Open Thread

I have so much to do today that I’m just drowning. Here is my to-do list:

1. Prepare a lecture on El Salvador’s Civil War (1979-1992).

2. Prepare a lecture on Ana Maria Matute.

3. Create an assignment on Almudena Grandes’s El lector de Julio Verne.

4. Prepare a flyer for a colleague’s visit to our university.

5. Write a letter of recommendation for a student.

6. Grade the thesis statements and the bibliographies of my independent researchers (6 down, 4 to go).

7. Grade 92 80 67 55 32 21 11 homework assignments.

8. Answer comments in my blended course on Hispanic Civilization.

9. Write to a student who insists that her comparison of Bartolome de Las Casas and Hitler is valid.

There are also 12 more essays on Las Casas for me to grade but I don’t think I will get to them today.

While I’m doing all this stuff, there will be an open thread on this blog. Feel free to say, link, ask and mention anything you want.

My Other Favorite Snack

When I was 8, I got an assignment for a science class at school which was to get some peas and lentils to sprout and bring the resulting sprouts to class.

I failed that assignment because I ate all the sprouts on my way to class. Doing so made me feel like I was a very weird person, so I stopped. And then one day I discovered sprouts at our local supermarket.

Now I feel completely justified in eating them. Sprouts are delicious and mildly addictive. I don’t know what it is they contain that makes me incapable of stopping before I devour an entire box.

My Favorite Snack

I love fresh figs. Mind you, not those weird dried ones. It’s fresh figs that are my favorite snack.

Of course, they are insanely expensive. Usually, they are sold for $1.99 each which is ridiculous. Sometimes, they go on sale for $0.99 apiece. But that’s crazy, too, because it feels like eating a 1 dollar bill with every small fig.

But, oh, they are amazing. The texture is so complicated that every fig is a separate experience. Just try putting your tongue inside a freshly bitten fig and swirling it in there for a few seconds and you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Today, however, they went on sale for $2.99 per box of 15 figs. So I’m happy.

In the next post, I will show you my second favorite snack.

Do you have a favorite snack?

Local Sermon

A local church (one of a scary number) always has the best sermon titles. We pass by just to see what the pastor comes up with each week.

Today’s title was: “Some people give and forgive and some people get and forget.”

This is a very insightful description of a psychological dynamic between a happy sadist and a gleeful masochist.

We are now seriously considering going to listen to one of the sermons.

Typology of Love: Child

Child knows perfectly well how to manipulate others into taking care of all his/her needs. Child’s perfect partner is a deeply insecure person who needs to play the savior to feel at least marginally better about him/herself. Child’s helplessness is completely fake. S/he zeroes in on the most self-hating person in any group like a killer drone and attaches him/herself to such a person to leech off this wounded creature in perpetuity.

Child and Insecure can make a perfectly happy couple that will be unbreakable as long as Insecure remains insecure.

The Magic Method

A dialogue with a colleague.

Colleague: I’m so stressed out, I think I’m about to have a nervous breakdown.

Clarissa: What’s happening? What’s bothering you?

Colleague: I’m up for tenure next year, but I have next to no research. This is driving me crazy. I don’t know what will happen to me.

Clarissa: What are you working on?

Colleague: Well, there is this article I’ve been working on intermittently for the past two years but I never have the time to just sit down and finish it off. I haven’t even been to any conferences since 2009 because I don’t have time to create presentations. I’m screwed.

Clarissa: Look, I’m organizing a talk by my colleague Jonathan Mathew. This guy publishes like crazy. And he has created this great method of scholarly productivity. I tried the method and it totally works. So he will come here and tell us how he does it.

Colleague: Really? This sounds exactly like something I need at this point. Is the talk limited to your department or can anybody come?

Clarissa: Of course, everybody is welcome. Do come by. Jonathan is very motivating and inspiring. I’ll send you the poster the moment I have it ready.

Colleague: I will definitely come to the talk. I just hope it isn’t one of those methods where in order to publish a lot you need to write every day. Because nobody can do that. This kind of approach just makes no sense. It isn’t like anybody really just sits there five days a week and writes for 30 minutes.

Clarissa: Erm, well. . .

Colleague: Because if you believe that such a method works you will just waste your time and never publish anything. This talk won’t be on any sort of a “write every day” method, will it?

Clarissa leaves, mumbling to herself: No, of course, it won’t be a method where you have to write to have something written. No, sir. My colleague created an approach where you never write a single line yet keep publishing all the time.

Asleep

All day today I feel asleep. Please don’t confuse this with feeling sleepy which I’m not. I’m actually very well-rested. But I feel like I haven’t been able to awaken today. Everything has this vague, hazy, dream-like quality. Everything feels a little off.

At work, I wasn’t managing to connect with anything. Time seemed to skip forward and backward as I moved around in slow motion. I ate some food but it didn’t have any taste. I kept planning to pinch myself to check if I was asleep but I kept forgetting to do it. I just pinched myself right now and felt pain. But that pain had a very unreal, strange quality.

