time:  I would go gay for Tina Fey.  OR at the very least (as she is married with a baby, after all, and I am pretty sure I still like boys) wish very deeply that she was my older, hilarious mentor / friend.  I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself so much in a movie in a long time, just because I’m like the little kid who dresses up like Spiderman over it.  She’s so great! I literally want to be her. And let’s not even talk about the cute outfits and having Greg Kinnear as your late-thirties love interest.  It does NOT get better.

 

Lately I find myself loving when old things feel new again:

• Driving to The Wallflowers with the windows down (try not to sing.  you can’t.)
• Catching a rerun of Wayne’s World on a Sunday afternoon
• Running into high school friends I haven’t seen in—oh god—six years
• Seeing little dressed up prom kids downtown last weekend…

 

Other random thoughts:

• I really can’t wait for the sex and the city movie.
• I am falling back in love with Cole Porter songs.
• There may be nothing cuter than making a cat listen to an iPod.

 

AND I’m running again!

I’m discovering I get tired of some songs on my iPod, but arcade fire and ben folds can sing to me any day.  My unspoken goal for myself was to feel comfortable in some nike outlet shorts, which I bought way back in December, by May 1.  Well I tried ‘em out over the weekend, and I’m only slightly self-conscious over the shorty shortness. 

As I’m walking home, I get a little nod from a creepy dude with his window rolled down, and for once I am not offended. Thanks guy with the afro driving the old Honda!  And you’re welcome.

 

AND finally a moment of opinion:

A couple weeks ago Colbert and John Stewart both made a lot of to-do over the absurdity of the media asking, “is Obama an elitist?”, and I agree. I WANT a president who thinks he’s better than me.  Please. Know more about foreign policy than I do. It’d be a welcome change. Har har har.

I have been accused myself—only a handful of times, I assure you—of being smug (mostly by opponents during trivia games when I get particularly carried away) or just the teensiest bit pretentious about my book/music/movie taste…and I do place high value on being humble and grateful, but I also value being intellectual, and am always trying to improve myself.

Well, I feel a little more justified after I read an article from NY Times about women and booksnobbery. (okay okay before I sound too pretentious, I have to admit that I linked to this article from stuff white people like, which I suppose is in its own way pretentious—oh we’re so funny and ironic! Link to us and buy our book at urban outfitters! (there’s not a book, but there will be. Learned it on wordpress. Again, listen to me and my obscure facts.)  BUT I still love it. and wish I’d thought of it first. So there.)  I guess I’ve been in the university system so long that I take it for granted that people want to be smart and learn and improve.  But I also know it’s not true.  I heard some statistic that 80% of Americans didn’t read a book last year.  I don’t think I’m an intellectual elitist for thinking that’s effing insane, but maybe I am.  And so be it.  

It is kind of deal-breaker. I’m not saying I wouldn’t date a guy if he didn’t read, but I’m sorry, if your facebook wall doesn’t list favorite books I’m going to get a little nervous.  If the ratio of books-read to Judd-Apatow-movies-watched in the last year is skewed in the wrong direction, I will think twice. 

No, I guess I am saying I wouldn’t date a guy who doesn’t read.  I was an English major. I want to be a writer.  Books are kind of what I do.

Not that it matters.  There are no boys who would’ve read this far by now anyway.  Good one.

In honor of tax day…a trip down memory lane 15 April 2008

For the last few weeks, whenever I’d think about doing my taxes (and don’t worry, they’re filed. I’m not a criminal) a vivid memory of a scene from Full House would come to mind.
(Something’s not right in my brain. I often can’t remember what I did the day before yesterday, but I can produce mental transcripts of TV shows I watched 15 years ago.) Disturbingly nerdy. But it amuses me, so I will share it. And hope it amuses you.

Scene: Joey and Michelle are chatting. Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky have just gotten married. (That episode I don’t remember, but I bet someone said “have mercy…”) Michelle is distressed because she can’t get Uncle Jesse or Aunt Becky to answer the door to their attic apartment. Hubba hubba.

Michelle: What are they DOING up there?
Joey: Well, Michelle, they’re doing their taxes.
Michelle: Are they going to be doing their taxeees every NIGHT?
Joey: For the first couple of months…

And scene!

Drove by the post office on Chestnut today, and saw an interesting real-life tax day scene as well. There’s a handful of fair-tax supporters holding up signs painted on sheets and poster board. Their signs say things like The IRS is a fraud and honk to end war. Just a few feet away, there’s one soldier in full camo, holding his own sign that says Thank you. That money supports soldiers like me.
Hm.
That gave my little mind something to chew on. Would there be a better juxtaposition than that? I wonder if any tv stations got that on camera. What an illustration of what I was feeling when crunching the numbers on my too-confusing 1040. (I was also feeling curiosity about what happens next. Who keeps track of all this? The process and organization is mind-boggling. Whose job is it to open my envelope, double-check my W-2s? It’s bizarre, but I really want to know who it is. Is that all they do all day? How does the IRS work? Essentially, I want Mr. Rogers to send the magic trolley to the IRS and show me. I trust when he shows me how crayons are made. (but are taxes much like hot dogs? would it be better not to know?)) Okay but back to what I was feeling. A mixture of love for America and mistrust for America’s leadership.

