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While it would be untrue to say that I am unimportant, certainly untrue in regards to my family - the most frequent readers of this journal - I can almost certainly say I am unimportant on a large scale or over wide distances. At least, that was until this evening when I got an e-mail from a Mr. Peter Wood, of the National Association of Scholars. Grandma Anne informed me that this was a conservative academic policy think tank, and a quick reference corroborated this. So why should this Mr. Wood be e-mailing me? Well, as chance would have it, he was in the Twin Cities recently and by happenstance was reading the Mac Weekly, our local school paper. It is not known for cutting edge journalism nor for the engaged citizenship one might find in the op-ed section. Certainly, it's not the New York Times, not even the New York Post. Hell, it's not even the Minot Daily News. Still, an article I had written on 'global citizenship' attracted this man's attention. Not only did it attract his attention, he was so incensed by it that he decided to rebut the article on his organization's website. At first, when I read the e-mail he sent informing me he had written a reply to my story, I couldn't figure out who the hell this man was or where he came from. I thought at first he was from some obscure college I'd never heard of and was, like me, a student.
Nope, not only is this man not a student but he is the executive director of the NAS. So, let's look at the situation. Here we have me, 21-year-old college junior writing in the Mac Weekly, circulation 20 (good week), writing on a subject that perhaps twelve people in the US besides Mac students and faculty are aware exists; next, we have Mr. Peter Wood Executive Director writing about my article from the Mac Weekly, circulation 20 (good week), rebutting my piece on a subject that perhaps twelve people in the US besides Mac students and faculty are aware exists, citing my piece "surpassing any indictment against contemporary American higher education" his organization has ever made. Well golly.
I was also surprised to learn that I ought to start learning history, culture, philosophy and writing, and the J.S. Bach was born 135 years after his death. Have I fallen into a world where adult men must make a living attacking the 500-word op-ed pieces of college students, and where baroque composers outlive themselves by a full century? What strange happenings go on in the world these days. While the arguments he makes are broad enough to sail supertankers through - including being guilty of making broad generalizations, the same fault he cites is my failing in the piece - it would be not just demeaning to respond to criticism like his, but it'd quite simply waste my time. Ah, catharsis. Also, what the hell do I gain by telling him to fuck off? If some whackjob wants to act like a junior high kid and use me as a poster boy for his own ideological purposes, let him. I stopped pulling that sort of shit around the time I learned algebra in seventh-grade. Man, I hope this recession ends soon. This dude could use a real job.
Here's the link to his article
Here's my article in the Mac Weekly
Here's a picture of a small child flipping the bird
I wish the title could apply to my approaching term papers, but I can't say that for sure yet. What I am refering to are my very first photos from Europe. I shot them in black and white, so it has taken me a long time to get around to developing them. I finally decided to get them done at Proex this afternoon, and I've just finished scanning them. What handy technology Macalester places at my disposal. I am really really exceptionally pleased with how they have turned out. I have another three rolls that are being sent out for processing (since they are not C41, they have to be done in a lab) and those should be back by early May. After that, the chronicling of my European saga will be complete! ZOMG!
(Figures 1-10: A bridge in Zurich, Switzerland; a street in Zurich; the same; a clock tower dating from the 18th century; a view of the Limmat River; Zurich looking to the south over the Zurichsee; another view of the Limmat; swans on the banks of the Limmat; an ornate façade)
(Figures 11-14: Statue of Carlos III in Puerto del Sol, Madrid; the Tio Pepe sign in the same place; outside the Museo Prado; the interior garden of the Atocha Train Station)
(Figures 15-21: The Cathedral of Granada belltower; a doorway to the Alhambra built in the Moorish style; a view of the Palace of the Nasrids from the Generalife Garden; trees and flowers in the Generalife Garden; Martha and I in the Generalife Garden; the Alcazaba Fortress; another tower of the fortress, view from within)
(Figures 22-27: Woodwork on the ceiling inside the Palace of the Nasrids; Arabic calligraphy and geometric details; the same, with a pigeon; a tower in the Palace of the Nasrids, with reflecting pool; more geometric detail; a sun-porch inside the Palace of the Nasrids)
It is March 26th, and in Minnesota we have finally entered the part of winter when the snow has more or less melted and the weather has warmed up to more or less stay above freezing. However, unlike other, more normal parts of the world, spring won't actually begin until about... May. It is overcast and windy and after a very warm and enjoyable Spring Break last week, winter is now getting its second wind. This always happens. Ever since I was a child, winter comes in about three parts. The first comes in late September when the jet stream comes clambering down from northern Canada and sits on the state like a fat man sitting on comically on a small dog. We wimper and groan but realize we are powerless to do anything about the situation. We put on our heavy sweaters, soon to be replaced by heavy coats, hats, gloves, boots and scarves. Anywhere from early October to mid-December, snow begins to fall and continues consistently until about... well, May. The second part is the truly bitter fridigity of January and February when we are lucky to have temperatures breach zero farenheit. Going outside becomes a mix of extreme sport and deathwish. Eyelashes freeze shut, blinding people. On sunny days, the snow becomes a polished mirror, blinding people. Icicles dangle precariously from the eaves of houses, falling when they reach critical mass, blinding people. The ice on sidewalks compounds and compacts, making mobility a trecherous affair prone to skids and slips, blinding people. Roving bands of wolves and polar bears scavange the land for scraps of food, blinding people. Blindness is commonplace. The third part is what we are currently in. The fat man has realized he has sat on a small dog, and the small dog has begun to bite him in the butt. He rouses, but under his own weight collapses again and again as he starts to rise. It is a painful procedure, especially since so many of us are blind from the second part of winter. It will probably snow once or twice before winter can officially be declared over. Of course, some of the less optimistic members of society will simply say that winter is taking a breather. Summer is winter's half-time. The coach has called a timeout, but play will resume soon. I don't think anyone in Minnesota really, truly objects to global warming. Of course, the travails of winter are paralleled by the travails of summer, when the heat, humidity and mosquitos make us all pray for winter's quick return.
