Veggin'

Rest. Relaxation. Vacation. Holiday. Time off. Time off for good behavior. Quietus. Whatever you call it, it's nice to be able to just veg for a while. 

I really feel for those who are still writing exams. I mean, how can you effectively decompress over Christmas with an exam on the 21st? I'm just glad that I got my stuff over with right away. 

I applied to the coop program prior to December 1st as required. Now I've registered for my interview (January 10th) and there's a mandatory workshop at the end of January for those who are accepted. Gee, I hope I'm allowed in. I can't see any reason why I shouldn't be, but you never know...

I actually met with a recruiter on Sunday and had a nice little chat about things. Karen - obviously smart and intelligent (Hi Karen!) seems convinced that I have some advantages over the other 'kids' in that I have experience in the workforce and am a mature individual. I reinforced this of course with a reminder that I am a self-starter, well-organized and most enduringly compassionate about problems when they arise. I think on my toes and have a good sense of how to empathize with people in difficult times. I honestly think I'd be a great fit for PR - I have a lot of related skills. We discussed things in great depth, and I realized that I really wouldn't mind the chance to work a little while I'm doing this studying. Truth be known - as my mother has reminded me - I worked all the way through my last degree and still managed to make the Dean's list, so I'm sure I could do it again if the opportunity arose. Of course others gleefully remind me that I'm older now than I was - that I need more rest to maintain my devilishly good looks - I just ignore them. Ultimately, I do what I have to do as well as I can.

Anyway, this is starting to sound a bit too much like a resume. I'll move on for today.

J

Reflections

From orientation to exam day it's been a radical experience - like, you know, radical man. 

Most radical has been muscle memory - recalling this or that from the first go-around. 

Like reading. Reading has its own muscle - one I must say that in my case has been very sparsely used over the past 20 years. And cramming - that's another one; it's 21 years since I had to do much of that - insurance courses don't count. Paying attention in class - that's another one; I confess that I almost nodded off once, though only once and in my defense I had a heavy cold at the time. Also, how to write an essay and cite a source - these have changed a great deal since my days at York.

Every day it's a new project, a new milestone. There are a few big ones left, and there's still plenty to do, and there's a corresponding tendency to look back on what was and wonder how it could have been better. This is important because of other semesters ahead. I mean, at the end of this thing I really want my grades to be as high as possible. I have a sense that this has been something of a throw-away semester in this regard, as I have battled hard to figure out the best way to organize myself. 

For example, for the first half of the semester I took notes by pen and paper, and they were terrible because I kept getting writer's cramp; I couldn't keep up with the free-flow of concepts, and so when I tried to type my notes up later - by way of tidying them up and reinforcing them - I had problems understanding what I'd scribbled! 

Then, just after the first midterms I remembered the laptop. I type much faster than I write, I can type without looking at the keyboard, and when typing I don't ever have to worry about running off the edge of the page. Also, instead of worrying about typing notes after the fact, when I get home I can launch right into review, re-reading, and 'reading around' the material. I started doing this and it became a lot easier to actually participate in class.

It has taken long enough, but now that I've got that figured out I can move on. 

Exam day

Yes, it's finally here. Exam day. The day (well, one of two) that it has all been working towards.

Behind me are all the classes, lectures, tutorials and long hours reading the material. Gone is the angst that comes from wrestling with tough stuff. Awa' the anger (yes, I said anger) that comes from trying to figure out the inscrutable professorial method. In my rear view mirror now is all the misery that comes from trying to physically force new facts into a tired old brain.

Over the past three months I have decided that my brain (mine in particular) is like a dirty old sponge - all scaly, with hard, crusty bits on the outside, and it reaches its daily saturation point a lot faster than the youth-rabble around me. Oh, it still wants to learn. It desires it, craves it, demands it! But it knows its limitations even if I don't. I have learned that this is called the cognitive wall, and some days I hit it pretty quickly.

Of course, we go into this kind of thing with all of our baggage intact. The baggage doesn't go away just because we're otherwise engaged for a while. It might be possible to move it to the back burner, but it will still eventually boil so it must not be ignored. It's like having a child that will get cranky if you suddenly stop paying attention to it. Baggage must be factored into all aspects of this degree pursuit. Baggage can be deferred, but not discarded.

Anyway, exam day. It's 720am and there are a lot more students here today than usually at this hour. Laptops blazing, notes flying, lips moving silently in time with their thoughts. Cramming.

My exam is at 330 this afternoon. My plan is to get some breakfast, then spend the day in the library - cramming. Tomorrow I'll be one of these early crammers, preparing for the 8am slugfest.

Now, off to the library.

J

Electric

The semester is winding down - tomorrow is the last class - political science. I got the prof-tech-Comms report done on Tuesday - the deadline was Tuesday. They actually offered a grace period but I didn't use it because I have other courses, too. After the project I did the 201 take-home exam. The deadline for submission is tomorrow - I submitted it today. I had a GNST class this morning. That's a big, chunky course and the review session was a huge benefit. At least, I hope so.

So now all there is left is tomorrow's class then the political science exam on Monday and the GNST exam on Tuesday. Then I'm done. Then Christmas can start: I can go get some 'stuff' and get it packed and shipped; I can put the tree up - yes, I'm putting the tree up; and I can see about trying to fix the house lights which we bought last year.

That's a story in itself: cheap crap purchased at the new Lowe's store last fall. By the time last Christmas arrived half the lights on the garage weren't working. In the spring we took those sets back for a refund. This year half the house lights aren't working! You know, we had the 'big' bulbs all around for 20 years - we had to replace the bulbs from time to time, but never the whole set! We never had any serious issues with them. Then people talked us in to getting the LED lights and for us it has been a royal pain in the petoot. No, we're not taking these back - its too far to go and it's not worth the hassle.

Anyway, how did I get here!!?

I need to decompress.

Bearing down

There's a break coming up. If I can but grit my teeth and GET IT DONE I get to think about nothing for three whole weeks! Yeah, right. 

First, there's a lot to do to finish this up - some of it needs a little attention, some of it a lot. I'm trying hard, but perhaps not hard enough - I just don't know. 

Perhaps it's perfectly normal to feel completely, totally and utterly inadequate in these circumstances - you know, when the shit is hitting the fan and you remember that your umbrella is broken. I shall have to ask my fellow students.

So anyway, I'm gritting my teeth. I'm bearing down. I'm preparing for the final push. 

Yep, the baby's on its way!

J

Disagreements

As much as you learn in school I believe that life teaches you more. The trick is being open to it - being receptive. I find myself listening a lot here - fifth-wheel syndrome, if you will - with agreement and disagreement, depending on the need. 

There are good things being taught here, but there are also the follies of youth - the incompleteness of cognition. Radical (in some cases) beliefs born of partial education. 

Today was a case in point. The discussion revolved around our values - "who we are". Not cogito ergo sum, but what we believe and why. One student was of the belief - if I understood correctly - that 'we are what we do'; a position that was apparently already in contradiction of the 'you are what you have' beliefs espoused by her parents - see the Book of Possessions, Chapter One, Verse One. Her way out of that very shallow, ignoble, materialist viewpoint was noble, but it was restricting. 

I appreciated what she was saying, though, and tried to reinforce it with the notion that we're far more than what we have - that what we possess is only borrowed and temporary at that. I tried to aver that what we think we own is incidental at best, irrelevant at worst. 

It's true: some people do define themselves by what they have, but I believe they are misguided, and that even a small amount of contemplation in or before their frail dotage will inevitably bring them to that conclusion. 

I tried to impart something that I have learned: that we are a product in fact of everything. Everything we have felt, everything we have heard or seen, everything we have learned, been taught, inferred or extrapolated. Every smell we've ever noticed has influenced our thinking - possibly for a very long time - the music we have decided to love, the writing we enjoy, the poetry we've written or read, the channels we watch, the things that make us sing and those that make us cry. Our angst-givers, our joy-bringers, our anger-makers. Contemplations, reactions, deliberations - all - ALL - serve as the backdrop to what we believe, how we feel, decisions we make, how we react to stimuli, what gives us pain or joy, and so - who we are.

I will readily grant you: age has taken its toll on my thinking. The lustre is off the old diamond, the youthful idealism is all gone and university's not changing that one bit - not because I'm incapable of changing but because it's not showing me anything that suggests I should change. If anything, I'm bringing my experience to bear on discussions that might otherwise proceed simplistically. I'm not saying that's good or bad, just that it provides perspective and that there's a depth in my perception that does not - cannot - exist for young people. I've seen more and heard more than any of them, and this fact alone makes my beliefs and values different. Not right or wrong, just different.

