From time to time at the Trader Joe's near me, there is a heavenly bread called the Pain Pascal's Organic Demi-Miche. The bread is fantastic: it's soft and fluffy on the inside, has a lovely mellow sour flavor, and is surrounded by a crunchy brown crust. It goes extremely well with creamy brie. It claims to be made up of only whole wheat flour, water, and salt. How is this possible? When I made whole wheat bread, and especially sourdough whole wheat, I had to put some honey into the dough in order to bring out the flavors. Is it possible to make a lovely, fluffy whole wheat sourdough like this at home?
I must confess, I have not been baking any bread. My poor attempts in this dry weather (103 degrees today and totally parched), have drained my enthusiasm for baking bread. However, if there were even some chance that I could make bread like this with just those three ingredients I would hurry back to the kitchen the second the temperature goes down. I just cannot figure out how they do it...
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
Jury Duty: An Epic Saga
Today I had jury duty. I have been called a number of times, but due to being out of the state for school, I had never actually served. In fact, I have had a rather strange experience with jury summons in general. I postponed a number of times. The last time, the guy was really nasty to me on the phone and told me that being in school was no excuse. He then helped me set a date that worked for me. When I reported on that day-- at a court about 1.5 hours from my house rather than the close court which I requested-- the receptionist told me rather snottily that I had been put on a list that said I was unfit for service and I had to swear an affidavit to that effect. Realizing that the man who I had talked to had made some kind of mistake, I tried to reason with her and explain what had happened, at which point she barked at me that they did not need me and I needed to go away.
Consequently, today was my first time actually being called. It was a fascinating experience. I had to report at 8:30am this morning in order to start the process. Each juror filled out a form and turned it in. Then, the administrators checked the forms, brought people forward to make corrections to their forms, and then we waited. There seems to be an inordinate amount of waiting in this process. One of the three cases that is being tried today plead-- meaning that there was one civil case and one criminal case continuing, thus requiring a jury. I was called for the 60 juror panel from which the jurors for the criminal case will be selected. After moving buildings, once again, we waited.
We waited so long, in fact, they dismissed us for lunch. I spent lunch sitting outside the building watching the people cross back and forth across the plaza. It was quite an fascinating group. First, there are all the jurors, wearing their badges. Their clothing is varied, but mostly causal and nothing too showy. However, I spot a few interesting tattoos, such as a woman with writing all over her legs and a woman with paw-prints running over her left shoulder. Almost everyone is playing around on a computer or smartphone (although primarily smartphones). I feel more and more that I am behind a generation because I do not possess a smartphone or even a phone with internet enabled. Every single one of my students seems to have one. I walked into the last exam I was proctoring and one guy turns to the other, holding out his iPhone and says "I just liked your status."
Back at the jury, my mom told me to be slightly dressy-- and I am was about the dressiest juror at the court. Even the people who have money, e.g. the woman in the designer shoes with the iPad, the gigantic Coach purse, and some cosmetic surgery-- are wearing jeans or cargo pants. Aside from the jurors, there are the lawyers. They are dressed in suits. Most of them have pretty classy suits, but there are a few Rumpole [1] like lawyers in tweed that looks a little worse for the wear and most of them are middle aged, slightly overweight men. There were a few women I saw in fashionable suits and 4-inch heels who were young, and msot likely the prosecutors from the DA's office.
Finally there are the people with court business. These people can be distinguished by the often ill-fitting quality of their suits/dressy clothing and their conspicuous lack of brief-cases. They also tend to look odd being dressed up-- or be only approximating appropriate gear. In fact, there is a girl who very much reminded me of the girl, Sammy, from New Street Law that the young, annoying lawyer (Joe Stevens played by Lee Williams) defends. You remember-- the girl who showed a lot of legs and cleavage to try to get off. Well, there was a girl a lot like that wearing what was, I am sure, some of her fancier clothing-- a really tight and skimpy black party dress. There was also a woman wearing a long sundress like dress, but it was black and had some designer logo on it. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where they seemed to be exploding over the top of the dress and she wore those gigantic sunglasses that stars wear to hide their faces, over a probably rhinoplastied-nose under died-black hair. It was pretty funny. I wondered what reason she was at the court.
