Depressing Words
Complaining
Progress Report
Arrived: 8:55 a.m.
Departed: 6:30 p.m.
Hours: 9.5 (including “working” lunch)
- Content development:
- Met with potential content developer
- Prepared list of glossary and bio items for Tim Seid, content developer
- Discussed deadlines with a slacking content developer (not Tim Seid)
- Briefly reviewed definitions and bios sent in by yet another content developer; determined they were inadequate and decided to re-assign them
- Discussed graphics with Matt, the new graphics fellow for the religion course
- Read a little about Java programming
- Installed sound card in my computer
- Wrote my progress report for last week
- Edited a portion of Christianity chapter 10
- Performed routine database maintenance
- Read minutes from last editors’ meeting
- Responded to an email about recording the Vedas
Still More Work Woes
I woke up at two this morning thinking about — of all things — DLG, Rob, and coming interviews. He’s put an ad in the ARA bulletin and we’ve been swamped with resumes and writing samples. Monday we had a gentleman come in and we basically hired him to do the temple module. That’s fine, and from what I can tell, he’ll do a good job of it. The problem is two-fold:
- The job description in the ARA ad describes the need for someone who specializes in Christianity, particularly early Christianity.
- Rob is completely unwilling to advertise for a world-religions scholar at this point. He wants to wait until we have the other courses.
Of course, once we get the other courses up, then the majority of the work that a full-time person would do will already be done. What do we need a full-time person for now? Rather, what could a full-time person be doing right now?
- Writing glossary terms
- Writing bio terms
- Writing overviews
- Checking for general content clarity
- Writing study questions
- Developing modules
Instead, we’re getting together today at ten to talk about what we want this person who’s coming in for an interview this afternoon to do. So Rob’s already decided that he wants to hire her, but not full time. He only wants her to develop some modules or something. We’ve got someone else coming in on Thursday and a fourth dropping by on Monday. That’s just entirely too many.
I’m worried about it from their perspective, too. These are not grad students looking for a little extra work to put some money in their pockets; they’re not professors looking for some kind of research project. They’re people with doctorates who need full time jobs using the knowledge they’ve spent X years developing.
So what do we do? We talk to Timothy and give him a project worth a maximum (if he’s lucky) of $1,000 with no assurance that he’ll get any more work, and a virtual assurance that we won’t be hiring him full time. That’s completely unethical.
Not only that, but it takes an inordinate amount of time for me to come out and talk about the stupid modules. Why the hell can’t Rob? That’s his job — interviewing and so on. I’ve got plenty I need to be doing. Among other things, that chapter six is going to need some serious work. I’ve not touched it in a week or more simply because I had other responsibilities and I thought I’d just get Whit to re-write it. But what was I thinking there!? Whit’s got enough work as it is. He’s probably not going to make the 15 April incentive date and we’re going to be scrambling to get stuff up by 1 June. I could very easily take a day (which is probably the maximum needed) and do some research and re-write that section. But Rob has told me (and I hate being told what to do) that he doesn’t want me spending any time on that. Well, not spending too much time.
Working with him can really be infuriating. He’s always second-guessing things. But more infuriating is his unwillingness to learn how to use a computer. “Have we glossed this yet in this chapter?” he asks in a comment about a particular word, and I want to scream, “Press ‘Control-F’ and search for that word. If the first occurance is that awful green we’re using for glossary terms, then yes, it’s been glossed already.”
“Why don’t you just show him how to do that?” Chhavi might ask, were I to complain about this to her. The reason I wouldn’t even dream of it is that Rob has convinced himself that he cannot do anything with computers and he’s closed to all suggestion to the contrary. I don’t know if it’s “learned helplessness” but he’s certainly not open to suggestion concerning this. And so he’s always calling on me or Asnel or Luis to come solve a problem that he could easily do himself. I’ll admit that some of it is just knowing your way around a program. For example yesterday he asked me to turn off the auto-formatting in Word and I did so. He was wandering around the right place (in the tools menu) but he was in the wrong specific locality (options). No problem there. It’s things like his unwillingness to learn now to “convert” files when all I do when he forwards them to me is save them to “My Documents” and then double click on it. I could download the Mac converter I have on my computer for him, but he wouldn’t want that. Dragging and dropping is too complicated. “I’ll just send it to you,” he’d say.