Because we are all a product of our experiences. 

J

The big blow

It's Monday morning, and it has just occurred to me that this is basically the last week of class. Unbelievable! Now doth the heart beat faster as the realization of impending doom, er, deadlines hits me hard at last.

Of course, it doesn't help that today I have the germ of one of my headaches. It's weather-related this time - you see, yesterday it was 13C but we had force one hurricane winds through - trees down, trucks blown over, roofs blown off - that sort of thing. Then last night it snowed, and the pressure differences required to make that sort of thing happen just play havoc with my head. 

Some days it gets really bad, but today I hope to be too busy studying to think about pain. If it doesn't work out that way I'll have to make up the time because - refer to above - there's only so much time left. It's a conundrum.

Well, now je mange, and then, off to do some secondary research.

J

A pastoriori

Would you believe there are only two more weeks of classes left? It seems like only yesterday I was at orientation, getting used to the environment, using all my energy just to say hello. I know I felt self-conscious to begin with - being the only fartster in the class - but that didn't last long and now all I get is an occasional twinge when someone looks at me sideways in the library - registering my greying locks - perhaps for a moment wondering what in Sam Hill I'm doing there. I just pretend I'm a grad student working on a dissertation or something, and the twinge goes away.

I'm working hard on my studies. I have left, what, one large report, one minor exam, two quizzes and two more exams? I seem to be making friends and breaking them. The T/A in GNST doesn't seem to like me - oh well - but I've been invited by some students into their study group for the GNST exam. Hard to believe I had to wait 'til 46 to become one of the cool kids.

Can't bitch too much about the weather either. One little cold spot in the last two months, but mostly reasonable. I don't think that weather contributed to the cold I picked up in week two - by the way, I'm still coughing a little - just as I predicted. That, as I believe I mentioned at the time, is how colds go with me.

I never did pick up the Gauntlet thing again. A few things at play there: I guess I'm a sensitive old duck when it comes to my writing - because I work so hard at it - and I don't like going to all the trouble of doing the interview and spending four hours writing the piece, being told it's perfect, then not recognizing it when it hits print. Read: a fundamental disagreement on the role of the editor.

Another thing at play is the F-bomb; they want it, and I don't need it. I don't want it anywhere near my writings. I know, it's a youth thing - pressing the envelope, stretching the limits - but last I heard they were having trouble securing advertisers. I wonder why...

Well, got to go make my bed now.

J

Deep dip

No, I'm not talking about myself, though you would be forgiven for thinking so. I'm talking about yesterday and where it stood on the roller coaster.

There was a long climb, a jerk, a slow apex and a long, screaming-fast descent into the abyss. Then there was a plateau - a long rest, five hours in the waiting room - as I waited to get out and move on to the next ride. Actually it was a tough day.

But that's enough of that metaphor.

I keep hoping my blog will become more analytical - right now it's opinion at best, invective at worst. Of course, it's part personal journey, so it must have some personal elements.

As far as that goes, I think of Plato's Allegory of the Cave and wonder where I am right now. Let's look at it. First, I'm aware that the cave exists. Second, I'm aware that sunlight exists. Ok, good start - I'm ahead of those other guys.

Am I chasing the sunlight? Some would say that just by being in the halls of learning I am chasing the sunlight. But am I nevertheless enslaved - shackled? Staring uselessly at my images on the provided wall? Pretty much.

So when does enlightenment begin? When do I get to see sunlight? Is all of life spent in the Cave? Am I - are we - doomed to a lifetime in the cave, satisfied with what we are shown? How do we get out? Must we be shown out, or can we find our own way? Is our own Hell tied up in satisfaction, or dissatisfaction?

Is God running the projector?

J

Waiting

There's something singular about hanging around in hospital waiting rooms. Truth be known, it sucks - especially in the cancer clinic. Especially in this waiting room, which at 6 x 11 is obviously intended for five people, not the ten they've got chairs for.

I'm not looking for sympathy at all, but it's difficult to do this kind of thing and study at the same time. It's also difficult to write an exam on the same day you have to do something like this. The only thing that could make it more difficult is if I were the one being prepped for treatment. I'm not, but it's still difficult.

Exams. People... What's wrong with sitting still after an exam and waiting for time to expire? What's wrong with respecting your fellow students' right to an atmosphere that's conducive to concentration? If that can't be done then what's wrong with the idea of leaving quietly? Packing up and going "quietly" - not banging your desk, scraping your feet, talking to your friends, again - respecting your fellow students' right to quiet?

Does anyone think this way anymore? I went and spoke to a Department Head after that exam this morning - I was some pissed, let me tell you. He told me that the quick students demand the right to get on with their day after writing their paper and it's not their fault I'm so goddamned slow. Well, he didn't say those words exactly, but that's what he meant. He suggested that I try to make arrangements though disability to write my exams in a quiet environment, or to arrange to write it during a Prof's office hours so that the level of noise can be controlled a bit better. That made me feel great. I'm not disabled -Ii just want peace and quiet. What is so unreasonable about that?

I told him i don't have a problem with people leaving after writing a quiz, but when the whole course hinges on that exam I think a person should be allowed to concentrate on doing their best, regardless of another person's need to play video games!

Oh, listen to me. I sound like an old fart. I guess I'm just not feeling very generous at the moment.

J

What's that noise?

That? Oh, that's the sound of the blood rushing through my head. It's the heady feeling one gets when one suffers the realization that one doesn't have the answer to one of the quiz questions before one.

At such moments are reputations hung. On such reasoned, seasoned extrapolative assessments do degrees depend. At such times are - nay - must be called upon the reconstructive skills of one's distant past. In such frames of reference do we call to question our abilities as old farts to remember anything, let alone what we must.

I promise to put this tense to bed for good. Starting now.

J

Ups and downs

Has anyone else noticed the roller coaster ride of emotions that is this university experience? It's ups and downs in the true sense of the phrase!

Example: I'm given an assignment and I think "I can do that". Then I'm given another, and another, and another and before you know it when I sit down at my desk to actually get it all done, I don't know where to start.

That can be frustrating so it becomes a process of carefully weighing and balancing first the breadth of the assignment, then the relative difficulty, then the due date, and in truly finite calculations how I'm already doing in the course, and finally - what the heck I can stomach at that moment.

If I'm a good boy I pick the most difficult assignment first. If I'm not, I procrastinate and do the plum job, reasoning that - hey, it's all progress!

I must say that for the most part I've been a good boy this year, though there have been days...

Ultimately it must all be done. Stomach churning, even the ugly jobs must be completed. Forge ahead, that's the ticket. Surge onward. Attack!

I want to form a procrastinators club, but I keep putting it off.

James m

Back and forth

I haven't blogged much lately, as you've probably noticed. Truth is, I've had a cold and the last part of my colds is always the horrible cough. Frankly, it hurts to talk. It hurts to talk so I didn't blog for a while. I took a break. I've been studying my atch off, saving my lungs, and concentrating on my journal. It's hard to do both when you're feeling slammed all the time.

Let's see - an update. Arky exam Tuesday. GNST exam set - all done now but the hard work, the weeping and the gnashing of teeth. 283 midterm was Monday this week - okeydokey. 201: quiz on Saturday and I already did the critique to make up for the last quiz - thanks teach! 363 - round two and now I'm set to interview over at YYC on Friday morning. Plenty to do: ooh la la!

I've made a few sporadic resolutions pertaining to the way I've been feeling lately - not only with the cold etc, but generally. It's so easy to fall into the trap of being miserable and getting irritable, and for that irritation to morph into rage. It's easy to rail at the world when you think it's against you. Easy but unproductive.

It's much harder to take the world in stride - to accept what comes as a lesson of some kind or a symbol for something else. Staying calm, cool and collected is much, much harder than showing anger all the time. Ask me - I'm an expert. So I've resolved to be far "cooler" in my approach to stresses. After, all - it doesn't do me any good to be reactive - no matter how justified some might believe it to be. No. It's not me to be that way, and if I've figured anything out since I've been in school it's that I need to stay true to my own abilities.

Oh darn. I'm tired and I think I'm going to fall a zzz ZZZ zzz ZZZ zzz.

