Written Words – (Genius/Idiot)

Just had an “I’m a genius, no, maybe I’m an idiot” moment.

My supervisor has been killing me trying to get me to find a “literature” that fits my research interests. I’ve been poking around, basically based on the protocol that if I use google scholar to search enough key words, eventually something will show up.

That was the plan until I got an unfinished bit of research from the University of New Orleans. In their bibliography (new definition of nerd is that I skip ahead to the bibliography — exciting!) there was a link to a 1961 article on organizational incentives. Oddly, the article was by a colleague of my favorite professor at Penn.

The article was perfect, except it was old. It dealt with typologizing organizations, characterizing their functions, it was the type of theory I could use to do my field work. I quickly flipped to the back to look for other sources.

Only problem? It was from 1961. So all the sources were ancient (sorry for all readers born before 1961 — that’s you mom).

So I was stuck. Until I came up with my best idea of the week (granted, it’s only Tuesday). I brought the article up on google scholar and clicked the “article citations” link.

There in front of me were 514 more recent articles that had cited my original work.

Genius, I thought.

Until I asked myself why it took me a year at Oxford to figure out how to use the article citations link.

Written Words – Learning

I’ve spent most of my life trying to play catch up, or correct my past mistakes.  As my father says, I’ve spent most of my days paying for yesterday’s sins, I say I’m just learning at my own pace..

It took me a long time to figure out how to be a student.  There’s a difference between being smart and being a student.  It wasn’t because I didn’t care, it wasn’t that I didn’t try.  Just that while most spent high school learning how to manage their time, and study effectively, my head was elsewhere, usually thinking about how stupid school was.  It’s not that that isn’t normal for a lot of teens, but I guess a lot of people, successful people anyways, figure it out a little quicker.

It took me a long time to figure out how to take things in stride, that every failure wasn’t fatal, and that every success wasn’t a ‘turning point’ that meant smooth sailing from then on.  While most spent their teens pushing boundaries and learning what they were capable, I was busy sulking about nothing in particular.

It took me a long time to learn how to get people to like me.  Really just learn that people did like me.  If you listen to people, look them in the eye, and greet them with a smile, people tend to like you.  Give them a hug and remember their name, and they’ll remember you.  I learned this in my late teens.  I spent the next few years learning how to make friends, while most people spent those years earning their degree or meeting their sweethearts.

I spent a lot of college enjoying my new social life.  It was fun having friends, and being the center of attention because I was fun and personable, instead of trying to fit in.  I was a flirt, and had my fun.  Most of high school I was dateless, I made up for it.  But I missed something.  I never learned what you do when you like someone, really like them.  Picking up a woman was easy, developing a relationship was another matter.  Friendship was easy, but a real “relationship” was, is, something entirely unfamiliar.

I spent a lot of my late teens, and most of my early 20’s, learning how to be a good person, or at least a better one.  I learned how to learn.  I learned how to make friends.  I learned how to work.  I learned how to take things in stride, get back on my feet. How to think through issues, instead of simply “feel” through them.  I’m sure I’ll figure out the relationship thing soon. I’m a slow learner, but a learner nonetheless.

More and more I read and hear people talk about how success rarely occurs in a straight line.  Matthew Berry wrote that “if your trying to do something and you haven’t failed at it yet, you aren’t trying hard enough”.  I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do think that if somebody is making something look easy, it’s most likely because they’ve done it before, and pretty good chance they screwed it up once or twice.  Some learn by doing, some learn by failing, I guess I’m a little bit of both.

Written Words – (bibliography of a dork)

A sign that Oxford has permanently corrupted me. A professor from the University of New Orleans just sent me her research. I quickly skipped ahead to the ending — much like my mother does with novels.

Except, instead of looking for the happy ending, I was skipping ahead to the bibliography.

And reading it made my day.

Written Words – (freshers flu)

I think the phenomena is relatively universal. Kids come in from all over the world, get together at “uni,” don’t have enough to do and go out every night their first week. At the exact same time, the year’s first cold spell comes through.

Combine a little alcohol, a little free time, a little cold, and a lot of 18-25 year olds, and what do you get? A lot of sick people.

Except Oxford, gracefully, has given this occurrence a name. “Freshers’ flu.” It’s not uncommon in Oxford to put the moniker “fresher” — the Oxford word for a first year student — on an event. The most famous of these is the fresher’s fair, in which every student activity known to man gets in the examination buildings and bombards you with flyers. But slightly more infamous is the fresher’s flu– which is exactly what I have right now.

