Dreamslayer. Hopebreaker. Wishcrusher. Funsucker.
Why can’t Hollywood make a decent kids’ movie? It’s not like the plots of these books are difficult. But they are nuanced, and heaven forbid we make a gosh darn nuanced movie. I mean, why would we want girls that can fight alongside boys without the boys first conquering the girls in battle? Why would we want mythology and horror and excitement and LOGIC presented with any sort of seriousness? Why would we want, oh I don’t know, PLOT. That’s just silly.
Clearly all we need is shiny.
First there was The Golden Compass. I mean, whoever thought those books would get made into movies was a bloomin’ idiot; that was the sort of tremendously bad idea that leads to eating forbidden fruit and opening boxes. I love those books, absolutely adore them, but there is NO WAY mainstream America is going to let their kids watch anything approaching a truthful adaptation. A father kills his child’s best friend? God dissolves into dust? I don’t care how good the story, those books make Harry Potter look like Winnie the Pooh.
(Speaking of which, who gets angry over WITCHCRAFT anymore? Seriously?! Witchcraft? You’re gonna protest books because of WITCHCRAFT? Like, go burn somebody at the stake already so we have a reason to get you off the streets.)
But speaking of HP we should mention Harry Potter 6. Why did they change the end? Why mess with that? Let’s have a history lesson shall we? Once upon a time, in a cartoon studio that suffered bankruptcy, they tried to change LOTR into something less complex. It failed. Miserably. Nobody loved them. All of their friends left them. They died lonely and ignored. Perhaps, in a story as tightly crafted as the Harry Potter series, those making the movies should take note.
And let’s not forget City of Ember or Inkheart or Stardust. Now, some of these I really love (Stardust) and some of these were okay (Inkheart) but they could have been SO much better if just a little more time had been taken; a little more attention to detail was all that was needed to turn an acceptable movie into something really fantastic.
Is it so hard to make The Princess Bride? Why? Because true love is a storyline that nobody believes in anymore? Screw ‘em. True love is a glorious storyline and we should believe in it; we should believe in it because if it isn’t possible (I’m not talking Nora Ephron possible here but suffering, fighting, questing and finding the sort of happiness in sharing that load with another human being that makes it all bearable) then life is not only pain but ugly and worthless too.
What about The Goonies? Kids can’t handle scary villains like the Fratelli’s or skeletons or near death? Maybe that’s because we don’t ever allow them the beauty of real fear in the safety of film and books. Stories offer us the chance to experience and deal with things in a safe environment; when we deny children genuine stories with real terror (I’m not talking Wes Craven I’m talking villains that are actually scary) their imaginations cease to be engaged. Nobody wants to be pandered to. Nobody wants to be played with. You want a story that moves you, speaks to you, entertains you. That doesn’t happen when the director or the author chooses to make it “less intense.” All that does is make it boring.
The Princess Bride is smart and unapologetic. You don’t give up on true love because it’s hard. You don’t give up on being a good person because it’s hard. You suck it up and do it. The Goonies is exciting and terrifying. Not as terrifying as, say, The Dark Crystal, but I’ve never been able to enjoy the actress that played Mama Fratelli in anything else because she was so petrifying in that role to my young mind. I was intrigued by the thrill of adventure--never mind the beauty of Sloth turning out to be a good guy.
These movies have morals. They have meaning. They don’t prance around what might be right and wrong they just tell you. And not in some Jimmy Falwell “you’re all going to hell” sort of way, but THIS is a hero being heroic. THIS is a villain being evil. THIS is what an adventure could be. You can’t tone down adventure or heroism or excitement. You can’t simplify a plot or characters or the world. The kids that are reading these books have imagination and the movies should be sparking that imagination, not stymieing it. Why are we so afraid of telling seriously good stories in kids’ movies? When did parents become so afraid of their children watching something that makes them think, dream, or hope that all of our major media had to be neutered? When is Steve Spielburg going to make another blockbuster and show everybody else how it’s done?
I’m just...I’m just fed up. The new Transformers movies suck. G.I. Joe sucked. TMNT sucked. The Golden Compass sucked. The Harry Potter’s are hit and miss. I want movies that thrill and entertain and enliven. I don’t want stupid movies that assume a stupid audience and butcher good stories because the people making the movies don’t understand how storytelling works.