There’s so many annoying things about that company. Today, for example, is Wednesday and we all know what that means — editors’ flogging, uh, meeting. It might as well be a flogging considering how torturous it is. We go on and on about some of the stupidest things! And I’m sure everyone thought the whole gloss/bio issue was fairly stupid, but it was a matter that would affect the content. Mark’s nonsense about writing things as they appear in their native languages was simply a matter of taste, to a degree. In writing things in their Anglicized form we’re not making any sort of normative claim like we are in putting “Jehovah” or “Zeus” in the glossary.
When all of this was swirling around us at the last meeting, I scribbled a note to Mary: “Does this mean that we should write Достоевскій instead of Dostoyevsky?” Stupid nonsense.
It’s all just an incredible waste of time in my humble. And it makes me think, “Maybe I should try to get myself ‘moved’ into the tech department.” Certainly there’s similar issues there, though. But it’s much less a matter of taste and interpretation, I would hope.
Job Offer
Strange things happening at work today. I was plugging away when Peter came into my little shared office and asked if he could talk to me for a few minutes. He motioned me to follow him into the techies’ room. Once there, he closed the door and began by saying that this was a “confidential” conversation. After the brief exchange we’d had over Kali and the linking tool, I was fairly sure it had something to do with that. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
To put it bluntly, he offered me a job. He knows that my knowledge of Visual Basic and programming in general is non-existent (though I think/fear he believes that I’m simply being modest when I say, “I don’t know any of this stuff.”), but he’s willing to train me/have me trained. He feels that I would be more of an asset to the company working on the tech side.
I really didn’t know what to say. It was like being offered a job to translate Russian literature: it’s something I’m interested in, but I don’t know the language in either case. And of course there’s the issue of abandoning Rob. First, I don’t want to because that would be immoral. And Peter expressed qualms about this as well, wondering aloud how quickly another editor could be hired. Second, I don’t know that I want to stop working on this side of the religion project. It’s really starting to take shape and it’s exciting to be see it happening. Third, I don’t know which would be better for my future plans. I want to get back into teaching at some point, and I don’t know which would be more advantageous for such a goal — most likely, my present job.
I still haven’t talked to Rob about this. I was going to mention it today — this afternoon, after we’d talked about modules — but I didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to. I know he’s not going to be thrilled that I’m even considering it, even if I explain that I’m going to be working extra.
And that’s my initial answer: I want to do some overtime and perhaps work two or three hours a day (or more) on tech stuff after fulfilling all my editorial responsibilities. I talked to Peter briefly about coming in this weekend to begin learning a little Visual Basic, and he seemed to indicate that Sunday would be possible. So I might end up working six days a week, ten or more hours a day.
But let’s assume I do that. That would be twenty hours a week extra, and compensation for that would certainly be greater than the $15 an hour I was getting while working part time as an editor. Let’s say it’s $20 an hour. Then that’s an additional $400 a week (before taxes) which would wind up being something like $1,200 more a month. I could handle that. If I could keep up such a furious pace that long, I could pay off my entire undergrad loan in a year — or less, possibly. If it’s $25 an hour then that’s $500 a week, or $1,600 more a month (after taxes). At that rate, I would pay off my loan in a little more than six months! Who knows how long I could keep such a pace up, though.
This morning I woke up and I was barely able to think, let alone read, so I wrote a letter to Lidka and Bogusia — and I wrote it by hand, something I haven’t done in ages. I’ve been thinking that I should write to Halina again because I don’t really know if I answered her question, or rather, whether I gave her adequate advice as she asked for. Anyway, I was thinking about writing that letter by hand as well. What’s this world coming to, anyway? Gary, of all people, writing letters by hand?
Work Woes
I received a letter from Bogusia and Lydka (last year’s IIIB) — all in Polish, but I’m grateful nonetheless. They didn’t tell me much about school except to say they’re busy. No mention of Adam. In many ways I think that’s best because I don’t really want to get upset after reading a letter. And any time I hear about Adam or think about him, I want to strangle him. A perfect stranger.
