- Total Posts: 16
So, I just wrote a whole page (typed) in Spanish! WHOO-OOOO! Forget that it took me about three hours, or that every other word had to be looked up in the dictionary (I love wordreference!); I DID IT!!!!!! and IT FEELS GREAT!!!!!
Believe me, I usually don’t feel this way about homework. Grinding through math homework, for example, is simply tedious, and finishing brings no gratification save the ability to check it off my laundry list. Usually the feeling accompanying completion of work resembles relief, not jubilancy.
So why am I so happy about this “accomplishment” which any well-off language student would snicker at? I believe that it is because it took me the whole three hours, because every other word had to be looked up. I worked obscenely hard on that measly page of foreign type, and now I’m feeling the self-gratification that comes from pouring your whole heart and soul into a project.
Earlier on this year my English class took a practice SAT essay with a prompt that asked “Do we value only what we struggle for?” If I was ever asked the same question again, I can assure you that my three hour long Spanish page would hold a star role in one of my body paragraphs. This accomplishment, though seemingly not a huge one, symbolizes my stake in hard work. I value effort more that anything, and challenging myself, as with this paper, creates my proudest moments.
Actually, I’d have to say that the proudest moment in my life occured when I was in preschool. I was out at recess when I felt a prick in my finger, looked down, and saw that a fat wooden splinter had wedged itself under my skin. Did I cry? No. Did I run to my teacher? No. Was I an invincible preschool-age Jackie? For the moment, yes! I made my way over to the play-structure, climbed aboard, and proceeded to pull out the splinter–with my bare hands!! No help, no tweezers, just me and my ity-bity fingers. Looking back, I see how insignificant this feat was, but at the time I was flooded with self-pride. You cannot imagine how proud of myself I was at that moment; it was…magical. (Oh…the good old days…)
So my message:
Love the little things, especially the little things you work hard for.
I wish that I was more witty
That I had more to say to the world
That I felt was worth saying to the world
I wish I had a cause to follow
Something to dig my heels into
where I could say
This is my opinion,
And nobody is taking it away from me.
I wish that I knew my direction
Whether I’ve actually found my calling
Or has it all been push-shove-bang
A simple north or south would be nice
I wish that I was a bird, that I could fly
Just because it would be totally awesome
I wish for all the typical good-will causes
the wish for peace
the wish for stopping world hunger
the wish for the cure to cancer
and I wish I wasn’t compelled to wish for them
I wish it didn’t seem like a duty
I wish I was exciting
Stepping out to the edge of the plank
And staring the crocodiles straight in the eye
I wish I was proud of my work
that I could write past the classroom
that I could entertain and inspire
that I would have no hesitancy
Tagging my name on this…whatever it is
I wish that I was a dancer, a musician, a painter
Because every time I see art
I feel that my heart is on stage
I wish I knew what I am trying to say with this
Just ’cause it would be nice.
So I could explain myself
When the questions come flooding
I wish I had a purpose
Something worth doing
worth worrying about
Something beyond just getting me into college
And I wish that I wasn’t still wishing
Because what good is wishing
when there are things to be done
So I’m looking at this site and am like…what’s going on? No posts in like, forever? So naturally I must fill this major void in my life. I must post on Jalenack.
Problem is, I don’t exactly know what to post about. What commentary do I have about this wide world? What purpose am I serving here? What is the meaning of life?