Our division of text into “high culture” serious Oscar films and “low” culture everything that’s actually fun means that nobody pays attention to storytelling anymore. The art of entertainment has given way to “good enough.” That’s a travesty that has finally prompted me to say something.
I want my dreams back. I want the ability to walk out of a theater without saying “it was good enough” back. I want someone to tell a good story instead of saying “well it’s just a [fill in the genre] movie.” I want people to accept the fact that it’s hard; do the task they set out to do, and to not compromise on the quality of their actions just because they won’t get awarded for success.
This is what happens when dreams die people. The vacuum of imagination allows things like Texas’ hostile take-over of education to happen.
When you stop imagining how things could be, you never question what they are.
* The above rant was fueled by watching Percy Jackson and the Olympians, walking out saying “it was good enough” then reading the first book and realizing what an awesomely engaging story it actually is.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Seriously Texas. Just Go Away.
I can’t....I can’t formulate cohesive thoughts through my anger. It’s like No Child Left Behind all over again. There is so much (SO MUCH) to be upset about in this article. The Texas School Board might ratify changes to textbooks in May that offset the “bias” of academia.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/ynews_ts1253
My favorite, the one that really shows the ridiculousness of what’s happening here is the recommendation to include country and western music among the nation’s cultural movements, but to drop hip-hop. Because clearly hip-hop isn’t American.
And it’s this blindness, this willful stupidity that has me nearly spitting with rage. Because apparently if you don’t like something and don’t understand its value from an aesthetic standpoint, it serves no purpose to anyone else. I love education that never tries to imagine the existence of anyone different from the one teaching.
Another gem is the decision to remove Thomas Jefferson as an influence on the nation’s intellectual origins. Instead they want to focus on Thomas Aquinas and John Calvin. Because clearly, Calvinism directly fed into the construction of our Constitution. Who needs Jefferson and his Declaration of Independence anyway?
I mean, what is there to be upset about? Why would we want to educate our students to question their surroundings, their information, and their own thoughts? Why would we want to raise a populous that considers the consequences of one‘s actions, good and bad? Why would we want to raise a critically aware, ethical, educated populous? That’s just silly talk! Let’s just hate everyone that’s different. It’s so much easier.
I’m not saying textbooks don’t have problems; I’m not saying we shouldn’t constantly be reassessing our textbooks, their information, and possible neglect and/or “spin” that is harmfully effecting the education of students. We should be critical of our textbooks; we should revise our textbooks We should be as honest as possible about the plurality of belief in our country, the problems it causes, and why the U.S. was designed to house all of those conflicts.
But the irritation with a few (and I do believe it to be a fairly minor population who happens to be loud) consistently irritates me because these few manage to affect many. The problem with the possible school board revisions is that Texas provides 80% of the textbook market; this means that it isn’t simply a state decision (though that would be bad enough). And, theoretically school systems in other states could choose not to buy from the Texas publishers, but the reality of budgets and costs means that to shift publishers at this point would be nigh on impossible.
But let’s make sure to play up McCarthy’s noble fight against Communism because that damn liberal bias in academia dares to question the ethics of a man who destroyed multiple lives for very little purpose. This idea that you must be “tolerant” of intolerants, and that those who are unwilling to accept tyranny are tyrants drives me insane. I’m not saying there aren’t crazies all over the place, but I am saying that the crazies, no matter what they’re saying are crazy; crazy is its own party. The rest of us do the best we can and you cannot argue against an ideological move because some crazies share the same label.
My point here is we shouldn't attack the “liberal bias” in academia because there are some crazy liberals and we shouldn't attack “conservative” values because there are some crazy conservatives. That’s not what this rant is about.
This rant is about the refusal of some (in this case the Texas School Board) to accept the multiple, wonderful variants of beliefs in this world and specifically in this country. To attempt to destroy that plurality destroys democracy; yes country and western music is a very important cultural movement in America. So is hip-hop! Have them both!
Yes, much of our government was influenced by Christian thought, but much of it was designed to allow for non-Christian thought. You can’t ignore either of those sides. Nor does our beginning dictate our path; there were no other value options when things were being imagined, but there was enough fighting happening over “Christian” values (Catholics vs. Protestants vs. Puritans) that people realized we needed to allow for freedom of choice. You can’t cut Thomas Jefferson out because two hundred years later it’s too darned inconvenient to make room in the country for those you don’t like!