Love and mistrust. I could write a book.

On a slightly related note, I looked at my Yahoo horoscope today, hoping it might have something insightful to say about tax day. It was this: It’s a good day for you to separate the good people in your life from the bad ones.
Oh yahoo…if only it was that simple…

Week in Review 9 April 2008

There Will Be Blood
Last week I finally gave in to the peer pressure. Everyone else was doing it…so I gave blood. (is there anything I won’t do for free a tshirt?)

Giggled to myself at the top-secret questionnaire: “have you ever come into contact with someone else’s blood?” (good lord!) I sign a waiver that says, among other things, that I agree to “invasive procedures” to get my blood.

As I sit in the blue lawn chair, arm swabbed up and waiting, I’m more nervous than before I went skydiving. I think it’s because I know what needles feel like, and I’d never jumped out of a plane.
They’re listening to KGBX, and I know I’ll never think of “If you like pina coladas…”, “love lift us up where we belong…” or “I can only imagine…” the same way again.

It wasn’t so bad, after all–though I did have to put my feet up twice from a warm, near-pass-out feeling. I got a heroic hot pink pressure wrap and free tshirt. And all I lost was a pint–about 1/10 of my blood. 8 more weeks and i just might do it again.

Rockin the Suburbs
Last week I saw Ben Folds. Super sexy.
I can’t get enough of the rock-out piano and the lunging in the tan pants with the grey tshirt and the too-big glasses and the pitch-perfect singing and the nerdy jokes and the maracas and the leading us like a choir and the encore and the loudness and the dancing like a white girl.
Too much fun.

Opening guy: Eef Barzelay (god bless you) wears the all-white suit and does the squat-and-jump with his guitar, and is entertaining and has the clever lines, but I feel too ill-equipped in music assessment to actually rate him. (especially after reading Lester Bangs’ “Astral Weeks” for class. That’s music writing.) Too excited to be objective. He dedicates a song to all the ladies, we enjoy that. He says that the Mormons think that Eden was in Missouri. I say to Jill “I wonder if he says that to all the states…”

We were in row D. As in DAMN! (only said like my RAs sometimes say it…daaaayum!) Looked back at one point, when all were singing bitches ain’t shit, and there were SO MANY PEOPLE behind us.

He sang (almost) all my favorites, except Song for the Dumped and Luckiest—which are my earliest and most vivid ben folds memories. So…maybe it’s for the best.
First memory: went to smart camp for gifted junior high kids. The weekend field trip to Silver Dollar City. Singing “Give me my money back” on the bus back from branson…over and over and over. This was in 8th grade (ten years ago!).
Most vivid: hearing “The Luckiest” for first time, in my car on the way to see freshman boyfriend. It was on a CD a boy (this one just a friend) had given me to expand my musical horizons. (Freshman me knew she loved Dave Matthews, but not too much else.) Today it can still make me cry. So simple and beautiful and sad.
But let’s not worry about what didn’t happen.

Could feel the noise in my chest. Couldn’t stop smiling at the piano skills. Bought a tshirt. All is right with the world.

That’s Amore
Last week I for-real committed to going to Italy in July. I will turn 25 in Venice.
Looking at my old passport photo–she looks so tiny. I can’t believe they let her go to India. I can’t believe they let her go on dates.

I am excited that my trip to Italy gives me another BIG ASSIGNMENT: learn basic Italian phrases, watch Roman Holiday, listen to Dean Martin. Eat lots of pasta and drink lots of wine. My kind of assignment.

one more thing
ps—did you see the April 08 Vanity Fair?

“It might as well be Spring” 1 April 2008

To make up for an extended Spring Blog Break, here’s a little montage of all things spring that have been making me smile lately. I hope they do the same for you.

You know it’s springtime at Drury when…
…Boys start playing volleyball in the sand court between Wallace and Smith, putting their board shorts and athleticism on display
…Dogwood trees are in bloom, so Drury Lane smells oddly like fish sticks

It’s medieval jousting time in the park on National and Sunset. Someday I want to do more than drive by and laugh. I have a feeling this is an experience not to be missed.

Deaf actress Marlee Matlin is on the newest season of Dancing With The Stars. I don’t even watch the show, but I caught her on Ellen, and this story is make-me-cry inspiring (well, as are many stories, I admit). She can’t hear the music, but she can still dance. Love it.

Went to a bridal shower last weekend. Maybe I was feeling particularly schmaltzy (well, when am I not…), maybe this was a particularly special bride-to-be, but I was struck by the power of love and family and friendship and connection and memories. It’s enough to make a girl feel a little warm inside, even a girl who’s usually pretty bitter come bridal shower time.
But I also can’t help but conjure the Sex and The City episode where Carrie wants to have a single-shower. (just looked it up, it’s season 6, episode 83, “a woman’s right to shoes”) Yeah, I’ll admit I’m a little jealous when I stop to think of all the brand-new kitchen gadgets that I await me, and society deems perfectly appropriate for my friends and family to buy for me, IFF I commit to a legally-binding long-term relationship with a man…

I love the first flip-flop friendly days, and allowing my toes out of hibernation

I’m a sucker for new tank tops in a variety of bright colors and sassy patterns, and will pay Express way too much to let me have them

Easter: Yes I enjoy the redemption and family togetherness, but my favorite part has to be putting peeps in the microwave. Did you know if you stick toothpicks in them beforehand you can make them joust?