J

Love

We talked about love in general studies today, and it was established with some exceptions that love doesn't actually exist. Love is nothing but a physiological attraction between two people meeting a functional need in the empirical world. Love is a convenience - a consideration - conditional on behaviors and attitudes.

Of course, I disagree with this.

I think love is a great deal more than that. I'm not talking about how it starts or how it's consummated - I'm talking about what it is - about what kind of force in our species and ours alone can bring and keep people together who may have no other reason or need to be together. I'm talking about what intangible force can endure between two people despite reason - despite hardship and travail. I'm talking about that perfect selflessness which transcends personal need and ambition and dotes only on the object of affection, to the exclusion and even sacrifice of all else.

Of course, some suggest that love can be commodified, that it can be measured in carats; that it's quantifiable, and can be carried around in a pouch or bag (presumably depending on how many carats there are.) I also disagree with this.

Some think that love is not unconditional, but that it can be abandoned at the slightest sign of hardship or challenge. These people perhaps also believe that mistakes can never be forgiven, and that restlessness equals dissatisfaction equals an obligation to seek change. This might explain ever-balooning divorce rates in the world as fewer and fewer people bother to work through their problems.

I suppose I was witnessing the young person's perspective - that everything is measurable and quantifiable and understandable, and that everything in life can be reduced to coin or belief. A perspective that puts everything in perfect order because it must be that way - because that is the only way it can be studied. That says the empirical is something that must be controlled to be enjoyed.

Speaking as an old fart I can tell you that this is wrong, but what am I going to do? I felt the same way when I was younger - back when I "had the world by its tail", so I can hardly complain about it. I grew through it, though, in a purification by fire. I soon figured out that mankind has no more answers now than they did 10,000 years ago. I also figured out that the drive to figure things out is what sets us apart from the animals. The beat goes on.

In the case of love, of course, what goes on is the heartbeat.

J

Dog days

Ok, I think I can officially say that these are the dog days of the fall semester. I've had a couple of relatively quiet days since the last round of quizzes - the results are still to come in. Every lecture brings new information which I know will be on the next quiz or exam, and oh by the way the next paper is due in five days and the next round of exams starts in under three weeks. At the same time the old demons start floating around - the poking, prodding, nasty, laughing at me with malice not kindness demons, questioning and making me question why I'm even here. AND, tonight it's supposed to snow. I can't think of anything I like less than snow - nothing will ever irk me quite like snow does.

Don't mind me; I had a rough day yesterday. I had the weirdest headache - severe pressure all over my scalp, but no real pain! Coffee didn't fix it. Food didn't fix it. Ultimately by about 4pm I think it was a combination of fresh air, adrenaline, and distraction that fixed it. Sadly, distraction is not something I need right now.

The early morning thing is good. I know that I would not be as disciplined if I were staying home - there would be too many other things to do. But I need fewer days like yesterday. If I can have fewer days like yesterday I should be ok. Yesterday, other than the lecture, was basically a throw-away.

And that's what today will be, too, if I don't get to class!

J

The game is on

I should know better than to go to Flames games. It seems like every time I go they really don't play well, and that's a massive under statement. They lost last night, and I had good seats, too.

It's like my car. The forecast can say sunny skies for the next week, but as soon as I wash my car it almost always rains or snows. And then there's the weather man with egg on his face saying "Look, it only rained over James's house!"

Some would say this is fatalistic. Some would say it's defeatist. I say Nyet to both of those. I say it's calling a spade a spade, because for me it's how it seems to work.

I had a late night and I'm here already at 645am. I have a throbbing headache and the coffee shop's not yet open. Forgive me: I'm here, but I'm really not yet here.

J

Do it

It's hard to get going this morning. Oh, I don't mean that I'm sitting watching TV or anything like that - I have actually been accomplishing things since I got here at 645am. Just not critical, academic things. Things instead like this blog, like taking photos off my cell phone and putting them on the laptop, like breakfast and a compliment to A&W via their website. Useful, time-wasting, procrastinatory things like that.

Gratuitous empty library shot

Actually, and in my defense, I do have a half-assed headache today. It's weather-related, I think - and this library is incredibly dry. It's also one of those days when I don't know whether or not to wear my glasses. Oh, and I walked two complete loops around the library to find the ideal desk. You get the picture: I'm absolutely bound and determined that today I will be at my decisive, unequivocal best. I think.
Don't worry, I'll get things done. As soon as this blog is out I'll spend an hour going over the Communications material for tomorrow's quiz. Then I'll study for Tuesday's General Studies quiz. After that, perhaps I'll sketch the framework of the upcoming PowerPoint assignment, the questions for the interrog - er, interview - I'll be conducting on November 10th, and finish the Technical Communications quiz that is due on Tuesday. And then I think, for the final hour before my 2 o'clock class, I'll read ahead in Political Science.

Boy! There's always something to be getting on with, isn't there?

J

In the eye

With the first round of quizzes, exams and assignments behind me I'm enjoying a short calm in the proceedings just now - the eye of the storm, if you will. But it will not last long. The next wall is fast-approaching and it promises to be every bit as intense, if not more so, than the first.

I am awash with anxiety. Where I did well I have to keep doing well. Where I didn't do very well I have to try harder and somehow get there. At the same time I must keep trying to network, to volunteer where I can (in the most efficacious places), and - most important - to allow my head time to clear once in a while - to take time to veg. Add to this that my best friend has this week had a diagnosis of cancer that has knocked the socks off of all of us, and hopefully you can see how the screw is definitely turning...

Anyway, I'm in it now, and it's on.

So now, I dedicate the rest of this school year to Marc - my best friend of 21 years.

J

Early

I've been away. Which is to say that I've been working my $&/)\#!! off on midterms and papers. Results have been coming in. That's always intense: the heartbeat just as you open the exam book or click "my grades" online.

I've decided I won't be doing any more online courses. It's not that I don't have the discipline, it's that other things just seem to take precedence - things where it was a face and a name that told you what to do. The anonymous online instruction just seems to just stay in the background. Oh, the deadlines are still there, but you [read, "I"] always seem to hit to hit them running with the words "holy crap, that's due next week!" or a derivative thereof.

I've been thinking about this blog over the past week. It seems fairly easy to think of things to write for it, and I enjoy doing it. So why, I ask myself, couldn't I think of things to write over the past twenty years? It's exasperating. Was it work that shut me down? Insurance certainly is a creativity killer. Is it a coincidence that I started writing the moment I knew I was returning to school? I picture myself on my deathbed, rattling, gasping for air, looking up at the healthy face before me, hearing it ask if I have any regrets... And me slowly replying: "Yes, I do. I regret that I never found my voice."

So I have a memo due tomorrow; yes, a four-page memo - a proposal for the main project in my Professional and Technical Writing course. The online thing. I'm going to get it done and submit it today. I've figured out already that there is a lot of subjectivity in the way they mark these papers, so I'm just going to do the best I can.

Anyway, a round of scrabble before breakfast. I got here at 6:39 today. I'm such a keener.

J

Ps: constructive comments are welcome, below.

Too much

I have six minutes: Headaches, a cold, violent coughing, having to buy a vehicle, and this morning a broken water main so theres no water at the house. Could there possibly be anything else? I have assignments due next week and I must get to them forthwith. What to do? What to do?

J

Awe shocks

It's a tough lesson. Getting my results back from the first round of tests and quizzes - some are okay, one very definitely is not. I am shocked at less than 50% in that course - one which, quite frankly, I thought I was on top of. Now I'm going to have to go over the results with the T/A to make sure they're correct and figure out what the hell has me so far behind the eight-ball.

It affects other things, too. I had an exam yesterday that depends a great deal on whether I'm 'getting it' with the framework of analysis and the levels of interpretation. I think I am, but... I also have a quiz today that will require a little synaptic dexterity and quite honestly this bad result has thrown my confidence quite severely out of whack.

So we're waiting here at home right now for the people to come and install the new water meter - by municipal decree - and after they're done I'm going in to school to bone-up before class.

During orientation we kids were told over and over again that we should be sure to make time for ourselves - do some of the extra-curricular things that we kids like to do after hours, you know. Well, I'm starting to think it's all bunkum!

Study. Study hard. Study very long, and when you're not actually studying make sure you're thinking about studying because obviously, eating, drinking and - well, you get the picture - is the only way through this degree thing. All those extra-curricular things I took on don't look very attractive just at the moment and I'm going to have to decide if I can keep doing them.

It's 820 Saturday. If the water people aren't here by 830 I'm going to school. My exam is at one.