Things at DLG are getting annoying. In a sense, anyway. Rob is incredibly opinionated, and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s grating on my nerves simply because he’s to the point that he sees many of his pronouncements as fact. He read over an “Overview” that someone (Jim, I think) had written and said it was simply awful: bad idea, bad writing, bad everything. And he was a little vocal about it — embarrassingly so. Since he’s writing the overviews, I’ll tell him he should just discuss it with Kali.
And that’s another issue altogether as well. She’s just as opinionated, I think, and that can be a pain in the ass as well. Not too bad — she’s not as bad as Rob. Or even Adam — though Adam does listen to your point of view a bit more willingly in a sense. Back to Kali — she wasn’t pleased with the work that Peter did on the linking tool because it doesn’t spit out gloss and bio lists. That’s easily enough solved, and to be honest, I did describe that in my initial proposal to/discussion with Peter. He was talking to me about it, somewhat perturbed for having spent time on it that could have been spent on the professors’ site. Oh well — such is life. Miscommunication.
Anyway, I guess I’m discovering the nature of what Dad was always complaining about when he came home from work: stupid work-place bureaucracy. Everything is discussed, discussed, discussed — until I’m not sure I can talk about it anymore. Today, for example, in the editors’ meeting I didn’t say much of anything until we were discussing the biography issue. And that was settled with merciful ease: we’re going to rename it “important figures” and then we can dump anyone in there.
I can just hear Rob talking about how awful “important figures” sounds. “That’s so bad. It’s vague. It’s just vague.” If he says something, I’ll just tell him, “Rob, I’m not the one with whom you should be arguing your case — talk to Kali about it.” He is just really critical of almost everything. But, to his credit, a lot of the things he says are quite pertinent. It’s just his method that’s a little askew at times. At least that’s what often puts me off.
Grad School Final
We got our mid-term exams at the end of class last night. Five questions, answer three. I’m not really sure about two of them, though — they seem to be almost the same question:
- Why is the division of labor insufficient in itself to explain social order?
- Explain the idea of the “pre-contractual” in Durkheim’s sociology. Why is it important to the student of religion?
The division of labor theory (social choice theory) is insufficient precisely because it doesn’t take into account the pre-contractual. It seems that you could answer question three without reference to question one, but vice versa, no way. At least not a convincing answer.
I think I’ll answer that one (or rather, that pair) and in doing so, deal with the Hobbesian point of view. It seems to make a lot of assumptions. For example, he states that man’s natural state is one of war. Yet for war to exist, there must be more than one individual. And once there is more than one individual, these individuals must interact with each other — they must have a relationship. And to have a relationship that is even in the barest sense “functional” (and I don’t mean this in opposition to the sense common in popular psychology of the “dysfunctional,” e.g., unhealthy, relationship, but in a purely utilitarian sense), there must be some guidelines. And in creating these guidelines —
I’m not sure where that’s going. I’ll start again. Hobbes feels that man’s basic instinct is one of war. Yet that presupposes society. Hobbes seems somehow to forget that the natural state of humanity is social. To procreate two people are necessary; the resulting child is obviously the third party, and viola, we have the basic ingredients for society. Hobbes seems even to forget his own Christian account of the origins of man, with the explicit notion that God created Adam and Eve to work have a relationship with each other. God, according to Genesis, even lays down the basic nature of this relationship when “the LORD God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.’” God’s pre-determined role for women is a subservient one. Thus even according to Hobbes’ basic, existential start point, a relationship has been determined and humanity made “social.”
The fifth question is a little tricky:
- How is Durkheim’s idea of the sacred different from Max Weber’s idea of charisma? How are they similar?
No, I guess it’s not tricky — strangely worded, but not tricky. Durkheim’s idea of the sacred is a component of his overall sociological theory just as Weber’s charisma is a part of his. Sacred for Durkheim is that which is set apart, that which is out of the realm of “every-day life.” Weber’s charisma is a quality that encourages individuals or groups to step out of the “every-day world.”
