Weekly Swanspiration

 

“It’s like yoga, except I still get to kill something.”

(re: fishing)

Think: Does This Need to be Posted?

It's been a week since the shootings in Aurora.  And in that time there have been eruptions all over the media of clashing opinions on what went wrong and how it could have been avoided.  Fingers point in all directions simultaneously attacking and invoking the constitution, and sometimes in direct contradiction.  Some call for censorship of violence in art while at the same time citing the second amendment to defend the ownership of assault rifles.  Bloggers and commenters form opinions, pass judgment and hit "submit" in minutes, often without a second thought, often without pausing to remember that at the heart of the matter is the fact that there are victims here.  The rush to be heard, to express one's opinion bypasses the inclination to be sensitive to survivors.  As revolutionary as the internet and media technology are right now in their capacity to connect people and communicate knowledge, the relatively anonymous setting allows individuals to espouse a range of personal, political, and often judgmental viewpoints. This lends itself to rash and self-serving behavior more likely to sever ties than forge them.  Instead of understanding, we have angry reactionary rifts; instead of dialogue, we have Babel.

Because we do need to talk about Aurora.  Something horrific occurred.  The fact that it was a senseless act doesn't mean that people aren't going to *try* to make sense of it.  It's how we comfort ourselves - if we can figure out why it happened, maybe we can prevent it ever happening again.  And there's some merit to this line of reasoning: if we can grow from a tragedy, that makes it less meaningless and the survivors can feel that perhaps it will not have happened in vain.  But in this search for meaning, we end up on different sides of the blame game, trying to solve the perverted retroactive logic puzzle: "If only _________, then this wouldn't have happened."  As if finding the right fill-in-the-blank would somehow fix everything.  As if crafting the perfect argument it would undo what happened.  As if by blaming the right person or institution, we would somehow be able to hit the big reset button.

Of course we need to examine the factors at play in what happened, but we have to acknowledge that just as the effects of the Aurora shooting were immediately chaotic and widespread, the causes will never be as simple or reductive.  Multiple variables led up to what happened, some of which will probably take a very long time to surface.  But what a lot of people forget in their rush to examine, discuss, pass judgment, and blame is that there are real people, real victims in this scenario.  And using this tragedy as a prop to troll the internet and mainstream media about violence or personal rights or, for God's sake, appropriate parenting in a movie theater is insulting to these people, and ultimately selfish.  How does angrily spewing an opinion while attacking someone else's help anyone involved?  In fact, how does it help the spewer?

The following will seem like a weird tangent.  Bear with me.  Or bail, whatever.

Anyone familiar with the work of Craig Ferguson already knows the following:  he is a class act, he's brilliantly funny, and he's got a dreamy, dreeeeeamy Scottish accent.  Ferguson has had a rough journey getting to where he is.  In his autobiography and his stand-up, he is very open about his past struggles with addictions to drugs, alcohol, and arguably, women.  So he draws on some harsh life experience when he approaches his art.  He's not some snotty hack; he has real substance.  I think he's one of the best late night hosts because he actually seems to listen to his guests when they talk, and it's this ability to empathize that led to what he did right here.

Craig thought about the power of his own words and the people it would potentially hurt. He took his role as an artist and a voice in pop culture and acted kindly, responsibly.  It's sad that I was more surprised by this small example of basic human decency than I was by the fact that a madman unleashed chaos in a crowded theater.  We've gotten so used to people placing a higher priority on saying whatever the hell they want than on considering the feelings of others.  The word "sensitive" has become more inflammatory than any of the 7 more famous ones Carlin was famous for using (that wasn't a shot - I also love me some Carlin).  It happens on the internet, it happens in performances, and it happens face-to-face.

Seeing the above clip reminded me of the fact that a few weeks ago, I was thinking about how Craig was the perfect counterpoint to another comedian in the middle of a media circus:  Daniel Tosh.  When Tosh made his little non-joke about sexual assault, I was admittedly pissed off.  Because even though I admit to laughing at episodes of Tosh.O, my expectations of his particular brand of humor aren't particularly high to begin with.    Commenting on doofy internet videos doesn't take a lot of thought.  It is what it is.  So while I was angry that his response to being called out for making stupid remarks about sexual assault - because I'm sorry, I won't call them jokes because jokes are funny, but that's for another post entirely - I can't say I was surprised.  It was the ensuing vitriol in the media, largely the comment sections of blogs, that really got me heated.  There's this huge misconception about free speech, and a lot of the nastier and more extraordinarily grammar-challenged commenters seem to get behind this misconception:  that free speech means "I can say whatever I want and everyone else has to SHUT UP.  I'm entitled to MY opinion and anything you say against it is you trying to silence me."

Um, no.  Free speech - you're doing it wrong.

