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Showing posts with label beard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beard. Show all posts

Monday, 10 November 2008

Blog, Beards, and Barak...

Blog

It used to be that my blog posts were interesting. I spoke of politics, and thoughtful insights, and other such things. I sounded young and vibrant and intelligent. I don't know if time has mellowed me or if I am just being too careful about not being offensive. But now, I think I might be boring to read.

Granted, this blog is not really the place for me to go all soap-boxy. However, if I had wanted to play it ultra-safe I wouldn't have made this blog public.

I am not really sure what I'm saying. Perhaps I think about being more risqué, but I worry about what family will think if I am too risqué. I think about stating my position and going all activist, but I can imagine how many people might get annoyed. Possibly this is not yet something that I have thought through enough to decide what I want to do.

Beards

The cold weather is upon us, and the dark of winter is here. (Even though technically it is not yet winter.) I can now say that there is a pattern: Stephen likes a beard when it gets cold. It is not yet as long as it was when he shaved it last year, but I am delighting in it.

I was pondering why it is that I like his beard so much. I know it is a little unusual: I haven't even met anyone that I can think of that enjoys the idea of their partner having facial hair. I know that partly it is a feeling safe thing. My daddy had a beard, and part of it is the feeling of being little and loving daddy. Part of it goes hand in hand with my idea of what an intelligent man looks like.



Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci.

Last but not least, a huge part of it goes hand in hand with my love of hippie culture. All hippie men, at least in my mind's eye, have beards, and I just find it extremely attractive. Yes, I suppose that means I have a 'thing' for hippie men. No, Stephen is not one. But he floats my boat when he rubs my cheek with his beard.



John Lennon, Jerry Garcia, Jim Morrison.

Part of me doesn't like to admit that I have such levels of fascination and identification with hippie culture. It feels somewhat silly, in today's modern age. But I look at my life thus far and it seems pretty obvious that it has always been that way. My mother told me, when I was a teenager and borrowing my daddy's shirts because I liked them far better than I did girl clothes, that I was her polar opposite. She spent the 60's and early 70's resisting and fighting against everything that being a hippie stood for, while I spent the 80's and 90's trying desperately to be one.

(One of my absolute favourite shirts is one I stole from my daddy way back when. It is blue, long sleeves, with mother of pearl snaps at the wrists and a pocket on the chest. I call it my "70's National Geographic photographer" shirt. It looks just like you imagine. Google Image it, too. Someone is wearing one.)

Since being an adult I have struggled to try to find the commune of my dreams. Reading about The Farm in Tennessee made me desperately want to go and live there. I always had a house full of people, and living with Dar and George was pretty much a happy commune situation. Sometimes I miss so many people around.

Barak

This election has been quite an interesting one for me. I thought it best explained when I responded to a friend's blog.


Hear, hear, and Huzzah!

I find it particularly interesting that so many people that I personally know feel profoundly affected by not only the physical act of voting, but also the results of said election. I have no previous memories of people crying for sheer exhilaration and joy, but that is what I see and hear happening. And, truth be told, I am feeling it too. I don't think it is Obama per say, at least for me it is not, but more the possibility of coming out of what has been seen as a very dark time. The glimmer of light in the tunnel ahead effect, I suppose.

While I have always been proud to be an American, the last year of living in a foreign country and seeing what the world thinks of us has been quite an eye opener. We made a huge difference this election. It might even make it so Americans don't have to hide their heads when leaving the country.

What I am saying is that I'm right there with you, my friend.


While I chose not to use the blog as a place to push my own personal politics, I am going to say that I am really quite happy with who won the election. Stephen stayed up late the night of. He let me sleep until it got exciting, then woke me up. We cuddled in bed and watched until the BBC called the election for Obama.

The next day, Tristan asked me while I was on the phone with him who I voted for. When I told him, he told me that it was a good thing I voted the way I did, because if I hadn't he would have been angry with me. Silly boy.

Friday, 22 February 2008

Oh my... It's already February?

When Gramy sends a comment that says I need to post more, that tells me something doesn't it?

It has been busy in this here house, and I am sure that you all want to hear all about it. I am in the midst of a 6 week student teaching placement... and I have distinctly mixed feelings. I am in a year 6 class (6th grade) and it is a particularly interesting place to be. Years 2 and 6 are the years of the SATS, which are significantly high pressure tests for both the kids and the schools. Year 2 they try quite hard to hide the tests, but Year 6 it is right there in the open. The kids know about them, know they will be judged, and most, actually, are told often that they will be found lacking.