This leads to a difference in the view of society. For Durkheim, the logical starting place is with the whole; Weber begins (at least concerning charisma) with the subjective individual. Berger discusses this a little in Invitation to Sociology.
The main problem that I see with these two points of view is that a Durkheimian theory doesn’t explain whence comes a charismatic person. This charismatic challenges the routine, daily reality in some fundamental way by presenting a different perspective, a different way to play the game. “It is written,” says establishment, to which the charismatic responds, “But I say unto you . . .” with the emphasis presumably on the first person singular pronoun. The question is, where did the charismatic get these ideas that will come tumbling out of his mouth after the iconoclastic, “But I say unto you”? Because the “whole” represents such a significant part in Durkheim’s theory — the pivotal, essential role, in fact — a Durkheimian has no way to explain these Weberian rebels running around, shouting down established authority.
And yet the two views are not completely incompatable. Once a charismatic leader gets enough followers, he (or, more rarely in the patriarchal Western world, she) becomes part of the establishment. His statements become the norm to which some “little snot-nosed punk” will start shouting, “But I say unto you!!”
In a sense this is similar to the Hegelian dialetic, with one crucial difference: Hegel’s system requires a goal, an Ideal, toward which thesis and antithesis are gradually moving. A Weberian dialetic (for lack of a better term) doesn’t need an Ideal (a destination) to make sense. It’s a sort of perpetual motion machine, with the antithesis actually coming out of the last sythesis. A graphic representation might show these differences clearly.
Since the charismatic leader comes from within society itself, there need not be any Ideal or Absolute guiding the process. (Such an interpretation could also be applied to Marx.)
I guess the other question I will answer is:
2) For Emile Durkheim “social facts are things.” Explain this statement drawing special attention to the role of constraint in Durkheim’s theories.
On occasion, I’ve been sitting in a room filled with people — both women and men — who are, in short, attractive by most contemporary Western standards: nice faces, shapely bodies, not too much flab. Perhaps it was a meeting of some small university group — the photography club, perhaps. As I sat there, I realized two things.
1.“Most of these people would admit, though not readily I’m sure, that they would be willing to have carnal relations with almost anyone in the room.”
2.“Physically speaking, there is absolutely nothing keeping us from stripping acting on these largely unacknowledged desires.
What did stop us from engaging in an impromptu orgy? Certainly nothing physical. Though this happened at a Christian college, the hand of God would not have suddenly materialized to keep us from even beginning to disrobe. There was nothing special about the gravitational forces on campus that would have prevented us from getting in the necessary/desired positions. In short, the only thing that stopped us was us.
Certainly if I had conducted a survey then and there, the explanations for our restaint would have been varied. “We’re Christian and we don’t do that!” Or, “What would people think if we were discovered?! Our reputations would be ruined!” The sources of these forms of restraint might be explained in various ways, but essentially they are all social. The Christian learned her Christianity from other people.
This constraint we all exercised, though, was as real to us as a brick wall in that it exerted a tremendious influence on our existential reality. Just as seeing a brick wall directly in front of us makes us either stop or turn to one side or the other, these moral objections would have reared up, unquestioned, had I proposed, “Hey, let’s not talk about photography. Let’s all have sex.” An orgy would have been just as unimaginable as walking through a brick wall. “We don’t walk through brick walls” is part of our everyday “knowledge” just as much as “We don’t have group sex.” It’s taken for granted, not even consciously acknowledged most of the time.
Here of course we’re entering into an analysis through the lens of sociology of knowledge.
It is in this way that “social facts are things.” Our morals (which we got from other people, ultimately — or society, if you will) keep us from having sex when we should be discussing shutter speeds and apertures just as surely as if we were all wearing chastity belts.
Conversely, it would be just as inappropriate and, to a degree, unthinkable to begin discussing the relatively new Nikon model F100 SLR camera in the middle of an intimate moment with one’s wife. These ideas belong to two different worlds, and when we’re in each world, we’re playing a different role. The criteria for and notion of acceptable behavior for these roles is one form that constraint takes. When I’m a lover, it’s simply ridiculous to discuss my life as a photography hobbyist.
Not a bad start.