J

I Just Gotta

Okay, I've got to say someting about this. If you recall, I was feeling a little disjointed the other day about the new library and how cold it was and how there were no books - how it was all digital and cold and modern... you remember. Well, today - because I was here bright and early, because there was no line-up, and because I really am curious about what is apparently the eighth wonder of the world (to hear everyone else speak) - I finally removed the proverbial finger and got up the courage to ask the staff at least a few basic questions about the facility. And as it turns out, that was a good move.

I was told all about it. So much, in fact, that (woosh!) my poor old brain couldn't absorb it all. There's a tour on Monday at 3pm which I will probably attend, but the best thing I picked up today, is that the entire building is available for study, for reverie, for meditation and computational gymnastics of all kinds, and that in general the higher you go the quieter it is.

Well, I immediately started exploring, and this has been born out accurately. The first floor, with the coffee shop, the chit-chat, the walk-through traffic (passage to here, there and everywhere!) and a few disgruntled-looking students, seems to be a handsome though unappealing space for any real kind of concentration. It seems to be more of a social networking zone than anything. The sixth floor, on the other hand is spacious, quiet, and clean, with cubbies for those who like cubbies, desks for those who like desks - all with power outlets, desk lights, and surrounded by - yes, books! Lots and lots of real books!

So the library is not looking quite as cold to me now as it did the other day. Right now, sitting here, working, enjoying the sixth floor view west to the Rocky Mountains, I think I might have found a permanent and possibly perfect place (stop that!) to study.

And now, I think that's just what I'll do.

J

Working it

As I said, mini crunch time. Slowly getting through it, though, with the rest of my life more or less on hold. I don't know - should I take six courses the next semester? The schedule fits and I'd be ahead of the game going into possible co-op opportunities. A lot of work, though. I'm giving it a think.

I find the way they handle exams here a little strange. The rule seems to be "when you're finished you can go". Back at York it was "Bloody well sit there quietly until time is up!" I confess I prefer the old method - because people are very noisy, packing their belongings and rustling their papers. Another distraction.

Two more mid-terms to write, then a paper and a quiz, then a... The first two weeks really are a vacation, aren't they? Ooh, thank goodness I caught my cold in the second week: it would have been a harsh reality to have write exams in the state I was in.

Note to self: get a decent eraser.

J

Exam time

Okay, experiencing a mini crunch here. Quizzes, exams, essays and reports - all due at once. Working my way through it, but it's definitely a workload. It's tough to juggle all the deadlines and get everything done. Well, it would be if I hadn't spent the last 23 years controlling file counts of 150+ and doing it very well. At least I can organize myself.

Just a quick note today. I'm studying for exams tomorrow and Friday so I need to get on with that. I do have a lecture-related bone to pick with some of my fellow students, though: to wit, I do wish you would stop banging your desks and packing up your books when the professor is still talking! It's annoying and disrespectful, and distracting. Besides, I happen to know that most of the time you're not even going to another class, so what's the rush? Afraid we're taking away from your R&R? "Hurry up and finish - I've got to get to Tim Horton's!"

I walked past the library in the dark this morning - the new Taylor Family Digital Library here at U of C. It positively sparkles - it's so modern. I happened to look up to the top floors since it was dark out, and I saw all the beautiful, old books up there, and I thought: "That's the difference in our age. Books are things of beauty - not just what's inside them, but what they are. Our world today is just a shadow of its former self - reduced from warmth, heart and life to cold, hard facts, with cold, hard modern access whether it's needed or not. It's a world of information we just can't handle. Gone is the useful: sacrificed on the altar of convenience and ability. We now do what we do only because we can, not because we need to or should." Everything today is just so convenient, but nobody knows anything about sacrifice."

I sometimes wonder about our species. We're so proud of ourselves. We grow and grow and grow, consuming and massively over-consuming as we go. We measure everything against growth - forgetting that the planet has the ability to sustain only so much of our activity. We will eventually hit the ceiling - it's only a matter of time. All this talk about December 2012 - perhaps the calculations, predictions, soothsaying all stop then because we grow ourselves right out of the equation...

That's it: now back to my studying

J

Pretender

I call this blog "Old Fart" because, well - relative to 34,700 of the other 35,000 students on campus - I am one. I am forty-six glorious years old, with all the necessary rings in my trunk to prove it and, for now at least, I'm still going strong.

Yesterday, though, I acquainted myself with true royalty. 76 year old Avram, who is in the same political science course as I. He tells me that he is the true "old fart" - and I believe him: I defer, prostrate, to his seniority. He says he has taken several courses over the past few years; he takes one course at a time ("God, I don't have your kind of energy!" he says), and he takes them because he enjoys learning. As he put it, "Stop learning, start dying." Nice.

"Do you ever feel out of place amongst all these teenagers?" I asked.

"What are they going to do," he replied. "bully me? I got past all that crap back in the fifth grade."

I suggested coffee some time, and we're going to make that happen.

I do know, of course, and have since the beginning that I'm not the only "mature" student here (I do like that word). I also know that I'm not the oldest - I knew that - intuitively - before I even met Avram. I wonder, though, if I'm not perhaps the only one doing a full course load in order to change careers... Hmmm. Bears investigation. Perhaps I'm a rare gem...

I heard on the news the other night that more and more people are going back to school to upgrade their qualifications - that it's becoming an absolute imperative in the modern world and in the current economic climate. I believe this. I have no source for this, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if a whole bunch of other very intelligent and incredibly good-looking baby boomers weren't figuring out that this is their last chance to do what they actually want to do with their lives, and that education is a large part of that; of capitalizing on their work experience and putting their courage to work for new opportunities.

Either that, or the machine has set another trap and we're all just walking into it. I mean, have you noticed that a B.A. today is what a high school diploma used to be, and that a masters used to be a bachelors? God, if you drop out of high school these days you might as well have flunked kindergarten! Everyone's looking for letters after their name, and he who dies with the most letters wins! I even saw this carried to an illogical extreme once in my old life as an adjuster, when a client called herself (and had it put on her business cards) Jane Doe [name invented], SAHM. I asked of course about the SAHM, and was told it stood for Stay-at-home-mom. "Only slightly pretentious", I remember thinking.

It's also disconcerting to me that some are advocating that university education be guaranteed for everyone and paid for by the public purse. I have to say I am against this. I can't imagine any way to devalue the university experience more quickly or completely than to invite those who don't qualify, and to give it away for free. Part of the learning inherent in a degree comes from books and lectures, part of it comes from sacrifice. Take either part away and all you've got is a more advanced high school and an even greater sense of entitlement. A degree must be earned. It must never be guaranteed or the standard will only keep declining.

J

Feeling strong

Okay, I'm here learning, right? And I'm getting into the, like, academic groove, and I'm like figuring stuff out that I didn't even figure out when I was at school the first time (maybe because it wasn't there, then, to be figured out) and I'm sitting here, growing each day stronger and stronger, remembering the old academic muscle and bringing my hence-learned talents for time management and organization to bear on my erstwhile verbosity, and I'm thinking: "I'm feeling more confident than I did a month ago, and certainly more confident than I did six months ago."

So this begs the question: what is doing this? What on earth is making it so? And how is this newly-amplified confidence playing out in my personal empirical reality?

Question A: what is doing this? Is it my age? Perhaps because the juniors are no longer looking at me like I have two heads I'm feeling more like I fit in - in a Frankenstein-meets-Godzilla kind of way. Is the "maturity" I have had to demonstrate in tutorials (relative again to the juniors) - along with my patent inability to sit in pregnant silence with eyes averted as if to say "don't call on me!" causing me to assume a more responsible first-person? Is my absolutely ability, if not unequivocal determination to lay myself out as a total idiot in any given circumstance finally paying off in links to the collective subconscious of the surrounding junior literati? Are all these things and more finally forcing me to think of myself as an adult? Possibly.

Question 2: What on earth is making it so? Perhaps my Maker has decided at last that I - at 46 freaking years old - ought finally to think of myself as more than a child. Is He (although we all know that God is a woman) nodding with approval at my perspicacity and determination, and finally saying that I deserve a break? Perhaps there's a little payback in my being here - a do-over, a chance if not exactly to be a kid again, at least to feel younger because of them, and to at least feel equal by virtue of the greater store of life experience I already have. Perhaps the cosmos (also a woman) is bored with the direction it was going and now wants to do something else altogether, making the path I was on superfluous and therefore leaving me free to explore new avenues and potentials. I don't know.