I was finally released from jury duty just before 3pm. The judge told us that he appreciated our patience and that the lawyers had struck some kind of deal so that the case was not going to jury trial. One of the lawyers looked like he could have been out of the Kennedy clan from the late 1960s. He looked like he was out of a photograph, sitting totally still, face turned toward the jury, but slightly down so that we could not see his expression in his eyes. The judge was cartoonishly slight, with a commanding presence and silver hair, but a voice so high it almost sounded like a woman.
After that, I went outside to wait for my mother. She was about 25 minutes away, so I sat down with my the Origins of Greek Thought
, which I have almost finished. About ten minutes later, I heard someone speak to me and looked up. A Latino man, probably in his early 30s, asked if he could borrow my pen. He was immaculately dressed in what looked (to my untrained ,but by Project Runway, eye) to be wearing Italian couture, from a perfectly tailored pinstriped shirt and elegant olive slacks. He finished off the outfit with some brown dress shoes which were quite stylish. It was hot and it appeared as though he had left his jacket inside, although he carried a beautifully bound leather volume of some kind. He was walking with a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties, who was also Latino. However, their appearance could not have been more different. The younger man was much taller and broader and wore an oversized black t-shirt and baggy jeans. He had no visible tattoos or jewelry, but other than that he could have easily been a member of a gang (an idea I gained more from the appearance of his presumed lawyer than from the appearance of the young man himself). I handed over my pencil. The two conversed in Spanish for a moment, and the presumed-lawyer wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to the young man. Then, they parted with some strange handshake. I swear, I know it sounds like it was out of a movie, but it really happened.
Consequently, today was my first time actually being called. It was a fascinating experience. I had to report at 8:30am this morning in order to start the process. Each juror filled out a form and turned it in. Then, the administrators checked the forms, brought people forward to make corrections to their forms, and then we waited. There seems to be an inordinate amount of waiting in this process. One of the three cases that is being tried today plead-- meaning that there was one civil case and one criminal case continuing, thus requiring a jury. I was called for the 60 juror panel from which the jurors for the criminal case will be selected. After moving buildings, once again, we waited.
We waited so long, in fact, they dismissed us for lunch. I spent lunch sitting outside the building watching the people cross back and forth across the plaza. It was quite an fascinating group. First, there are all the jurors, wearing their badges. Their clothing is varied, but mostly causal and nothing too showy. However, I spot a few interesting tattoos, such as a woman with writing all over her legs and a woman with paw-prints running over her left shoulder. Almost everyone is playing around on a computer or smartphone (although primarily smartphones). I feel more and more that I am behind a generation because I do not possess a smartphone or even a phone with internet enabled. Every single one of my students seems to have one. I walked into the last exam I was proctoring and one guy turns to the other, holding out his iPhone and says "I just liked your status."
Back at the jury, my mom told me to be slightly dressy-- and I am was about the dressiest juror at the court. Even the people who have money, e.g. the woman in the designer shoes with the iPad, the gigantic Coach purse, and some cosmetic surgery-- are wearing jeans or cargo pants. Aside from the jurors, there are the lawyers. They are dressed in suits. Most of them have pretty classy suits, but there are a few Rumpole [1] like lawyers in tweed that looks a little worse for the wear and most of them are middle aged, slightly overweight men. There were a few women I saw in fashionable suits and 4-inch heels who were young, and msot likely the prosecutors from the DA's office.
Finally there are the people with court business. These people can be distinguished by the often ill-fitting quality of their suits/dressy clothing and their conspicuous lack of brief-cases. They also tend to look odd being dressed up-- or be only approximating appropriate gear. In fact, there is a girl who very much reminded me of the girl, Sammy, from New Street Law that the young, annoying lawyer (Joe Stevens played by Lee Williams) defends. You remember-- the girl who showed a lot of legs and cleavage to try to get off. Well, there was a girl a lot like that wearing what was, I am sure, some of her fancier clothing-- a really tight and skimpy black party dress. There was also a woman wearing a long sundress like dress, but it was black and had some designer logo on it. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where they seemed to be exploding over the top of the dress and she wore those gigantic sunglasses that stars wear to hide their faces, over a probably rhinoplastied-nose under died-black hair. It was pretty funny. I wondered what reason she was at the court.