Editing Success
Today has been a long but productive day — unlike yesterday. I went to work only to find that they didn’t have a free computer for me. Finally, V (the new VP of production) told me I could use R’s because she was in a meeting, but I quickly determined that I’d be wasting my time there. Using someone else’s computer like that is akin to cooking in a stranger’s kitchen. And I knew I’d never get anything accomplished if I stayed there, so I did indeed just come home. I’ve overcome the “distraction factor” of being at home, so I do actually accomplish things while working here.
Today I worked on Neusner’s first two chapters, and Whit’s latest. I still feel a little uncomfortable having someone write the biggest chunk of the work (a total of twenty-eight chapters) who is just beginning work on his Ph.D., while Neusner has written over five hundred books and taught for many years. But that’s really not my concern, and I’m glad I don’t have to worry about it. I worry about it nonetheless, but it’s not my responsibility to worry about it. Anyway, Neusner’s first chapters are quite good — a little more academic than Whit’s work, but I don’t know if it’s inaccessible to undergrad students. Granted, a lot of it will have to be simplified, but it’s the wording/phrasing that will be changed (breaking sentences into two or three separate sentences) and not the actual content, I think.
I’ve begun reading my third Berger book, Invitation to Sociology. He has a chapter subtitled “Alienation and Biography.” In it he discusses how we view our biography depends on our perspective and what’s important to us at that given moment in our lives. Since, as Henri Bergson pointed out, even memory is a matter of interpretation, then it’s clear that even for ourselves we don’t have a definitive, normative biography. Things that seemed important as we did them (like talking to Deanna on the YOU trip) are later subsumed under the category of “irrelevant.” “As we remember the past, we reconstruct it in accordance with our present ideas of what is important and what is not” (56).
In this light, what we call “maturity” is radically different: “Maturity is the state of mind that has settled down, come to terms with the status quo, given up the wilder dreams of adventure and fulfillment” (55). What I see as “maturity” (i.e., having given up on my dream of being a musician) I would have seen as a pathetic lack of confidence as a “youngster.”
I have to decide what I want to do with my life; I have to make a decision regarding teaching — do I teach at the high school or university level? I don’t think I would mind the high school level if I could teach writing, but I don’t really care to teach literature at all. But I can be highly creative and sneak in bits of philosophy, sociology, and such. I re-read my letters from class IV and the overwhelming sense I got, even from them, was that they felt I should continue being a teacher because I’m good at it; I agree. So what to do?
Thoughts on a First Return
While making dinner tonight I listened (or rather, we listened) to Shawn Colvin’s A Few Small Repairs. Naturally, I thought of Lipnica. Specifically the “party” I had with then-class-IIIA (now college freshmen). I put that on at some point, I recall. I was completely smitten with that album. I just remembered that they were asking me to play guitar. I don’t really know why I didn’t. Seems a little silly now — I never play for anyone anymore.
Anyway, for some reason, I began thinking about Agnieszka Kubacka, regretting that she never wrote me back. I guess I could write her another letter, but what’s the use? She didn’t write back; Tom didn’t. Iwona . Anna P. Damian. Agnieszka Adamczyk. Fairly ridiculous, but something I have, in large measure, learned to accept.
I keep having these grandiose visions of what my visit to Lipnica will be like, and yet I wonder if I won’t be as disappointed in some ways with that as I have been with my students’ lack of response. What if I get there and don’t get to see much of anyone I want to see? I know I’ll get to see the most important people--Janusz, Charles, Kinga, Edyta, Kinga, and Halina. The rest, I suppose — who knows. I’ll send a letter to school fairly soon telling everyone roughly when I’ll be there. I’ll set a date for a big group visit at urek maybe, and then try to visit everyone I really want to talk to beforehand (people like Dominika and Agnieszka).
I’d really like to see Grzegorz Kalemba. I wonder if he’d come to Żurek if I “announced” it. That would be really nice. He was a sweet kid who, in many ways, was a dream student. Always tried, never really disruptive. Bolek would be another I’d like to see. Marek as well. He was a tough one — he liked to be challenged, I think. And I’d like to see Krzysztof as well.
