Humbled to be a Hobbit

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When John McCain slandered and besmirched citizens and colleagues of a different political ideology as hobbits, the left cheered. Of course, they cheer anyone who supports them because it’s ideology or nothing. They enjoy the chance to mock and belittle people of other opinions because that’s what small minds do- they engage in character assassination. In truth however, John McCain couldn’t have picked a better exemplar in his verbal faux pas to which to compare his opponents. Apparently, he forgot that the hobbits won, that not a single one was lost, and that hobbits hold the fortunes of us all. 

Personally, I’m not offended to be a hobbit. I’m offended that small people and dubious characters such as John McCain found their way in as Stewards of western civilization.

Hobbits bow to nobody. In the fine tradition of the revolution, America was established as a free nation, where you were free to follow the opportunities of life regardless of station and to act on the dictates of your own conscience. Most other societies, even republican in nature, still kept their caste system. The Hobbits of 1776 bowed to nobody. They even refused to recognize their president as a monarch or the presidency as a hereditary institution as the leadership of most other societies ever was. At the end of the day, the Hobbits of Middle Earth didn’t have to answer to anyone. They were not beholden to kings. In fact, Kings bent over backwards to help the Hobbits in order to keep their nations free of the tyranny of Sauron.

Mordor combined to stop them from their quest. They say that if nobody hates you, if nobody attacks you, and if nobody resists you you’re not doing anything worthy. Well, from the Nazghul to the Orcs, from aberrant forces of men to the ring itself, it seemed that every evil power combined to stop the Hobbits, hedge them up, or kill them if they could. Only the Uruk-hai didn’t kill the Hobbits immediately after they found them, but only because a henchman of Sauran (Saruman) wanted to use the ring for himself. In other words, since every political party, including the GOP, and almost every reporter and newspaper hates conservatives as Hobbits, you can rest assured that they are viewed as a threat. Since they are a threat, they must be destroyed, diminished, discouraged, and demagogued. Krister Stendahl, late of the church in Sweden, reminded us that people see the best in themselves and paint their enemies in caricature. Every evil power, principality, and ruler of darkness in this world pulls out all the stops to mock, belittle, discourage, distract, rout, and destroy the Hobbits of politics- the Conservatives. They paint them as facists and compare them to Nazis by claiming they are “far right”; well, in relative terms, we are. However, you go far enough right, and you find the same kind of tyranny. Hobbits were never interested in ruling. They looked forward to Bilbo's next birthday.

Civilization depends on the Hobbits. The ability of Hobbits to move the ring without falling victim to its temptations determined the fate of the whole world. Only they could carry the ring without constantly falling victim to the temptation to usurp power. It is the sad disposition of almost all men as soon as they acquire the least scintilla of power and authority as it were to immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion. Even Galadriel, although she meant to rule well, realized that she would use it poorly, which is the same reason Gandalf refused to take it. Trust the ring to the Hobbits. Only they can be trusted with the requisite restraint to not immediately, irreversible, and irrevocably abuse the power of the ring. Sometimes they end up using it, and sometimes things go wrong, but they do not go alone, and they do not care about anything other than the peaceable life of the shire. So even if a Frodo falls victim standing besides the fires of Mt. Doom, you may count on Samwise to get him there and see to it that the ring never falls into the wrong hands.

People who parlance the image of Hobbits intend to belittle the people to whom they liken it when in reality it constitutes a gargantuan compliment. Consider the bravery, the faithfulness, the resolve, and the selflessness of the Hobbits in the Fellowship. They didn’t get a thing. They didn’t want anything. They weren’t tempted to use it for ill. Even Bilbo didn’t use it to take over anything, even his own village! Every mistake they made was because they believed in goodness in the world and assumed people of Middle Earth actually valued civilization. We know from the choices made by liberals that they care about themselves. They would never offer to make you toast, tomatoes, and nice crispy bacon. They would never move their horsemen between Minas Tirith and the Orcish horde to vouchsafe the city. Most people are willing to do whatever it takes as long as it doesn't cost them anything. The Hobbits were willing to give anything regardless of what it gained them. When they won, they smoked, ate, danced, and laughed, and then they went back to their hovels, fields, and families. If Conservatives are Hobbits, then only Conservatives can be trusted to take the ring to Mordor and keep power out of the hands of evil and conspiring me. I understand some people like Paul RINO claim to be conservative, but real conservatives will only take the ring in order to return it to its place. True conservative candidates will take authority only in order to return it to the hands of the people who created the government they serve. I am humbled to be a Hobbit and glad that I was born one.

Beaten but Not Defeated

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For the last four years, I've played racquetball in the campus gym two or three times per week almost every week except when they are closed. I love this opportunity because it costs me $50/year to use a racquetball court as much as I want, comes with a small locker, and has shower privileges. Since I don't really want a gym membership for anything else when I can run and cycle outside and lift weights in my bedroom (all of which I do), I spend a lot of time there. Mostly, I play without a partner, slamming the ball against the wall for 45 minutes or so. The people who work there can tell when I'm upset. Some of the other people took the time to play me. Until yesterday, nobody ever won a single game against me.

