(no subject)
This is funny and shocking. Yes, this post is long, but trust me that you will laugh your ass off. This is an actual paper which I wrote for Fete 201 in the Fall of 2004. I handed this in and I passed the class. Shanell can attest to the crazy stuff I wrote for Fete. If you have ever wanted to tell your professor that the paper they made you write was comparable to "being anally probed by a fierce warrior alien species from a different planet over an extended period about the length of my life." Then this paper is your dream come true.
I wrote it.
I turned it in.
I got credit.
This paper has not been changed in any way from the one that I turned in.
Unfortunately, like many Americans, I hardly know anything of my past. We, as a people, tend to forget our roots, and give in to just being “Americans.” I am part a lot of things. You see, where I come from is subjective. Am I matrilineal or patrilineal? Most people are going to say here that they are a fraction of different descents. I am too. However, those things (being generations beyond the voyage) are foreign to me. I do not know the land of Germany. In fact, as an American, I don’t know much of anything besides the fact that my country is supposed to be “the best.” Most of what I know is apathy and antipathy. I know that I don’t know. I have no links. I barely remember my grandparents, just like they barely remembered me.
I am currently a fourth year student at Eastern Michigan University. I came here after deciding that Engineering was one of the least personally fulfilling careers that a human being could endeavor in. When I decided to become a professional student, I found a lack of potential employers and thus refocused my goal towards teaching. My major is Language, Literature, and Writing for Secondary Education with a minor in Mathematics. I commute from Novi to Ypsilanti four times a week. I live with my parents, my dog, and my two brothers (does that order mean something?) I drive a slowly dying 1988 Mazda RX-7 with a strong heart and failing everything else. I spend my time doing schoolwork, corresponding with my girlfriend (that lives 500 miles away), writing, and playing footbag. The environment I live in is Oakland county. It’s pretty nice if you enjoy orange in the Fall and orange in the Summer. I live in a room that is mostly inhabited by my younger brother and used to fulfill his insidious “fixes” for computer video games. I don’t have a lot of privacy. I get spurts of travel to see my extended family. Those don’t happen much because my family is pretty poor. Most of the time, I am static.
My language origin is American English. Go figure. I also speak Spanish slang and Japanese food. What more does one need? My family, two generations back, spoke American English too. In my family, we use language to make fun of each other. Sometimes we talk about problems and fix them if ridicule isn’t effective. Sometimes we talk about things during dinner or awkward family crises. Since we’re mostly male, we stay far away and never touch each other. This affirms our stance as heterosexuals that are not incestuous. Usually, I communicate through either heartfelt nonsense or scintillating cynicism? Whatever I use, it’s sarcastic as all hell. That’s good though. Sometimes these paper formalities tend toward the dry side. My communication is usually through the written word. I love to write poetry. I’m a frugal word user. I tend to over or under-write issues. Sometimes I’m cryptic and inspired, and other times I’m blunt and practical. Maybe that relates to the dualistic nature of my major and minor. All that left and right brain nonsense might play in here.
My family is pretty direct. We avoid talking to each other because we don’t have much in common besides living in the same house. We’re open to talk about anything. We like to have debates. Everyone has input, but usually I just laugh at my little brother.
Religious origins? Suddenly I feel like I’m in a governmental interrogation. What is religious? This feels like a box. I come from a Judeo-Christian background two generations back. Even though I respect these traditions, I don’t know many serious enough about them in order to make me want to join one. Even though most of this world is Christian, hardly any of them follow the Ten Commandments, Jesus, or Christianity in general. I don’t care what denomination, be a Christian and I will have respect. When I meet religious Christians, I am put in awe and inspired. When I meet the traditional wishy-washy Christian (the kind that supports any kind of war, yet preaches “Thou shalt not kill” or lives the American life of excess (two cars, a large house, expensive shoes or tastes), yet preaches “Thou shalt not covet..” and generally fails toward a humble life), I am wishy-washy in my perception. I do not detest people of any religion, but I do detest the mockery that many people make of certain religions. It’s easy for me to pick on the Christians here, because they’re the world’s largest religion, but this philosophy applies across the religious board for me. If there is a religion I identify most with, it is Bhuddism. Note, I do not call myself a Bhuddist. I know I am not a Bhuddist. That’s what people need to say, “I identify with Christianity, Shintoism, Bhuddism, Islam, Judaism, Taoism, and so on.” There’s a difference between identifying and associating yourself with a religion. By associating yourself with a religion, you are speaking for the people of that religion. I think it’s very important that if you affiliate yourself with something as deeply connected to your soul as religion, that you follow that affiliation with a firm representation of your religion, its beliefs, and its people. I guess this is the part where I’m put into the box that says my affiliation. I am a “nontheist.” That’s right not a theist, atheist, agnostic, or otherwise. I am a “nontheist.” That means I think, “There might be a God, there might not, but it doesn’t really matter either way.”