In history class we have been studying the Industrial Revolution and how it radically changed the lifestyle of those affected by the shift to industry. One of those shifts came in the arts. Throughout the ages art has always been produced to serve a purpose. The KING comes to you and says, “Hey you lousy underling, paint this picture of me and MAKE IT GOOD or I’ll chop off your head!” so you oblige, quite happy with your head and wanting very much to keep it attached to your shoulders. Mr. Bishop comes to you and says, “Hey you sinful servant, make this sculpture to glorify God or you’ll go to hell!” so you make the sculpture hoping very much that you will not have to endure flames for all eternity. Then suddenly, sometime surrounding the beginning of the Industrial Age, someone produces something out of the blue, something for themselves, something because they enjoyed making it. Gasp! No pending death, no firey threshold, no MONEY? No, because they enjoy the process. Hmm…a novel idea, doing something for the sake of doing it-doing something for the measly reason that it’s enjoyable. Thus, art for art’s sake was born
**Note to those heartless critics (I know you’re out there)-I KNOW above processes did not occur exactly as I depicted them…but please, just try to adhere to my attempt at comedy**
Now to my point, or rather the absence of my point. Just like those novel artists in the 1800s, I am creating art for the sake of creating art. Maybe not quite art, but the idea is the same. I am posting for the sake of posting. I am expressing my love of saying what I want to say, regardless of what I have to say. Yay for me!!! (hmm…maybe too carried away there, but w/e-it’s my post)
Doing something for the sheer enjoyment of it is a relatively new development to society. It may have been around before, but did not become quite widespread until after the Industrial Revolution when society, especially the middle class bougeoisie, began to aquire excess cash and leisure time. People began to go out to the opera, watch ball games, pay attention to fashion, etc. And why? Well mostly because they could, but also because they enjoyed such things. It was a source of pleasure. And ever since then our proposed aim is to spend time this way…pursuit of happiness and all that jazz. However, how many of us city (or suburbia) dwellers actually follow through with this. I know for the common overacheiver, such as myself, most of the time is spent working, toiling to reach the ever present GOAL, which most of the time just propels us to more work and punishment. Maybe you do enjoy your work, but think of when someone asks you the question “Why?” How do you answer? To make money, to get that A, to get playing time. That’s the right answer…working hard for a cause is one of the most wonderful, one of the most fulfilling things you can do. My request is you take each of those cases where you could be asked WHY you are doing something and see whether you could pull off the radical answer, “because I enjoy it.”
We could all use a couple of those racked up.
At last it has arrived—2006. Happy New Year to all!!!
And now back to your business. School starts on Tuesday (at least for Albany) and I’m sure all those out there with jobs are back to the grindstone tomorrow or the next day as well. Resolutions have been made, and whether they will be kept or not is a test of endurance. Days will go on as they have before…at the moment cold and rainy. Not that this is bad–it just seems like New Years sweep by faster now, and any time now they will become just days, regular old days. Sure maybe they’re spiced up with some music and dancing, but it passes and January 2 plops you right down where you were before. If you think about it there is nothing special about the 1st of January…its just another first of the month, just like any other 12 AM is the first moment of the new day. But we have come to choose this particular day as the one on which we make our celebrations and resolutions…and so here go mine.
Time continues. The old year has passed like the one before and the new one will with equal or greater speed. So what am I going to do about it? MAKE THE BEST OF IT. or try to anyways. My resolution for the new year is to take charge of my life, to find some direction to urge myself onto. Time may pass, but I don’t have to spend the time waiting for something or someone to come around the corner to add a spike to the flow of time. I want to try some new things, meditate on the meaning of life, take control and not let my activities control what I do. Call me ambitious, but I’ll do my best. Looking at it maybe I should have chosen something simpler-like making my bed every day
Soooo, what are your resolutions for the next 365 days?
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I wish you a most excellent 2006
Have you ever sat next to the person on the roller coaster who starts screaming before the drop? Part of you thinks, what the heck are they doing while the other part wishes that you could be that excited. I find that if I’m no longer motivated to let loose wild screams, the ride is no longer sufficiently fun. Last weekend I was at a water park with a fat innertube waterslide. Going by myself was fun, but riding with my sister was something else entirely. She launched into the experience screaming all the way–invoking hoots of laughter from me.