It is highly probable I will soon discover that I simply forgot to wake up this morning.

In case anybody is wondering, I haven’t touched any alcohol or medication since August and any narcotic substances since before I was born. I’m not under the influence of anything. I’m just asleep.

If this post seems weird to you, that’s fine. What else can you expect from a person who is writing in her sleep?

 

Who Thinks That Sex Segregation Is Good for Women?

Virginia Heffernan is into sex segregation. She chooses to pretend not to know that sex segregation has always accompanied the most opressively anti-women societies. She also likes to fake a complete ignorance of how gender wars serve the cause of female subjection. Instead, Heffernan celebrates female chauvinism and gender bullying:

It buoys spirits, of course, that there are big, bestselling new books that fly the flamboyant colors of female chauvinism. They have those ugly, slightly bullying titles. There’s “Vagina,” by Naomi Wolf. “The End of Men,” of course, by Hanna Rosin. And “The Richer Sex,” by Liza Mundy. These books have not exactly delighted reviewers, but they’ve made it possible to pretend that playground name-calling (“boys are dumb!”) is social science. Better still, Wolf, Rosin and Mundy do the name-calling for all womankind, so the rest of us can meet in silk dresses and not talk about gender madness at all.

Of course, everybody is entitled to their own ignorance and stupidity. Still, I feel offended that Heffernan considers it acceptable to assume that “all womankind” shares her diseased attitude towards men.

According to Heffernan’s strange logic, the war against women’s reproductive rights that is currently being waged by the US politicians is not a big deal because Myanmar, golf, and Jesus. Think I’m exaggerating in order to make her look bad? See for yourself:

The stylized “war on women” may rage on as a fiction of the election, but in the barracks women are living it up. Aung San Suu Kyi, the pro-democracy leader, now sits in parliament in Myanmar. Women play golf at the Augusta National Golf Club. And, this week, we come to find out Jesus may have had a wife.

Got it? Well, neither did I. Real women are being denied their rights but for Heffernan this is a greater fiction than Jesus’s wife.

Heffernan is a great example of a person who refuses to face her own neurosis and pretends that her psychological imbalance is some sort of a political or social issue. Take the following statement, for example:

Last week I hired a babysitter, put on a dress and took a taxi to a friend’s birthday party across town. . . In place of cake and candles was an exclusionary door policy. Women. Only women. The three men present were waiters. There was nothing defiant or political in this separatism. Separatism by sex is so standard at social events now that no one even commented on it. The crowd was cool and gracious. The women seemed universally like winners, expansively at home in this unmixed company. No men around to worry about, to protect, to impress, to slow down for.

What Heffernan doesn’t know is that she can look and feel like a winner who is at home wherever she goes without locking herself up in a gynaikonitis or a seraglio. All she needs to achieve this happy state is solve her psychological issues that make her switch on the worrying, protecting, impressing, slowing down mode whenever a man enters the room.

When I imagine the sad reality of a person who automatically begins “to worry about, to protect, to impress, to slow down for” whenever a man shows up on the horizon, I feel perplexed. It must be a weary task to walk through life dragging these decidedly unhealthy responses everywhere you go. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to find the reason why the possibility that a complete stranger might have a penis provokes such an intense response in you? Wouldn’t it be more productive to look for a way not to be in such a complete thrall to other people’s physiology?

Crowds of women live their lives without any desire or need “to worry about, to protect, to impress, to slow down for” whenever men appear in their vicinity. Heffernan could easily become one of those women if only she gave herself the trouble of realizing that this is not about “all womankind.” This is an issue of personal psychology that she is choosing not to address out of sheer laziness.

The feminist discourse has degenerated into a laundry list of psychological issues that their owners blame on society, men, the patriarchy, and the Loch Ness monster. Such pseudo-feminists have no interest in the very real encroachments on women’s rights. Instead, they prefer to smother feminism in trivialities. Inane complaints against the universe, vapid discussions of golf and Jesus’s wife, endless passive-voice statements that allow them to whine without ever charting a course of action that will make the whining redundant – this is what I encounter with a scary regularity in the feminist section of my blogroll.

“Why is feminism losing popularity?” such pseudo-feminists ask whenever a fresh bout of vacuous militancy against nothing specific subsides. “Why are the younger generations distancing themselves from feminism?”

Well, just take a look at Heffernan’s article again. Would you like to be associated with something this insipid, infantile and stupid?

Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Intellectual

I’m tired and that makes me very suspicious. Is the student who wrote the following trying to be a smart-ass or is he writing this in earnest?

I don’t think Arnold Schwarzenegger was much of an intellectual when he first came to this country but, over the years, his encounter with the highly educated people of California made him one.

Huh?

In case anybody is wondering, the question had to do with the Spanish intellectuals who went into exile as a result of the Spanish Civil War.

 

Is This Offensive?

I just received the following email from a student:

hey here is the first essay it was due today right?

In my culture, addressing anybody with “hey” is extremely insulting, so I’m tempted not to accept this assignment. But now I’m wondering whether English-speakers find this more acceptable. Is this a normal thing to do?