Affection

Settle in, it's going to be a long one...

I've been thinking (too much, perhaps) about a blog that a friend of mine posted. It was essentially about using the time you have to ensure that those who are important to you know that they're important to you. It was about how, when not used consistently throughout life, certain actions or words that most people use to express affection can seem incredibly contrived and fail to achieve the desired effect. At the end of the blog, this question was posed:

"What are you going to do, within the next 24 hours, to communicate your feelings to the people who need to know them?"

After reading the blog and seeing myself being described, I felt like this question was a challenge to me. Alas, it is not a challenge I have risen to. Here it all is. Psychoanalyze away.

(*Note to those who have yet to pick up on this fact about my life, and also a definite future blog: I grew up with two moms. Yes, that means exactly what you think it does. Reason for future blog? The biological one went straight- after nearly 20 years of being, well... not straight- about 5 years ago. I'm all fucked up over that.)

Like the friend who's blog inspired this one, I grew up in a world void of affection. If I received affection, particularly from my mother, I don't recall it. As early as I can remember, the daily dose of affection came when I would go to her and give her a meaningless kiss goodnight before tucking myself into bed.

By the time Beth came on the scene (remember, this is all my best recollection), it may have been too late. Beth was affectionate. Beth treated us as though she was our mother. For almost 20 years, she was. She still is. Beth is a softie. There's part of my problem in that last sentence. I'm so closed off to affection toward my family that I feel the need to tease or be a smart ass when affection is given. She's a softie, quit being a sap, etc.

I have serious intimacy issues. I get very uncomfortable when it's time to give the "hello" hug when my best friend comes into town, when I have to kiss Beth goodbye. My brother knows this about me and really pushes the limit- trying to kiss or hug me, playing it off like a joke. But, really, he just loves me and is actually seeking out affection that I feel incapable of giving.

I can't even say "I love you" out loud to my family members. It feels contrived.

I know that, as a child, I was loved. But, I was never hugged for no reason, don't recall hearing any random "I love you's." Maybe this is why I am uncomfortable when people get in my space, I'm not sure.

Since I was about 19, when I first moved out on my own, my mother began to change. She started seeking out affection. It seemed (word of the day) contrived at first but, since it started, it has been consistent. Consistent mandatory hugs, kisses, the speaking of nice things. Yet, it has never been comfortable for me. I don't know why, after all of my formative years, she started needing affection from me, but I have never been able to genuinely give it. I just go through the motions.

The kicker is that I genuinely feel it. I love my mother, brother, sister, Beth, my in-laws, Todd (sometimes- though never romantically), and everyone else in my entire family. I love my family. But the only way I can show it in a way that feels genuine to me is by writing it down. I write letters to my mom, telling her how much I appreciate her, how lucky I am to have her.

They need more from me, though. Particularly my moms and my siblings. They know I can't genuinely express affection toward them verbally or physically. I think it bothers them. I wish I could.

This problem I have, with affection, carries over into romantic relationships as well. It's the reason I stayed with Todd for so long. He was comfortable. Sure, I was praying silently every night that he'd not touch me, but it was better than the alternative: starting over. The problem is that when I meet someone that I like, that I actually want to touch me, I shy away. I have great self-esteem, and yet I feel like if I want someone that bad, that I actually want them to touch me, than I must not be good enough for them. Otherwise... what dangerous, unchartered territory I would be entering! I'm straying, this is a different blog, back to the family.

The only exception to the "please don't touch me" rule applies to my children. I am naturally very affectionate with them. I don't think I'm over-affectionate, they sleep in their own beds and can comfortably spend nights out and all that good stuff, but there's no chance that they will ever look back at their childhood and not remember their mother as affectionate. No chance.

I could go on. But there it is. I love my family, more than anything. How do I give them what they need from me when they need it in a way that is unnatural to me?

What am I going to do, within the next 24 hours, to communicate my feelings to the people that need to know them?

Tonight I Was an Idiot

Setting: Baker College. Where anyone and everyone can go to find a program to find a job. You can become a truck driver, a computer geek, a vet tech, a massage therapist, and, yes, even a teacher. We have all kinds at Baker College. Baker College boasts that a remarkable 99% of their graduates are employed. They don't even deny (if asked, mind you) that some of those graduates are employed as, say, crew members at McDonald's. The point I'm trying to make is that when Baker College is the backdrop, I generally like to think that my cohorts and I are smarter than the majority. I'm stuck up like that.

Except for tonight.

Might as well kick me out of the program and stamp my forhead with a "future truck driver" sign.

I missed class last week. Many of you know why. Turns out that 2 of my cohorts, my buddies, missed class last week as well. As it happens, only 2 people showed up for class last week.

