Surprisingly Hefty…

That’s how I would describe my just-printed dissertation draft.

Granted, it doesn’t yet have a conclusion or a title, but I’m quite proud of my inclusion of the word “whirligig” and my multiple uses of the non-word “justificatory.”

Right now, though, I eagerly await my reentry into the world-at-large after two weeks of partial seclusion in College Library.

And what a topsy-turvy world-at-large it now appears to be. The Rush Limbaugh crowd is IN FAVOR of allowing a Middle Eastern government with indirect ties to 9/11 to control American port security? TomKat are reportedly split… and then not? Crash might beat Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture?

And what of Not-A-Quail Harry Whittington? Shot in the face. Birdshot in the heart. And now nothing? I NEED NEW INFORMATION!

Well, that will have to wait until morning. Or afternoon. Because, adulthood be damned, I am allowing myself to sleep in as long as I please tomorrow morning.

Suzie [Almost] Strikes YET Again

I’m walking back from class tonight, crossing the street, and there she is wheeling in my general direction.

AHHHHHHH!!!

Fortunately, she is in the process of asking someone else for help, so I spin around and wait (and WAIT) for the light to change to green so I can re-cross to safety.

From a hidden perch on the other side of the street, I see her approach several other people and finally lead one poor chap off in the direction of her far-away apartment. I note that he does not have a shovel on him and wonder briefly whether the McDonald’s manager will be receiving another visit.

Which is worse? That I ran away from a woman in a wheelchair? Or that I didn’t find a way to warn her new victim?

Suzie Strikes Again

This one’s a doozie. I just hope I can do the story justice.

So there’s this woman in a wheelchair, Suzie, with whom I’ve had two prior encounters. The first was about a year ago when her electric wheelchair ran out of charge and she asked me to help push her home. Home ended up being very far away.

And then there was the time a few months ago that she saw me in the library and asked me to help her write an e-mail. Two hours later, I was still standing and transcribing her lengthy ramblings.

I should note that she is quite disabled (only has partial use of one of her hands) and is rather difficult to understand.

Anyway. Tonight, as I’m walking from the library to grab a quick sandwich, she wheels up behind me and asks if I could help her. It takes awhile, but I finally figure out that she’s having trouble getting over some snowy part of the sidewalk with the chair and needs a push.

I agree (what else could I possibly do) and we are on our way. Note, by the way, that not only is it dark and late at this time, but it is REALLY cold outside. We’re talking frostbite-level cold.

After a block, Suzie asks if I have a shovel. This is where I begin to grow uneasy.

I tell her that I do not, and she then stops outside McDonald’s and tells me that I should go inside to ask them for a shovel. Those of you who know me should be well aware that I do NOT like the idea of walking inside McDonald’s to ask random people for shovels.

I see no other option, though, so I walk in, start a conversation with the McDonald’s manager with an “OK. This is a little weird, but…”, and walk out carrying an ENORMOUS shovel.

After another block, we run into our first obstacle. And it becomes immediately clear that the shovel is going to be of absolutely no use, as this is a big pile of solid ice. All I can do is push the chair as hard as I can and muscle her over the snow/ice bank.

It is only then that I realize that I am going to be pushing her all the way home. The entire stretch of sidewalk is entirely covered with snow and ice, and there are hardly any other people around. My only other option would be to leave the woman to freeze, and I’m not going to be doing that.

So I continue pushing the chair as hard as I can until we get to Park Street. Unfortunately, I just can’t get the chair out of the intersection and onto the icy curb, and we end up blocking traffic and causing an extended round of horn honking. Some random dude eventually runs out of his car and has to help me push the chair back onto the sidewalk.

I ask Suzie how much farther it is, and she tells me that it is still seven more blocks down Park Street. And these are LONG, ice-covered blocks.

I take a moment right about then to finally look down at my hands. Of course, I’m not wearing gloves. And the hands turned numb several minutes ago. Now, though, not only are they painful, but they are purple and oddly wrinkly. It is not good.

I start asking the few strangers around for help. No one is willing to help me push her, but I convince one woman to sell me her gloves for $5. Yes, that’s right. I bought gloves from a random woman on Park Street for $5.

Anyway, this story is already too long, but the saga continues. I push her as hard as I can. One particularly impassable bit of sidewalk leads us to having to wheel down Park Street itself, blocking an entire lane of traffic. And the whole time I’m carrying not only my laptop, but the enormous shovel from McDonald’s.

We eventually get to her house. I walk back and get some free hot chocolate from the guys at McDonald’s. And now I’ve returned to the library.

It could obviously have been much worse, but my biggest thought is that there is NO WAY that woman should have been out there by herself on that particular night. It really was on the verge of being a dangerous situation.

Now, back to the dissertation…

Winter Blows. Both Literally and Figuratively.

Yes, yes. It was all fun last night. Trudging through the snow. Making multiple snowballs out of what had accumulated on my hat-less head. Thinking back to that glorious day when Governor Ventura canceled school in all of Minnesota.