I believe, honestly, that some level of bias is always going to be present. I think anyone that claims otherwise is unaware of their bias. I also think the best way to combat this is to be honest as a teacher about your biases and place the emphasis on sharing ideas, not arguing. We need to present educational material to the best of our abilities as decided by those who have dedicated their lives to the study; that means historians, sociologists, etc, not the Texas School board, should be making these decisions.
We then need to educate our teachers to be critical thinkers who are aware of what they believe, why they believe, and willing to teach and encourage the students that agree and disagree with them. But how are we ever going to get self-aware teachers when we’re busy designing textbooks that offer “conventional wisdom” instead of a critical, and yes sometimes disturbing, picture of the world.
Heaven forbid education upset you. I’d just hate for someone to learn something.
I can’t....I can’t formulate cohesive thoughts through my anger. It’s like No Child Left Behind all over again. There is so much (SO MUCH) to be upset about in this article. The Texas School Board might ratify changes to textbooks in May that offset the “bias” of academia.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/ynews_ts1253
My favorite, the one that really shows the ridiculousness of what’s happening here is the recommendation to include country and western music among the nation’s cultural movements, but to drop hip-hop. Because clearly hip-hop isn’t American.
And it’s this blindness, this willful stupidity that has me nearly spitting with rage. Because apparently if you don’t like something and don’t understand its value from an aesthetic standpoint, it serves no purpose to anyone else. I love education that never tries to imagine the existence of anyone different from the one teaching.
Another gem is the decision to remove Thomas Jefferson as an influence on the nation’s intellectual origins. Instead they want to focus on Thomas Aquinas and John Calvin. Because clearly, Calvinism directly fed into the construction of our Constitution. Who needs Jefferson and his Declaration of Independence anyway?
I mean, what is there to be upset about? Why would we want to educate our students to question their surroundings, their information, and their own thoughts? Why would we want to raise a populous that considers the consequences of one‘s actions, good and bad? Why would we want to raise a critically aware, ethical, educated populous? That’s just silly talk! Let’s just hate everyone that’s different. It’s so much easier.
I’m not saying textbooks don’t have problems; I’m not saying we shouldn’t constantly be reassessing our textbooks, their information, and possible neglect and/or “spin” that is harmfully effecting the education of students. We should be critical of our textbooks; we should revise our textbooks We should be as honest as possible about the plurality of belief in our country, the problems it causes, and why the U.S. was designed to house all of those conflicts.
But the irritation with a few (and I do believe it to be a fairly minor population who happens to be loud) consistently irritates me because these few manage to affect many. The problem with the possible school board revisions is that Texas provides 80% of the textbook market; this means that it isn’t simply a state decision (though that would be bad enough). And, theoretically school systems in other states could choose not to buy from the Texas publishers, but the reality of budgets and costs means that to shift publishers at this point would be nigh on impossible.
But let’s make sure to play up McCarthy’s noble fight against Communism because that damn liberal bias in academia dares to question the ethics of a man who destroyed multiple lives for very little purpose. This idea that you must be “tolerant” of intolerants, and that those who are unwilling to accept tyranny are tyrants drives me insane. I’m not saying there aren’t crazies all over the place, but I am saying that the crazies, no matter what they’re saying are crazy; crazy is its own party. The rest of us do the best we can and you cannot argue against an ideological move because some crazies share the same label.
My point here is we shouldn't attack the “liberal bias” in academia because there are some crazy liberals and we shouldn't attack “conservative” values because there are some crazy conservatives. That’s not what this rant is about.
This rant is about the refusal of some (in this case the Texas School Board) to accept the multiple, wonderful variants of beliefs in this world and specifically in this country. To attempt to destroy that plurality destroys democracy; yes country and western music is a very important cultural movement in America. So is hip-hop! Have them both!
Yes, much of our government was influenced by Christian thought, but much of it was designed to allow for non-Christian thought. You can’t ignore either of those sides. Nor does our beginning dictate our path; there were no other value options when things were being imagined, but there was enough fighting happening over “Christian” values (Catholics vs. Protestants vs. Puritans) that people realized we needed to allow for freedom of choice. You can’t cut Thomas Jefferson out because two hundred years later it’s too darned inconvenient to make room in the country for those you don’t like!