I'm behind in this class (Contemporary Lit), primarily because I seem to be incapable of doing the assigned reading from The Satanic Verses. I just can't get into this book. I like books that are different. But this book is beyond different. The prose is very awkward and I'm having a hard time making sense of it. I'm pretty sure that people who say this book is genius don't get it and are just trying to look smart.

Tonight, only 4 people showed up. My two cohorts, one of the guys who made it last week, and myself. We were off our game. None of us had completed the assigned reading. We were very open with our instructor about this.

He continued to force us into analyzing the reading anyway. I like him. I have a little crush on him, I think. He's a dork. It's distracting. Alas, he is married.

He was struggling to get us to participate. So much so that when it was break time, his words were, "I need to take a break."

He tried to engage us after the break by giving us a VERY simple group exercise. We talked about metaphor, simile, and hyperbole. Elementary, right? WRONG!

We, as a group, were merely to find an example of each of these in The Satanic Verses and to write, as a group, an example of each about the author of the book. It was torture. It took us something like 20 minutes.

Our teacher actually asked us if we were English majors.

I tried to engage myself in the lesson, but I couldn't even bullshit. I can always bullshit.

It can get very quiet in a class when there are only 4 people present and no one can remember what "alliteration" is. For god's sake, what the fuck was up with that?

Maybe we were all on drugs. Is there a drug that induces stupidity?

That was a superfluous question. See? I'm an idiot.

Annotated Bib. (I Am the Cheese)

Are you all excited that I'm posting another one of my assignments for school and passing it off as a blog? It's my cheap way of providing a book review, so get over it.

This week in Lit for Young Adults, we had to choose a book from one of the following genres: supernatural, adventure, mystery, or sports. I chose I am the Cheese by Robert Cormier- a mystery.

I really enjoyed it. I also really enjoy that I can actually read a book every week when selecting young adult books. It takes a total of 3 hours to read them. How great is that?! Because of this class and my Contemporary Lit class (where the books cannot be read in 3 hours), I will have read 10 novels in 10 weeks. As one of my favorite things to do is finish a book, you can all imagine how excited I am (and if you can't, then pretend).

Here's the annotated bib:

Cormier, Robert. I am the Cheese. New York: Random House. 1977.

In I am the Cheese, Cormier gives the reader an immediate glimpse into the psyche of Adam Farmer. Told from the first person, young adult readers will know from the title and early references to the song "The Farmer in the Dell" that Adam is a loner and does not fit in. As the book opens, Adam is setting out on a journey, via bicycle, to see his father. In preparing for this journey, Adam chooses not to take his unnamed medication and the reader can infer that Adam has some kind of problem, an emotional disturbance. Adam is immediately endeared to the reader.

I am the Cheese is the story of a young man whose family was placed in a witness protection program before he was old enough to understand. As an eighth grader, his suspicion becomes aroused that his parents have been hiding something and he begins attempting to discover his identity, both in the literal sense and in that of personal self-discovery. It is a page-turning mystery that will keep the reader captivated until the very end, wanting to learn Adam's secrets as he learns them.

Set up as parallel stories, the chapters alternate between Adam's journey to reach his father and Adam being interviewed by a man he perceives to be a psychiatrist to help him remember his past. Each chapter leaves something of the plot open so that, in order to get to this missing element, the reader must first read the next chapter, and so on. This type of format, coupled with a straight-forward plot, will entice the reluctant reader of any age to finish the book voluntarily. Additionally, several themes that are desirable for young adults are well-crafted in I am the Cheese: a love story, Adam's journey to self-discovery, and a unique, intimate bond with his parents. This novel will likely remain relevant to young adults for many years to come.

Conversations (You Would Love My Brother!)

I've been having conversations with people recently about my marital status and the fact that I'd like to begin dating, but I don't know how it all works, I don't know what I want to get out of the process, etc.

Today I had one such conversation. It marked the third such conversation where someone tries to set me up with their brother.

The first conversation I had was with a nurse at the doctor's office. I know her and, through a Q and A session about my divorce, it came out that I am keeping my eyes open to begin dating. "You would love my brother!" I'm sure.

While I am a little antsy to date, for fear that if I don't just do it, I never will, this does not mean that I'm so desparate that I need for people to start setting me up on dates with their brother, or anyone else for that matter. I'm relatively certain, that if I put my mind to it, and step outside of the comfort zone, I'm perfectly capable of landing my own date, thank you very much. But what if I'm not?

This was the topic of discussion with a friend today. What if I can't find that first date? What if I'm too picky? Am I allowed to be choosy? Here's what she had to say about that: "I know you just said that you don't want to be set up... but you would love my brother." WTF? Did she just not hear me complaining about the other 2 people who claim that I would love their brothers? Does she really think it's possible that I'm going to love her brother the same way that I'm surely going to love the other 2 brothers?