Now the pressure is off after the 45 year old campus engineer managed to beat me in the first game 16-14. Just like when I received my first negative review from a student online, I no longer feel obligated to keep up a perfect record. Even though I came back and won the second game 15-9, Steve is the guy to beat now because he's the only person to beat me, and because he's arrogant enough that I'm sure he immediately went around telling everyone how he beat me. He probably won't mention game 2. He also won't mention that I'd already been on the court for 15 minutes sweating when he arrived. Even though Steve rarely plays racquetball, he's now the one who's "only ever lost one game", so everyone will try to play him and leave me alone again.

I found it fascinating how Steve played. Apparently, there are distinct playing styles, because Steve played just like I do. His strengths were my strengths; his weaknesses were mine too. I was able to pull ahead by playing to my own weaknesses knowing he would falter. The other students who play do things I rarely saw when I played in college. They use the ceiling ALL THE TIME, and they love to hit the ball in Z formations to hit as many walls as possible. Steve kept the ball low, hit the ball fast, used the gutters along the wall to kill the shot and served lazily by comparison. It was very interesting to play against someone like myself for the first time in 15 years, someone who learned to do the same things the same ways. Other people get to play against me all the time, but I don't, and it was good to learn just exactly where I'm weak.

Although this loss won't stop me from playing, it will change when I go. I pretty much know when to expect Steve at the gym, and since I don't really enjoy losing, I know how to avoid running into him like I did yesterday. According to my Fitbit, our game was less of a workout for me than my regular rally or my regular Friday night partner (who beats me at least 1/3 of the time), and so I'm not sure it was as beneficial to me. He was absolutely dripping with sweat after our 25 minutes in the court, and he told me his heart never races that much for anything, which is probably why he looks like crap. His cardiovascular endurance is probably minimal at best, so I could probably trounce him even more in later games.

I don't like coming from behind, but I do like that I can come back from the verge of defeat. Never having seen Steve serve let alone play, he managed to score 6-0 before I even got a point, after which I managed to get five myself in answer. Despite his early lead, we were at 14-14 for quite some time, and I worked my way back up from lagging far behind to threaten him, and I know he thought I might win that first game anyway. It is always frustrating to lose. It is even more frustrating to lose things about which you really care. Since I play racquetball mostly for fun and exercise, I'll keep playing. As for other things, I still keep hoping that God will restore that which the adversary was allowed to take away. I get knocked down, but I get up again, and maybe that's why He smiles on me the way He does.

Anos de las Muertas

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Many people I know died this year. Some of them are better off. Some of them were taken untimely. Some of them decided they couldn't take it anymore. All of them hurt someone in some way. After we buried the last of my grandparents this spring, my sister appropriately opined that 2015 sucks. I am eager for this year to die.

It seems like it's not just limited to my own family. Several students tell me they had a rough year as well. One had to identify her best friend's body. Another lost her mother. Some of those we know who lost were friends. My sister reports that someone semi close to her killed themself this year. My best friend from high school lost his father. My supervisor on Mt. Charleston is going home the first weekend in December to bury her grandmother. One of the regular people we know from the mountain buried a dog. It seems that loss and death is all around us.

Last night, just before I fell asleep, my best friend called me because his dad just died. He lost both of his parents this year, and it looks like I'm headed to another funeral this weekend. I arrived shortly before the first of his family, which was actually his youngest sister in law, who asked him "Are you ok?" He interestingly said, "I have to be." THere is work to do, and there is life to live, and there is nothing to do that can change things. There really is no other option worth taking when people die except to keep going. Other people did it. THey did it when their parents, friends, and loved ones passed. We remember the dead. We remember the good times. We remember laughing, crying, smiling, and loving. We remember them because they mean something to us.

Although they say that only the good die young, I feel very strongly that God may be calling some of His best home. My best friend's father was a renown and brilliant engineer. He played a major role in the development of radar and AWACs. My grandfather was a respected pharmacist. As we see the world increase in turmoil, it would not surprise me to learn that God called them home in order to spare them the pains of having to watch what they built fall apart around them.

The most important thing is family. It's why I talk about it incessantly on this blog and bother God in almost every prayer I utter. Life is richer when you share it. We are almost upon the holiday season, which is about gatherings with friends and family, loved ones, golden ones, and golden days. My best friend will have his family around for Thanksgiving at least, and I spoke with a few people I know who are far from home this season to make sure they weren't alone. Well do I remember my first Thanksgiving when I did not have family- I ate in a Pakistani restaurant in Linz, Austria. Of course everyone assures me they are fine, and I can't force them to find berth, but I offered. When I was alone sometimes people offered that to me, and so the holidays were full of life for me because of them.

If you mean something to me or ever did, may your holidays be merry. Know that I love you still in whatever ways are appropriate. Remember that in dark times there are also things of beauty and peace.

Christmas Already?