I believe, honestly, that some level of bias is always going to be present. I think anyone that claims otherwise is unaware of their bias. I also think the best way to combat this is to be honest as a teacher about your biases and place the emphasis on sharing ideas, not arguing. We need to present educational material to the best of our abilities as decided by those who have dedicated their lives to the study; that means historians, sociologists, etc, not the Texas School board, should be making these decisions.
We then need to educate our teachers to be critical thinkers who are aware of what they believe, why they believe, and willing to teach and encourage the students that agree and disagree with them. But how are we ever going to get self-aware teachers when we’re busy designing textbooks that offer “conventional wisdom” instead of a critical, and yes sometimes disturbing, picture of the world.
Heaven forbid education upset you. I’d just hate for someone to learn something.
Friday, March 05, 2010
Dissertation Episode 2: Apocalypse Now
I dreamed a dream. And it was the apocalypse. Twice.
It was my witty, wise, and wiley roommate that said, “it’s probably from your dissertation!” I think she is right. Apparently, the stress of dissertating has produced “apocalypse” dreams in my head. I actually dream, and believe in the dream it is happening, about the apocalypse. The world is literally ending.
That is a highly unpleasant experience to feel.
The first dream took the form of a flood myth. I was strangely pleased with myself for imagining the end of the world in such classic terms: Gilgamesh, Plato, Popl Vuh, Genesis--all of these things contain a “flood story” and I thought to myself at least my apocalyptic endings have a literary history. The disturbing part of the dream was that it was a continuation. Prior to the night of actually dreaming the apocalypse I had dreamt that myself and friends were preparing for the apocalypse. We were gathering our necessities and had moved to a “safe” house; in the previous dreams it had been stressful to cut myself down to only a backpack’s worth of stuff, but I was able to keep things at the safe house and I wasn’t overly anxious about never seeing it again.
When the apocalypse dream hit, however, the most emotionally disturbing part of the dream manifested itself as I was holding my backpack in my hands, some clothes, some minor toiletries, and staring at my books thinking: you can only take two, maybe three books and these are the only books you can read for the rest of your life. You will never see any of this again. This moment was by far more emotionally disturbing than the twenty foot waves that pounded into the side of our safe house as we waited for the storm to abate long enough to move to higher ground. Oddly enough fear of death wasn’t nearly as bad as fear of no books. It was an admittedly materialistic moment, but what had me upset (honest to god) was only the loss of the books. I couldn’t imagine only reading two to three books for the rest of my life, and I was having a hell of a time picking them out quickly.
What two books did I pick? The Hobbit and The Bible. I was in mid-third choice when the dream ended, unable to make a decision. What were my rationale (this is really the better part)? I’ve never gotten sick of The Hobbit and there is a lot of story to read there. It’s more contained than The Lord of the Rings (which I considered picking, but the one volume is huge and the three volumes are too much though the final decision hadn’t been made) but was still a grandiose enough story to bear re-reading. After thinking about LOTR I realized I wanted the longest books I could find that were easy to transport--what was important was that I didn’t get sick of reading it over and over again. That was when I thought, The Bible. Easy to carry, obscenely long, and full of lots of smaller stories and poetry which provides variety amongst the reading (it was the variety of text that vaulted it above Atlas Shrugged). What was even more fun was that I became angry at myself in the dream for being “clichéd” but then decided it didn’t matter what others thought because a) it was the apocalypse and b) The Bible really does fit the limited-books-to-read-must-be-easy-to-carry category brilliantly.
I should go purchase a smaller one volume copy of LOTR, though, just in case. Preparedness is key.
One apocalypse dream (not just a nightmare, actual end of the world dream) would be enough for a month right? I would think it would be enough for a lifetime, but oh no--apparently apocalypse dreams are my new thing. Last night, therefore, I dreamed of the friggin’ zombie apocalypse.
I was in India (because clearly when experiencing the zombie apocalypse one would be in India) and fortunately everyone spoke English--that was handy. It was a disease situation that was passed through the bite, but could also be slightly airborne? I don’t know how a disease is slightly airborne, but I try not to question my subconscious too much. All of the healthy people left were loaded on tour buses and we were making a break for healthier countries (the disease hadn’t yet spread outside of India to our knowledge) but on the way to the tour bus a zombie lady is sitting in the front seat of my car. I, very casually, pull out the gun I bought earlier (with case and ammo for $27--even in the dream I thought that was a good deal) and shot her in the head. But, because I had such a weak gun, it didn’t kill her.
