Saturday, April 10, 2004

Much Ado About Nothing

In less than 24 hours, I will be on board a plane bound for London and then Stuttgart.

And I am too exhausted, after the day I've had, to write anything.

But then again, I know, that if I continue taking the 5th, my actions will be misconstrued.

So let's see.

First thing this morning, I get a message saying that my blog's been flamed by someone who seems to hate me and all I stand for.

Ok, so there are people reading my blog. That's a good sign. So I go take a look and realise...

Woah! This person really does hate me. My sweaters, my great dickens-like expectations of my students, my penchant for ditzy-ly packaged makeup, my overseas education and the fact that I drive a beat up old Merc. Everything. And I don't even know this person.

Well, shoot me for a) impeccable taste in clothes b) a deep-seated belief inside every student I get is one that wants to learn, c) enjoying the ditziness that is accorded to me by sheer fact that I am a girl, d) being daring enough to give up the safe route i.e. history or pol-sci honours to go abroad and pursue another degree that I knew little about but wanted more than anything to learn about e) that my parents in law were kind enough to give us their ol' jalopy that would take me from place A (home) to place B (School).

It's wonderful to be able to incite these feelings in a person whom I've never met or even heard of.

So, why take the posts off my blog?

Is it because I delete comments which displease me (sic) ... out of spite? guilt?

Short answer, none of the above. I deleted them because they were anonymous. It's a matter of simple courtesy. If what was said, was really and truly felt, why hide behind anonymity? Why not dare to put your name behind it?

Then I get challenged.

"you constantly anguish about the lack of discourse/creativity around, about complacency etc but when push comes to shove, you are no better than the rest, are you? "

Ok, before I go on, if I had a red pen, I'd strike out "about" write "prep" in the margin and proceed to fill in the correct preposition. Sorry, occupational hazard.

Anyway, where was I?

Well, I never admitted to be better than the rest. So, I'm stumped. But then again, unlike the current generation of young adults, mine was not the generation that had to be explicitly told that discourse was good and creativity was the way to go. We just did what we did everyday. We had good fun and we had passionate arguments. And when those arguments got too heated, or too stupid, you stepped back. Because one, you don't want to lose that friend over some dumb debate over whether Kennedy was a lout, or two, you don't fight stupidity with greater stupidity. So you concede, in order to save face. Not your own, but the one who thinks that Elvis has two heads and visits Vegas every third full moon in a leap year and twice on Sunday but only when the Pope was in town.

-Done to death by slanderous tongue was the Hero that here lies-

So there.

10 Feb 2004

Ondine tossed this thought in at 09:50

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