I’d love to see everyone; I’d love to have a Saturday night like “old times” — Janusz comes over for beer and music, then we head off to the disco. I guess that won’t happen because of the simple fact of where I’ll be staying.
I added another to my list of “those I’ve written to” — Beata Płotek. I remember how we had a few (very few) wonderful conversations — especially when I walked her home from Żurek and she told me, “You’re the best teach in the school.” I regret not having made more of an effort with her. Who knows what more I could have done. I’ve a feeling that no matter what I did, I would always feel I should have done more. (That’s not something Adam will ever feel regarding his time in Lipnica; he’s not even aware of how little he’s doing, and regret takes awareness of one’s actual situation and an ideal. He doesn’t seem to have either.) Anyway, I really do doubt that she’ll write me back, but it only cost me 60¢, so I’ve lost nothing I guess. I also wrote to Ewa and Kasia from Augustów.
Thoughts about the New Guy
An utterly boring evening I fear. The same old shit — watch movies, cook dinner. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I played cribbage online with Charles today. He beat me the first two games (including a second-game skunk), but I came back and took three in a row to win the match. It was a lot of fun to chat with him.
At some point I said something about winter break and he said that they’d been back in school for a week. And that practice matura is coming up soon. I mentioned that Danuta’s probably thrilled about that. “Adam doesn’t do anything and this will just add to her already-frantic workload.” There was some short exchange, and somehow I indicated that he’s fairly lazy or something. Anyway, he said something about him probably sitting in the teachers’ room drinking until ten minutes after the bell rings. I said that I didn’t really know from first-hand experience (obviously) but that Danuta had told me that he usually waits until all the teachers leave the teachers room before he leaves. Charles then asked me for his phone number.
“It’s the same as mine, I guess.”
“But I can’t remember it,” he responded.
I gave it to him, then asked, “Why do you want it, if I might be so nosy?”
“I’m going to call him and ‘gently’ encourage him to fulfill his responsibilities and stop making Americans look bad.”
“Well,” I replied, “He’s certainly not making Americans look bad in the other teachers’ eyes. According to Danuta they all like him much more than they liked me. Of course they didn’t like me at all, so that’s not saying much.”
He really didn’t say anything more to that. It’s not like Charles to talk about people, but I would honestly love to rant to him — he takes his job seriously and I think he’d understand my frustration with Adam.
Last night we watched Doc Hollywood — I’d forgotten the premise: New guy in small town spends a lot of time there; feels he’s making a difference; many people there like him and want him to stay; when it’s time to leave, he does so with a heavy heart; once back in his “home,” he can’t seem to get the little hamlet (deliberately cheesy word choice) out of his mind. Sound familiar? It fortuantely didn’t get me too stupidly sentimental about Lipnica.
Work Stuff, Grad Stuff
I was reading from Pomerleau’s Western Philosophies of Religion a section on the debates between Copleston and Russell and the second set between Ayer and Copleston. They’re at (to use Pomerleau’s term) “loggerheads” at on many issues simply because they have conflicting, mutually exclusive rational explanations of the world around them. In a sense the debates were useless in that they didn’t provide a clearly victorious position. At the same time, they showed the weaknesses of each position and they illustrated (at least the first one) how dogmatic even a non-believe can be. We non-believers often like to think that dogmatism shows itself most often among “irrational believers” but quite often, the opposite is true.
One of the issues at stake in the Copleston/Russell debate was the argument from contingency. I find it interesting that people are still trying to prove God’s existence, or for that matter, trying to disprove it. I hope I avoid that issue personally, in my musings here. I realize that I can point out all the “logical” problems of Christian theology, but that even a mountainous pile of such problems will not constitute a “dis-proof” of Christianity. And I’m not even sure I want to do such a thing. It’s a matter of faith, and convincing a Christian that Christianity is illogical would be like stealing something from her. It provides some meaning in her life, and as long as her holding these ideas doesn’t result in anyone else’s harm, then what right have I to try to get her to change her mind?
And yet I do this with Chhavi all the time — especially regarding music. It seems kind of a silly thing to do, really. And yet I’m constantly criticizing her music. Well, not constantly, but enough. Or rather, too much.