At first I couldn't figure out why they placed me in a Year 6 classroom, as it was pretty obvious that they really didn't want me there. The administration has made it clear on more than one occasion that I am only to be teaching groups, and that the teacher needs to be responsible for things like lesson planning and whole group instruction. That doesn't work, though, since there are university requirements that must be met. That, and papers that I need to write afterwards that are based entirely on the process of planning, delivering, assessing, then planning from assessment.

While I could go on for quite a while... and I may still do, I want to give other things their fair shot to be spoken of.

Ashley is in the midst of a work placement thing, and is spending some time at the art store on the High Street. She spent yesterday running the till (that's the cash register), calculating change in her head, and unpacking canvases. She now knows more about canvases that anyone else I know. She will be there for another 2 days, and says she likes it. This morning, though, we ended up waking her. She had turned off her alarm for being too tired. Flashed me back to my much younger days when work was not nearly as important as things like hanging out with friends and going out and sleep. Made me feel surprisingly old.

Stephen has shaved his beard. It was lovely while it lasted. He is almost 2 different people. With the beard, he looks older, more dignified, more like the stereotypical Englishman, I think. Clean shaven, you can really see his baby face and he looks years younger than he actually is. Both ways, I had to take a few days to get used to it. He just didn't look like himself. I think he was glad to have shaved, though. His mum definitely likes him better clean shaven. I am happy either way, which I suppose it a good thing, as it is HIS face.

Quite a while ago, Dan and others asked me some questions, which I have yet to answer, So, because i have put them off for so long, I'll do it now.


1) What are you homesick for (besides Tristan)?


Hmm... this is a tough one. There are food items... green chile most especially, and corn tortillas, elk meat, and malt o meal. I miss the cactus. I miss the sunshine. I miss knowing my way around the town and larger grocery stores with familiar items in. I miss quarters. (They have 20p pieces, which seem just silly. I learned that 4 25's is 100 by using quarters. 20 p just seems like a waste.) [I learned that five 20s are 100 - Stephen] I miss my animals. I miss my family. More than missing my family is missing the ability I had to drop everything and go and see them. I have gone longer without seeing them, but the simple fact that I CANT go and see them if I wanted to makes it that much harder. I miss my friends. I am so cautious about making friends here. I am not comfortable opening up. So we do have friends, but they are Stephen's friends, or university colleagues. Not the same.

2) Are you feeling comfortable living in the UK? Are the cultural quirks working themselves out?

I have come to discover that Americans are prudes. I did not consider myself prudish in the States, as a matter of fact, I think I was quite the opposite... risqué, even. But here... commercials make me blush. Comments make me blush. People say things and I am offended, and it is no big deal to them. Sex is taboo in the US. Here it is something that is much more ok to tease people about. So... I am a prude. Knowing this means that I have to be very aware of the cultural lens that I look at things through, and often have to pick apart my response before sharing it with anyone else.

As far as comfort, I don't think that I can yet say that I am comfortable. I know my way around much better than I used to. I feel at home in my house. I don't notice the accents any more (there are even times when I cant tell the difference in a TV program between an American and a British accent.) But I absolutely feel like a foreigner. I actually have a new understanding of how it must feel for immigrants in the US. Sometimes it is downright unintentionally hostile. All the talk about immigrants stealing British jobs, how immigrants should be kicked out, how no one wants immigrants, immigrants should pay more taxes, more tuition, have less pay... all things I heard in the US, but now I am on the other side of the fence. It is not that people are intentionally unwelcoming. They don't see how the rhetoric affects the atmosphere. I wonder if Mexican immigrants in El Paso feel as uncomfortable and lesser.

3) Have you had to go to the doctor yet? If so, was it easy to get in (RE: Sicko).


I have been to the doctor, but not because I was sick. When you register with the NHS, you have an appointment with the nurse for a history, etc. That went smoothly. I had piles and piles of medical records, since I brought copies of EVERYTHING with me (all right, I hear the "Obsessive-Compulsive!" shouts from the peanut gallery... hush!) I have not been sick enough to go to the doctor. Neither has Ash. There is much less an environment of go to the doctor. Most people don't, unless they are VERY ill. It is frowned on. You don't need a doctors note to leave work sick, unless you are out for more than 5 days. Herbs are a bit easier to get, though the raw unprocessed ones are harder to find. I feel very lucky that I brought all mine and they made it through customs ok.