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One of the Jewish adjunct professors met with his lab for the last time today and stopped by to wish me well for the holidays. In his list of holidays, he kindly included Merry Christmas but skipped right over Thanksgiving which is barely more than a week hence. He's not the only one. I saw my first Christmas decor in Wal-mart before Halloween, and the radio stations that play music for the season started the day after Veteran's Day. Monday night, on my way home after lab, I saw my first Christmas lights, and I can hardly believe Christmas is already here. It flies in the face of the traditions even of my family.

Historically, my family traditionally began to decorate for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. We hang lights on the house, put up the tree, and swap the Thanksgiving decor for Christmas. It seems only fair to wait until after one holiday clears to start the next one, and when you're putting away one you might as well put out the next! In my own "family" I haven't done any of these things yet because it's been many years since I had a family, but it does come up when I date women, and only one Geautiful Birl seemed even willing to consider my family traditions (she was excited to have family traditions since she had none). It was something we did as a family. Well, after Christmas last year, I bought lights on clearance, so I will actually hang some on the eaves this year since the previous occupant left nails in the stucco on which to hang them, so it will finally look festive and like someone lives there. It's also the only holiday for which I plan to decorate. Period.

If they have their way, the P.C. crowd would ablate Christmas altogether. From Holiday music to Holiday cards to Happy Holidays, they are trying albeit unsuccessfully and skewly, to get around the traditions of the people who made this nation great. Of course, they don't want to hurt the economy, so they don't take down companies; they just bully them into compliance with the P.C. agenda so that companies like Starbucks stop the traditional red cups for some that look more like baubles. Maybe they are even behind the push to make Christmas start earlier so that even we who love the season and understand the Christ will help them abolish the holiday because we're put out and tired of the hype.

For many years, they have tried to take Christ out of Christmas and render it nothing more than a commercial boondoggle. I've been receiving black friday preview ads and notifications of sales and the whole lot all designed to drain me of money and energy so that there's no desire to think of Christ on the day accepted on which to celebrate His birth. Years ago, I used to play guitar in lab at Christmas and play some real traditional hymns, and I've been asked to speak in my congregation next month about how the symbols of the nativity increase my faith. Meanwhile, I'm meeting with, talking to, and doing things for people who like myself suffered tragic loss in 2015 so that they might feel a little peace at the end of next month.

It's Christmas already, and if it were the good ways that would be a good thing. Rather than the songs, the shopping, and the symbols, if we were out doing what Christ did and taught and asked, then we'd begin before anyone else really starts thinking of the needy lifting the burdens of those worn down. Each week in class, I check up on the student who lost her mother, and I went yesterday to help another woman I know whose grandmother died last month get started applying to graduate school. These people don't need money and food and the visible trappings; they do need attention, affirmation, assistance, and direction to move forward after the challenges of 2015. Last Saturday, after hiking I stayed at my hiking buddy's house for six hours because his father will probably die before the year's end, and I'm the only person here for him. I don't have any answers or magic or gifts to give besides my time, but I'll be there for him when and how I can because he has done and would do the same for me. At the end of the day, at the end of the year, the thing that brings me the greatest joy is what I do for others. For me, Christmas started weeks ago too as I started looking to others who needed my help, my ear, and my love and most of all the reminder that even in dark times there is beauty and peace.

End of an Era

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The day will soon come when nobody watching Beauty and the Beast will understand why Belle is excited about a library. As everything goes digital, people no longer acquire things, and when they do they can't be sure those things remain theirs. One of the major reasons I bought my house was because I built a library into the great room where the entertainment center once stood. I wanted a library. I wanted a center of learning. Library no longer means the same thing.

Having extra time before class tonight, I decided to go explore the new student union on campus and ended up in the library. It's the strangest library I've ever entered, and it reminded me of that described and predicted by Orson Wells in his book "The Time Machine". Our new library has no books on the shelves. In fact, it doesn't even have any shelves. It does have lots of work stations with plugs for computers for both power and internet which is admirable and desirable, but there isn't really a library. Essentially, it's a large study area, and I don't even really understand why they have a librarian. What does she do? She confronted me, and I told her I was exploring. Some of the studying students looked up, and a few smiled, but I felt out of place without books. Everything's online, and I don't know how to feel about that.

I'm just barely old enough that I remember having to go to the library to get work done. Our professors put exams and other materials on reserve that we could go use for an hour or so. I remember the magic of holding something in my hand as I learned from and about it. I also think of all the amazing books in old university libraries that are not and probably never will be digitalized. What will happen to them? You can still go to the library to study and use a computer, but where are the books? I know having the books open in front of me allows me to switch back and forth between them more quickly than if I'm doing it online, but that may be because I am the last vestige of a bygone era who finds it cumbersome to use a tiny computer in my hand.