I was finally released from jury duty just before 3pm. The judge told us that he appreciated our patience and that the lawyers had struck some kind of deal so that the case was not going to jury trial. One of the lawyers looked like he could have been out of the Kennedy clan from the late 1960s. He looked like he was out of a photograph, sitting totally still, face turned toward the jury, but slightly down so that we could not see his expression in his eyes. The judge was cartoonishly slight, with a commanding presence and silver hair, but a voice so high it almost sounded like a woman.
After that, I went outside to wait for my mother. She was about 25 minutes away, so I sat down with my the Origins of Greek Thought
, which I have almost finished. About ten minutes later, I heard someone speak to me and looked up. A Latino man, probably in his early 30s, asked if he could borrow my pen. He was immaculately dressed in what looked (to my untrained ,but by Project Runway, eye) to be wearing Italian couture, from a perfectly tailored pinstriped shirt and elegant olive slacks. He finished off the outfit with some brown dress shoes which were quite stylish. It was hot and it appeared as though he had left his jacket inside, although he carried a beautifully bound leather volume of some kind. He was walking with a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties, who was also Latino. However, their appearance could not have been more different. The younger man was much taller and broader and wore an oversized black t-shirt and baggy jeans. He had no visible tattoos or jewelry, but other than that he could have easily been a member of a gang (an idea I gained more from the appearance of his presumed lawyer than from the appearance of the young man himself). I handed over my pencil. The two conversed in Spanish for a moment, and the presumed-lawyer wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to the young man. Then, they parted with some strange handshake. I swear, I know it sounds like it was out of a movie, but it really happened.Endnotes
- Rumpole from the UK 80s TV show Rumpole of the Bailey. This is one of my favorite television shows
. Rumpole is a crusty British barrister who quotes massive amounts of Yeats and Wordsworth while defending the criminal underbelly. The show was taken from a series of books
by John Mortimer.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Trying Not to Procrastinate
I have wasted a lot of time this summer. A lot of the time I think I am looking for direction. I was always a self-starter, but I had a lot of trouble finishing projects. Part of this comes from my visual processing disorder [1],which make it difficult to take in visual input for any period of time without taking adequate breaks.[2] Earlier this summer, however, my self-starter instinct seemed to have died. I constantly put books down after a few minute or pages, I spend hours watching inane television instead of getting to the books and articles I desperately wanted to read, I always came back to the same set of flashcards because I never used them consistently enough to lodge the words in my memory, etc.
When Cerinthus was here I was in the worst of my rut. I spent a large amount of time downloading books off the internet when I should have been spending time with him or even just reading one of the books I had downloaded. Then, to make matters worse, I came down with a horrible flu, which made me feel like I was looking at the world through a thick veil of incomprehension and I could not concentrate on anything.
It seems that I have finally managed to turn things around. Yesterday was my first day back at the gym. Finally I finished the first book on my reading list, Oswyn Murray's Early Greece
. I plan on starting my next book tomorrow. On Saturday I proctor my next exam, so I need something to keep me occupied. I found The Art and Culture of Early Greece, 1100-480 B.C.
by Jeffery Hurwit in my garage today; it is one of the many books I still have not managed to unpack and bring upstairs. Since I plan to expand the second chapter of my thesis based on some encouraging data in Early Greece, I thought that Hurwit's book might provide even more fodder for my rewriting.
While I was reading Early Greece, I became so excited by different piece of Greek history that I had missed in my attempt to balance the academics of school and my personal life and health that I blogged about it. I have written two installments so far, Greek History Review #1 and #2 and my plan is to finish my third installment tomorrow which will be able to be found at my Platonic Psychology blog. I find that it is easier to remember the facts that I read when I write about them and I am more likely to put pen to paper (or in this case, finger to keyboard) when my writing is "published," insofar as blogging is publishing. I especially like it when I can add awesome pictures (see Greek History Review #2).