Question R: How is this newly-amplified confidence playing out in my personal empirical reality? (Newly-amplified because I've always had it - I just never bothered pushing it before). Perhaps my life's experiences have finally combined, or are finally combining to add up to a present worth waking up for? Perhaps the hope of a second half worth enjoying is over-ruling the distresses that seemed always to come from a first half unequivocally wasted. Perhaps this not mis-placed confidence is what's letting me find the discipline to do what I have to do, and the courage to engage where even just a year ago I would have stayed aloof, or run like hell. Not sure.

What I do know is that I'm a month into this ride and I'm already more free to think positively about life, the universe and everything than I think I have ever been. I'm only just starting, but I'm already figuring things out about myself that I either didn't know before, or that I knew but didn't believe, or that I knew but suppressed because they didn't quite fit with my assigned self-image. In being able to put past pains behind me I've been able to focus on the now and aim for the future. It's almost cliche, but it's true.

I knew it would happen, and that's why I was in such a hurry to get started back in August, quite possibly the longest month of my life. I knew that I wanted to look only forward - whatever purifications were required to make it happen.

There's a lot of satisfaction in being determined.

J

Quick one

Waiting on my first quiz - a multiple choice match-'em-up worth 2% of the grade. I'm not panicked. I don't remember there being very many multiple choice tests in my first go-round.

On the news today: teachers are worrying that the boys and girls are texting so much that they may soon not know how to write. Well, DUH!! I've got news for you - many professionals already do not know how to write, or speak correctly. Unquestionably, accuracy and skill have been sacrificed at the altar of charisma and prior achievement - good communication is secondary. In an era in which it seems that everyone needs letters after their name to get a basic job, it's still all about networking - who, not what you know.

That's just plain wrong.

J

Pressure

Okay, I'm starting to feel it - or at least to recognize it. The pressure of being the "Old Guy". Yesterday in a tutorial class, we were split into two groups to discuss some of the texts we've been reviewing. Five in the group, three actually discussing stuff. Then when it was time to report back to the class it seemed as though I had been elected (acclaimed) the spokesperson. Now I don't mind this - after all there is much muddy water in my river and I've seen a few more seasons than the juniors who surround me - but I also recognize the jumping-off point, so when it was time to discuss the second text I kept my counsel, looked down not up, and after a few moments of silent awkwardness I marshalled my very best theatrical voice and said, with conviction: "Courage everyone!" causing someone else in the group to hoist the banner and speak with pride. I really don't mind standing up - after all, I'll speak to a horse with a hat on - but a line in the sand must be drawn. I nodded and smiled.

Quizzes tomorrow. I suppose now I'll find out whether I'm paying close enough attention. I've also been working on my two written assignments; this morning I laid out the essentials of my Recommendation Report.

Time for class!

J

Listening

Speak and ye shall be heard. Whine and they shall leave the room. No sooner did I say "gentlemen, you might want to reconsider the sprinklers and the fountains" than they were being purged. Smart people. And I didn't even know they were following my blog!

My assignments are under way. Not to let the cat out, but I'm doing Oedipus Rex and A History of Violence anent fate, freedom and slavery. I watched the flick the other night again - with a more critical eye - and saw and heard much that I had missed before, when I was just a movie-watcher. Does that make sense? When Stall said "Yeah, I'm Joey." in the bar back in Philly I heard a dripping contempt and disdain that I had never heard before. I saw plot points, too - beats, if you will - that I had completely missed before. Amazing. Anyway, I'll be working up draft one in the next day or so.

I spent several hours yesterday doing my secondary research for my Technical and Professional Communications course. I must say that this Prof is leading a merry dance. "First, do this. Do it this way. Make sure you include this. The idea is not to miss this, that and the other, but don't bother with those things over there. Unless you want to, and then only if it makes sense to include them. By the way, it's true that this is week four's assignment, but if you haven't read week 13 yet you should do that now because it's relevant to this assignment, too." Like I say, a bit of a dance. I spent several hours yesterday secondarily researching online document collaboration sites - because that's the assignment for week four and week 13. I started taking notes. I need to get that first draft out in the next couple of days, too - the finished product is due in less than two weeks. For what it's worth, I don't remember anyone at the insurance company giving a damn about all the details this assignment wants. Perhaps I've just forgotten all that.

I'm starting to get the sense already of how lazy my brain has become over the past 20 years. That's insurance for you: the great soporific.

J

Http://oldfartschooldays.blogspot.com

Weather, or not

On Friday it was 27C. The Sun was low in the sky as I waited at the bus stop and I had to find some shade. Frankly it was hard to take.

Then yesterday it was 10C, with some rain and a cold north wind; I had to use the +15's at school just to keep warm. Only in Alberta can the change happen that fast. I notice the university still has the sprinklers and fountains going. With frost at night you guys might want to reconsider this... Oh wait, that was my old career. Moving on.

In COMS 201 we have set up a class Twitter space and some pretty good conversations are happening. The posts are supposed to be communication-centric - that is, we're supposed to be discussing class material. I do see a number of other issues comic up, too, of course, but you know there's still a high degree of communication relevance to most of it so I think it's a good exercise.

I'm using my "mumps" photo as an identifier - the one where (I have been told) I look "large". Is this good press? I don't know, but I gotta be me. There's more value inherent in being who I am than in trying to portray myself as some kind of middle-aged Demi-god. I cant lie: my Adonis days - if ever there were any - are long behind me. My best years, however, are still very much in the windshield. At least, I hope so.

I'm at Starbucks this morning. It's Sunday and I've decided I'm not going touch a book today, unless it's for the purpose of dusting underneath it. The house needs a thorough cleaning and that's what's going down today. No income now = no cleaning lady.

The cough persists, as expected, thanks for asking. It will be with me for about a month. Sometimes it's so hard to inhale - even slowly - that my upper lip quivers. Sometimes when I don't even bother inhaling my lip quivers. In those moments I feel so damn sorry for myself that it's just not funny.

I still haven't given away the beverage. Haven't figured out how. Maybe I should have a raffle, or stand on a street corner.

Okay, they're playing one of those newer, thump-thump, mindless, talentless newer song-like things. It's time for me to go.

J

Lucky day!

On my way home from school this afternoon I caught a little break. We were just driving along on a residential street (you know, avoiding traffic on the main roads - everyone does it) when all of a sudden I saw something interesting in the road.

It was small, and green. It looked like cardboard, standing up, but something told me it wasn't.

"Stop the car!" I cried out, and Em quickly pulled over to the side of the road.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Back up." I said. "I think I saw something interesting."

He backed up and I got out of the vehicle.

Yep. There they were. Two nice, crisp, slightly folded, lonely-looking twenty dollar bills.

Scooped. In my hands. In my pocket. I looked around - no one anywhere in sight.

Big smiles everywhere. Em drove around the block several times, looking for more. Alas, there were none.

I immediately posted a sign looking for the owner. To date, no one has come forward. Now... Did I leave my phone number on the sign or no? I say... Yes.

If it's yours you can have it back, as long as you offer a forty dollar reward.

Sweet dreams!

J

Five hours a week

Doesn't sound too bad, does it? That's the amount of time we kids were told we would need to put in to each course, in addition to the actual lecture time. Five hours, five courses, 25 hours.

Add that to lectures of three hours per week, times five courses, total 15 hours, and we're looking at a 40-hour work-week for your average full-time student.

Add travel time - a 50 minute bus ride, twice a day - and that's a gol-dern 50 hour week!

Add the fact that lectures occur at varying times - from very early morning to Saturday Afternoon - and that there are distances to go between them - and that it takes a moment (certainly for me) to focus the focus, and I think you see that university is most definitely NOT for the faint of heart.

I believe that everyone should have the opportunity to attend university if they have the grades and the desire. I don't believe that everyone can succeed there; it shouldn't mean that. University should be hard. You should never, ever graduate from university as a blistering idiot.

Oh, and for the record, I most certainly DO NOT believe as some of our politicians do that every student's tuition should be covered by the public purse! What the heck can the kids learn about sacrifice if they never have to make any?

J

Limonade

A wise man once said to me: "If life gives you lemons, gather them all up in a large pile and stomp the shit out of them." He was right, of course, though his expostulation was predicated on the fact that he had no sugar at the time. If he had had a little sugar in his life he might rather have made lemonade for his friends.