Even more importantly, computers introduce the bias of the programmer to the search parameters and make it difficult to find useful information unless you know the boolean operators. Just Monday, I ran a search on a popular search engine and noticed two problems. First, as aforementioned on this blog, the engine returned sponsored results that have nothing to do whatsoever with what I want. If you can buy your way to the top, you can bias the outcomes. Secondly, it returned results that were six years out of date in some cases. In science, something that is four years old is ancient. Back when I was in school, the stacks for periodicals contained only the current year so that when you looked for something it was maybe 11 months out of date. Now, students get data that is inaccurate, irrelevant, outdated, or bought. Far too many search results are biased because people want you to come to a certain conclusion. Run a search on how to get rid of belly fat, and you will find all sorts of contradictory and conflicting claims. Some will say that aerobics work, others will say weights, and some will tell you that eating McDonalds every day will work (because it worked for someone once). Past isn't necessarily prologue, but the digital database bears the bias of the person programming it, and it's only as good as its author. When I left Facebook over two years ago, I posted a picture of myself overlaid with the caption "Sexiest Professor Ever- It's written on a photo posted on the internet, so you know it's true." My best friend once said "Most of what's on the internet is pretty useless which is probably why it's free". I also modified wikipedia articles last time I taught microbiology so that they contained a phrase for which I could search in order to catch cheaters who simply copied and pasted. Recently, the media published a false story about Ben Carson, and people believed it. "I read it on the internet" they say, to which I retort, "Then we know it MUST be true!" Publish it, and people will quote it, and that scares me. Scholarship is now biased by those who write the software, search parameters, and databases. Anything done by humans is both flawed and skewed to serve the human who made it so.

I walked out of the very pretty and expensive building with mixed feelings. I'm glad the students have a nice place to study and take care of things in their new student union. I wonder how much they will actually "learn" now that boolean operators are the only guides to actually help them find scholarly information. We know so many things that aren't true, interesting, useful, or worthy of knowing. I can't say that this will be worse than what I knew as a student, but it will certainly be different, and I will probably never visit the "library" again. Meanwhile, here's a picture of mine:

Encounter on the Mountain

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Despite my better judgment, my hiking buddy and I consented to an invitation to head back up on the mountain for one last work assignment. As we discussed it Thursday night, in all likelihood, if we didn't go it wouldn't be done or at least done well. Accordingly we got up, donned warm clothing, and joined the work crew for a 7 mile hike and work project under the first sticking snow of the season. Turns out we were right to go along. People are funny creatures.

People made commitments they didn't keep. Although the supervisor told me that seven people confirmed to attend, only three actually showed up to join the hike. Of those three, one was so out of shape and in poor shape that he barely made it two miles into the back country. Additionally, he slowed us down. If we hadn't gone along, it would have taken probably all day just to do the hike, and they would have had fewer hands with which to accomplish the task. He did however run into Rain Tree Goddess, a woman who hikes up to the large Bristlecone pine every weekend to water it, and someone my buddy wants me to introduce him to. We didn't encounter her.

We did encounter other people. Due to the retarded progress, a large group of hikers that we could have invited to help were already on their way down when we caught up with them. With their help, the project might have taken 15 minutes tops. On our way down after finishing, I encountered my very first student on the trail. As luck would have it, the only student I ever encountered hiking is the student who wrote my very first negative review online, giving me 1 out of 5 stars and proclaiming me the worst professor ever. She was there with her sister and their husbands. Her husband once hiked with me all the time, but now that his wife hates me, well, he's in her camp where he ought to be. I made sure not to draw attention to myself and let them pass without intimating I knew them.

I managed to have an up close encounter with the mountain itself. On the way back down, we teased our supervisor because she had trouble keeping her footing. As luck would have it, immediately after I made a snide remark, I fell face first into the snow, having lost my footing due to an old injury aggravated by our forced march and the cold temperatures. The mountain and I are now well acquainted, and the supervisor was kind enough to help lift me out of the snow bank and set me back on my feet after being made the center of our fun.

I met many interesting people volunteering at Mt. Charleston, but unfortunately most of them will probably not end up being of any significance outside the volunteer capacity. Most of the volunteers didn't meet their obligation, and those who did mostly did so for ulterior motives. Some hope to use this as leverage to get a job. Others did so because they wanted to flirt with our supervisor. Far too many of the hikers we met don't have a clue about trail etiquette or how to properly care for the forest. Even at Church on Sunday, one fellow told me that he'd been up camping that weekend, and I told him that in addition to violating the law, he had also unwisely camped near to the mountain lion den. I learned a lot about the law, the mountain, and myself, and hopefully I made a positive contribution. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

Embracing Your Body Type

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I'm sort of glad the so-called "dad body" is vogue, because I can definitely achieve that. As I often opine on this blog, the state of Nevada finds me overweight and gives me demerits on my annual health appraisal because my basic BMI (height to weight ratio) is too high. One year, I argued with the doctor, who told me that I needed to do more cardio, and told her that when she did more cardio than I did that she could tell me that. Ultimately, we are born with a body type. That's not an excuse for inaction, but it does determine the maximum possible results of your efforts to get fit.