When Cerinthus was here I was in the worst of my rut. I spent a large amount of time downloading books off the internet when I should have been spending time with him or even just reading one of the books I had downloaded. Then, to make matters worse, I came down with a horrible flu, which made me feel like I was looking at the world through a thick veil of incomprehension and I could not concentrate on anything.
It seems that I have finally managed to turn things around. Yesterday was my first day back at the gym. Finally I finished the first book on my reading list, Oswyn Murray's Early Greece
. I plan on starting my next book tomorrow. On Saturday I proctor my next exam, so I need something to keep me occupied. I found The Art and Culture of Early Greece, 1100-480 B.C. by Jeffery Hurwit in my garage today; it is one of the many books I still have not managed to unpack and bring upstairs. Since I plan to expand the second chapter of my thesis based on some encouraging data in Early Greece, I thought that Hurwit's book might provide even more fodder for my rewriting. While I was reading Early Greece
, I became so excited by different piece of Greek history that I had missed in my attempt to balance the academics of school and my personal life and health that I blogged about it. I have written two installments so far, Greek History Review #1 and #2 and my plan is to finish my third installment tomorrow which will be able to be found at my Platonic Psychology blog. I find that it is easier to remember the facts that I read when I write about them and I am more likely to put pen to paper (or in this case, finger to keyboard) when my writing is "published," insofar as blogging is publishing. I especially like it when I can add awesome pictures (see Greek History Review #2).Endnotes
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Cerinthus Sets Out on an Adventure
I hope that by the end of his journey I can sub-title this entry "There and Back Again." He left here today, sadly, and he leaves for Greece and then Florence on the 29th. I already miss his smiling face and his sweet disposition. Soon he will be more than 6000 miles away and I can only hope that he sends me letters, photographs, and emails. My mom bought me a set of $1 stamps, the required postage to Florence, so that I can send letters back.
My great grandfather ran away to join the army after he was engaged to my great grandmother. They wrote letters back and forth, in which they communicated and kept their relationship alive. In the letters, they discussed life and politics. My mother's family managed to find some of the letters. Especially amusing are the letters during the campaign for the woman's right to vote. My great-grandmother was marching, while her soon-to-be husband was trying to persuade her that women should not be granted such a right. Cerinthus and I disagree, to be sure, but I cannot imagine that we would last long if he tried to persuade me I was not owed some political right.
My great grandfather ran away to join the army after he was engaged to my great grandmother. They wrote letters back and forth, in which they communicated and kept their relationship alive. In the letters, they discussed life and politics. My mother's family managed to find some of the letters. Especially amusing are the letters during the campaign for the woman's right to vote. My great-grandmother was marching, while her soon-to-be husband was trying to persuade her that women should not be granted such a right. Cerinthus and I disagree, to be sure, but I cannot imagine that we would last long if he tried to persuade me I was not owed some political right.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Summer Flu and Indian Food
On Thursday I came down with the flu. Every morning I wake up feeling better, and every morning, an hour later, I feel like I've been run over by a train and spend the rest of the day trying to recover. My fever shot up today and i had to warn my boss I might not be able to make it to work tomorrow. It's terrible. I've spent all day-- my worst day so far-- in bed watching bad movies.
I feel truly terrible. Cerinthus is here for the last time before he goes to Europe for six months and I'm languishing in ill health while hes watches bad movies and plays computer games. What unfortunate timing.
One of the wonderful things that Cerinthus has done to take care of me was to order take out from our favorite Indian Place, Clay Oven. I got the extra spicy Chicken Tikka Masala, which helped my sinuses to drain and made me feel much better than I would have without it. It was wonderful. Garlic naan dipped in sauce that burns off the roof of one's mouth. It was perfect. I was alive again for about half an hour and then back to being a wraith.
Beside the inane movies that we have been watching, we have also been watching Sherlock with my parents. Sherlock is a new British series that does a modern updating of Sherlock Holmes. I am no particular fan of Sherlock Holmes on principle. The first episode of this show was awesome. Holmes is an obsessive high-functioning sociopath. He is unempathetic, erudite, charming, and brilliant-- but he's totally cold. Dr. John Watson is warm, charming, and is a soldier at heart who cannot stay away from a thrill or danger. He breathes warmth and levity into the buddy duo that is the lifeblood of the show. I do, generally, have a (particularly unfortunate) penchant for the sociopathic genius, but in this case it's the duo that is bewitchingly charming. I guess it shows my own personal growth. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the characters between the first and second episodes. However, the third episode might be a little brighter.
