I stand on the sidewalk.
Outside: sunny, summer day. Blooming flowers. Cars drive by. Bikers ride by. Dogs bark. Life is pretty normal for a small town.
Meanwhile, there is another reality on the other side of the house's door.
Inside: a woman lays on her bed, dying of cancer. Shades drawn. Dim light. Hushed tones. Heavy air. Her husband lays beside her to comfort her. A typical picture for this household for the last couple weeks.
All this not 30 feet from where I stand. And the outside world has no idea. The house's exterior certainly shows no sign of the sadness it contains: cheery paint, energetic dogs in the back yard, green grass...
I suppose this happens all the time, great sadness and life-as-normal pushed together, side by side, separated by a thin wall, if even that. In fact, I know it happens all the time. But exiting that house after my mom visited her dying friend for yet another time, the abrupt change really hit me: inside/outside, dark/bright, quiet/normal, sad/unaware...
I guess I just say this to point out how little we know: I walk down a street and have no idea that inside one house may reside grief, dark and heavy, while inside the next, new joy awakens. This certainly is the case with people's hearts too: Passing by a person, her expressionless exterior may hide a broken heart, or it may hide a peaceful one. Just a couple feet away...
It's all life, I guess. It just seems particularly ironic, and a little tragic.
--Ellen P.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
At the University of Future...
Journal Entry
Date: April 5, 1711
I always knew that the robo-students at this University of Future were particularly strange, but now I've figured it out: it's the source of their energy. Every student has access to electronic panels and they charge their energy through their hands, feverishly tapping their fingertips on keys or resting their right palm on a sliding piece attached to this panel. Most students have a personal panel and do this in the privacy of their rooms, but other bring them portable screens to class and other locations with them. Even the local library holds many books, exactly of the type that I am familiar with, but many students can't even make it to the lower or upper levels of the library to rooms with those books unless they first stop at a screen to soak up energy. These students must not have a interior generator to recharge their energy on their own. And around campus, many have cords going into their ears, so this must be another way of charging when they cannot be at their primary energy panel.
Their lifestyle must be particularly tiring for the need for all this recharging, and I think I have also identified the main source of their fatigue: the dream-state. You see, every robo-student is recommended to get about 7 hours of dream-state every night, but it must be a rather dreadful experience for them, considering how they avoid it. Some stay attached to their panels for hours before pulling themselves away to face the work of dream-state, others put powerful liquids into themselves to avoid it as long as possible. I can only imagine what this dream-state must be like to cause them to go to such extremes.
Yet not all robo-students are like this. I have seen some, though rare, students go for one day or several without attachment to electronic panels. This happens more often when they are not attending classes, but not always. Some even claim that this experience is good for them, and indeed at times they seem more refreshed from their dream-state work than their energy transfer at the electronic panels.
Either way, what a strange life.
As for me, I think it's time to sleep.
--Ellen
Date: April 5, 1711
I always knew that the robo-students at this University of Future were particularly strange, but now I've figured it out: it's the source of their energy. Every student has access to electronic panels and they charge their energy through their hands, feverishly tapping their fingertips on keys or resting their right palm on a sliding piece attached to this panel. Most students have a personal panel and do this in the privacy of their rooms, but other bring them portable screens to class and other locations with them. Even the local library holds many books, exactly of the type that I am familiar with, but many students can't even make it to the lower or upper levels of the library to rooms with those books unless they first stop at a screen to soak up energy. These students must not have a interior generator to recharge their energy on their own. And around campus, many have cords going into their ears, so this must be another way of charging when they cannot be at their primary energy panel.
Their lifestyle must be particularly tiring for the need for all this recharging, and I think I have also identified the main source of their fatigue: the dream-state. You see, every robo-student is recommended to get about 7 hours of dream-state every night, but it must be a rather dreadful experience for them, considering how they avoid it. Some stay attached to their panels for hours before pulling themselves away to face the work of dream-state, others put powerful liquids into themselves to avoid it as long as possible. I can only imagine what this dream-state must be like to cause them to go to such extremes.
Yet not all robo-students are like this. I have seen some, though rare, students go for one day or several without attachment to electronic panels. This happens more often when they are not attending classes, but not always. Some even claim that this experience is good for them, and indeed at times they seem more refreshed from their dream-state work than their energy transfer at the electronic panels.
Either way, what a strange life.
As for me, I think it's time to sleep.
--Ellen
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Ode to Avis
“Ode to Avis”
©Ellen P.
Beloved Avis, how richly has your life of love
impressed itself upon this heart of mine!
And with this ode I send thanks above
and call to mem’ry delightful labors of thine.
Take, for example, that rich, wafting scent
of baking goods that called stomachs, filled noses,
and so rich too, the hues your watercolors lent
to forever beautify quickly fading roses.