Some people get the opposite of what they earn. I know a woman who walks maybe a mile a day total and eats like a garbage disposal who, at 46, looks better than most 20 year olds. I also know a guy who eats salads and avoids fried foods and can't get below 250lbs. When I turned 26 and my metabolism slowed, I learned quickly that I couldn't eat whatever I want and remain sessile and still look and feel healthy. I learned since then that I can be and feel healthy and still not look it, at least not at first glance. Every time I weighed in at MEPS, when they taped me, I was fine, but on the scale I was overweight. My blood work is amazing. I can hike over 20 miles in a day and still drive my stick shift Saturn home. My students last night were surprised that I can drive home after class at 10PM.

This morning, I got a small victory when I realized on my way into work that my shorts that I bought this spring are now loose. Sure, I'm not really losing any weight, but my waistline continues to get smaller, and when I looked into the mirror I felt like I looked good. Maybe I'm not good enough to be an underwear model or to go shirtless at the beach and feel macho, but I look just as good as Harrison Ford did when he was my age, and I feel accomplished. Besides, I'm not willing to go to the effort necessary in order to look any better. I work out seven days a week every morning at 6AM (I sleep in until 7AM on Sunday), play racquetball Monday and Friday, and hike almost every Saturday, and that's just to maintain how I look. I'm not sure I want to know what level of additional effort it would take to get a six pack, and I'm not sure my body would let me. My hiking buddy thinks based on my body type and genetics that I'd have to reach below 5% body fat to have ripped abs, and I don't think I'm into that.

Last Thursday in class, since this class missed the first eight weeks of my jokes and anecdotes, I told them my joke about how to get a woman- be rich, be ripped, or chloroform. Last night in class, one young lady told me she's laughed about it all week to herself, so I elaborated about why men get abs. Years ago, when I had facebook and one of my female friends opined the fact that guys with abs never picked her, I explained that any guy who goes to that amount of effort isn't doing it for one woman. He intends to get "attention" from as many women as possible. One of the geology professors confirmed this to me yesterday when she told me how that kind of guy was back on the hunt after the testosterone kicked back in. With that amount of muscle, you can't expect a man to not be a testosterone-laden hulk and do everything women complain men do when dating. A guy who gets ripped does so to get noticed, to "get lucky" and to get his way. He's doing it for himself.

Just a week ago, my suspicions about how most of the beautiful people achieve this physique was confirmed when I started reading news about it online. Essena O'Neil became infamous about a week ago when she blew the whistle on the perfect image that social media types like she create. Although I have zero inclination to support her or suggest that you do, I found her confessions and explanations interesting. She admits starving herself for a week as an example of the efforts taken in order to have a flat stomach. For years, I've contended that you achieve that perfect physique by starving and dehydrating yourself, and that's exactly what this 18 year old girl did in order to have the "perfect body". Additionally, she admits it sometimes takes hours to get that "perfect shot" and "suck it in" in order to look like she's perfect and living the perfect life. However, she realizes now that she's perhaps more miserable than she was when she started. It's all a sham. It's not healthy, it's not natural, and it's not something I'm willing to do. I like to eat, I like to live, and I don't want to spend any more time every day working out just to fit someone else's standard of how I should look.

Although women largely do not embrace my looks, I have for the most part. I show up to family gatherings and am greeted as the "skinny" one. I wore a suit last Sunday that I bought when I was 19 years old. I have endurance, conditioning, and tone. I also have that stupid stubborn belly fat, but one woman told me years ago "I love you and your stubborn belly fat" and so I know that a woman can see my efforts even if the results don't meet expectations and give me credit for doing the best I can with what I have. Another student told me that her father gets hit on all the time despite his beer belly because the "dad body" is in vogue, and so she thinks I shouldn't have any trouble (aside from the beard which makes me look about ten years older than I am). I will never be an underwear model or make the fireman calendar, and I still won't go shirtless at the beach. I look good, even for my age, and I'll do what I can to take care of this mortal coil. Sometimes I even thank God I didn't get a different body because if I didn't have to earn it I know I might not appreciate it. On days when I feel bad about how I look, I go to the grocery store and feel better immediately. I'm doing the best I can, and for one woman that was good enough. Maybe it will be again. We reap what we sow, and even though there may be nothing obvious to see, I know the Lord who seeth in secret will somehow reward me openly. My grandparents reached the age of 90. To live long and prosper would be a great reward too.

Red Tape Reduces Enrollment

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Last week, the university president emailed us to help us steel ourselves against reduced budgets next summer due to depleted enrollment. He confessed that he didn't know why enrollment was down, but I can help with at least one reason why students shy away from college. It's too hard. It's not the curriculum, it's getting in, getting on track, and getting on the same page with the new modus opporendi. In other words, red tape reduced enrollment. We paid for this red tape, and it's going to be largely and increasingly counter productive.