But this blizzard is now officially dead to me.

Will it ever stop? And if not, how long would it take to construct a tunnel between my apartment and the library (with a diverting sub-tunnel going to Starbucks)?

My memory is now flashing back to that non-glorious day a few years ago when my apartment door flew open in the middle of the night and I awoke to a snowdrift in my kitchen and a sink full of ice-embedded glassware. Trust me. One feels immensely ridiculous when one has to bundle up and shovel out one’s own kitchen.

I feel like burning some carbon-filled oil in protest to Mother Nature.

A Tale of Two Chapters

So I told my adviser that I would turn in a draft of my dissertation on March 1.

Yipes.

Only then, of course, did I actually read two of the chapters that I wrote last July and haven’t touched since.

The first chapter turned out to be much better than I was expecting. And enough time had passed that I actually flipped the pages being somewhat eager as to what might be coming next.

The other chapter, though, is in a state of mini-disaster. I’ll provide a direct quote from page 18: “This basic hypothesis is easily tested by FILL IN LATER. Blah, blah, early interventions focused on the intervention itself, blah.”

On the plus side, I’ve somehow managed to avoid my usual Olympics addiction this year. You can go ahead and add “explanations of the new figure skating scoring system” to my list of Most Boring Things Ever from an earlier post.

People Hunt Quails?

So I continue to be fascinated by this whole Cheney shooting people story. I mean, I get that the guy’s whole thing is “Never explain, never apologize.” And I even agree that this position often has something going for it.

But honestly, now.

Can’t we agree that shooting your friend in the head might be a moment to bend that philosophy and express at least a small degree of contrition?

I mean, think about it. You’re the vice president of the United States of America. You shoot someone. Not even one picture of you going to the hospital to visit the friend you shot? Not even one statement indicating that you do not in fact want to suggest that it was the dude’s own fault that he got shot? Even Britney Spears-Federline expressed some regret that she let the FederSpawn ride in her lap. Can’t we ask the tiniest bit more of the VP?

In other news, I finally got my Vermont contract today. The most amusing bit? I have to sign and have notarized an oath to uphold the Constitution of Vermont. And they do not supply a copy of this Constitution, so I have no real idea what it is that I am agreeing to.

I just hope it doesn’t involve undying fealty to the Red Sox or something.

Overheard in a Coffee Shop, Part II

“Is ice skating in the Summer Olympics or the Winter Olympics?”

“I think it’s the Winter Olympics.”

Oh, and did you hear that Cheney shot a dude?

Favorite Moment of Star Wars III? The Credits.

Spurred on by my Golden Ole Movie Review friends, I’ve finally prepared my Top Ten of 2005 list. You remember 2005, right? Way back when with all the Tom Cruise hoopla and the Terri Schiavo business and everything?

Anyway, this list is organized in terms of my favorite overall movies, but I’ve chosen to write about my favorite “movie moment” in each. For the sticklers among you, note that I am defining “moment” with rather broad strokes.

1. Musicians Attack, Kung Fu Hustle: How to pick but one scene from this movie? To sum up how much I love KFH, let me point out that it is the only film from 2005 that I have seen more than once. And I have seen it FOUR times. This particular scene, like every scene in the movie, is hard to describe – largely because so much depends on the over-the-top Looney-Tunes-meets-Pulp-Fiction tone that is set up so well.

Anyway, the scene. So these snaggled musician dudes play their stringed instrument things. And the music cuts cats in half. Hee. And it’s all dark. And evil gangsters are watching from the sides. And our heroes all die. And the only thing that can stop the musicians and their weird knife music is the scream of the landlady we previously thought to be our antagonist.

See how stupid it all sounds when one types it out? But trust me. It’s that rare scene that simultaneously makes one clench up in fright and double over in laughter. LOVE it.

2. Pregnant Tessa Walks Around in Africa, The Constant Gardener: For whatever reason, this simple scene nicely captures what I like most about the movie: the tragic earnestness of Tessa and the hand-held realism of her surroundings. A credit to the actress and the director, respectively. [I should note that I normally hate earnestness. But I make an exception when it is tragic earnestness.]

3. Laura Linney Explains Why She Calls Her Kids “Chicken” and “Pickle,” The Squid and the Whale: Okay, this scene didn’t actually happen. THANK GOD. I spent much viewing time petrified that the film would conclude with a lengthy, tear-filled exegesis of these almost-too-cute nicknames. Didn’t happen, though. Nor did a scene in which the Squid and Whale analogy/whatever gets spelled out in an excruciatingly detailed monologue. The filmmakers chose brevity and less-is-more. And for that I am thankful.

4. Heath Ledger Says Nothing, Brokeback Mountain: What can I say? Ledger was really convincing in his silence. I was moved. And yet confused. What’s next? An Oscar-worthy role for Saved By the Bell’s Screech?

5. Scarecrow Bouncing About, Howl’s Moving Castle: Last two minutes aside, this is a lovely movie. And I have to say that the faceless scarecrow just bouncing here and there had far more personality than all of the characters from Star Wars III: Something About the Sith combined.