Oh — an interesting thing happened on the number seventy-seven bus to work Wednesday. Marlon, the new graphics designer with a long, straggly goatee (it must be four inches long, maybe longer), mostly-shaved head, and a long wisp of thin, brittle hair in the back, Rob, and I were talking. We were sitting in the back of the bus, Marlon and I on the driver’s side, Rob directly across us — we were sitting in the seats that face each other and not the front of the bus. At some point the conversation moved to a topic that either excluded Rob or about which Rob had nothing to say. I believe we were talking about rent. Rob began singing to himself, with quite a bit of animation, as if he were performing in fact. It was very disconcerting, and I really felt like I was with a child who, not getting enough attention, was doing something to remedy that. I don’t know whether it was such (i.e., Rob didn’t like the fact that he felt excluded by the conversation) or whether it was simply a bizarre coincidence. It seemed a little too odd to be mere coincidence, though, for Rob’s never done anything like that. Of course how much time have we spent together outside the office? Certainly not enough for such a strange thing to be the basis of the assumptions I’m making. Perhaps he does this all the time. Curious, though, that he picked that moment to do it for the first time around me.
Another thing that lends credence to my interpretation of the situation was the fact that when I asked Rob what he was singing, he looked at me for a moment and said quickly, “Oh, you wouldn’t know it,” and just kept going. As if to exclude me by that act.
Various Thoughts
Still nothing really to write about. I could complain about the nonsense going on at DLG because of the upcoming move — I don’t have access to my Outlook mail (at least not without Dale being privy to it as well) and I certainly don’t have access to Outlook as a planning tool.
(I just realized: it should be, “On nie zna waszego imi,” not “wie.” I always got those two mixed up when I was learning Polish — wiedzieć and znać. Oh well — Krystyna will understand me, proving my point about mistakes being fairly insignificant, and Danuta will get a laugh out of it.)
Back to DLG: It’s really rather unprofessional that I have to send out business email from my Excite account. Of course, who am I really sending email to? People I know personally, and 99% of it is indeed personal email, so what’s the problem? Just something to complain about, I suppose.
Today I have a presentation about the linking tool cum database that we’re working on. In some ways it will be like I’m teaching again — standing in front of a group of people, explaining something. Not quite the same, of course. I don’t care about these people as if they were my younger siblings — such was the case with many of my students. And the analogy breaks down further — no test on the material. That’s good, though. I was always thinking, in the back of my mind, that there must be some way to be a good teacher without ever having to resort to “tests” in the normal sense. (I still feel that way, but in Poland it seems to be a little different--not quite so “cut and dried,” as Mrs. Sams liked to say.)
Yesterday I stayed at home to work and I actually accomplished quite a bit. I was really somewhat surprised. Of course it helped that Whit recently sent in two more chapters, so I have plenty of fresh editing meat to work with. On an annoying note, I can’t get the stupid color-coding toolbar I created at DLG to work here. I had Kali send it to me as an attachment, but it doesn’t work because our version of Word doesn’t have that many text color possibilities. It went berserk (biting its shield and all!) when I tried to turn text “bright green” — no such thing exists in its world. So I made a comment for each and every entry, and today I’ll go through it (big stupid waste of time) and convert it all to green text. Excuse me, to bright green text.
Last night, as I lay in bed (and I suppose as I was getting ready for bed), I was thinking about the fact that I’m supposed to go to Poland in July — late June, actually. As I thought about it, I realized that it’s really not that far away. It’s now mid-February. I could be leaving in four months and a couple of weeks! The point is this: I haven’t been obsessing over it. In fact, I hadn’t even come to realize how close it is, relatively speaking. I’ve been gone for about twice that time, I think. Now that I have a job that I like and a semi-regular schedule, things just seem to be zipping by, so to speak. It reminds me of being in Poland, slipping into bed and realizing that yet another month has gone by.
A few words on my class: I’m finding that I get really excited about the things we talk about often, but not overwhelmingly so. Durkheim is interesting to talk about, but actually to read his stuff — it can be a little tedious. Not nearly as bad as Parsons (based on the one selection I’ve read, that is), but not terribly engaging in a way. I guess in class we just get a distillation of many books in a few moments of lecture. But it has made me wonder whether I do indeed want to change to sociology of religion.