I feel truly terrible. Cerinthus is here for the last time before he goes to Europe for six months and I'm languishing in ill health while hes watches bad movies and plays computer games. What unfortunate timing.
One of the wonderful things that Cerinthus has done to take care of me was to order take out from our favorite Indian Place, Clay Oven. I got the extra spicy Chicken Tikka Masala, which helped my sinuses to drain and made me feel much better than I would have without it. It was wonderful. Garlic naan dipped in sauce that burns off the roof of one's mouth. It was perfect. I was alive again for about half an hour and then back to being a wraith.
Beside the inane movies that we have been watching, we have also been watching Sherlock with my parents. Sherlock is a new British series that does a modern updating of Sherlock Holmes. I am no particular fan of Sherlock Holmes on principle. The first episode of this show was awesome. Holmes is an obsessive high-functioning sociopath. He is unempathetic, erudite, charming, and brilliant-- but he's totally cold. Dr. John Watson is warm, charming, and is a soldier at heart who cannot stay away from a thrill or danger. He breathes warmth and levity into the buddy duo that is the lifeblood of the show. I do, generally, have a (particularly unfortunate) penchant for the sociopathic genius, but in this case it's the duo that is bewitchingly charming. I guess it shows my own personal growth. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the characters between the first and second episodes. However, the third episode might be a little brighter.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Getting Paid to Read for Fun
I've been getting pretty behind on my reading, as is obvious from the dearth of books crossed off my reading list. This lack of progress comes from a combination of a number of factors. I have been busy preparing for teaching my own class at work. Cerinthus is here, which has impeded my progress. However, I would not give up having him here, especially since I will not be able to see him for another six months. Currently, I seem to have contracted a cold, which has been making me pretty lethargic and unable to think clearly enough to read some of the texts on my list.
Although I was sick yesterday, I had to proctor an exam. To begin with, I had to grade essays. The essays were of better quality than I was expecting. Some of the kids I'm teaching have the promise of being very intelligent and doing very well. I hope that I can help to guide them there. The rest of the time while I'm proctoring the exam, I am free to do as I please, provided that I make sure no one is cheating and that I call the time properly and read the script.
During this last session, I read How the Universe Got Its Spots: Diary of a Finite Time in a Finite Space
by Janna Levin. The book is a wonderful fusion between the personal life of a mathematician/cosmologist, the history of math, and lessons in cosmology and mathematical topology. Although the topics in the math are complex, they are explained clearly and deftly, as well as peppered with personal details that keep the reader engaged and never overwhelmed by the complex concepts. I highly recommend this to everyone with any interest in math or science.
In the book, Janna Levin comes across as an sweet, passionate, obsessive, quirky individual with sharp sense of humor and an easy, approachable writing style. She speaks of the loneliness that comes from working in mathematics-- at least the theoretical mathematics of academia. This worries me. Although I am a classicist now, theoretical math and physics was always my first love, my first passion. Some days I have dreams of going back there. Her book makes it seem as though the work is lonely but rewarding, but a living nightmare for the spouses/boyfriends/girlfriends/partners of the mathematician. Is classics going to be like this too? Am I going to ruin the life of Cerinthus and drive his career into the ground because I want to pursue a life in academia? I hope not.