I don't want to be "set up" and I don't want to be set up with any of my friend's brothers.

So, I begin my laundry list of criteria (secretly hoping that she either a) sees that her brother cannot possibly fill all of the criteria, or b) thinks I am too much of a high-maintenance bitch for her perfect brother). Guess what? Turns out that her brother meets all of those criteria! How did I get so lucky?!

Then, I decided to tell her that I'm not even really sure what I want. I'm too nice, you see, I'm not courageous enough to tell her to shut it and that I don't want to date her brother, so I had to continue planting seeds that would make her stop seeing me as a love match for her brother.

I tell her:

I don't even want to date seriously, I just want to practice date. I need to learn what dating is all about. I've never dated. It would probably be best if I just went out with a couple of men that I don't see real possibility with so I can figure this whole dating thing out.

Still, her brother would be cool with all of that. Of course, he would! He's perfect, you see. And he loves kids. Vomit.

It got worse. She brought up sex. Now she knows exactly what I need. Someone I can casually date with, you know, benefits (I'm not entirely sure I disagree, but shut up, please). She said this while trying to whore out her brother. Now I find myself liking her brother, whom I've never met, if only to shield the poor guy from her.

*Sigh*

Luckily for me, a male friend of ours saved me. "You guys need to shut the fuck up." Thanks, male friend (who is too short to even consider asking out for "practice").

What I really hate about myself is that I'm spending so much of my time thinking about this shit. Really, am I in high school? Grow up, lady.

"Stigmatized" Dialects

For my English senior seminar, I had to read a journal article about dialects and do a critique. I'm not going to paste the text here (of my critique), but I still want to discuss it.

Basically, this article made recommendations on how to reprogram society to view dialect as what it is (essentially a regionalized language variety) instead of it's current connotation (a language variety spoken by less cultured and intelligent people, what the article referred to as "stigmatized" dialect). In truth, these stigmatized dialects, such as African American Vernacular English (AAVE), are very systematic in their grammatical structure, where most people do cringe when they hear it and think it sounds lazy. This is what the article began with, and I concur. Prior to taking a Language and Culture class and studying AAVE (Ebonics), I, too, thought it was "less" of a language. I still cringe when I hear it because my prejudices toward the dialect remain despite the knowledge I posess to the contrary. In any case, I agree that most people don't know that dialects such as AAVE are actually quite structured and ARE NOT slang.

Then the article started arguing that it is up to teachers to change this view in society, as teachers are on the front lines dealing with the different dialects in their classrooms and have the power to influence what their students do or do not learn about dialects. The authors argued that Language and Culture classes (such as the one I took) are not typically required in teacher education programs. Thus, teachers (especially English teachers) go into their classrooms and have a tendency to belittle students who speak in dialect, not only impacting that student, but the opinions of the student's classmates. That all seems reasonable to me. The course I took where I studied AAVE opened my eyes on the subject and gave me empathy where I may have had none otherwise.

When good articles go bad.

The authors began to state that Standard English was really just a dialect itself. The dialect of the influential in the countries that speak it. Because the influential speak it, it must be right. I didn't really like hearing SE referred to as a dialect because I see dialect as being a variation of the official language. SE is the official language. This is when I began getting critical.

Details of how to change the social perception of stigmatized dialects evolved from simply teaching the teacher the truth about dialects to make them more sensitive to their diverse students to allowing it to be spoken and written in the classroom. Bringing the discussion back to SE being the only truly acceptable language in education and the professional world, the authors felt that teachers should be an agent of change for this, envisioning a future where all dialects will be equally accepted and respected.

It's a bit like behavior management in the classroom. We'd all like to just prevent misbehavior by focusing on the roots of misbehavior and ensuring that those elements are addressed before problems occur. But it won't always work that way. We need to have a plan B so that when misbehavior occurs, as it inevitably will, we can redirect it effectively.

As I see it, the same principle applies here. If all teachers are on the same page with addressing this problem of stigmatized dialect, it will still be decades before the Standard English speaking world comes to accept these dialects as the norm, if ever.

In the meantime, while we're waiting for the new attitudes that will result from our teaching to kick in, we are doing our students a huge disservice.

If I were to begin teaching the 9th grade next year (equipped with my new knowledge on dialect equity and accompanying pedagogy), what will happen to my students in 8 years when they are interviewing for jobs? In a scenario where we have a typical alpha-male (or female) interviewer who interviews 2 African American candidates, equally qualified, one speaks SE, the other AAVE, who's going to get the job?