I quickly recocked (because it didn’t autoload?) and tried to shoot her again, but the gun jammed. At this point, the zombie lady was angry I shot her in the head and has gotten out of the car to chase me. My friends are beating her off with sticks, screaming at me to shoot her and I’m cursing at the gun trying to get it to work. Finally it’s ready to go and I proceed to unload an entire clip into her head. She finally goes down after that.
We make it to the buses and load up, but I’m in the very back, the last seat. We have stopped to turn onto another highway (it didn’t make sense, but it was a dream) and suddenly someone screams and points behind me. There, standing up was a strange man that hadn’t been on the bus before. Before I tell the next part of this story I would like to refer you to the zombie preparedness guide:
He looked disheveled, pale and disoriented and I was not about to see if he was craving my brains when someone else screams “Wait! We don’t know if he’s infected!”
I hold off on shoving him out of the bus, and he starts to talk but I keep thinking “this guy is totally mid-turn. He’s going to turn into a zombie and infect all of us. I am not going to be the person that dies because she was afraid to act.” So I hit the emergency release button that opens the exit doors behind this guy, the bus hits a bump and he flies out--dying as he hits the road. I had a brief moment of guilt in the dream because I hadn’t intended on him flying out of the bus, I was just getting the door ready in case I needed to shove him out of the bus, but I shrugged it off.
Then, same lady screams “You didn’t know if he was infected or not!” And this is the part of the dream that has left me feeling both disturbed and slightly ashamed of myself. I looked at her and very coldly said, “I wasn’t going to find out.”
So apparently, not only has my dissertation caused me to dream of the apocalypse, but it has turned me into a sociopath as well. It’s good to know my soul has, in fact, finally died.
In my defense I do think he was infected. Really.
On the plus side, if the apocalypse does hit I am going to be so prepared.
Perhaps this is a sign that I might be turning to the dark side?
I dreamed a dream. And it was the apocalypse. Twice.
It was my witty, wise, and wiley roommate that said, “it’s probably from your dissertation!” I think she is right. Apparently, the stress of dissertating has produced “apocalypse” dreams in my head. I actually dream, and believe in the dream it is happening, about the apocalypse. The world is literally ending.
That is a highly unpleasant experience to feel.
The first dream took the form of a flood myth. I was strangely pleased with myself for imagining the end of the world in such classic terms: Gilgamesh, Plato, Popl Vuh, Genesis--all of these things contain a “flood story” and I thought to myself at least my apocalyptic endings have a literary history. The disturbing part of the dream was that it was a continuation. Prior to the night of actually dreaming the apocalypse I had dreamt that myself and friends were preparing for the apocalypse. We were gathering our necessities and had moved to a “safe” house; in the previous dreams it had been stressful to cut myself down to only a backpack’s worth of stuff, but I was able to keep things at the safe house and I wasn’t overly anxious about never seeing it again.
When the apocalypse dream hit, however, the most emotionally disturbing part of the dream manifested itself as I was holding my backpack in my hands, some clothes, some minor toiletries, and staring at my books thinking: you can only take two, maybe three books and these are the only books you can read for the rest of your life. You will never see any of this again. This moment was by far more emotionally disturbing than the twenty foot waves that pounded into the side of our safe house as we waited for the storm to abate long enough to move to higher ground. Oddly enough fear of death wasn’t nearly as bad as fear of no books. It was an admittedly materialistic moment, but what had me upset (honest to god) was only the loss of the books. I couldn’t imagine only reading two to three books for the rest of my life, and I was having a hell of a time picking them out quickly.
What two books did I pick? The Hobbit and The Bible. I was in mid-third choice when the dream ended, unable to make a decision. What were my rationale (this is really the better part)? I’ve never gotten sick of The Hobbit and there is a lot of story to read there. It’s more contained than The Lord of the Rings (which I considered picking, but the one volume is huge and the three volumes are too much though the final decision hadn’t been made) but was still a grandiose enough story to bear re-reading. After thinking about LOTR I realized I wanted the longest books I could find that were easy to transport--what was important was that I didn’t get sick of reading it over and over again. That was when I thought, The Bible. Easy to carry, obscenely long, and full of lots of smaller stories and poetry which provides variety amongst the reading (it was the variety of text that vaulted it above Atlas Shrugged). What was even more fun was that I became angry at myself in the dream for being “clichéd” but then decided it didn’t matter what others thought because a) it was the apocalypse and b) The Bible really does fit the limited-books-to-read-must-be-easy-to-carry category brilliantly.