Calling Tosh out on a pretty cavalier attitude toward sexual assault and his gross remarks to an audience member that it would be "hilarious" if she got gang-raped isn't infringing on his free speech.  He is free to say what he wants, and people are free to respond in kind.  But what he and his puerile defenders fail to acknowledge (in their scramble to shout louder than anyone else in the room)is that there are victims out there.  And maybe, just maybe, you should consider them or at least be aware of their existence.  So many more than they know.  (I'm not saying we can't joke about horrible and tragic things, but you'd better make damn sure you craft that joke carefully.  You'd better make fun of the right thing.  Tosh failed where others have succeeded.  Lindy West does a nice dissection of the art form here.)  While the Aurora shooting is a shocking single incident, sexual assault is a constant threat in society.  What both have in common is the existence of victims.  The victims of sexual assault however, are much more anonymous and sadly, extensively more numerous.  So many comedians take so much pride in being edgy, and offending groups is like a merit badge.  But seriously, would a comedian get away with making an Aurora joke right now?  Someone would stand up and say something.  Why is what you're saying so important and ostensibly hilarious that you'd take pride in offending a really vast group of people who've been through hell just to have said it?  (I know that's an awkward sentence.  It's 3:20 a.m. right now...)

Commenters and bloggers arguing over free speech often miss a hugely important point:  just because we have the right to say something doesn't mean we should say it.  It's one thing to be passionate about a cause, it's quite another thing to mouth off.  It's like when people say something harsh or cruel, and after getting a nasty look or a complaint in return, throw in this phrase: "What? I'm just being honest."  Well no, you're not *just* being honest, because you're *also* being a jerk.  My favorite of these is, "Wow, you look really tired.  What?  I'm just being honest."   Because if you're being honest, maybe the other person already knows this and doesn't need it pointed out.  Just because it's true - and really, who gets to be the great arbiter on truth? - doesn't mean it needs to be said.  The point is, think about what you're unleashing with this apparent devotion to honesty before you go ahead and unleash it.

(It's taken me a week to write this post.  I started last Friday, then scrapped most of it because I realized I wasn't following my own advice.  A lot of it was angry and reactionary ranting.  I know that sometimes this blog is a typed equivalent of me standing in the middle of a crowd screaming "HEY!  HEY!  I HAVE THOUGHTS!  THOUGHTS, I TELL YOU!  IN MY *HEAD*!!!" but I should at least practice what I preach, so I delayed posting and this has been largely re-written, and it's better for it.)

In our mad dash to make ourselves heard, is it so much to ask that we consider who will be doing the listening?  You want to be heard?  You'll need other people to hear you.  Not caring whether you'll say something devastating  - or intentionally doing so - to those listeners probably means you won't get your point across. That's how conversation works.  It's teamwork. Craig's philosophy is probably why he's such a natural at it on his show.  Why has it become so hard to think before speaking?

Craig says this better than I do.  Maybe it's the accent.  Maybe it's the hour.

Ok, it's definitely both.

Stop trying to make "fetch" happen.

People think I'm joking when I talk about the Stella. I am... not. And I wouldn't have it any other way. (Recorded on my phone.)

Planet Earth is Blue

Sally Ride passed away this week.  I'm trying to think of adjectives to do justice to her, but I'm coming up short.  Let's go with nouns and verbs.  Astronaut, inspiration, trailblazer, teacher.  She studied, she worked, she achieved, she galvanized. She blasted off into space at 32. She broke boundaries. She smashed ceilings. She opened up possibilities. She led by example to get children - especially girls - excited about math and science.

I was one of those little girls.  I used to watch 3-2-1 Contact on PBS with my brother Charlie when I was supertiny, like aged 3 and 4.  People (nerds) our age might remember this show as a pastiche of weird tech-y and science-y segments, with a little mystery thrown in. (Whaddup, original Bloodhound Gang?! Remember that time you made a pinhole camera when you were all kidnapped and thrown into the back of a van but you used science to figure out where you were and you totally thwarted your enemies?  Classic.)  It also had a killer opening segment and theme song.

AMAZING! Memories...

Anyway, it was a great educational show that was pretty important in hooking my interest in science at an early point in my life.  And I remember Sally Ride would come on the show.  She was in a couple of episodes explaining to the hosts - who were always regular kids rocking the best in early 80's fashion - what it was like to work in space, how to use different tools on the shuttle, how to negotiate the details of your day in zero gravity, etc...  I remember how she never talked down to anyone, how she explained things with enthusiasm and patience, and how much she smiled.  Seriously, do a google image search of her.  She had such a terrific smile.  I mean, she got to go into outer space - wouldn't that make you smile for the rest of your life?

Being on Sesame Street would make me smile for the rest of my life.