6. Bad Cop Saves That Beloved Chick, Crash: Easily the gut-punching-est moment from a gut-punching movie. As for the movie itself? It now forces one to put an asterisk behind the statement, “Sandra Bullock movies suck.”

7. Shit Blows Up Behind Tom Cruise, War of the Worlds: George Lucas? Pay attention. Matrix boys? Grab a notepad. THIS is how special effects are done. The focus throughout remains squarely on Papa Cruise and Young Dakota, whilst amazing special effects fly by at the edge of our vision. Not only does this peripherizing make everything seem more natural, but it lets us in the audience feel very clever for noticing every flipping car or new alien tripod. Special effects should not be sledgehammers.

8. Conversation in the Car After the Movie, Syriana: I love a good argument. And nerdy over-analysis. Thus, my favorite scene in Syriana is actually the scene among my viewing friends after watching this intriguing-yet-confusing film. I still don’t understand what the hell Clooney was doing at the end, yet I much enjoyed the conversations trying to figure it out.

9/10. I Can’t Think of a Favorite Moment, Murderball/Batman Begins: Good movies, though.

Two Responses

Thanks for all the helpful comments (especially the pointing toward prior iconoclastic controversies). FYI, I ended up not printing the cartoons – largely because, having finally seen them myself, I was concerned that my group of freshmen might too easily dismiss their actual offensiveness. And that the discussion would turn into “Are these really offensive?” as opposed to “How do we account for and deal with this rather strange international incident?”

I do have two disagreements with the comments, though.

1. I really don’t think that all of the students who are interested in seeing the cartoons have actually seen them. After all, most of the grad students I talked to hadn’t seen them yet. Even though they are available on-line, they are not as in your face as, say, pictures of Lindsay Lohan’s car wrecks or Tom Cruise jumping on a couch.

2. I’m not sure the analogy of the cartoons should be with pornography. I wonder, for instance, how some of the comments would change if I were considering showing portions of Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses. Also very offensive to at least a segment of Muslims. But largely recognized as an artistic statement rather than pornographic non-art.

I guess I remain conflicted about many elements of this story and what constitutes an appropriate response to it. But thanks again for the thoughtful exchange.

To Show or Not To Show?

I’m thinking about talking briefly about the whole Danish cartoon business in discussion sections today and tomorrow – just at the beginning of section as a relevant international events sort of thing. But I am conflicted about one thing.

Do I bring in the offending cartoons to show the students?

On the one hand, these cartoons are the source of all the controversy. And since they are certainly not being widely published, a classroom environment might be a good place for students to see them and come to their own conclusions.

On the other hand, though, the cartoons are actually quite offensive to many Muslims. And it could be seen as somewhat gratuitous pandering on my part, I suppose.

On the other other hand, though, the person who has been trying to convince me not to show the cartoons also very much wanted to see the cartoons herself.

I don’t know. I’m still conflicted. Any thoughts?

How Punch-worthy is Tara Reid?

I had a scary moment today.

I was reading this hilarious blog post about celebrities one would pay good money for the privilege of punching. And, of course, I instantly began constructing my own list of fantasy celebrity punch-ees.

But then it happened. I couldn’t think of anyone.

Paris Hilton? Really, too deeply sad to be punched.

Jennifer Lopez? As objectionable as she is, one suspects that she tries really hard.

Ryan Seacrest? I’m beginning to find him a little amusing. Don’t tell anyone.

That Creed dude? Close call. But you just know your fist would be all greasy afterward.

A Baldwin? They have enough problems already without adding punchings to the list.

At this point I began to get distressed. Have I grown soft? What happened to the days when the mere thought of tripping Ben Affleck filled me with great joy?

And then… it hit me. Kevin Federline. Yes, K-Fed will never fail me. I would punch him with abandon. Everything is going to be alright.

The Most Boring Thing Ever

I’ve been having discussions lately regarding identification of the single most boring annual event in the United States. Here are the front-runners as I see them (in no particular order):

• The speech parts of the State of the Union address (to be distinguished from the ovating/not-ovating parts, which are always kind of hilarious)
• The third quarter of the Super Bowl – always a blow-out and always post-hoopla
• The presentation of honorary Oscars (with the Montage of Dead People being a close second)
• The third game of the World Series
• Graduation ceremonies – yes, all of them

That’s all I’ve got so far. Suggestions are welcome.

Two Notes

1. Following up on the previous post, Ab Girl did ask her question with complete seriousness. And Ab Girl’s Friend responded with equal seriousness, suggesting that because Ab Girl was so skinny immediate ab definition was certainly possible – but Ab Girl should probably just wait until the night before the formal to do all the sit-ups. Hee.

2. I have a job. And I will be moving to Burlington, VT this fall. MANY posts soon to follow regarding concerns about becoming a New England-er.

Overheard at the Coffee Shop

“Do you, like, think that if I do a bunch of sit-ups tonight, I’ll get good definition in my abs by the formal on Friday?”