Metaphorically speaking, there are times in everyone's life when sweetness is in short supply, acidity is rampant, and there's no real explanation for either. And when the environment you're in is basically a big blender, it's not all that difficult to get bloodied.

So, why is it that sometimes we're harder on those we love than on our worst enemies?

J

Bad driver

More muscle memory. It's starting to come back to me - specifically, why I was so eager to get myself in debt and buy a car when I graduated from York.

It was all the damn bus drivers who take it on themselves to leave you standing at the bus stop, with nothing but your bus pass in your hand, while they just drive on by.

This happened again this morning. It was 630. I waited my eight minutes and the bus came along. There was no traffic but the light turned red. The driver saw me while he was sitting there. Then the light turned green. I held out my bus pass, but the driver looked right at me and kept on going.

The air turned blue. My face turned purple. I called Transit to complain, then Emailed the Alderman. Ten minutes later there was another bus. I stood in the middle of the road to make sure this bus stopped.

This driver said the stop was closed because of the construction. I pointed out the lack of signage and suggested while it's a good thing to let drivers know, it might also be useful to tell the passengers.

The miscreant driver was late fifties, with a full, white beard. It was the 72 route. If you see this man, do not approach him! Just sit and stare angrily at the back of his head for the duration of your trip.

Oh, he'll get the message.

J

No Show

Ok. I waited until 10:20 but no one showed up. In terms of the experiment, what does this mean? It could mean several things.

Perhaps no one saw my tweet. Of course, I know that's not true - at least one person saw and acknowledged it, yet even they did not show. There could be any number of reasons for that, too - forgot she had a class, was trapped under a heavy object, got lost in MacHall on the way - but let's not go there. Let's look at this as an exercise in mass communication, and ask: "Did communication occur?"

I sent an invitation.

Perhaps my invitation was not timely enough? Was 24 hours enough notice: If I had said "next Tuesday, at 9am" would there have been a different response?

Was the message unclear? I know that the words "free" and "bevy" were used conjunctively, but perhaps the rest of the words were cryptic and just confused the issue. Did the maximum 140 tweet characters allowed play a part in this?

Perhaps the prize (free beverage) is to blame. It was not attractive enough. I should have promised a Porsche, or paid tuition - then people would have positively rioted to attend. Perhaps a lousy $5 drink wasn't enough to get people out of bed!

Perhaps no one in COMS201 had a class just at that time, and couldn't justify getting their asses all the way to campus just for a cup of coffee. Or, conversely, perhaps everyone in COMS201 (except me, of course) had a class and decided it was best not to skip that class just for a bevy.

Of course, there could be something about me, personally, that caused the experiment to fail. I'm a bit of a goof sometimes, so maybe there was no incentive to take me seriously. Also, I've had a cold lately - perhaps I somehow communicated this fact in my tweet and it became the deciding factor in the mass absence.

Perhaps the message in the tweet was clear enough, but the recipients were untrusting. "Who gives away free coffee!?" they may have asked, and decided thus that it was too good to be true. "Don't take candy from strangers" they have always been told, and with coffee being for students morning candy, it stands to reason that they would shy away from the offer.

There are so many possibilities. We may never know for sure why no one showed up. Whatever the reason, it is interesting to speculate on how and why the communication itself may have failed.

Anyway, I still have the same problem: I have a beverage to give away, and am now going to have to think of another way to do it.

J

A wonderful zippedy doo-dah day!

Sunday. My one day off per week. Of course, this week has been a little strange. With my rotten cold I haven't been able to do half the reading I wanted to; my eyes hurt so much I could barely keep them open. I would swear that a couple of my profs have wondered if I was snoozing in the lecture hall - though I wasn't.

Today is a bright and beautiful day. It's going to be 25C and sunny, and we're going to take in the last car show of the season; we're not putting anything in but we're going to go for a wonderful walk through the clean and the colorful, and enjoy the sunshine at the same time. Of course, if we were going to put vehicles in the show I would take text books and get some good reading done, but we're not, so so much for that.

Tomorrow begins week three. I've put in motion the IABC membership and volunteering and I'm going to be joining a blogging club on campus. There is a lot you can do on campus. Every day this week there has been a fair-slash-bazaar in the Macewan Student Centre showcasing the hundreds of clubs students can join. Such variety! This sort of thing never existed when I was at York. There were clubs, but they just used the bulletin boards as I recall. I don't remember any kind of "over-arching organization".

Grande Caramel Macchiatto

Starbucks at Quarry Park gave me a free coffee this morning. The manager said it was "just because" and only asked that I pay it forward. So... I have tweeted in the COMS201 twitter board that I will be at Starbucks on campus tomorrow at 10am, and that the first COMS201 student to find me there will get a free beverage. We'll see if anyone shows up. If nothing else it will be interesting, as an experiment, to see if anyone but me is watching the class twitter board on a Sunday. I will tweet the results to the class, and I'll let you know how it goes, too.

J

Recovering nicely

Oh, my, but how challenging has been this week! It was a wicked, wicked cold I had - short and sharp! It would appear, however, that I've taken all the right pills, because I feel ever so much better than yesterday - and yesterday I felt that much better, again, than the day before.

I've had everything: tore froat, ruddy dose, sidus paid, headages, tore eyes, buscle paid, sdeezig, chivers, chakes, and some occurrences from unmentionable areas that are themselves best left uncelebrated.

The big monster for me, though - symptomwise - is the cough. The cough terrifies me - and there's a very good reason for that: I've had pleurisy.

I quit smoking - cold turkey - about fifteen years ago now. About ten months after I quit I got hit by the worst chest cough I had ever had; that sucker had me flat on my back for over a week. It hurt to breathe lightly, lying on the couch. There was no question of exerting myself - I could barely move! That was the worst, but every year since then I've been blessed with a repeat performance - albeit progressively less severe. Every single year!

Yesterday at the height of the sinus thing I felt it all slump into my chest. I felt the tightening in my lungs - felt all my muscles tense up in anticipation of what has been as much as eight weeks of dry, unproductive cough with total misery and an inability to converse with anyone without having to interrupt all the time to cough, hack and wheeze - the inability even to inhale lightly without pain and anger.

That's why I fear it. A cold means so much more to me than most. It can mean two months of misery over and above the regular symptoms.

This time, though feels a little different. Oh, I felt it slump alright, and it's sitting there as I type this. But there have been long moments, this time, with no inkling of its evil presence, so I'm hoping this means that it's not going to hang around so long. Yes, it would be nice if I could finally shuck the effects of all that silly smoking.

Anyway, that's enough of that. Today better than yesterday, better than... Etc etc.

The good thing is that I didn't miss a class. Oh, I wasn't sure about that on Wednesday, but I held my breath, stuck it out and went in yesterday, regardless. I wasn't the only sniffler and honker, I can assure you. I counted at least a half a dozen. I'm not where I'd like to be in my reading, but that will improve as my eyes feel better.

J

Morning

This time last night - I can be completely honest - I did not think I would be here today. On Tuesday, shortly after the skunk thing, I started to feel very, very grungy. Grunginess developed into a wicked cold - throat, sinuses, the works. This time last night I was sitting on a chair in the living room, moaning and groaning about how I thought my head was going to explode. I thought for sure I'd have to skip today's classes - didn't want to - but thought I was going to have to. In yesterday's POLI class I just couldn't concentrate - my eyes hurt so much I just couldn't focus on anything - it was all I could do to even keep the damn things open! All I can say is it's a good thing I was using the recorder.
Then, at about 9pm I stood up and went into the kitchen, and within about 2 minutes of being in there   boom! - my left sinus cleared and I was suddenly breathing through both nostrils. It was literally as sudden as that - air flowing cool and fresh through both nostrils - dizziness gone. Amazing. I then went to bed, and wouldn't you know it but I actually slept quite well.

This morning I drove myself to school - I'm not hanging around outside for 30 minutes waiting for the bus when I'm like this - but other than that there hase been no real change in the routine. I actually felt almost human.

I'm going straight home after my morning classes, to lie down and catch a nap, then hopefully tomorrow I'll be right as rain again and I can get on with my "edjamacation".

Anyway, somewhat better I may be feeling, but I'm conscious that my prose isn't as crisp or concise as usual, nor my thought processes as well defined, so I'll leave it there for now.

J

I'm awake!

I really am, though if I wasn't before I left the house this morning I am now. Today is early class day and all morning day, so today's the day I take the bus. You know, there's just no way to rustle up a limousine at this time of day. My usual driver just says "To heck with that!" or words to that effect.