When someone dies, one of the stock phrases in our arsenal of "things to say to people who are grieving" is "I'm sorry for your loss."  We all say it, almost as a reflex at this point.  I'm not saying that we don't genuinely feel sorry when the situation calls for it, just that the phrase itself gets so much use that it starts to lose the intended effect after a while.  But then the actual experience of real loss re-infuses the phrase with meaning.  And then we remember why we say it.  Right now, I'm sorry for our loss.  The world is a better place because of her, and it's a genuine loss that she is no longer here to keep doing what she was doing. She was only 61. If she hadn't fallen ill, I know we would have seen so much more come from her work. She was one of those rare people who was brilliant but could still explain things in a clear and thorough way, and make it understandable, interesting, and exciting. This is no small feat.  She made discoveries so she could share the knowledge, so that she could bring more people into the conversation and show them how awesome the study of the universe could be. She was an ambassador of science because she made it accessible by changing how this country thought of the space program and about what kind of people could become astronauts.

I'm so sad she's gone; I'm so glad she was here.

And I know everyone is saying this right now, but it has more meaning than it ever has before:

Ride, Sally. Ride.

...and all of that jiving around...

Little girl unknowingly quotes Leonard Cohen, sums up life's trials in 10 seconds.

 (I initially saw the above vid on Jezebel.)

And my head went to this kinda famous refrain...

Resigned

How I looked in my classroom. In my head, at least.  

Today was my last day teaching.  I've taught a summer language arts prep class for incoming freshman for a few years now, and it's always been an easy way to pick up a little extra cash.  Not a whole lot of work, but not a whole lot of reward, either.  The kids were perfectly pleasant and I like grammar, but trying to create a nurturing and stimulating learning environment in the summertime when it's hot outside and stuffy in the building and nobody wants to be there is kind of an exercise in futility.  They aren't with me long enough to develop Stockholm syndrome, but they are with me long enough to be annoyed at how much of their summer involves me going on about indefinite pronouns and verb phrases and having them find the simple subject of sentences like "Clouds of fairies were loudly buzzing around my head."   (Hint - the simple subject is NEVER part of a prepositional phrase.)

Until this year, when I taught prep, I also taught a creative writing enrichment class for a group of artistically-inclined girls (sometimes you'll know them as the "indoor" kids) but not enough signed up this year to make the program cost-effective.  This bummed me out, because I really liked working with the earnest, journal-writing, skit-performing, poetry-screaming crowd.  Y'know, the kids who actually elected to come to a hot, mostly-empty-but-fully-depressing building in the summertime.  I missed my indoor kids this year.

Just having a little cry...

Seriously, there are few things stranger, gloomier, or full of an indescribable sense of wrongness than the school building in summertime.  Empty hallways, empty classrooms, empty desks.  Entire floors of the building are dark.  The administration is still working on reduced hours, so the offices still have people in them, but that's only one small part of the building.  You can see a few maintenance guys here and there, but really the whole place is on a skeleton crew.  And it's eerily quiet. The atmosphere is almost foreboding, like that scene in the Neverending Story where Bastian hides out in school after everybody leaves so he has somewhere to read the book in private - THAT FEELING.  When all the lights in the hallways go out and everyone leaves and you're just watching and thinking, "Oh my god, he's not supposed to be there.  He's really not supposed to be there."

Seriously, kid? Could you have picked a creepier location?
It's like he found the Room of Requirement for a sociopath.

Or maybe that's just how I remember it.  (And it's not on Netflix, dammit. Anyway, this is the second time in a week a blog post sent me to look up images from the Neverending Story and both times I've ended up sadder for it. Oh the flip side, though, a quick trip to IMDB reminded me that Bastian's dad was played by none other than Gerald McRaney.  Major Dad!  Rick Simon!  George Hearst!  Bastian's dad.  I guess I never realized how much I'd call on this movie to codify my existence.  From now on, it's The Princess Bride and Spaceballs that will help me get through the day.) 

But anyway, that's how the empty school in summertime makes me feel.  The atmosphere just saddens me.  It saps my energy. Maybe it's the contrast that really does it.  The place is usually full of happy noise and funny kids.  Sure, there are the days when everyone is dragging around like a zombie - especially the teachers - but for the most part, a school is a really lively and energetic place.  Most often, it's a happy place.  But it's almost always at least a *busy* place.  Even in the hours after dismissal, kids at my school would come bug me in my classroom while I was grading or prepping for the next day, just to talk and hang out.  There were club meetings, tutoring groups, a library that sounded like a non-stop party, music practice, show rehearsals, and kids just lounging around and sitting on the floor up against their lockers in absolutely no rush to leave.  It's nice, actually.  On days when the last thing I wanted to do was go home, I knew there'd probably be some people around in the building until 5, 6, 6:30 and I'd have some company while I got some work done.  

The first and last days are always the loudest and most exciting for everyone.  On the last day, teachers and students alike are bursting at the seams and ready to go careening out of there at dismissal.  Everyone's hugging and laughing and some seniors are crying, and nobody can believe how quickly the year went by.  And on the first day of school, everyone's laughing and hugging and some freshmen are crying, and nobody can believe how quickly the summer went by.  

But, like I said. 

Today was my last day teaching.