The weather aside, life continues much as it always does. Half of my classes are canceled this week because the Geography faculty are in Las Vegas for their annual conference. It's nice to have my mornings off, but it hasn't helped me to resume a normal schedule post-Spring Break. My normal bedtime is still around 2:30AM. Granted this is an improvement from the 5AM bedtime I had last week, I am still not able to operate until about noon. My evening classes this week were alright - I had a midterm on Monday that went so-so. The exam - in Paradigms of Global Leadership - was in the format that we were given ten terms (like "Action", "Patience", "Power", "Nobility") that we had to define, elaborate on the definition, and give their relevance to the theme of the class. It's always hit or miss, because there is no way to study for it except by being familiar with all the concepts and having luck and bullshitting on your side. I'll see how it pans out. Last night's class was a bit of a crapshoot as well. We were informed on Sunday evening by our professor that we had, as she put it, "sixteen short, but difficult" chapters to read. 305 pages of David Harvey's graduate-level text on Postmodernity. We were all confused.
Last week, it was my Grandma Anne's 84th birthday. She and Judy came up to Minnesota, along with my Uncle John and Aunt Diana, my father's cousins Sylvia and Nina and his cousin Jim. It was a very nice, multi-day affair with lots of picture taking and eating together. Since just about everyone who reads this journal was there, I won't elaborate on the details. I enjoyed it a lot, and I am very much looking forward to going to see Grandma Anne and Judy in New Mexico in June.
I have gotten still more photos developed from my sojourn in Europe. These are from Barcelona (when I was there in October with my friend Kristina), the Lunaret Zoo in Montpellier and the Cevennes mountains north of Montpellier. Enjoy!
(Figures 1-6: The Alain Achilles Table Tennis Gym; the Stade Phillipides Tram Stop, the stop for my house; an apartment building near my house; the view from my grammar classroom in Batiment B, looking west at the Mosson District; oryxes at the zoo; my friends (L-R) Javi, Meg, Ping, Hector and Mike - we were having a picnic in the zoo)
(Figures 7-11: A view of a pasture near the Cave of the Laughing Bull; from Montaigoual looking south towards the Mediterranean; the Montaigoual Weather Recording Station with (L-R) Jesse, Jade and Renee, my friends from the University of Pennsylvania; a view to the north; looking down the mountain)
(Figures 12-18: My faithful companion, Kristina; our faithless steed, the Eurolines bus from Montpellier to Barcelona; the base of the statue of Christopher Columbus; the Placa Real; the CaixaForum Museum, built inside of an art noveau factory; another view of the same; Kristina presents the interior architecture)
(Figures 19-23: La Boqueria, the big market on the Rambla in Barcelona; soooo many fruits and vegetables and spices; the fish market; a fruit vendor; a dried fruit and nuts vendor)
(Figures 24-29: The interior courtyard of La Pedrera; I can't remember what this building is, it might be a bank; the Placa Catalunya; on the Rambla (L-R) Matt, Renee, Kristina and Jesse; the super convenient escalator up the side of the hill to the Parc Guell; Barcelona from above and out to the sea)
(Figures 9-13: Rick and Dad; Dad and Diana; Judy and Grandma Anne; Judy, Sylvia and Grandma Anne)
(Figures 14-21: Sylvia and Rebecca; Judy and Helen; Steve getting Martha; Sam and Dad; Jesse and Helen; Cedar and Martha; Helen, Cedar and Martha; Jesse and Helen)