It’s all about SPIRIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Last year at homecoming I was the biggest loser ever…maybe I dressed up for one of the days-color war- and that only involved wearing a pink shirt. BORING!! So this year there were a few changes. Each day I played up to the fullest- my pink costume for color war was augmented with hot pink shorts, pink socks, running shoes w/ pink on them, pink hair accessories, and somewhat pink sleeves. I attended all the activities (that I was around for) and even went to the homecoming game…even though it’s football, not particularly my favorite sport. AND GUESS WHO HAD FUN AT HOMECOMING THIS YEAR!!!! Me, that’s who.
It may take a little of looking like a complete idiot to get yourself into the spirit of the moment, but it’s ok…especially because even when you DO look like a complete idiot, everyone else wishes that they could be you…wishes that they wouldn’t mind looking like a complete idiot so they can steal a little bit of that excitement you’ve got. So scream down the 2 ft. water slide, wear a grass skirt and coconut bra on hawaiian day, make people laugh and you will too. The task now is to plan something spectacular for Halloween…
There are many thankless jobs out there, and if you’ve ever experienced the joys of refereeing you know exactly what I am talking about. The job itself is simple enough–run around and make sure the game goes right and nobody starts pulling nasty tricks (or in my case as a sideline ref stand there and point the flag in the right direction.) Most of the time the ride is smooth and nobody gets too mad, but then there are those coaches who seem to take certain pleasure in making the referee miserable. It doesn’t matter what the calls are or how the game is going, the ref is always biased, alway negligent, always a complete idiot. Their player trips over their own feet…”Are you watching the game ref?!” Their player plants an elbow into an opponent’s side…”What kind of penalty is that!!?” Their team is awarded a penalty kick…”That should have been a red card!!!” Oh yes, and yelling is a necessity. It doesn’t matter if the yellow shirt is five or fifty feet away; all accusations are at the top of their lungs. I should know this type of coach well; I used to have one. Being on the team of a coach like that is scary enough, but being the person holding the flag or whistle is even more unnerving. At our own Memorial Park, next to the high school, at a U-10 (!!!!) game, a referee was pummeled by an unsatisfied coach (maybe parent) for following the rules and not letting the team play because half their players were overage. (When you have 9 year old boys, one year makes a big difference size-wise). Thankfully I’ve never been in a situation that rough, but just getting yelled at as a sideline by an unhappy coach is bad enough–and that has happened to me.
Two weekends ago I worked at the Nevado Classic Youth tournament. Most of the games were very clean, easy to ref, pleasant to watch. There was one boy’s game, however, in which one team was very fond of “flaking,” which is exaggerating a fall in order to get a free kick, and the other had a coach who was, to say the least, verbal. A player would pull a spectacular dive off the ball and this coach would grumble and rumble and yell at our center about how he can’t let the other team “play him” like that, and this was after the center had warned the player who had played up the foul too much. It isn’t just the coaches who are unhappy, the parents as well get into the act, though usually not as openly. (However in the game afore mentioned, a parent had to be kicked out of the game due to some vulgar language directed at the other sideline.) Parents won’t yell at the ref as much as the coaches will, but every time I would trot past them, flag in hand, they would be commenting on how the ref is soo biased, how he doesn’t know what he is doing. I know that it shouldn’t affect me as much, I’m not the one being commented about, but it still is biting to hear my coworker talked about like that. These parents don’t realize that we as refs are doing the best we can and that their childs team is not in the right all the time. You’d think that these people would be a little more grateful that they have refs in the first place; their teams wouldn’t be able to play if they didn’t.
And what’s funny is that the people who seem to get riled up the least are the players themselves (though, especially in the case of a bad ref they will…first hand experience), it is mostly the coaches and parents who whine and complain and this is what, if anything, gets the players riled up. Referees just aren’t appreciated…fact of life. We are the enforcers, so as a result anything we say will fall in the wrong with someone or another. Perfection is expected, so every little wrong call is pounced upon while the right ones are overlooked. Such is the life of a lawkeeper…and it’s a good thing I get paid for it.