Also rich were the melodies together we’d hum,
girlishly, cheek to cheek and hand in hand,
that you never minded if I was Grandpa’s chum
because my heart held you both at my command.
And how rich, the meaning behind your words,
in poems and honest prayers, so well-writ!
as beautiful as beloved cardinal-birds
and as comforting as those afghans you knit.
Indeed, all the senses are engaged by a person so rich:
in eating sumptuous food, in noting painted art,
in snuggling under blankets and joining our pitch,
that I shall live all my years with you impressed
upon my heart!
Dedicated to my grandmother Avis, who passed away March 2011.
--Ellen P.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Tangible things I own that I value most
I was thinking about this topic the other day so here’s what I came up with, in order of value to me:
1. My miniMac
2. My dad’s old Trek road bike
3. My Spain/China scrapbook
4. My binder of poetic works, now a tangible form of my electronic archive
5. My journal collection
Note what’s not on my list: my (former) car, cuz that’s still in Nowheresville, CO… Not my iPod, not some cool phone, not a dog, not an expensive pair of shoes (not that I buy those anyway!), not a TV (don’t have one of those either)...
So these things fall into two categories: creative works (that can’t be reproduced), and unusual but high-quality products that are useful (a.k.a. something that nerds of specific fields would like).
Anyway. Just kinda interesting.
Ellen P.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
How (not) to conduct the first day of class
5 (classes on average per semester) x 8 (semesters in college) = 40 different classes and about 34 different professors, since I've had a few more than once.
That means I have sat through the first day of class in college lots of times! Notwithstanding the educational content, what follows here is the "meta-educational" content, that is, what I learned about how to educate... specifically, the do's and don't of how to conduct the first day of class.
1. Don't read the syllabus word for word. (Do provide one in class --it's worth the paper-- or have it up on a screen.)
2. Introduce yourself. Why are you teaching this? What did you study in college? Do you have a family? I always think it's interesting to know, and helpful to believe that my professors aren't just droids who stay in the janitor's closet overnight.
3. In a small class, have students introduce themselves. Yes, the name-year-major-why I'm taking this class speech is common, but in this case, I think it's a good time to use it. I want to know who I'll be working with or at least sitting next to for the semester.
4. Say something funny but appropriate.
5. Don't expect students to own the textbook yet.
6. Don't have homework due already (implying that students had to do something prior to the first
day of class. Besides the high probability that lots of people won't have noticed, it's just cruel).
7. Do give an idea of how difficult the class will be: no, you don't want to scare students away, but setting the tone for the rest of the semester is useful.
8. Use visuals, and I mean more than the syllabus. An empty classroom on the first day is just plain boring.
9. Honestly (and readers may disagree here), teaching a little on the first day is okay. Students are more likely to feel it was worthwhile to show up for a class that lasted longer than 15 minutes, and you will give the impression that you use time efficiently.
10. On the other hand, if you don't have a lot to say yet, don't drag out the class. Don't want the students to be sick of you already on the first day!
Apparently I've started a trend of making lists for blog entries. Hope you like them!
--Ellen P.
That means I have sat through the first day of class in college lots of times! Notwithstanding the educational content, what follows here is the "meta-educational" content, that is, what I learned about how to educate... specifically, the do's and don't of how to conduct the first day of class.
1. Don't read the syllabus word for word. (Do provide one in class --it's worth the paper-- or have it up on a screen.)
2. Introduce yourself. Why are you teaching this? What did you study in college? Do you have a family? I always think it's interesting to know, and helpful to believe that my professors aren't just droids who stay in the janitor's closet overnight.
3. In a small class, have students introduce themselves. Yes, the name-year-major-why I'm taking this class speech is common, but in this case, I think it's a good time to use it. I want to know who I'll be working with or at least sitting next to for the semester.
4. Say something funny but appropriate.
5. Don't expect students to own the textbook yet.
6. Don't have homework due already (implying that students had to do something prior to the first
day of class. Besides the high probability that lots of people won't have noticed, it's just cruel).
7. Do give an idea of how difficult the class will be: no, you don't want to scare students away, but setting the tone for the rest of the semester is useful.
8. Use visuals, and I mean more than the syllabus. An empty classroom on the first day is just plain boring.
9. Honestly (and readers may disagree here), teaching a little on the first day is okay. Students are more likely to feel it was worthwhile to show up for a class that lasted longer than 15 minutes, and you will give the impression that you use time efficiently.
10. On the other hand, if you don't have a lot to say yet, don't drag out the class. Don't want the students to be sick of you already on the first day!
Apparently I've started a trend of making lists for blog entries. Hope you like them!
--Ellen P.
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