I had that last day of school with all the hugging and the "see you in September" partings.  I watched my kids and colleagues bolt when the time came.  But I'm not going to have that first day back.  I'm not going back on staff day to decorate my classroom and get my schedule and class lists and reconnect with my friends and colleagues.  I'm just...not going back. 

On the last day of school, I hadn't yet gotten a firm job offer from anywhere else.  Actually I had gotten a few firm rejections, but I still felt that in all likelihood I wouldn't be returning.  But my kids didn't know that.  And a great many of my colleagues didn't know that.  And that made the last day of school so incredibly awful, and painful, and a bigger emotional trial than it usually is to say goodbye to everyone.  It felt like I was about to break up with someone when that someone thinks everything is going well - no, that everything is going JUST SWELL - and has no idea what grief is immediately in store.  I'm not trying to inflate my position here, but I know I've been an important person in that place for the past 7 years, and it's been a hugely important part of my life for that time as well.  I know that my leaving has made and will make some people really sad, but nobody will be sadder about this decision than I am right now.  So every time some kid or colleague came up to say bye or waved and said "See you in the fall," it just got a little tougher.  And worse, I couldn't just leave, because I had to a) prepare for the summer class, and b) completely clean and gut my classroom just in case I wouldn't be back.  So I basically avoided people as best I could, which also makes me feel lousy.

And then everyone left, and I transitioned into depressing summer school, which now that I think about it, was better for my pockets but not really good for my head at all.  And then I got a job offer.  And THEN I had to tell my administration, and that was also really hard.

So I resigned.

I've spent almost a quarter of my life at this place; these people are like family to me.  They've been there for me through really rough times, and I'm going to miss working with them.  But I'm really going to miss the kids, and I'm really going to miss teaching.  There were moments when I was in such a state that literally the only thing that kept me from coming completely undone was that I couldn't lose it in front of my kids.  And then it'd pass, and I'd be ok again.  They got me through a lot just by being there - after all, my classes weren't going to prep themselves for a standardized test, so I had to pull it together and get shit done for them even if I couldn't do it for myself.  Teaching them gave me a feeling of purpose during moments when I thought I wasn't good for anything.   When I was struggling to do grad school AND a full time job.  When I was trying to finish my master's thesis on no sleep and too much coffee (the Asian club forced me to eat a few times.) When I was getting hit with repeated rejections from grad programs after multiple rounds of applications.  When friendships of mine were crumbling.  When for no logical reason I felt like the most useless failure of a human being.  I always felt better when I got to class - especially my Earth Science classes this year, who for some reason were always like OH MY GOD TELL US MORE ABOUT THE SOLAR SYSTEM WE MUST KNOW MORE - and kids were genuinely happy to see me.  And actually liked learning science.  And my MSG Varsity after school activity saved me a lot on therapy bills because starting work on a documentary and filming and editing with that group of kids helped me work out a lot of my own issues much more effectively.   

But for a lot of reasons, I really can't stay.  For one thing, I just can't afford it.  The ultimately futile path to a PhD program saddled me with a lot of student loan debt (not like a PhD program would have done much to alleviate that anyway) and life is just getting more and more expensive, and Catholic school pays you in metaphorical Hail Marys.  And just as the kids were not the cause of my personal instabilities, neither are they the solution, so I have to work that crap out for myself regardless.  I did try to get another teaching job, but couldn't.  While I pursued the PhD path, I never got certified as a high school science teacher, so I can't compete with those that are.  I can't beat myself up for that; I didn't know this is where I'd be right now.  One dream didn't work out.  I'll find something new.  C'est la vie.

I also got to a point where there was nothing left of me at the end of the day because of how much work the job began to entail.  So I burned out a little bit. No, I burned out a lot.  Now I'm taking a job that will be really different, but one I can leave at the end of the day to go work on whatever the hell I need to.  Or want to.  I won't get to dress up in pajamas or talk about gravity while wearing roller skates, but I'll have time on my own to do that crap.

So my last day of teaching was to a group of kids not attached to me at all.  And on my last day of work, I quietly walked out of a sad, near-empty building.  Which is actually ok - I don't like fuss.  It's sad, because I think I was pretty damn good at my job, but it's my situation now and I'm going to own it.

BUT...to cheer myself up, I came up with some funny scenarios in my head.  What if some really amazing opportunity had come along and I had known ahead of time so that I could announce it to the school and go out in style?  Like I could have had a friend hijack the PA system on the last day and say...

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she has joined the space program.  She will be the first woman on Mars and she's thinking of building a summer home there."

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she is going to be a production assistant for the BBC/NOVA/Discovery Channel programs and will eventually get her hands on this guy."

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she is serving as first mate on a ship headed to the straits of Magellan where she will abandon ship and live among the glaciers.

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she somehow went through the looking glass.  But it's ok, she's a fairly mediocre chess player."

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she is going deep undercover to rid the world of clowns.  Her message to you:  'You're welcome.'"

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she has chosen to live out her life as a recluse in one of the creepy abandoned buildings on Hart Island."

Creepiest. Picture. Ever. Taken.