I should go purchase a smaller one volume copy of LOTR, though, just in case. Preparedness is key.
One apocalypse dream (not just a nightmare, actual end of the world dream) would be enough for a month right? I would think it would be enough for a lifetime, but oh no--apparently apocalypse dreams are my new thing. Last night, therefore, I dreamed of the friggin’ zombie apocalypse.
I was in India (because clearly when experiencing the zombie apocalypse one would be in India) and fortunately everyone spoke English--that was handy. It was a disease situation that was passed through the bite, but could also be slightly airborne? I don’t know how a disease is slightly airborne, but I try not to question my subconscious too much. All of the healthy people left were loaded on tour buses and we were making a break for healthier countries (the disease hadn’t yet spread outside of India to our knowledge) but on the way to the tour bus a zombie lady is sitting in the front seat of my car. I, very casually, pull out the gun I bought earlier (with case and ammo for $27--even in the dream I thought that was a good deal) and shot her in the head. But, because I had such a weak gun, it didn’t kill her.
I quickly recocked (because it didn’t autoload?) and tried to shoot her again, but the gun jammed. At this point, the zombie lady was angry I shot her in the head and has gotten out of the car to chase me. My friends are beating her off with sticks, screaming at me to shoot her and I’m cursing at the gun trying to get it to work. Finally it’s ready to go and I proceed to unload an entire clip into her head. She finally goes down after that.
We make it to the buses and load up, but I’m in the very back, the last seat. We have stopped to turn onto another highway (it didn’t make sense, but it was a dream) and suddenly someone screams and points behind me. There, standing up was a strange man that hadn’t been on the bus before. Before I tell the next part of this story I would like to refer you to the zombie preparedness guide:
He looked disheveled, pale and disoriented and I was not about to see if he was craving my brains when someone else screams “Wait! We don’t know if he’s infected!”
I hold off on shoving him out of the bus, and he starts to talk but I keep thinking “this guy is totally mid-turn. He’s going to turn into a zombie and infect all of us. I am not going to be the person that dies because she was afraid to act.” So I hit the emergency release button that opens the exit doors behind this guy, the bus hits a bump and he flies out--dying as he hits the road. I had a brief moment of guilt in the dream because I hadn’t intended on him flying out of the bus, I was just getting the door ready in case I needed to shove him out of the bus, but I shrugged it off.
Then, same lady screams “You didn’t know if he was infected or not!” And this is the part of the dream that has left me feeling both disturbed and slightly ashamed of myself. I looked at her and very coldly said, “I wasn’t going to find out.”
So apparently, not only has my dissertation caused me to dream of the apocalypse, but it has turned me into a sociopath as well. It’s good to know my soul has, in fact, finally died.
In my defense I do think he was infected. Really.
On the plus side, if the apocalypse does hit I am going to be so prepared.
Perhaps this is a sign that I might be turning to the dark side?
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Dissertation Episode 1: The Crazy Menace
It is a dark time for the Republic. As the senate meets in my head to discuss possible solutions to my inability to write a dissertation successfully, a shadow looms over the proceedings. That shadow is an agent of the Dark Side, Darth Crazious.
Instead of a brilliant treatise on heterosexual romantic expectations of masculinity and femininity the Jedi seem to be producing a document more in line with the diary of a young, unstable teenage girl.
A teenage diary does not a dissertation make.
I have been caught off-guard by the biological attack leveled directly at my midi-chlorians. Darth Crazious has infected me with NGE.
NGE (not good enough) is a situational condition (it has been known in some cases to be genetic, but those are rare and often terminal) common in graduate students. It manifests itself slowly over time. Symptoms include: slowly disintegrating social life, elevated blood pressure, facial ticks, writer’s block, irritability, indigestion, identity crisis, and uncontrollable sobbing. One of the most common signs that a graduate student has come down with NGE is a persistent belief that she will be “found out” by her professors and colleagues, banished from the program, and forced to resume her job at Hardees.
