4 posts tagged “reading”
[Note: This post has been inspired by a series of events that continue to recur. I choose not to reveal the specifics of this series of unfortunate events. Instead, I will make fun of MySpace. Hit me up sometime. I haven't had any comments in about three weeks.]
Ignorance has been repackaged. I always thought the word carried a bit of a negative connotation, but apparently it emerging among young folk as a pyschotic symbol of status. Peruse a few MySpace profiles. Scroll down to the book section (if you can read it amid the flashing lights, bulging banners, 3 videos playing simultaneously, and the swirling patterns of the technicolor background. I feel like I might see a hologram if I stare at the thing crosseyed). But for those times when the text IS NOT the same color as the background, I often read something like this:
Books: "I don't read."
So on and so forth.
People are becoming extremely comfortable ridiculing readers, and unwittingly, more comfortable at announcing their own ignorance (and their alarmingly high comfort level at remaining in this state of intellectual midgetry). We're becoming "down with dumb." No worries. Pretty soon we'll all be in this together.
The uninformed mock the informed (or those attempting to inform themselves), and yet we're told we all have equally valid opinions. Millions of minds, ripe for the plucking.
Maybe I'm just another MySpace hater. Maybe I was laughed at as a small child for reading the Anne of Green Gables series. Or maybe I'm really afraid that stupid will become the status quo.
P.S.--I pimped out this Vox post with a picture I found on the internet.
"Strike a match and hope it lasts. Here's to following your own lead."
--Less Than Jake
The other night, I stayed up a little later than I'm used to. I was exploring Vox. There are all kinds of different groups one can join, depending on one's interest. There are groups about music. Groups about science. Groups about sports. Groups about politics. There is a group for pretty much anything a person would like to belong to. You know what I discovered? I couldn't find a group in which I truly "fit in." I wanted to find people just like me. People who enjoyed sports, reading, writing, punk rock, lifting, health, family, faith, teaching.
Let me rephrase: I fit in "a little" with all kinds of people. I can find something to talk about with almost anyone, but sometimes, when I try to talk about one of my other interests, I lose whoever it is I'm talking to. As soon as they realize I am not 100% "one of them" they give me the blank stare. The raised eyebrow. The puckered forehead. It's almost as if they smelled a fart, and I was the guilty party.
For example: I love snowboarding, yet I'm horrifically irritated by most snowboarders. It's rare for me to find a snowboarder that I get along with, and snowboarding is one of my passions. Maybe it's my fault. Or maybe it's that many of the snowboarders I come into contact with are blithering idiots. Maybe it's both.
Baseball is another one. I played baseball for the better part of my entire life. I was the only English major on my team at two different universities. Needless to say, we didn't start an after-practice literature discussion group.
Punk rock? My favorite music since I was a teenager, and I still haven't grown out of it. Yet, I don't agree with the message of a lot of the super-preachy political punk bands out there. I love the shows, I love the sound, I love the crowds--this music changed my life--but I'm not really on board with what it means to be truly "punk rock." Call me a hypocrite or a sell out.
At about 2AM, I finally grew weary of trying to find a Vox group that was my "perfect fit." I don't think it's out there. It was a little frustrating, but my quest for the perfect Vox group made me reflect on something I already knew. My diverse interests are part of what makes me...me. I'm not one of those people who can completely submerge themselves into a single group. And I wouldn't want to. I like the freedom of wandering from group to group. Sometimes that means I don't "fit in" as well as everyone else. That's my fault, but I'm ok with that.
I started this post with a quote from one of my favorite bands. It's from a song called "Faction." It's about belonging. The song states "Sometimes you just want to belong, at any loss at any cost." It feels good to belong. I searched for two hours the other night, just so I could belong.
But what are we willing to sacrifice so that we can belong? At what cost will we "fit in"? Sometimes we need to strike a match, and follow our own lead, regardless of who comes along with us. Here's to following your own lead.
Since I repeatedly claim to enjoy the subject I teach, and I supposedly enjoy reading and writing, I figured it would only be fair to lead by example. Then again, as teacher and supreme ruler of my poorly ventilated 20X30 kingdom (aka room 204), I can do pretty much anything I want. It just so happens I want to write. So for the next four weeks, I'll be scribbling away with all of my amazing students, journaling/bloggging/writing about pretty much anything I dang-well please. Because I am an English teacher who shamelessly praises the virtues of correct spelling and punctuation, I will attempt to avoid embarrassing mistakes, including but not limited to: confusing there/their/they're, saying things like "your stupid," and spelling the word "definitely" differently each time, but never quite getting it right.
I firmly believe that one must maintain a mastery of standard English. Nevertheless, words and phrases such as "dude," "bro," "sick," and "what it is" all have their very important places to fill in our daily vocabulary, and I'm not ashamed to admit they sometimes weasel their way into my writing. What it is.
I'll be writing about anything I feel like. I'll be starting off almost every paragraph with some sort of first-person personal pronoun. This is about me, what I care about, what I don't care about, and most of all, what I firmly believe in. And right now, I firmly believe my Jackson Bam has just had a bowel movement.
That's why I'm here.