Anyway, I did everything I could to be as quiet as possible - to not wake up anyone else in the house - I'm just that kind of guy. I avoided all the creaky floorboards, used only the quiet light switches and even then only in the remote areas of the house - away from the bedrooms. I shaved quietly, flushed quietly, and very kindly left the emptying of the dishwasher to someone else.

When it was time to go I quietly velcroed my shoes, stepped out the door, closed it quietly. I even determined to be outside before zipping up my jacket - lest the horrid, screeching sound of plastic on plastic disturb anyone within.

Then I strode out. It's a fresh morning - about 3C - I would need to generate a little heat on the way to the bus stop - i strode out, past number 12, number 10, 6, 2, then - holy crap!

While thus energetically striding out, what before me did step out? Remember a month or so ago I mentioned there is a family of skunks in the 'hood?

I stopped instantly dead in my tracks. He looked at me once, then, thankfully, mosied on, tail and head just as high as they could be. He was aware of me perhaps, but certainly not worried. He walked over to the right sidewalk, I stayed on the left. He turned the corner toward Elbow, as I needed to do, then crossed over to the left sidewalk - where I needed to go. All the while I stayed a very respectable distance behind him. Finally, with my bus stop in sight and him still going straight toward it I called out: "Hey buddy, are we taking the same bus?"

After a couple more minutes he finally cut left into a back alley.

Like I said: "I'm awake."

J

One

With yesterday's class, week one is now in the books. Ask me what I think.

I think the tiring part isn't going to be all the study involved, it's going to be that it's six days a week. And even then it's really not that it's six days, but that I have to get there, back and forth, six days a week, and that on four of those days I'm going in for just one class. I know, that's just how it worked out and I'm really not worried about it, but it's there, cumulatively, and by the end of the semester I'm probably going to feel it. That's part of what I was talking about when I mentioned "muscle memory" before.

Tomorrow begins week two. I have some reading to do before tomorrow afternoon's [one and only] class, and I have still to type up Saturday's lecture notes, but otherwise I'm good to go. I'll go in early for both.

Actually, it's a gas. I guarantee that by the end of this second degree I'm either going to feel very, very old, or very young - much younger than my forty-six years. My big hope is that by the end of it all the youngsters have gotten used to seeing me around. Maybe some more of them will even feel comfortable saying "Hi" in the hallway.

I have volunteered with the IABC - the International Association of Business Communicators. I am aware that I need to avoid taking too much on - for the sake of my studies, if nothing else - but I'm thinking long term here. I believe it's going to be good for me.

J

Another beautiful day in paradise

The sun is shining, the sky is as blue as it was ever meant to be, the trees are calm and content: God is in his heaven and all is right with the world. Why?

Because today's the day I'm going to pay my tuition. Yes, the cheque is written, the book is updated, the Brinks truck is ordered and I'm ready; ready for whatever travails will befall me in the effort to get it done.

Later: photos of my contusions!

J

Stick 'em up!

Just a quick note... I'll be paying my tuition tomorrow. It was another busy day at school. My notes are up to date and I got some more reading done this afternoon. I'll be starting to prepare for my GNST essays shortly. Looks like they'll be quite involved.

That's it, that's all.

J

Ramping Up

Thursday. It has been an interesting week. Not only am I ramping up physically to keep up with all the demands of learning and being involved, but I'm ramping up mentally. I'm starting to feel a little muscle memory from the last degree - tired moments of thought stolen from a dark tunnel between classes, a snack snagged on the run, endless hours spent in the library trying to concentrate on dialectic this, or ineluctable that. I had almost forgotten that university types have a language all their own. The ordinary "have a conversation and get the job done" from daily life is once again being ground out of me - yes, I'm getting back into the swing of things.

I got here early for a class today - very early - so I typed up my class notes from yesterday's POLI lecture, and am writing this now to make sure my brain is engaged for the 8am lecture. It's nice and quiet in here. Except for the footsteps - back and forth - coming, it seems to me, from places where there should be no footsteps.

I'm starting to remember the intensity I felt at the end of my last degree, and the reason I had such a big let down after that one was done. It really is a lot of work. One email yesterday tightened the knot a little - "Please read these three articles by Friday". They total about 100 pages.

By Friday. This is where your life disappears, where all the other plans you've made to do what they told you to do - have a life outside of classes - goes to pot. How can you read half a book in two days, absorb it so you can discuss it, and still watch a ball game or write up a sports interview for the campus paper? How do you maintain any kind of life with these sudden assignments?

Well, it's hard. And I am remembering that it was always meant to be. If getting a degree were easy everyone would do it. What's the answer? Do the best you can.

Because I'm older than I used to be I'm having more difficulty adjusting my body clock to what I need to do here. But I'm not panicking - it's only week one. It won't be too long before I've forgotten all these momentary terrors. I'll be just fine.

I'm getting used to the blank stares some of the kids are still giving me - the what the hell is he doing here? look. I'm learning to ignore it.

I've got a job to do.

J

Blank Page

I thought about it, yesterday when I was waiting for my first class to begin. There I was, book open, note pad ready, pen firmly in hand. The page was blank, and - really - so was my degree. I realized that whatever went down on that page would be the beginning of the next leg of my education.

I tried to make it worthwhile.

It was an interesting class experience. About 150 in the room, with seven or eight standing at the back. I was one of two "mature" types, as far as I could see. I made the mistake of sitting at the back - you know, I didn't want to appear to be too keen. It was a mistake because throughout the class all I really got to see was kids playing with their cell phones, doing their Facebook, chatting and giggling. Well, even if they don't know why they're here, I do, and for this morning's class I'm sitting in the front row, right near the middle. I don't need those distractions and will be taking a front-centre seat from now on - no question about it. I know what I'm here for.

This place was crowded yesterday - I mean, a mass of people. I've only been here in the summer so far, when it was relatively quiet, but yesterday was nuts. I suppose that every student registered had some sort of class to attend or something to take care of, so they were all here for the proverbial good showing. It will undoubtedly thin out over the next few days, as the youngsters drop courses and start playing hooky, and for me that's a good thing.

Anyway, just a quick submission this morning. More thoughts later.

It has begun.

J

Contemplation

I had occasion, on Wednesday, to meet with some other "mature" students at the mature social - well, it wasn't so much a social as a PowerPoint with a few laughs - and I must say, much to my surprise and chagrin, that I was a little disappointed. With one exception, which I'll get to in a moment, no one talked to each other. Sixty people in the room, and no one seemed to want to enjoy themselves; everyone seemed miserable, jaded, life-worn - as if the whole thing was a chore. Hey, maybe it was, I guess I'll never know.

In making this assessment, of course, I am coloured by all the enthusiasm and energy the kids had brought to the earlier festivities - you know, chanting, cheering, and spinning, darn them: compared to that, this was a dirge. Of course, if I had skipped all that frosh stuff and just shown up for the mature thingy I might have been really pooped out by its energy level, though I doubt it.

The exception was one kindred soul - Tanya - my dear, I'm sorry but I don't know your last name - who is the only other adult I actually *saw* at any time throughout the frosh ceremonies: we were in the same Arts group touring the Communications department.

Ah yes, I remember it well. A little more human bingo was organized (I now know this to be a getting-acquainted exercise) and in the course of this my brakes failed and I ran in to Tanya. Of course, I realized instantly that she was "mature" like me, and as if in cosmic harmony we launched immediately into the ancient tribal rites of "hey!", and "up high!" and "down low!" It was incredible, but we just knew - viscerally - far beyond the number of rings in the trunk - that we were making a connection based on perspective and equality. She did not look "old" by any means, and I know I look like an 18 year old, albeit one who has let himself go for the last 28 years, but the point is we just knew.

I've been busy outside of orientation this week too, as you know. I'm volunteering for the campus paper and have already made ink with the grammar thing; when it's online I'll post a link. I've also worked with the sports editor to interview key members of the women's field hockey team and have already written that up: it should be in the next issue. That's a first for me, but I've promised to do it again, and soon. I find myself constantly thinking of ways to help them, and so help myself.