Written Words – (on coming back)

The difference between year one and year two in a nutshell:

Last year it was about Meeting People. Everyone. All At Once. As many interesting people as I could find. This year — not so much.

Had lunch scheduled with a friend from Penn who is over here for a Master’s in English. Great guy, and I was looking forward to catching up. We were just going to duck into a little diner after mass. At mass he asked me if he could bring a friend. Then his friend brought a friend. Then he met three people after mass and invited them. And soon we were rolling 7 deep like Freshers at a bop.

Lunch ends, I still haven’t caught up with my friend (or said so much as 5 words to him). For me? Frustrating — now I have to find another time to catch up. It was about him.

But for him? Huge success. New Friends. Meeting People. Everyone At Once.

Kind of nice to know enough people that it’s enough to focus on one at a time.

Written Words – Moment

Today I had a movie moment. Not a “finding true love” moment, or even a final speech “this is our time/we’ve earned this/win the game for [insert injured player's name here]” moment. I had the moment where someone tells the player just how hard he’s going to have to work. It’s not the culmination of anything; usually, training has only just begun, and it’s going to get worse, but inspiring music underscores the speech and you know in your gut something amazing is going to happen.

It happened like this. I’m in a hospital room with three other students and a doctor learning how to interview and examine patients. Now, no one expects much at this point. After all, I’ve only been in school for a month and a half, and I don’t know any symptoms (though I can tell you why pain from a heart attack goes down your left arm if you let me pull out my dermatome chart…), much less what is important when trying to get a diagnostic history and perform a physical.

Everyone knows who the med students are (the short white coats give us away) and takes it easy on us. Except Dr. B., the physician. The surgeon. My mentor.

He’s one of those people you notice as soon as he walks into a room, probably because he’s the one talking loudly and making a sarcastic comment. The guy who’s the best at what he does and feels no obligation to hide it. The type of guy who makes you flinch when he looks at you. I learned on day one that he doesn’t put up with bluffing, that I should never break eye contact, and that he will always call on me when I have no idea what the answer is. It’s a variation on Murphy’s Law.

Written Words – Trying

It’s just a little too far.

Words slip through my hands,

language forgotten as soon as it is heard.

I dig through the sand at my feet

and try to remember.

Written Words – (care forgot)

No one untangles messes in this city
color them black or white
but never untangle

scared of what’s hiding behind
or maybe it’s not possible
to peel back the layers
maybe the people have melded
with the history,
the corruption
the government

every attempt at clarity provokes a backlash
or is clarity just a clever ruse to expose opposition?

you never know in this city

if you could peel back the complexity you’d find the music
not the classic, recorded, historical music
the sweaty music
the marching down Tulane in remembrance
blasting brass band music

but they told me white people didn’t dance until the hurricane
that now it’s only the out-of-towners

even the music here is racialized

Written Words – (couplet)

maybe I pray too quiet
maybe I wait too long

Written Words – (the 20s ritual)

It’s always something subtle that hits me. Like passing Baltimore on I-95 South. Or calling it “my parents’ house.” Or stopping for donuts on the way out of New Orleans. Because who knows if I’m ever going back, right?

Today, it was my keychain. When I took off the apartment key and college key, and put them in an envelope for my porter. Now my keychain, a beautiful gift from a teammates mother on graduation day, proudly proclaiming ‘07 grad, has two simple keys in it. The first is the key to my traveling guitar case. The second the key to my bike lock.

And so starts the 20s ritual. There’s no apartment in the world that I’m supposed to be in. For the next 6-8 weeks, I drift. From England to New Orleans. To Atlanta. The beach. New York City. DC burbs. Philly. Enjoy the hospitality. Scrape together food. Do a lot of thinking.

The difference this year is those two keys. Because even if there isn’t a room in the world I can call my own; my bike and my guitar are staying in England. And that means something. It means I have a home base, or something like it.

In stark contrast to last year, when everything went with me in the trunk. It was Philly, DC, Baltimore, New Orleans, Atlanta, North Carolina, DC, Philly, NYC, London, Oxford. When it was months between having my own castle. Because a room really is a castle.

But this is the advantage of being young. I get to see things. Try things. But most of all, do things. Over the next six months, if something comes up, anything, I have the freedom to do it. That’s the tradeoff. I could do anything.

Last year, this ritual laid the groundwork for my Master’s Thesis. This year, I’m staying with a family I met at City Hall last summer. Right now, I’m making sure I have everything.

Passport? Check.

Tickets? Check.

Keys? Well, you know…