Fossils of academia

I was at my parents' house yesterday, going through my old closet. I came across the giant three-ring binder from high school that had a bunch of my old papers and projects inside. I vaguely remember a teacher handing out these folders to the whole class sometime during ninth grade and telling us to use them to file our work throughout high school. At the time, I didn't really see the point of it (why save my graded homework after the class was over?), but evidently I followed the directions often enough to accumulate a fairly hefty stack of work. Now, of course, I'm glad I did.

My favorites to re-read were probably the book reports from AP English senior year. I guess I was a decent writer for a high-schooler (though of course I laughed at my younger, inexperienced self a few times too), and I read some excellent books that year. At one point I was reading Alan Paton's Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful, and now that I've spent quite a bit of time studying South African culture and history, I should really go back and read it again. (I don't really remember it, but the themes of my paper were intriguing.)

Among the files of class writings, I found a personality assessment I had apparently taken for a class. Based on its placement in the binder, it looks to be from sophomore year, though I don't know what it was used for. Naturally, being myself, I was curious enough to take it again and see how my results had changed in seven years.

A few observations:

1. One of the first things I noticed was that only two areas of intelligence had lowered, while five indicated that my aptitude had increased. Does this mean that I've actually become stronger in all these areas (a product of life experiences, higher education, seeing the world, etc.)? Or is this an instance of increased confidence leading to higher self-evaluation? Either one seems plausible.
2. I've always had an aptitude for music, but after spending four years earning my bachelor's degree in violin performance, I'm gratified to see the increase. (At least, as much as I can be gratified by an entirely subjective, not-very-extensive personality test that I spent about eight minutes taking.)
3. And speaking of increases, let's talk about that kinesthetic situation. Anyone who knew me well in high school and still knows me well now probably wouldn't be surprised, but it does look a little extreme. It's important to note that I went through a phase (if 6+ years can be called a phase) in which I hated essentially all forms of exercise. I did not like sweating. I did not like the feeling of exertion. And I especially detested all sports (except horseback riding, which I loved).                                                                                                                       Things have changed. I became a camp counselor, where being active (and sweating) was a huge part of the lifestyle...and I loved it. Over the course of the next few years, I became who I am now -- an avid bike commuter, a lover of hiking and being outdoors, a gardener, a frequent exerciser, and pretty much willing to try any kind of physical activity as long as it doesn't require much hand-eye coordination. (I still don't love sports though.)
4. I was and still am extremely introspective. (Probably the reason I love personality quizzes.) I have a passion for the infinite complexity of all human beings, and the deep well to be tapped within every single person on earth. I love figuring out what makes people do what they do. And it's natural for this process of exploring and understanding people to start and end with myself.

I'm happy with the ways I've changed. And I wonder what kind of person I'll become in another seven years.

2015 Reading Update

In April I finally finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera, thus completing my March item from the 2015 Reading Challenge: "a book that was originally written in another language." I loved this book. It is extremely dense (hence the few extra weeks it took me to finish the book), but I was (and still am) in awe of the narrative scope. Gabriel Garcia Marquez achieves something at which many writers would fail, unveiling a lifelong love story with complex characterization, hilarious encounters, profound realizations, and rich, unencumbered detail. It was amazing; a page could contain multitudes. A seemingly major plot element could be revealed and resolved within a single sentence or paragraph. You could miss whole love affairs if you stopped paying attention for a moment.

These are my most bookmark-worthy favorite lines:

She awoke long before dawn and lay exhausted and wakeful, with her eyes closed, thinking of the countless years she still had to live. (p.137)

No: he would never reveal it, not even to Leona Cassiani, not because he did not want to open the chest where he had kept it so carefully hidden for half his life, but because he realized only then that he had lost the key. (p.192)

All at once, in the large mirror on the back wall, he caught a glimpse of Fermina Daza sitting at a table with her husband and two other couples, at an angle that allowed him to see her reflected in all her splendor. She was unguarded, she engaged in conversation with grace and laughter that exploded like fireworks, and her beauty was more radiant under the enormous teardrop chandeliers: once again, Alice had gone through the looking glass. (p. 228)

Florentino Ariza always forgot when he should not have that women, and Prudencia Pitre more than any other, always think about the hidden meanings of questions more than about the questions themselves. (p. 287)

Unperturbed, he took off his eyeglasses with a characteristic gesture, he flooded her with the transparent waters of his childlike eyes, and in a single phrase he burdened her with the weight of his unbearable wisdom: "Always remember that the most important thing in a good marriage is not happiness, but stability." With the first loneliness of her widowhood she had understood that the phrase did not conceal the miserable threat that she had attributed to it so many times, but was the lodestone that had given them both so many happy hours. (p. 300)

Maybe I'll tackle One Hundred Years of Solitude sometime now that I've got my first GGM novel behind me (and well worth the time indeed).

Coming soon, since I'm behind on blogging -- a discussion on my May choice, "a book from your childhood." And, okay, I couldn't resist taking this opportunity to re-read one of my favorite series as a kid, and it did not disappoint.

What are you reading this month??

Around the internet

So, I read a lot of articles. I'm constantly discovering awesome things online and usually want to share them with people. Sometimes, though, they just end up buried in one of my many bookmark folders to be re-discovered (by me) later. Anyway, here are a few of my recent discoveries that are, in my opinion, the most deserving of attention.

• "How to Take Long Showers and Still Save the World From Drought": 
• A fascinating look at our water usage and what we should really be thinking about. I generally think I know a lot about environmental issues, but I learned some things. Also, it's an environmental article that doesn't make you feel overwhelmingly hopeless! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/adam-j-rose/how-to-take-long-showers_b_6875644.html
• The truth about Dominion Resources
• A very well-made infographic tour about the realities of our electricity sources in Virginia. http://www.domtruth.org/
• The Infinite Hotel Paradox
• The paradox: A hotel that is always completely full -- but always has room for more. This is a TED-Ed video explaining a classic mathematical brain twister. Don't let the math-y-ness scare you, because as usual, TED is awesome. 

• "The Moral Bucket List": 
• A New York Times column about what one should strive to achieve in one's lifetime in order to become someone who "radiates an inner light." So worth reading. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/12/opinion/sunday/david-brooks-the-moral-bucket-list.html