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she will be the lady version of Nathan Explosion in Ladyklok, the all-female Dethklok tribute band.  Years of teaching at the top of her lungs and entertaining teenagers has prepared her for this, so she thanks you.  But you had nothing to do with the black wardrobe and the rageaholism; she's had both a long time."

"Attention ladies - Ms. Sitler will not be returning in the fall because she has completely gone off the deep end.  You can find her in the cafeteria spinning around a support beam and doing her best Paul Rudd impression.

At the end of the day, Ms. Sitler is leaving for some very mundane reasons.  Sometimes life is just boring like that.  But whatever.  A friend of mine asked me if I was excited. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm going to work hard and do right by my new employers, and I'm GLAD I won't have to choose between doctor visits and groceries because the pay and benefits are very good.  But "excited" doesn't cut it.  I'm too tired for that.  Sadly, I just feel resigned. 

Shallow Answers to Deep Questions

"Rosemary, my ears are tired."  My mother reminds me from time to time that she used to say this to me when I was a little girl yammering on and on about whatever had me all bent out of shape at the given moment.  (Like I need reminding.  Words hurt, Ma.  They hurt.)  This was before blogs, or Rose-mini  would have been all over that mess.  Posts would have been titled "Why did my parents let me believe my birthmark was an actual coffee stain?" "Bananas are gross"  "2nd Grade - The Great Depression of Grammar School,"  and "Brothers:  The case for a return policy on siblings."

Actually, that's not too different from what I currently post.  Though when I think back to myself as a little girl, like 8-10, I feel like I was a way more ballsy and bolder little thing compared to myself now.  My mom says I've grown more circumspect; I think I've lost my nerve.

Instead of waxing poetic and barfing up too much verbiage in response to a rather simple question like I've been doing, I thought I'd craft a brief (ha!) ode to circumspection and/or lost nerve.  Philosophical questions.  Literary Research Paper Prompts. BIG QUESTIONS.

Short answers.

Some of the following question were headlines on blogs I frequent, or gleaned from suggestions for book club discussions.  And some I just came up with for the hell of it.  (Also: This exercise is really starting to make me miss classic Mad Magazine's "Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions.")

From Lifehacker:
BIG QUESTION: Is everything I do actually killing me?

Short answer:

Yes.

From http://philwiki.wetpaint.com/page/Ship+Of+Theseus+and+Locke's+Socks

BIG QUESTION:

"John Locke proposed a scenario regarding a favorite sock that develops a hole. He questioned whether the sock would still be the same after a patch was applied to the hole. If yes, then, would it still be the same sock after a second patch was applied? Indeed, would it still be the same sock many years later, even after all of the material of the original sock has been replaced with patches?"

Short answer:

Change your socks more, Locke.

From the fungally named website SelfGrowth.com:

BIG QUESTION

"What is good and what is bad or evil? What is moral? What is ethical? Who decides good and bad, right and wrong; and by what standard? Is there an absolute standard of good and bad beyond one’s the personal opinions? Should good and bad be determined by custom, by rational law, or by the situation? What if the decisions of others (society, authorities, laws, etc) determining good and bad are contrary to one’s personal beliefs or freedoms? ¯should you obey others or follow your own conscience? Moreover, if we do not have free will but are ruled by outside factors, what difference does good and bad make? ¯we have no choice. If so, we have no responsibility for doing bad."

Short Answer, Also phrased in the form of a question:

How about you not act like a dick, huh?

From http://philosophy.tamu.edu/~sdaniel/quesphil.html:

BIG QUESTION:

According to Socrates, an unexamined life is not worth living; and it certainly could not be a virtuous life.  Why not? 

Short answer:

He'd be out of a job.

Most bodacious philosophizer

BIG QUESTION:
Which came first: the chicken or the egg?

Short Answer:

Dinosaurs!

From "Hamlet Study Questions"

BIG QUESTION: Why does Hamlet wait so long to kill Claudius?  What are the reasons for his hesitation?  How valid are they?  How many times does he have the opportunity to attack Claudius?  What are his reasons for not doing so? 

Short answer:

Hamlet SUCKS.

But do I?
I need three acts to figure that out...

From "Romeo and Juliet Study Questions"

BIG QUESTION: Did the tragic outcome of this play result from accident, from fate, or from character? Or from some combination of the three?

Short answer:

From teenagers.

Palm-to-Palm is holy crap they were so stupid...

I always told my students - in preparation for the a state test - that when crafting a written response for Biology or Earth Science, it was important to get to the point and answer the question, and if they wrote a whole pile of crap that needed sifting and prospecting that it would be detrimental to their grade.  For my own tests, I told them that if they had no idea what the answer was, the least they could do was try to make me laugh.   So sometimes a nice pithy little response or cocky rejoinder was a welcome relief from extensive sentences of bs that got the same score anyway.  Charlie V. sent this to me, and I think it needs no explanation.

The mud that I wouldn't mind crawling through...

