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| "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
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| God, sometimes I wonder if you blessed me with any common sense
whatsoever. And if you didn't, then I think I need to acquire some at
the nearest dealer.
I'm taking a break.
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| There comes a time when I can look at my failures with some fondness
and think, "that was me." Hold them close to my chest and breathe
in the deep musky fragrance as I idly remember how it felt when the shit hit the fan.
And I'll be damned if there isn't
something magnificent about them, like little personal trophies kept
tucked away in some hidden nook of the heart. And each
trophy has something engraved on the plate. The letters are bold and embossed with
thick, purposeful strokes. And hell, let's make these fuckers glow
while we're at it. Your failures don't go away because you don't think
about them.
How you treat them afterwards is what matters. You can let
your failures gather dust, as you try to move on. You may pray to them
with the intention of resurrecting them for another chance at success.
Or you may do what I do, and look at them fondly, wipe off the bit of
dust that starts to settle, and think "That was me. For better for worse,
that was me."
Live and learn, but never forget what brought you here.
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| My Ed prof called me Leon the other day. No, Dr. Martin. Leon is the other Asian guy who goes to this college. Try again.
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| The first column of the new year. The next one will be better, I promise.
It's always a surreal experience seeing
professors out of their natural environment of the classroom. For the
longest time, I just assumed they retired to a secret underground
basement in the Kirk Building for repairs and recharging during the
nights.
Recent sightings of professors off campus have led me
to the conclusion that either teachers are real people with lives
outside of Truman or that the robot programming is getting more
sophisticated, in which case, God help us all.
Assuming the
former is true, though, it is polite to acknowledge their presence
outside the classroom. Actually, even if the latter was true, it might
be best to acknowledge their presence anyway because you never know
what type of high-tech weaponry these robo-professors might be
sporting. If it's anywhere near as painful as some of the feedback I've
received on papers, I'd be worried.
Bizarre conspiracy theories
aside, running into a professor off campus, or even at the Student
Recreation Center as I can personally attest to, can be an awkward
experience for all parties involved. Don't panic, though. They're
probably just as afraid of you as you are of them.
The most
important thing to remember about surviving an out-of-classroom
encounter with a professor is that you're on neutral ground. He or she
might have a doctorate from Harvard, years of experience in his field
and several articles published in highly respected academic journals.
You, on the other hand, might have an online ordination from the
Electronic Church of Jesus Megabyte Christ, years of experience bagging
groceries and have written several dirty messages on bathroom walls
across the tri-county region. None of this matters, though.
It
doesn't matter if you see your professor at the grocery store buying
Preparation H, at a bar drinking a pint or even at Movie Gallery
discreetly trying to cover a copy of "Space Hustlers Five" with "Barney
On Ice." Off campus, professors are powerless to hurt you.
Of
course, once they step foot on campus and back into the classroom,
their full pedagogical powers are restored. That being said, it might
be wise to be polite to professors regardless of the arena you
encounter them. By their very nature, professors have fairly keen
memories, even more so if they're artificially augmented robotic
memories.
My favorite place to run into a professor is at the
bars. If you're looking to catch sight of these elusive creatures, Il
Spazio, which I lovingly refer to as The Spaz, tends to attract a large
professorially crowd, especially on the nights when a professor's band
is playing. I'm not exactly a huge fan, though last I heard, it was
number 450,940 on MTV's Total Request Live, right behind Ryan Cabrera.
A
few months ago while at The Spaz, my friends and I were having a few
drinks and discussing the symbolism of Pemberley in "Pride and
Prejudice" in relation to how we could beat Mr. Darcy in fisticuffs.
One of my friends, we'll call him "Saul," sees one of his professors
and bums a cigarette off of him. Now if that isn't cordial
student/professor relations, I don't know what is.
I can't
recommend that anyone but an expert like Saul try an advanced maneuver
like that. As a senior, he's had years of experience creating socially
awkward situations. If you want to interact with a professor at the
bar, my suggestion is to start off slowly. Try to get him or her to
join you in a toast to a well-respected figure, such as President Dixon
or Chuck Norris. If President Dixon is the person you're talking to,
toast to Chuck as I hear she's a huge fan. If somehow you end up
talking to Chuck Norris, then just prepare yourself for a roundhouse
kick to the face, Texas Ranger style.
To be perfectly honest,
running into a professor off campus isn't the big deal I made it out to
be. Professors, like everybody else, possess various degrees of
sociability. For some people, you go out of your way to say hello and
others you cross the street and jump into the nearest dumpster to
avoid.
My experiences have tended to run along the friendly
side, though that's just from a student's perspective. For all I know,
they could hate me, but I seriously doubt that because as we all know,
robots don't have feelings.
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