Although I was sick yesterday, I had to proctor an exam. To begin with, I had to grade essays. The essays were of better quality than I was expecting. Some of the kids I'm teaching have the promise of being very intelligent and doing very well. I hope that I can help to guide them there. The rest of the time while I'm proctoring the exam, I am free to do as I please, provided that I make sure no one is cheating and that I call the time properly and read the script.
 |
| My most recent reading. |
During this last session, I read How the Universe Got Its Spots: Diary of a Finite Time in a Finite Space
by Janna Levin. The book is a wonderful fusion between the personal life of a mathematician/cosmologist, the history of math, and lessons in cosmology and mathematical topology. Although the topics in the math are complex, they are explained clearly and deftly, as well as peppered with personal details that keep the reader engaged and never overwhelmed by the complex concepts. I highly recommend this to everyone with any interest in math or science.In the book, Janna Levin comes across as an sweet, passionate, obsessive, quirky individual with sharp sense of humor and an easy, approachable writing style. She speaks of the loneliness that comes from working in mathematics-- at least the theoretical mathematics of academia. This worries me. Although I am a classicist now, theoretical math and physics was always my first love, my first passion. Some days I have dreams of going back there. Her book makes it seem as though the work is lonely but rewarding, but a living nightmare for the spouses/boyfriends/girlfriends/partners of the mathematician. Is classics going to be like this too? Am I going to ruin the life of Cerinthus and drive his career into the ground because I want to pursue a life in academia? I hope not.
Pizza for Wimps and Newfound Fame
My bread has not been turning out well. I'm not sure whether it is the fact that I'm no longer in a climate conducive to bread or that I am no longer dependent on my bread in order to finish my thesis, but it has not been working. Even when the bread was working, I was never particularly good at making pizza dough. Tonight I cheated. I made pizza with my mom but we bought a pre-made whole-wheat dough from Trader Joe's. The pizza was great. I used my pizza stone which I've never used with pre-made dough and I was shocked at how well the dough cooked and cooked with the proper timing as the cheese, so right at the point where the cheese had melted sufficiently, the dough was soft and fluffy on the inside and clumsy on the outside. I also had fresh basil from the garden.
The other odd thing that has happened recently is new-found fame. I have been a member of sparkpeople.com for two years now. I have lost 50lbs and gone from being a size 14/16 to a size 2/3/4. My life has changed a lot. Recently, I wrote a blogpost about walking which was one of my primary weight loss tools. Chris Downie, the founder of sparkpeople.com commented on my piece and the next thing I knew, I had been catapulted into the spotlight because my blog-post was emailed out to everyone on the site. Suddenly, people were commenting on my page, emailing me for advice, and finding me all sorts of ways. It was really gratifying. The best part was that a number of people commented on how much they liked my writing. It reminded me that, although I am teaching part time right now, in my real life I want to be an academic and a researcher and will publish books that people will actually read (even if that readership is limited to the classical/philological community).
Speaking of sparkpeople, one of the books I've read this summer was Chris Downie's book. I thought that it was a quick read and extremely enjoyable. He began his site as a way to connect and inspire people. I felt that I was fulfilling that dream when so many people were inspired by what I had written about my walks around the neighborhood. It was fabulous.
The other odd thing that has happened recently is new-found fame. I have been a member of sparkpeople.com for two years now. I have lost 50lbs and gone from being a size 14/16 to a size 2/3/4. My life has changed a lot. Recently, I wrote a blogpost about walking which was one of my primary weight loss tools. Chris Downie, the founder of sparkpeople.com commented on my piece and the next thing I knew, I had been catapulted into the spotlight because my blog-post was emailed out to everyone on the site. Suddenly, people were commenting on my page, emailing me for advice, and finding me all sorts of ways. It was really gratifying. The best part was that a number of people commented on how much they liked my writing. It reminded me that, although I am teaching part time right now, in my real life I want to be an academic and a researcher and will publish books that people will actually read (even if that readership is limited to the classical/philological community).
Speaking of sparkpeople, one of the books I've read this summer was Chris Downie's book. I thought that it was a quick read and extremely enjoyable. He began his site as a way to connect and inspire people. I felt that I was fulfilling that dream when so many people were inspired by what I had written about my walks around the neighborhood. It was fabulous.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Bread in Dry Climates, the GRE, Home Grown Food, etc
Bread in Dry Climates
I moved back to the desert whence I came. It has been hot and dry all summer. All my bread thus far has been totally inedible-- yeasty and dense on the inside. The first few loaves also never browned on the outside. I assumed that this meant that the enzymes were not adequately shredding the starches into their individual sugars, so I increased the rising time. This produced beautiful crusts, but the bread is still yeasty and inedible on the inside (see two loaves below):
I have used both old and new recipes, both dry active starter and the wild yeast I've been cultivating for a year (and I have tested both). Nothing changes. For the last month and a half, I've pretty much given up on bread.