My buddy Kristin and I did the Warrior Dash this past weekend.  Because when you think warriors, you know you think of these chicks... 

We apparently got photo-bombed by that shirtless dude.

...or at least you will from now on, suckas.

 Kris's hubby Dan drove us out to NJ and took all the pictures of us in the race and was an terrific  cheerleader, photographer, and guardian of stuff while we slogged through a 5k running trail and obstacle course during the hottest part of the day.  Here is a photo of Dan being awesome.

Though at one point he talked smack to Kristin because she wasn't running during the last leg of about 80 gajillion obstacles (did I mention the heat?) and she responded thusly.

I got your obstacle right here.

Before we actually got to the whole "Dash" part - which was largely a schlep because of the ankle-to-knee-deep mud covering most of the course - we had to wait on line for shuttle buses.  At this point, I revealed just how little I had read up on the course because I was like, "Well, at least there won't be barbed wire or flames."  And then Kris was like, um, there's going to be both barbed wire AND flames.  Oops.  She must have been thinking this:

My friends don't read the fine print, nyeh.

The ankle-to-knee-deep mud was really great because it was nice and cool and like sanctioned mud-puddle splashing.  Actually, we all kinda looked like Atreyu in the swamps of sadness, except nobody was sad about a horse dying.  We were all pretty happy, actually.

Looked?  Similar.  Felt?  Opposite.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go cry about the saddest scene in a movie ever.

I was actually glad I hadn't read up on the course beforehand (which you can see here) because I didn't get a chance to psyche myself out.  20 foot vertical wall with just a rope?  Sure I can do it (without falling and breaking my leg).  Barbed wire crawl?  No WAY I'm gonna scratch my eyeball and go blind.  Swim to the middle of the lake?  Not a problem (with waterlogged sneakers).  Fire-swamp flame spurt?  I didn't like my shins much ANYWAY.  It actually worked out for the best.  Because we totally did it. the muscles are paying for it today, but what the hell.

Here are some more pics Dan took.  Kris may look tiny, but she was twice the badass some bigger individuals were.

She kinda looks like a video game character in these.  Like she's about to stomp the sh*t outta those flames.

BAM.  Power up.

I can only assume she was thinking the same thing I was at this point:
where the hell are the showers?

Yay! 

Kris had a 3:00 start and I signed up late so I had a 3:30 start, so there was a similar lag between our finish times.

A departure from my standard raging case of bitch-face.

Kinda looks like I was revving up to smack someone in this shot.

 I still can't believe I didn't scrape my face on the barbed wire.

As exhausting as it was, it was a really great feeling to finish this.  And for some reason in the photo below, we look like robots unfamiliar with the concepts of hugs.

This was the most fun I've had in a really long time.  I felt exhausted and amazing and it reminded me that giving your body a good challenge can be really good for your head.  Thanks, Kris and Dan, for convincing me to do this, getting us all out there, and recording the moments.  Especially the one in the following pic, which clearly captures my best side.

Science on 34th street

Manhattanhenge 2012 happens twice a year.  Neil deGrasse Tyson can tell you all about it here. I completely flaked on the one in May because I was too busy pretending like my birthday wasn't about to happen.  I did however catch the July 11th event, and took about a zillion pictures as the sun was setting.  Only one really came out well.  Here it is.

Never give up Knope

In lieu of a weekly Swanspiration - Never give up Knope

From the episode where Leslie cops to shooting Ron in the back of the head and the ranger thinks it's because she's a woman, because women get tunnel vision. So she gives him a few more womanly reasons.



"I'm good at tolerating pain.
I'm bad at math...
and I'm stupid."

POETRY.

I'm gonna go watch Baby Mama now because I wanna be bff's with Amy Poehler and Tina Fey.

Ain't no party like a physics party...

Cuz a physics party is prevented from reaching the speed of light by the Higgs Field!

I think...

The putative Higgs boson has been discovered.  What does it all mean?  

No really, what does it all mean?  

NO, SERIOUSLY, WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN????

Ok, let's do some homework.  While putting this post together, my first google image search taught me three things:

1. There are already a ton of internet meme-ready jpeg images of lame Higgs jokes.

2. T-shirt manufacturers were a lot more ready to pounce on this news than many media outlets.

3. Peter Higgs looks a lot like Carl Reiner.

I gotta tell ya, I really enjoyed Ocean's 11.

And those particles were just smashing! Well done!

Also, never mind that "Higgs Boson" sounds like the name of secretly-hot-but-outwardly-nerdy anti-hero in an 80's teen romantic comedy.  I think the plot would go something like this: the popular girl (blonde) copies off of Higgs' homework, but her close proximity to him at just the right moment gets her assigned as his lab partner.  So then all her friends are like, "Hey (blonde) let's go to the mall!" and she's like, "I can't, I have to do a science project with HIGGS BOSON!" And they're all like, "Ew, grody to the max!" But then when she works with Higgs, she finds out that he's really sweet and looks cute without his glasses on, and is so much smarter than this guy, whom she's been dating because she has no self-worth.  So naturally she falls in love with Higgs.  They date briefly, but then realize they don't have much in common and he ends up with his tomboyish best female friend (brunette), who the audience totally knew was perfect for him all along, but he just couldn't see past her ponytail until she got all dolled up for the prom  - IRONY! - and it all ends happily with everybody learning an important lesson about friendship and dancing the night away to this song.  I think Higgs Boson would have been played by a young Patrick Dempsey.