Another Easter highlight: the candy. Starburst jellybeans, Cadbury, old-school marshmallow eggs in Styrofoam cartons. Does it get any better?

One more: Saw a little girl at Target, sitting in her mom’s cart, pointing up at an Easter ad: “look at the chickie! He’s got a mag-a-nifying glass!” Adorable!

On a recent Sunday run I crossed paths with a family: mom in sunglasses, dad in baseball hat, baby in stroller, dog on leash, cat trailing lazily behind, out on a midtown spring walk.

And finally, a random musical moment, featuring Momma Partridge in younger days. Taken out of context it’s really amusing. Note the tuxedo-wearing fellows.

What a difference a [nice] day makes 12 March 2008

Flipped back through my purse composition book tonight, and found an entry I’d forgotten about from a couple weeks ago. Managed to have a brief Moment of Zen at Jimmy John’s (yeah, I know). Among all the cheeky tin posters that say things like “your mom wants a sandwich” there was one that actually made me stop and think:

If you do the things you need to do when you need to do them, then someday you can do the things you want to do when you want to do them.

Now if that ain’t my mantra. I scribbled this afterwards: “lesson of early 20s (and, oh god, MID-20s): paying dues, patience with less glamorous portions of adult life, storing away acorns hoping someday it will be spring.”

Lately I feel like I’ve been storing a lot of acorns. I know I’ve also had a lot of unbelievably fun times this year, too.
(Is it possible to be both the ant and the grasshopper?)

At any rate, I think that someday might be on its way, because today felt like SPRING.

Ran some errands across campus, and felt like I was living a commercial for Drury, stopping to say hi to everyone I knew, always saying something like “isn’t it a beautiful day!” Everywhere you look: flip-flops. Outside my building, barefoot boys practicing their rock climbing on ropes between trees. I don’t know what this process is called exactly, though I know carabineers and flailing are involved.

Tonight stopped at Starbucks after a visit with a friend (who is also a reader…first blog shout out!), to discover a new collection of spring-themed mugs and a brand-new frappuccino flavor: honey. Walking back to my car I’m still comfortable in short sleeves. All these new spring developments make me feel hopeful.

And next week I’m off for Spring Break in sunny…Minneapolis.

Stop and think 12 March 2008

Wow.
I’m not even sure how to put this post together.

Came home around 11:00 p.m., after another almost 12-hour workday. (I’m blessed to have a job that offers me flexible hours, free tuition, 2 months off in the summer, unique experiences, fun people, etc. BUT when things are busy, things are BUSY.) I still have some homework to do, still owe a handful of people phone calls, but am too drained. I hop on the internet to check e-mail one last time. There’s one from an old Missouri Scholars Academy friend, sent to next year’s staff, sharing a Chronicle article on the busy lives of modern students. It garnered a few interesting responses today, so I decided to read it.

Here’s the title: Dwelling in Possibilities: Our students’ spectacular hunger for life makes them radically vulnerable
by Mark Edmunson

“Dwell in Possibility”…sound familiar?
(I live for this sort of coincidence and connection, so I’m in. Do your worst, article. I’m listening.)

(PS–I didn’t notice the author’s name until I got to the end, and realized that Mark Edmunson wrote one of the best books I read last year, Why Read?)

The article’s not a short blip. It forces you to stop and think. But that’s the point.

He profiles a typical student of this generation (I’ll include myself in it, though I’m 2 years out…): Always plugged in, always seeking multiple options. He calls us “enemies of closure”, something that—for better or worse—describes me.

“My students are possibility junkies,” he says. Ever-present technology in our lives keeps us from ever being fully present. We’re 8 places at once on the internet. We’re creating our own individual soundtrack with our iPods. We’re texting someone who’s in the next room. Sending a facebook message to someone 500 miles away.

He compares us to Lord Byron (a figure I remember from my senior honors research, described by many as manic-depressive), saying Byron would love this generation’s “fast travel, fast communication, fast relationships”.
(interesting sidenote: “Byron claimed to compose best on horseback”… and I’ve known for years I sometimes get my best ideas when driving. Comparing myself with mad genius? Maybe a little.)

Funny, this entry has started to feel like an assignment—in the best possible way. This is the kind of thought I miss. The kind I often don’t have time for.

Hm. I don’t know if I made any of the points I meant to. It’s after midnight. I’m too tired to edit.

(But I feel like something is telling me to slow down.)

“Society has a great span of resources to assist someone in doing what he’s not cut out for yet still must be done.[...]But life is more than spontaneity and whim. To live well, we must sometimes stop and think, and then try to remake the work in progress that we currently are.”