While there, I sat in the editors' social area marveling at how natural it felt to be there, in that environment. I found it ironic that I chose not to pursue a journalism career out of York because I didn't have the confidence to stick a microphone in someone's face and drag information out of them, yet I somehow managed to carve a 20 year career as an insurance adjuster, sticking a microphone in someone's face and dragging information out of them. What was it, the money? Hardly. That was when I realized that my favorite movie of all time is "The Paper", 1994, with Michael Keaton, Glenn Close and Robert Duvall. You see, that's my milieu: a busy place, passionate, energetic, friendly, devoted to words and the interminable effort to make them right, to make them do what you want them to - not approximately, not lazily, but with easy energy and positive anxiety. Eustress, not distress - the positive angst of wanting to be a part of things when they happen, of wanting to be a part of making them happen, and of making something tangible every day and wanting to be amongst like-minded people a the time.

Anyway, that's just great, but back to reality and now that frosh week is all said and done, now that the courses are chosen, the books are bought and the bag is packed, and a large number of my questions are answered, I can finally get on with the business of learning.

That starts on Monday, and I can hardly wait.

J

Frosh Week

Today was the day, and boy, am I bushed!

The weather was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky today, and hot, hot, hot - well, for Calgary anyway. I lined up at Starbucks on campus for my grande Americano before heading out to the athletics field to find the meeting place. When I got there, there were about 15 students already waiting. Within five minutes or so the number had swelled to about 1000. All students from the Faculty of Farts.

We were pretty quiet to begin with. Well, let's say that "they" were pretty quiet to begin with. I did try, but being old and warty I wasn't too good at getting rowdy. When the Orientation Leaders arrived things got louder. First, questions and answers, then a game called "Bang!" then learning and practicing the Faculty chant. I tried, but decided that I would mostly watch, laugh and smile as the agitated, energetic youth got things stirred up.

After a much needed pee break (phew!) we all headed to the induction ceremony in the gymnasium. That was in the Kinesiology Building. I knew there would be quite a few students there, just from the size of the Arts crowd, but I don't think I expected what I saw when we got there. It was the frantic five thousand. The noise grew and grew as I got closer to the auditorium. Here is my first glimpse of the throng.

As I say, the noise grew and grew. All the cheers, chants and roars of a happy crowd, ready and waiting, enthused. Each faculty had their own chant - and they practiced and practiced while we waited for the dignitaries to arrive. It got louder and louder. Haskayne competing with Arts, competing with the Engineers, competing with the Nursing and the Faculty of Medical Science etc etc etc. The Arts chant was something about being asked who we are, and being happy to tell everyone that we're "Arts, Arts, Arts!" with some gyrations, bumping and spinning thrown in. Again, I watched, laughed and smiled.

I was surprised to find that there weren't very many "mature" (boy, have I got them fooled!) students attending, and I'm pretty sure that I was the only one actually down on the floor. That's okay, although I did feel somewhat alone, and as so many of the youngsters did a "double-take" when they first saw me I could tell that I was not what they were expecting to see. This made me feel - what's the word...  "Outstanding!"

The dignitaries arrived. There were several speeches - Student Union President, Student Leader, President, Dean, and Connor Grennan, the author of the Common Reading Program book, Little Princes. Now, I enjoyed the book a great deal, but I must say that in my opinion Mr. Grennan lowered his communication standards a bit too much to try to accommodate the freshman students. Since when does an author of any accomplishment make a speech including dozens, even hundreds of instances of "he's all like, she's all like, and I'm like," and so on and so forth? It was disappointing. I know - that's my baggage and it's probably true that everyone else in the room probably thought it was a great speech - but I can only bring my experience to bear, and that's what I thought.

After the ceremony we were promised barbecue cuisine served up by the dignitaries, but that did not happen. At least, not while I was there. Perhaps they put in a five minute stint shortly after the breakout, but I didn't see it. The burger was - frankly - not cooked with love: it was grey, with the barest, thinnest evidence of griddle marks that may have been drawn on in the factory. It was slapped on an uncooked bun, and we were to plop on ketchup, mustard and green relish as a dressing. No onions. No lettuce. No love.

I took in the "carnival", which was a parade of tents and tables representing various campus organizations. That was interesting, but it only took about ten minutes.

I skipped the Reading Program book discussion.

So that was my day. My first day back in school. I think lessons will be easier - on me, at least.

Let's get it on!

Ok, tomorrow is the start of Orientation Week. My schedule includes group meetings (830am), induction (930am), a pep rally (yay!), a campus carnival, a President's barbecue and a discussion of e common reading program book. And that's just Tuesday! On Wednesday I have group meetings, faculty orientation, an Introduction to Academic Learning, Gauntlet orientation (along with the two stations), and a mature student social. Then Thursday adds University Involvement 101, meet the student's union, and Tools for Success. (I should probably do that one.) Cheeses, I certainly didn't have all this when I started at York 25 years ago! Times sure have changed.

Right now I'm at my favorite Starbucks - in Quarry Park - enjoying the start of my last real day off for a while. I'm feeling some trepidation about it all, as you might suppose from yesterday's shorter entry. Oh, I'm confident, but there's just no doubt about it - the lifestyle changes now. These are my last few breaths of free, relaxed air. From here it gets stuffy and tense.

James m

Update



Halls of Learning



It’s getting closer! Orientation starts next week and after that, nothing but the slog. Twelve weeks from now I’ll be writing my exams and I’ll be a quarter of the way there; a quarter of the way to Nirvana and the reinvented me. I’m still looking for the last book I need – Global Politics in a New World Era - but it probably won’t be in until the first day of classes.

I did take one step this week toward defining the semester. I signed up as a volunteer for The Gauntlet, the campus newspaper. I will offer my skills in writing, editing, and proofreading. I’ve already written an article which they may or may not find useful, creating a character (with my sister’s help) called the “Grammar Nut”. I wrote it in the style of a newspaper article. How odd, you say - writing a newspaper article in the style of a newspaper article!

But you know, I think it might be more useful to get some reporting experience - perhaps sports reporting or art critiquing. Perhaps I'll interview the University President, or the football coach, or a few of the stage performers in the university theatre. That sort of activity would help broaden my resume a little - especially as the current version is far too heavily weighted with insurance stuff. Besides, it's not like I've never taken a statement or conducted an interview. Transferable skills.

Actually, I’ve never really written a true newspaper article before, so I did a little research online to learn the required format and make sure I was getting it right. It’s not really all that difficult; there are four basic sections – Headline, Byline, Lead, and Explanation. This is very good stuff to know.

I know that it took me far too long to write the Grammar Nut article, but I’ll get faster. Let’s face it, I’m rusty. In school I won’t have all the time in the world to make sure everything is perfect, so I’ll train myself to make the first draft that much better so I don't have to go through so many subsequent drafts. It's about concentration, and focus - letting the thoughts flow as accurately as possible, so that there is less “tidying up” to do afterwards.

The organization thing reminds me of my Grade XIII English teacher – Mrs. Lewis. She’s taught me the most essential aspect of writing an essay: the format. Introduction, Point One, Point Two, Point Three, and Conclusion. In teaching me this basic template Mrs. Lewis allowed me to break my ideas down accurately, and create articles with sense and order. Dear Mrs. Lewis organized my mind better than any of the shrinks I have ever spoken to - and I’ve spoken to quite a few shrinks. I thanked her with a hardback copy of Wuthering Heights. I think that came up in one of the shrink sessions once, too.

There is something else I learned from Mrs. Lewis, too. I learned that I learn best from emulation. Oh, I can pick up something difficult if it’s thrust at me often enough, but if I see someone do what I want to do, I will understand it a lot better and will be able to do it well a lot sooner than if I have to somehow teach it to myself. I guess, all things being equal, I’d rather learn from someone who knows what they’re doing than from someone who knows what they’re talking about. There is a difference.

From that point of view school should be interesting. I know everyone has their style, and certainly the professors will have their own way of teaching. That said, something occurs to me that I learned in finalizing my first degree – the best way to remember things is to apply them to what you know and what you have experienced. To do your best learning, add the new material to something you already know - relate it to your current experience.

Example? I failed my Geography O'Level the first time I took it (or was it a midterm exam?) Despite all the studying I had done and the cramming of useless facts and figures into my young head, I just couldn't relate it to anything I understood - it just hung there, nebulous information in the ether. I asked the teacher what to do - he suggested that I study the North American curriculum instead - apparently many classes were studying North America, just not ours. So I struck out on my own, worked through the North American sections in the text book, went to the library and crammed all sorts of North American facts and figures onto the personal foundation I had built as a good little Canadian boy, and it stuck. I passed the exam with flying colours, even though the teacher had chosen to do Western Europe.

Anyway, that’s enough for today. Things to see, people to – er, people to see, things to do!

J