Meet me at CERN, baby.  Let's collide.

See, if we associate the Higgs boson with a cute face like the future McDreamy, maybe more people would be excited by this news (Hear that faint clicking noise? It's a million nerds posting variations of "This gets my electrons into an excited state" - type double-entendres on tumblr.) Because in my opinion,  people in general just aren't amped enough about this. The boson needs a PR rep.  It needs cheerleaders.  It needs an agent.  It needs.... Joe Biden!

THIS IS A BIG F*CKIN' DEAL!

Because it f*cking is.  

In grad school (oh, here we go...) I took these really bitchin' classes : Intro to Science Studies I and II.  And once we got past my professor insisting that we call him by his first name ('Sup, Daniel!), we talked about how science is a big complicated belief system similar to religion.  This got a lot of hard science students in my class kinda riled up (ok, just the 2 - it was a small class) because this makes it sound like science isn't fact-based.  But being fact-based is kind of irrelevant to the discussion, and calling it a belief system does not have to discredit science in any way (I'm about to WAY oversimplify about 2 semesters worth of stuff here).  What I got from this discussion is that science and religion are both monolithic institutions that govern a lot of people's worldviews; some can reconcile both, some can only view them as mutually exclusive, and some can only exist where the two intersect.  Facts, truth, whatever.  Both science and religion hold a lot of meaning, have a lot of followers, and provoke a lot of reaction.  Both belief systems have similar structures, hierarchy and historical trajectories as well.  Religions (and specific religions, like Christianity) have gone through phases where participation by all was encouraged, then later was restricted, and back and forth.  Access to truth, or whatever you want to call it, was once open to discussion and shared by all.  Think about Christ and his homeboys: your basic tax collector, fisherman, or unmarried woman were all hanging out and talking and sharing loaves and fishes.  Later, religious discussion and scholarship became the domain of a select few.  Ability to practice it was likewise restricted, and we end up with divisions like clergy and laypeople.  Again, I'm oversimplifying because I think I have a point.  Somewhere.

It's no small coincidence that we use similar language for science.  Ever hear the phrase "to put it in layman's terms?"  Science as an institution has gone through similar swings in its presence in the popular consciousness.  There's a distinct division between public and private with rules about who gets to make discoveries.   Who gets to play around with it?  Who gets to understand it?  Who gets access to the secrets of the universe and the discoveries that we make about what makes us what we are?  Botany and Astronomy used to welcome participation and discovery by amateurs, where an average person could contribute directly to the field and be an actual part of knowledge production.  This is still done on some level, but I think it's worth noting that a lot of people don't feel like they are allowed access to science, so they don't really make an effort to make science part of their daily lives.  There's the idea that science exists only in the lab; that dudes in white coats with clipboards are the keepers of all that knowledge, protected by this bubble keeping all the rest of us out.  Now this image exists for a reason, because a lot of science has historically been practiced this way.  But I feel like that pendulum could swing right back and break down the bubble any day now, and it should.  If more people felt like science was accessible, it wouldn't be so mysterious and scary; it wouldn't cause so much negative reactionary behavior.  It wouldn't keep out the people it could benefit.  

So let's look at this cultural moment, because yes, science exists within human culture no matter what hard-nosed science purists want to say.  We use language and imagery to describe things, name things, and categorize them.  The key players that could really use this moment to open up science to the eager young minds of today are scientists who aren't just good at what they do, but are good at explaining what they do in, well, for lack of a better phrase, layman's terms.  These people are teachers, or science popularizers, or both.  Like Michio Kaku.  Like Neil deGrasse Tyson and Brian Cox (whom I totally want to marry).  Like Carl Sagan was.  Like the people who put together this amazing video that I saw on Wired, which takes 7 minutes to explain things it would take me 7 years to understand normally.

The Higgs Boson Explained from PHD Comics on Vimeo.

See - merging science with artistic media makes it all so much easier to take in.  It's inviting.  It's intriguing.  And if we take it in, and talk about it with our friends at parties, then we become part of the bigger conversation.  And that's a big important first step for some people.  Science shouldn't be this big scary thing that frightens away the next potential Einstein, who may turn out to be a girl who keeps being told she'll suck at math because she's, y'know, a girl, Larry Summers.  As a culture, we shape the science that we then in turn look to for answers about what shapes us.  It's a big crazy reflexive process.  We have to handle this dance carefully.  If only a select few contribute to the shaping and presentation of new knowledge, then they control what the general public knows.  I don't have a PhD in physics, but I definitely want in on this party.  I mean, look how much fun they're having in Geneva in this NYTimes photo.