You would think with an ego as healthy as mine I would be immune to NGE. Instead I find my foundation shaky, my confidence shot, and my ability to make an argument flagging. As the NGE destroys my midi-chlorians my connection to the force is severed leaving me unable to complete abstract thought, critically think or focus on anything besides my driving need to eat cake.
This is the test I have spent years preparing for. This is the momentous occasion when I thought I would face the Dark Side and scoff at its attempts to turn me. I have studied the writing process A LOT. Me and comp theory are close; I know how these things work. I imagine this must be what it feels like as a psychologist to realize you have a mental disorder. You can recognize it; you can diagnose it. You can even plan a treatment for it and clearly delineate the process by which healing will begin. But because it’s you, all you do instead is bash your head against the desk and wait for someone to find your catatonic body on the ground. Hopefully before you soil yourself.
I will not NOT graduate. I will not be a student forever. If I have to find a swamp, brave snakes, and crawl through a cave at the behest of Yoda I will be a Jedi. The force is strong with me. I will not be defeated by this NGE. I will not turn to the Dark Side because gosh darn it, I am smart enough, strong enough, and people like me!
(If you dare disagree with that statement I will put catfish bait in your vents.)
Just kidding.
Maybe.
I’m riding the crazy train right now. You don’t want to push me. It won’t be pretty.
Will Darth Crazious succeed in her nefarious plot to destroy the Jedi Order with NGE? Will the young Jedi Knight turn to anger, fear, and aggression to complete her dissertation? Will she perhaps throw herself into a pit of lava to end it all before it even begins?
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of “Dissertation”.
(See? Teenage Diary)
It is a dark time for the Republic. As the senate meets in my head to discuss possible solutions to my inability to write a dissertation successfully, a shadow looms over the proceedings. That shadow is an agent of the Dark Side, Darth Crazious.
Instead of a brilliant treatise on heterosexual romantic expectations of masculinity and femininity the Jedi seem to be producing a document more in line with the diary of a young, unstable teenage girl.
A teenage diary does not a dissertation make.
I have been caught off-guard by the biological attack leveled directly at my midi-chlorians. Darth Crazious has infected me with NGE.
NGE (not good enough) is a situational condition (it has been known in some cases to be genetic, but those are rare and often terminal) common in graduate students. It manifests itself slowly over time. Symptoms include: slowly disintegrating social life, elevated blood pressure, facial ticks, writer’s block, irritability, indigestion, identity crisis, and uncontrollable sobbing. One of the most common signs that a graduate student has come down with NGE is a persistent belief that she will be “found out” by her professors and colleagues, banished from the program, and forced to resume her job at Hardees.
You would think with an ego as healthy as mine I would be immune to NGE. Instead I find my foundation shaky, my confidence shot, and my ability to make an argument flagging. As the NGE destroys my midi-chlorians my connection to the force is severed leaving me unable to complete abstract thought, critically think or focus on anything besides my driving need to eat cake.
This is the test I have spent years preparing for. This is the momentous occasion when I thought I would face the Dark Side and scoff at its attempts to turn me. I have studied the writing process A LOT. Me and comp theory are close; I know how these things work. I imagine this must be what it feels like as a psychologist to realize you have a mental disorder. You can recognize it; you can diagnose it. You can even plan a treatment for it and clearly delineate the process by which healing will begin. But because it’s you, all you do instead is bash your head against the desk and wait for someone to find your catatonic body on the ground. Hopefully before you soil yourself.
I will not NOT graduate. I will not be a student forever. If I have to find a swamp, brave snakes, and crawl through a cave at the behest of Yoda I will be a Jedi. The force is strong with me. I will not be defeated by this NGE. I will not turn to the Dark Side because gosh darn it, I am smart enough, strong enough, and people like me!
(If you dare disagree with that statement I will put catfish bait in your vents.)
Just kidding.
Maybe.
I’m riding the crazy train right now. You don’t want to push me. It won’t be pretty.
Will Darth Crazious succeed in her nefarious plot to destroy the Jedi Order with NGE? Will the young Jedi Knight turn to anger, fear, and aggression to complete her dissertation? Will she perhaps throw herself into a pit of lava to end it all before it even begins?
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of “Dissertation”.
(See? Teenage Diary)
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