One of the things that I love about sociology, though, is how it provides clear, functional definitions/explications of normal, “everyday” life. Prestige, for example, comes from holding a job that society holds somewhat sacred. The most prestigious job in America (according to many, even most) is Supreme Court justice. It is certainly not the best paid job — Dr. Seligman pointed out that a partner in a law firm can earn many times more than a Supreme Court justice. Yet we see them as something like secular high priests, gate-keepers of democracy and so on. (Of course the fringes of society — particularly on the right side of the political spectrum — view the Supreme Court as something of a farce.) That’s what I want to study about knowledge — how do we get it? How do we keep it? What makes it possible for some people, regarding God, to stop saying, “I believe” and start saying, “I know?”
Yesterday — a great moment — I spent the morning working on a list of terms that Rob is going to submit to Pat (the permissions editor) who in turn will submit it (along with lists from other project managers) to an image clearinghouse to see which images we can buy, simplifying the whole process to some degree. Anyway, as I worked (a somewhat mindless job, compared with editing that is), I listened to NPR, specifically “All Things Considered.” It’s really been years since I listened to it, and it brought back lots of memories: driving to work at Holiday Inn; driving to school for an 8:00 or 9:00 class and sitting in the parking lot, listening to a story. (It was always good when I had Dr. Mr. Woolsey, because he was understanding if I was a few minutes late. Being an NPR fan himself, he let it slide to a degree.) Or, another memory — going to the Richmans’ for work and listening to NPR while working on poetry. (I should write to them as well.)
The New Guy
I received another surprise Friday: a letter from Krystyna Jasiura of IIA (last year’s IA, of course). It was all in Polish — her first letter wasn’t. Regarding this, she wrote, “Czy mogłabym pisa do Pana po polsku, bo wiem, że jak piszę po angielsku to robię dużo będów i Pan się może denerwuje czytając list z takimi bądami.” I guess I feel the same way when I write in Polish. Still, it’s not like I won’t understand; nor will I think any less of anyone for writing me a letter full of mistakes.
However, that wasn’t really the interesting thing. Earlier in the letter she wrote, “Naprawada jestem Panu ogromnie wdzięczna za to, że mi Pan odpisał, bo przyznam, że w to wątpiłam. Myślałam, że Pan już o mnie zapomniał.” It got me to thinking about Adam — I think it could very well happen with him, since he doesn’t even know their names now. Yet with me, it seems completely absurd to think that I could possibly forget about these kids.
All the same, the most interesting — and something I’m not sure how I’ll respond to: “W klasie Pana wspomniajłi chcieliby, żeby Pan wróci do Lipnicy i znów nas uczyę. Zna Pan może osobiście naszego nowego pana od j. angielskiego? Jeżli to co pan o nim myśli?”
First of all, it makes me feel wonderful that “W klasie Pana wspomniajłi chcieliby, żeby Pan wróci do Lipnicy i znów nas uczyę.” They want me to come back! Of course that’s impossible, but what a feeling it gives me! (Of course with such an idiot as Adam as their teacher, that seems inevitable.)
Second, she wants to know what I think of A. How do I answer that? “Nie znam go osobiście, ale mogę powiedzieć to: nie słyszałem niczego dobrego o nim.” That’s about the most straightforward answer I can give, but I don’t know if I want to say such a thing. I could say more, of course. “Słyszałem, że on jeście nie wie waszego imion.” Or better still, “Słyszałem, że on jest głupy dupek kto myśli tylko o siebie.” Of course the key phrase in all that is, “Słyszałem, że . . .” I don’t want to go around spreading rumors, but I would simply love to pass judgment. That’s only human, I guess. I’m pissed with the asshole for taking advantage of everyone there (the kids, Danuta, Korpus Pokoju), and I want to strike back I guess.
Of course I could say, rightly so, “Ktoś mi powiedział, że on już nie wie waszego imi.” That’s a little better, I guess. It’s still problematic, though. I’m still basically gossiping.
Letter from Polska