We used to joke, and it's partially true, that all a Nevada resident must do in order to attend is to have a pulse and a credit card. That changed this fall when they rolled out CoyoteQ designed to give the IT folks a reason to justify their lavish salaries. On its face, it purports to streamline lines at the beginning of the term by fitting people into que with other students and giving them an idea of wait times and their place in line based on student numbers. Reality shows us two other consequences. First, IT did it in order to measure how many students are using what college resources. Secondly, it makes college more complicated because now in order to do anything you must first get on track with the technology.  Before they can register for classes, we FORCE students to meet with an advisor, which they cannot do until they go online, get their ID, get in the Q, ad infinitum.  How many drop out because of that probably defies description.

When I first attended college in 1997, we had very little technology and got along just fine. True, the lines for financial aid and registration for new students started the week before classes and wrapped their way down the hallways and around the buildings outside. However, everyone knew more about where to go and what was expected. I didn't have to get online in order to get in line. I got in line, and a real person handled everything even if it was just to tell me I was in the wrong line. Even I have to fall in line with this new system. When I tried to buy my annual pass to the campus gym, they made ME get into the CoyoteQ system even though nothing else applies to me. It's outrageous, and I think it discourages students for many reasons.

Technology robs people of personal interaction and personal care. It's discouraging to not be treated like a person, to be brushed aside, and to be ignored. We all detest the automated systems and waiting in line alone. Now, there is no line at and for school either. A geography professor recounted to me about a student who had no idea what to do with her life. When this professor referred her to a coach, the coach referred her to the red tape of the computerized system. Rather than volunteer to meet with her right now, she anonymized the student, demanding she get in the CoyoteQ and thereby provide a way for the coach to account for her. Rather than help her achieve this, she passed a series of complicated and convoluted instructions over the phone to the student that ultimately didn't even work! It's all distilled to numbers. You are not a person or a student. You are student 000100469715 (that was my number), and that's all you will ever be.

How many 18 year olds do you think have patience persistence and tenacity to stick with this new program? Although they tout themselves as experts on everything, nobody knows where to start. I think in large measure all of this technological terror hurts our ability to cater to students and their needs. It's all a bunch of accounting gimmicks now to justify all the expense and personnel involved, and it costs us more than we gain. Who really knows what the IT guys do, anyway? Despite the braggadocio of the incoming freshmen, they need guidance and help getting started because college is new in many ways and something for which most of them are not adequately prepared. They can deal with the classes and coursework in many cases, but now the amount of red tape through which they must pass to get into class overwhelms many of them. Particularly at high risk are the students whose parents and family never before attended college.

I think we lost students because the technological tools designed to help us who work and live in academia actually turn away students who used to attend. If in order to get an appointment with a counselor/coach you must go online, navigate a poorly designed website, fill out forms, obtain a password, access a system, and get in line online and all before the semester even starts I think we drive away students who don't know this and don't achieve it by the deadlines. Now that they abolished late registration, I think even someone such as I, particularly since I'm technologically adverse, might be squeezed out by bureaucratic morass. Consider how much we paid for these systems, for the code as well as the personnel, and I think we're losing far more than we gain. To paraphrase Neal A Maxwell: to educate people we must push paper. The abolition of man coincides with technological terrors, and I think it dehumanizes students and hurts higher education more than anyone. I believe this particularly because students are our clients as well as our product, and if we dehumanize them we risk losing them.

Recognition at Work

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I've worked in higher education for over eight years, and in those eight years, I've never won any awards. To my knowledge, I was never even nominated for one until this past month, and I only know that because the faculty member who nominated me came to tell me. In truth, the only reason I even care would be for the $200 attached to the award, but it was nice to know that someone tried to get me the award even if the attempt ultimately failed. During the budget shortfall, members of the GOBNet received raises while I received more work to do. However, despite the pay, the stratification, and all of the rest, people who want to know know the truth- I am a valuable player.

This professor thinks there may be discrimination in the process somewhere. He told me that when he discovered today that someone else was chosen, he went back and looked at previous people to receive faculty of the year, and some evident trends emerge among the selectees. Although he's not sure if the bias exists in the hiring process (since we are rare) or in the nomination selection, he suspects that I didn't win because of my demographics. You can see below the twelve last recipients of the award, three of whom have been working here fewer than two years, and six of whom started working after I did. Only one of these people has more than 20 years of service, and it's her first time receiving the award.

At the end of the week, I get the best recognition that my work can actually provide. When each new semester starts, they come to me and ask me which classes I can teach. The lead faculty for chemistry told me last Saturday that they need me to teach general chemistry to prepare students for higher courses because I'm good at it. I have one of the highest retention rates in the department, and I've never had a section cancelled due to insufficient enrollment. Students take other courses from me. I may not get a raise or a promotion or a ticket straight to the presence of God, but students talk to me, listen to me, and sign up to take classes from me, so I continue to have a job and an opportunity to excel at the same.

Since we have electronic keycards, it's very easy to tell who is at work, when, and for how long. I make a point of using the card on a door near my office or to my office within the last half hour of work to prove that I was on campus near the time when I am expected to be at work at least. Staff members know full well who leaves early chronically, and they often opine the absence of these people and feel sorry that I am at work while others are absence receiving money they did not earn. Faculty invite me to spend time with them, offer to make me Christmas gifts, and go out of their way to talk to me. Of course the usual suspects have their inner circle, but they are not offered opportunities to teach. They probably don't want to do any more work than they must or even the work with which they are tasked.

