Diary of the TA, part one
I am finally starting to write stuff down, why? I honestly can't say... Mostly it is due to the fact that every writer I have ever heard has told me that in order to be a good writer, you must write.
Thus, this is a semi-fictional account of my life. For the most part it, and the characters within are true. There are exaggerations all over the place, but when isn't there in hindsight?
'Ok, this is really weird,' said the man holding a stolen stuffed armadillo under his arm as his friend snuck under the fence in order to take a closer picture of what she called ‘pretty graffiti.’ Silly artists… Then again, I was the one taking pictures of a stuffed armadillo throughout Denver.
It is these pivotal moments in life that make one take a step back and wonder how they got there. Then either hang their head in shame or embrace all the odd things in life that make it truly wonderful.
How I got to where I am, how I learned to embrace passion, no matter what odd direction it causes your life to take is quite the odd story. In many ways it would appear that it is a life without much passion, when viewed using hindsight. However perhaps it is that lack that makes me seek it out as much as I do.
Passion is a funny thing. We tend to use the term exclusively for issues involving sexual contact in all its myriad forms. There are definitely moments such as those where passion is felt in abundance. I think though that given the way our society works, passion is secondary to success rather than an important element involved in success.
The way America seems to work is that success is measured by monetary value alone. The balding businessman, who is turning in a six figure salary by selling his soul to the corporation, is seen as successful. Is the man happy? Perhaps his trophy wife and 2.5 kids assumed to be his, despite the 60 hour work week all lend themselves to the illusion of being happy. I am not saying it is impossible that the man is happy. Perhaps he does explore his passion by sitting in a cubicle and figuring out the best way to screw others out of money. Perhaps he was Ebenezer Scrooge in a past life and this is a wonderful way to live according to him. In general I would doubt it however.
I am able to say this as I have been in his shoes. Thankfully not the children aspect as I tend to find the world overpopulated as it is. Immediately after high school, I entered college in order to be an engineer. My dad was an engineer, made a good salary, it is a respectable position, and my telling my parents I wanted to be an archaeologist made them flinch and threaten to forgo aid in getting a college degree. Mechanical engineering was… well, very mechanical in nature. Parts combined with other parts, made machines go, made one thing go in and another come out. Once I found out that making a giant Shogun Warrior robot was rather infeasible (mostly due to the laser beam eyes), I decided that mechanical engineering was not for me. That and the fact that I was in Tulsa, Oklahoma… I honestly think that the southern United States is truly a foreign country. I was born in Canada, I have lived in several places. Each time I felt more like a foreigner in the south than I ever did anywhere else that I have lived. When you can walk into a restaurant, order a coke, and they ask you what kind as coke is used synonymously with any other soft drink. That is scary and foreign to me on several levels.
Then I thought, I like buildings. Bridges are a little scary for me, but they look nifty and tend to hold things suspended above other things. That would get me a token of respect, allow me to leave my mark on the world! Thus I ended up going to a different college and working to become a civil engineer. The secret to civil engineering is really simple. Water flows downhill, shit flows downhill, payday is on Friday. Everything else really is just an extension on those things. One of the benefits of going into civil engineering is that it brought be back to Colorado, where several of my old high school friends were going to school, and also put me in the position to meet my future wife.
to be continued.
Thus, this is a semi-fictional account of my life. For the most part it, and the characters within are true. There are exaggerations all over the place, but when isn't there in hindsight?
'Ok, this is really weird,' said the man holding a stolen stuffed armadillo under his arm as his friend snuck under the fence in order to take a closer picture of what she called ‘pretty graffiti.’ Silly artists… Then again, I was the one taking pictures of a stuffed armadillo throughout Denver.
It is these pivotal moments in life that make one take a step back and wonder how they got there. Then either hang their head in shame or embrace all the odd things in life that make it truly wonderful.
How I got to where I am, how I learned to embrace passion, no matter what odd direction it causes your life to take is quite the odd story. In many ways it would appear that it is a life without much passion, when viewed using hindsight. However perhaps it is that lack that makes me seek it out as much as I do.
Passion is a funny thing. We tend to use the term exclusively for issues involving sexual contact in all its myriad forms. There are definitely moments such as those where passion is felt in abundance. I think though that given the way our society works, passion is secondary to success rather than an important element involved in success.
The way America seems to work is that success is measured by monetary value alone. The balding businessman, who is turning in a six figure salary by selling his soul to the corporation, is seen as successful. Is the man happy? Perhaps his trophy wife and 2.5 kids assumed to be his, despite the 60 hour work week all lend themselves to the illusion of being happy. I am not saying it is impossible that the man is happy. Perhaps he does explore his passion by sitting in a cubicle and figuring out the best way to screw others out of money. Perhaps he was Ebenezer Scrooge in a past life and this is a wonderful way to live according to him. In general I would doubt it however.
I am able to say this as I have been in his shoes. Thankfully not the children aspect as I tend to find the world overpopulated as it is. Immediately after high school, I entered college in order to be an engineer. My dad was an engineer, made a good salary, it is a respectable position, and my telling my parents I wanted to be an archaeologist made them flinch and threaten to forgo aid in getting a college degree. Mechanical engineering was… well, very mechanical in nature. Parts combined with other parts, made machines go, made one thing go in and another come out. Once I found out that making a giant Shogun Warrior robot was rather infeasible (mostly due to the laser beam eyes), I decided that mechanical engineering was not for me. That and the fact that I was in Tulsa, Oklahoma… I honestly think that the southern United States is truly a foreign country. I was born in Canada, I have lived in several places. Each time I felt more like a foreigner in the south than I ever did anywhere else that I have lived. When you can walk into a restaurant, order a coke, and they ask you what kind as coke is used synonymously with any other soft drink. That is scary and foreign to me on several levels.
Then I thought, I like buildings. Bridges are a little scary for me, but they look nifty and tend to hold things suspended above other things. That would get me a token of respect, allow me to leave my mark on the world! Thus I ended up going to a different college and working to become a civil engineer. The secret to civil engineering is really simple. Water flows downhill, shit flows downhill, payday is on Friday. Everything else really is just an extension on those things. One of the benefits of going into civil engineering is that it brought be back to Colorado, where several of my old high school friends were going to school, and also put me in the position to meet my future wife.
to be continued.