The Dreaded GRE
Home Grown Food and the Benefits of Being a Yuckie
I was not always a good standardized test taker. When I was in fifth grade I could not fill in a bubble sheet. That's how they found out I have a learning disability-- severe visual processing issues. However, I learned coping mechanisms and in high school I scored in the 99th percentile on the SAT, which is how I earned myself a job teaching SAT prep. However, the GRE is a whole different ball game. Although I do spend a lot of time on the computer, I don't think there is any way I can manage to take a 4 hour exam on a computer screen. I've been studying from a GRE book and I'm doing rather well (although I've only looked at the verbal section so far), but these questions are on paper. I also would love to get dispensation to teach GRE-- which means that I need to score in the 90th percentile or above on the GRE. That means 640 or above on verbal (piece of cake), 5.5 on writing (doable), and a whopping 780 on math (oh dear). Wish me luck!
Home Grown Food and the Benefits of Being a Yuckie
A house-guest from Croatia recently left a copy of the UK version of Cosmopolitan. I am not a magazine reader at all-- I read my mom's Health if it's around, but I just do not particularly like the magazine format. However, I thought it might be interesting to discover the perspectives of the popular beat of the UK, or at least as much as possible from a magazine.
One of the features of the magazine was entitled something along the lines of "The Rise of the Yuckie" and it described a theoretically new group of people who were twenty-somethings with or without jobs who lived with their parents. The article essentially painted them as a generation without the motivation to find a way for themselves who were leeching off of their relatives. As someone who, for the moment, lives at home, I was rather offended. I have a job, but it's a teaching job and it's only part time. I have a lot of debt from four years of college which I have been working off for the last three years. I don't feel like I'm leeching-- I help out around the house and in the garden, I'm coaching my mom through losing weight (since I managed to lose about 50lbs in the past two years), I do about 60% or more of the cooking, I constructed and do my best to maintain a website for my father, I have bought cooking supplies, and I'm planning on paying for insurance and gas out of my salary when I get my license. So I felt pretty disgruntled about being lumped in with this group.
There is one benefit to being a yuckie-- as apparently my "kind" is so distastefully called-- and that is home grown food. Even if I could afford my own place, which I certainly cannot on my salary, I would never be able to afford a place with a garden. At home, however, we have a lovely garden and my mom and I have made a project out of growing herbs and vegetables for cooking.
One of the features of the magazine was entitled something along the lines of "The Rise of the Yuckie" and it described a theoretically new group of people who were twenty-somethings with or without jobs who lived with their parents. The article essentially painted them as a generation without the motivation to find a way for themselves who were leeching off of their relatives. As someone who, for the moment, lives at home, I was rather offended. I have a job, but it's a teaching job and it's only part time. I have a lot of debt from four years of college which I have been working off for the last three years. I don't feel like I'm leeching-- I help out around the house and in the garden, I'm coaching my mom through losing weight (since I managed to lose about 50lbs in the past two years), I do about 60% or more of the cooking, I constructed and do my best to maintain a website for my father, I have bought cooking supplies, and I'm planning on paying for insurance and gas out of my salary when I get my license. So I felt pretty disgruntled about being lumped in with this group.
There is one benefit to being a yuckie-- as apparently my "kind" is so distastefully called-- and that is home grown food. Even if I could afford my own place, which I certainly cannot on my salary, I would never be able to afford a place with a garden. At home, however, we have a lovely garden and my mom and I have made a project out of growing herbs and vegetables for cooking.
Etc...
Cerinthus is coming into town for my birthday before he goes for his semester in Italy. I'm totally jealous of his trip. He is going on a Greek Odyssey, where he reads texts and goes around Greece to see important sites. Then, he spends a semester in Florence. I have wanted to go to Florence ever since my first time reading A Room with a View by E.M. Forrester, which is one of my favorite books of all time. Sigh. Maybe I'll win the lottery and then I can join him there...
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