Again, what does it all mean?

So we've got this particle - and it's not alone in its particle-ness. (By the way, "Charm Quark" would totally be the name of the brunette tomboy best friend of Higgs Boson.)   But if we're right about the boson, then we are all in constant interaction with these little particles, and our bodies behave the way they do because of these little particles.  And not just our bodies, but everything that has mass.  Cats, planets, sandwiches, galaxies, everything.  And we are all kind of moving through the Higgs field the way we do because of the bosons informing our mass.  (If I'm getting this metaphor right - I'm not sure.  I was a soft science major.  I was trained to interpret culture, and I pretty much minored in interpreting literature.  I only hope I'm interpreting it well.)  One of the other videos from the Wired link above likens the Higgs field to a kind of comforting cloud around us all the time.  We're all enveloped in it, and move through it toward and away from each other.  I hear that and it makes me think about fairies buzzing around us.  Or fireflies.  I kinda love this idea.

A lot of people are also calling it the God particle, and really, do we need a more explicit symbol than that to show the similarities and NOT the differences between science and religion?  I think calling it that is kind of stupid, really, but if it helps some people come to the party, then fine, put your party pants on and come chase your God particle.  I feel like if you couldn't find God in any other scientific discovery (if that's your thing) then you're not going to find it in the Higgs boson.  If you can't find it in the Grand Canyon or Aurora Borealis or the structure of a nautilus shell, then how are you gonna find it in the Higgs boson?  Because you can't see it?

I also feel like calling it the God particle could do more harm than good.  I get that calling it that means that religious politicians are more likely to fund scientific studies, but then we get back to the conversation of who gets to control knowledge production.  Is it only worth funding if it proves the existence of God?  If so, we haven't come very far.  Calling it this could also lead to reactionary misrepresentation, like when my former students freaked out about evolution because they sure as hell didn't come from monkeys.  (That's right, you sure as hell didn't, I'd say. Let's actually define the word before we panic, hmm?) Plus, bringing up the God particle at this point allows me to use this image I found here.

Charlie V., this is totes for you, bro.

Seriously, what does it all mean?

Atheist, agnostic, and many self-identifying religious practitioners of science alike don't have to use this particular moniker to convey how awesome this discovery is.  I certainly don't, and I have no problem with God. (It's people with whom I generally have problems.)  I think the boson's discovery alone - with all the work that went into it - is an amazing testament to the human mind and spirit, to teamwork and ingenuity and the drive to learn more just for the sake of learning more.  And I think this little particle's existence - especially its ability to create mass, and just the stuff of the universe itself - is a mind-blowing thought.  It makes me think of what Carl Sagan said about stars in Cosmos.  “The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” 

And here it is - major belief systems like science, religion, and philosophy are united in the search for meaning. Ultimately, that's why I'm so jazzed about this discovery and where it's going to take us.  If it helps us understand the source of all the mass in the universe, then we can start to figure out dark matter, antimatter, and what-the-hell-ever is going on with black holes.  If we can begin to understand how it began, well, maybe we can be more responsible and look at where we're going with clearer vision.  Does this not get you going?  Does this not excite your electrons?

And ok, I get sentimental about this kinda stuff.  It feels goofy to admit this, but when I think of what Carl Sagan said about how we are all made of starstuff and what that means, I feel a little more connected to the rest of the universe.  And that's kind of a big deal for me.  Whether you're standing on a subway platform or at the beach with your toes just touching the Atlantic, on some fundamental level you're sharing a common source material with everything immediately around you and everything in the far reaches of the universe.  We're connected by this stuff. You and I are connected by this (and if you piss me off, my foot and your face are connected by this.)  If the Higgs boson helps you feel this and see God, that's alright with me.  But if God never enters into this equation for you, but this still brings you some sense of connection, well that's also alright.

It's late and I've been rambling.  But I really am wondering how this discovery is gonna play itself out.  Will there be new university departments dedicated to what the boson can teach us?  Will first graders get to weigh in and be part of this new conversation?  So many questions.  But I know the answer to one, at least.  Who'll play Peter Higgs in the "Boom! There goes the Boson!" a new movie about particle physics coming to a theater near you?  Well, that's obvious.

Day off?

I'll probably spend it kinda like this. Except I don't get to live with Stanley Tucci. Dammit.

The dog days continue...

It's so damn hot.  Thankfully, my friend Mary invited me to hang out with her and her new puppy, the rather breathtakingly beautiful bulldog Delilah.  And I could continue to beat the heat in my new favorite way: with canines on a kitchen floor.  

I dare you to be in a bad mood around this puppy.  It only looks like she's trying to get to second with me in the photos above; she's pretty content just to kiss you to death.  Mary pointed out that her harness makes Delilah look like she works at Home Depot.  So we asked her where the paintbrushes were and she was like, sorry, not my section.