All too often in this life, the credit is unjustly ascribed to those except to whom it rightly belongs. The world seems to be divided into clicks and MyFave groups, where people prop up those they like and ignore the rest. Although many talk in sweeping magnanimous gestures, when you look at the details, they are mostly all talk. They love their friends and hate their enemies and ignore everyone else. They focus on their own advancement, even if they must lift others in order to achieve that. Hardly anyone if anyone has pure motives. I don't write this blog to make money or be famous. I haven't received a dime. Nobody hires me to review products or pass on information. I do this of my own volition. I'm not even sure my motives are pure, but at least I'm not pretending that they are better than they are.

I am acutely aware of my own shortcomings, and I am acutely aware that I am different from most people I know. My trust isn't in flesh and bone, in stone and steel, or in the assistance of students or superiors. As I picked up the five pennies I found today, I renewed my resolve to trust in God. At the end of the day, at the end of our lives, no matter how much you talk, no matter how good you are at memory modification, no matter what people believe or pay others to preach or publish or proclaim as "settled science" the truth remains. God knows who you really are. He promised that we will reap what we sow. He just didn't say when. I know that in a way I am getting the rewards He can give me now, and I will continue to do what is right and trust in a far better world than anyone can ever imagine. I make mistakes. I refuse to let them make me...

The Boy Who Whined

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Unbeknownst to me at the time, while I finished high school JK Rowling created a character that inspired millions. My mother gave me all of her books on tape several months back since I'm the only family member with a cassette deck in the car, and so I've listened to books, including Rowling's, during my work commute. Unlike most of her audience, I came to empathize and agree with Snape and Draco as I came to know the characters. You see, I was not her target audience based on my age, and I think I understand now why a slew of young people I meet in class have the attitudes that they do. They modeled their lives, their attitudes, and their schooling after her uninspired and overexaggerated character. Saint Potter, as Draco called him, could do no wrong despite his very young age. Everyone coddled and protected him, which made him feel like he was more special than he actually was. Finally, far too many students whine like Harry did when things get tough, and so some frustration with Harry has "slithered in" to this Slytherin.

I am not really sure what Harry Potter does right besides get lucky. Although widely recognized for "stopping Voldemort", the credit is unjustly ascribed to him when it belongs to his mother whose actions actually defeated the dark wizard. Since Harry survived, he gets credit, and that goes to his head too often. Indeed in his first day of potions, Snape has him dead to rights when he says, "Some of us feel confident in our abilities enough to not pay attention...clearly fame isn't everything" and yet most people put him on a pedestal as if he did something special. Well, I'm alive today, so shouldn't I get a medal or at least the elder wand? Sure, professors give him detention and demerits, but the doddering Dumbledore fauns over the little kid. What has any 11 year old actually accomplished anyway? I ask as did Tom Riddle in book 3 "How is it that a boy with no extraordinary talent managed to defeat the greatest dark wizard ever?" Truly, he gets lucky, and for that he's a hero? Bullocks. You have to be a certain type of arrogant to do what Harry does. He goes into the forest looking for giant spiders, steals things from Snape's office, ventures into the chamber of secrets alone, tackles a troll, spies on teachers, defies the ministry by rescuing Buckbeak and Black. What 13 year old boy do you know who's that arrogant that he would even attempt such feats? Who does he think he is?

Harry walks around the castle, talks to his elders, and acts without regard for any order whatsoever constantly. I suppose because everyone feels sorry for him, they make exceptions for him, letting him do things and have things and go places that others may not. From "youngest seeker in a century" to managing a petronus by age 13, this little kid is portrayed as paragon when he's really pariah. His presence at that school puts every other kid's life in danger. Many of the adults befriend and faun over him because they liked and missed his father, when his father was basically the same kind of miscreant and malcontent as the son. Aunt Marge saw Harry, not as a hero, but as a burden, and his presence and activities at the school support that conclusion. He's out of bed, out of the castle, in secret passages, disobedient to teachers, mouthy to Filch, self absorbed, self important, and with a sense of entitlement that I suppose is common to all so lavishly endowed with a vault full of gold and surrounded by fans. He's like a famous blogger, a supermodel, or an internet sensation, and worst of all none of it's real. He's not even real. He's some imaginary character in a book. At least he got my brother to read.