4) How did you do your first semester?


The school year is not divided into semesters here. And the grading system is messy. So bear with me. This degree that I am doing is a 3 year degree. However, none of the grades from the first year are worth anything. But the second and third year, each piece of assessed work is actually a percentage of my final degree grade. Classes are the entire year long, and each class has between 1 and 3 pieces of assessed work. My classes this year are Professional Studies (2 pieces), Science (2 pieces), English (1 piece), Maths (3 pieces), Art (2 pieces), and Inclusion (2 pieces). So, 50% of my final degree grade is in these pieces of work (all of which are really really huge, 8-15 (and some even larger) page papers with appendices and 10-20 researched cited sources.) So, 6 classes, each class is worth 8 1/3 % of my final grade. Divide that into the number of pieces of assessed work and you have how much each piece is worth.

Like I said, grading is messy. Degrees have value. A first degree is the best you can get, then a 2-1, then a 2-2, then a third. [Actually there is a grade that sits under a third, there's a level that is just called a pass. If an honours degree is being studied, a pass may lose the honours label. - Stephen] (I know, it makes no sense. I still am not entirely clear on it.) Assessed work follows the same type of scale. Technically, I could get up to a 100, but no one EVER gets anything above an 80. EVER. A 70 to 80 is a first. 60 to 70 is a 2-1. A 50 to a 60 is a 2-2. 40 to 50 is a third, and below that is a fail. Most people end up with a 2-2. That is average. 2-1 is really good, and it is nigh-on impossible to get a first degree. It happens, but it is always to those ephemeral people who have no lives. (And quite possibly to a colleague named Cleander, who has 2 small children and apparently never sleeps. Or so she says. We still cant figure out what she is doing to get those grades.)

Before I actually answer the question, I have to point out that I have really struggled. The writing style is completely different here. I remember being taught how to write a 5 paragraph essay... 1 paragraph introduction with topic sentence and 3 main points. 1 paragraph for each point, with evidence. Conclusion states topic and 3 points again. I remember being taught this and then told to NEVER WRITE LIKE THAT AGAIN. That's how they write here. And there can be absolutely no independent thought or opinion in the realm of academic writing at my level. EVERYTHING must be backed up with evidence. Someone else must say everything that I want to say. No one has taught me what is expected, I have just been assumed to know. So this whole time has been a process of figuring out exactly what it is that they want. And it has been tough. and I am not sure that I like it. I am a good writer, but it hasn't seemed like it lately.

Ok, my grades. Professional Studies, I have turned in 1 assignment, but have not gotten it back. Science, I have turned in 1, and got a 60. English, none turned in. Maths, 2 turned in. 1 a 56 (that was the first paper I've turned in) and the other a 78. Art, 1 turned in, got a 73. Inclusion, 1 turned in, got a 66. So I do some figuring, and right now I am looking at a 66.84%. That is a 2-1. This is not final, it will depend on how well I do in the rest of my assessed work. But I seem to be on an upward trend.

The hardest part of it all has been combating my own feeling of having poor grades. A 58 % looks terrible when you are used to that being a failing grade.

5) What language differences have you found?

Tons. Just for ease, the first word will be American English, and the second British English. And Ill provide the more daring of you a link to an American/British English dictionary. Whoever said that we speak the same language is WRONG.

  • period - full stop
  • quotation marks - speech marks
  • parenthesis - brackets
  • gas - petrol
  • big rig - lorry
  • tylenol or acetaminophen - paracetamol
  • pants - trousers
  • underwear - pants
  • trash can - rubbish bin
There are so many, I almost don't know where to start. And this doesn't touch on words we spell differently (fetus/foetus or center/centre, for two) or words that we spell the same but say differently. (herb and route, off the top of my head.)

For far more than I can or will give, check out here. If you want to know the slang terms and see the site I use most often, then check out here. And for a website that points out cultural differences, go here.

Sunday, 13 January 2008

Us. Silly.



And yes, that IS a beard. I love it. It's like a giant teddy bear in my bed. Nice. I have Daddy to thank for that, I suppose. He did the beard thing too.

Click on it for the full effect. :)