Far before book V when everyone knows Harry became a whiner, listening to the tapes made me realize Harry is a petulant, pesky, and pusillanimous person earlier. Several times while listening to Book III, I turned the tape off because I was frustrated. He's so upset with Black killing his parents, with Snape as the villain, with the fact that everyone thinks he's set the basilisk on them in Book II that he's constantly whining. It's a wonder he has any friends, particularly Hermione. Notice, they don't end up together. If not for loads of help in Book IV he would have probably died before the race for the Goblet of Fire. Harry constantly mopes, constantly whines, particularly about his family which is the only thing protecting him outside of school, and takes everything for granted. He lived, and he keeps on living, and so this arrogant whelp eventually comes of age and goes looking for the dark wizard who killed his parents. Then there's this fascination with quidditch which I find to be a very stupid sport, and how upset he is when matches are cancelled, games are lost, and teachers tell him to obey. Why can't he just have his way and impress everyone everywhere in every subject? Is that too much to ask? Again, what 17 year old boy is that arrogant, that entitled, that assured, to try something so foolhardy and reckless as hunt down an escaped murderer? What an idiot indeed, Hermione. Ultimately, this costs Snape his life, and even then Harry can't summon up enough empathy for anyone to subjugate his self-pity and mourn the loss of someone who actually acted like an adult. In fact, Snape seems the only teacher willing to act like a teacher instead of a friend and do what's right for Harry rather than capitulating to appease the "Boy Who Lived".

Fortunately, there are only four books on cassette to which I can listen in the car. I enjoyed the chance to read in the car while commuting and I found it interesting to see this side of Harry Potter now that he's no longer the latest craze and on everyone's lips. Even my father realized last Sunday when I mentioned this that he hadn't realized this side of Harry's character and dramatis personae. I think everyone got caught up in the hero-worship that stories like this accidentally create. I worry about young people who took Harry as an example rather than an inspiration, and I think now that explains my scathing negative review online. That woman saw herself as my Harry and me as her Snape, and she thought I was the antagonist rather than an adult. She's not alone. We have gobs of young people, more than I remember at that age, walking around thinking they are more important, more capable, and more entitled than ever before simply because they are alive. What teenager needs that degree of arrogance? What teacher can get through to students who think they don't need to pay attention because they are famous on youtube or earn more than I do stripping downtown? How is it that students of no significant chemical talent think they are smarter than I? Yes, I am their Potions Master, and I guess that's our lot- to be hated until we give the last full measure of devotion. I've looked at Harry Potter from both sides now, and I'm glad to see the Boy Who Whined move on to other things.

Missing the Lost

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Since taking over this microbiology class a few weeks ago, I've been lucky to be home by midnight each night due to special circumstance. A particular young lady who has now had me three times as her professor approached me, aware of the fact that I lost all my grandparents this spring term, to talk about a tragic loss in her immediate family. We talked, mostly just to pass the time, because I know there's nothing to say. People tell you lies about grief, and people don't like to talk about it, but she knows that I can empathize at least a little with her, and so for a few hours a week she feels like she's not alone.

Everyone grieves in their own way and for the time that it takes to recover from tragedy. There is no magical formula or date by which you are supposed to be ok, and so I told her that it will take as long as it takes and that she shouldn't let anyone make her feel guilty for feeling pain. Her father and brother are choosing to ignore it, and by and large that's what I did, filling my days so full of work and exercise so that little time remained for pain. I don't know what will help her, and neither does she, so when she came Thursday night and told me that she'd had a bad day I told her that would happen. We miss the lost. We loved them. Part of us died when they left too.

The only balm I can really offer to her and to anyone else grieving is that eventually you miss the lost less and feel the pain less frequently. Now that more than two years have passed since my friend was murdered and a woman about whom I cared deeply cut all ties, it is easier to bear. I still think about them and mourn their loss, but now I forget about them long enough to forget why I need to. I think about them and weep for them, but it doesn't come as often or last as long. Other things compete for my attention and affection too. Friday my mom reported that her parents house may sell, closing forever a chapter in my life and taking away the only real home I ever knew. I no longer have a reason to get off the freeway in that city except to visit their graves. When I do, I will miss them, mourn them, and weep for them because I love them. Then I will get back in the car and move forward.

I think the ability to weep for the lost makes us more human and stronger humans than the stoics who rigidly resist the urge to let their emotions free. If we hurt at the loss of someone else, it means we learned to care about and for someone other than ourselves. Particularly in Vegas, most people seem shallow, self-centered, and narcissistic, and so I don't know if they're worth getting to know, and if I ever leave this town, I won't miss most of the people. Though we adore them individually, we agree that as a rule they're rather stupid. However, those we loved and lost are never really lost to us. We keep them alive in our memories.

Sometimes when we miss the lost, the only thing that helps is to know we're not alone in our grief. I can't really help this student besides let her know that I'm there and that I can empathize. Each situation is unique, so I can't really understand, but I can feel for her. I know the pain of loss, of family, of friends, and of romance. For her part, Tracie was a good friend, and I wish I'd been a better friend to her. I miss a particular geautiful birl almost every day because nobody treated me as well as she or seemed to care as much about my happiness as she did (besides my parents). I miss my grandparents because they were cheerleaders, and how I wish I had been able to give them good news while they yet lived that I'd found a wow woman to marry or finally been given the vocational opportunity I deserve. I hope that all of these people know that I really meant it, that I appreciated them, and that I miss them. This November, I am particularly grateful for what remains and for the chance to see that I really knew how to love before the last petal of my life fell.