Every year, my family celebrate all the traditional American holidays. We celebrate Easter, the 4th of July, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Isn’t that crazy? My family celebrates holidays in the strictly commercial hallmark sense. Our heros are the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, and John Adams. Nobody cares about the specifics. You see, I am a product of that nonsense I am speaking of. We don’t know that all these dates are arbitrary as well, nor do we care to celebrate them in an honorary sense (unless we’re honoring capitalism). Nobody knows when Christ “rose”, the delegates actually signed the Declaration of Independence, the exact days of the Macabee’s miracle, or Christ was born. In this American conglomerate of muddled thought, we are all searching for a little time to ourselves. Vacation, by God! Thanks Jesus. Too frank? What about the Bhudda? He never gave me a vacation. The Japanese Kami never came and told me to take a day off. The government never flowed with the Tao to create my vacation. All my holidays are someone else’s glories. I have never met a pilgrim. I could never ask for a Hopi holiday. Do you understand this vague oppression? I spend my year celebrating everything I don’t believe in. I spend my year celebrating events that no one cares to remember or elucidate upon. Celebrations of all of our national holidays have just become confusing traditions which lack meaningful constructive use. As an American, I am mad. And if I were Christian, I think I would be even angrier. I think a great deal of tradition is silliness. Fireworks for the signing of a legal document? A pine tree for the birth of a god? Multicolored eggs for a spirit rising from the dead? Feasting on a day the pilgrims fasted (a thanksgiving day)? Does anyone know how this nonsense gets propagated? Does anyone out there know the true stories? Could they enlighten me on the roots of our mythological holiday system?
All of our celebrations take place at our wealthiest relatives’ houses. Usually there’s a ton of good food and “many hands, make light the work.” All of our family, at least the parts on good terms, usually comes. We all participate in the exact same nonsense that the rest of Americans participate in. It used to be I would sit in the garage and smoke for hours. Now that I’ve quite smoking, I don’t know how I will make it through these social functions. Save me, please.
What are my beliefs? Oh boy. I know you’ve already heard more than need be said. Sometimes I like to be heard. Don’t you? There are some frustrations in this world that get me going sometimes. I’m going to keep from digressing though. I believe in peace. I believe that all people should learn to live together in peace. All human beings should work towards understanding, compassion, and love. I believe that humans need to begin to unlock the secrets of the universe and creation through creative, scientific, and religious inquiries. I believe in the slow accumulation of the fractals of truth this universe has to offer. I believe there is something “bigger” than the human species. I believe that life is precious in all forms. I believe that good and evil are supplementary and not adversarial. I suppose you can see most of my values in those beliefs. I also value human understanding and open expression. I value things that are new and reveal more fractals of truth. Have patience and the doors will open.
As far as my family, we all have roles. My mother nurtures us. My father reprimands us. We kids play and work. Historically, my parents have both worked to make ends meet. However, due to the slow conglomeration of media, and the recent trend of the economy to be awful, my father was laid off over a year ago. My mother supports the other four of us and our rotten dog Austin. Mostly our hierarchy involves everyone not liking our dog. When we feel crappy, we all talk about how dumb he is. Austin then goes outside and eats his poop.
Our family enforces a fair number of daily tasks. Each person has weekly responsibilities that make the household run smoothly. We spend a fair amount of time griping and complaining that each of us is doing more than their fair share. There wasn’t much need for discipline in our house. We have all been very good kids. The few times that we did screw up, we have been reprimanded accordingly and effectively. My family is almost completely individualistic. We all do our own thing and mind our own businesses. That is how it has always been. I would not call myself either individualistic or communal. I fit both of these roles in different circumstances. In learning, I am individualistic, but in teaching, communal.
Usually my family goals were to get good grades and stay out of trouble. My family rewarded me by not punishing me. I have achieved a lot of goals on my own. Sometimes I celebrate those achievements with my family. We don’t really have negative or positive feelings about our family. We are all family, and no matter what we do, that’s still the case. We’ve all tried very hard to refute this point. My goal is to be happy. Most of my family, and strangely humanity, have the same goal. Sometimes my goal is to finish an excessively lengthy, boring, and mechanically-questioned paper. Usually, my family does not share this goal, however.
All of my family work in some capacity. My mother is the only one that gets paid to do so. We all attempt to help with housework and supplementary income. Our work ethic is pretty weak. We are lazy. I am currently, much to my glee, being put through school. Usually I apply myself very rigorously to writing. This is an excellent example of how to make my writing feel tortured, mechanical, and futilely endless in sight.
Material possessions in my family are sacred. If anyone touched my blue sock, I would be very mad with them. My parents come from a place they call “The Freedom House.” That just means that they were hippies. Nobly, when my grandmother died, they raised my mother’s seven brothers and sisters in a three-bedroom doll house. My father amassed a small fortune working for the Eastern Echo, while my mother raked in the dough teaching ungrateful high school kids algebra. Thus, we covet belongings. We hide everything we like to eat and I always place my blue sock in a safe.
For my family, time is linear. We are all going to die soon. Nobody is having babies, so I guess our line is just about done. Usually family functions occur when someone does die. Then we get together and cry. We are typically late, but then again, it’s not like the “guest of honor” cares. Usually there are no repercussions and we are all happy just to be a family and not dead like the person in the box.
My family is not in harmony with nature. We use cars that burn gas. However, we do recycle. Recycling produces a significant amount of waste. Since we are wasteful Americans, my mom refutes that she and my father were hippies. I know better. I believe that nature is a treasure. We are slowly destroying that treasure because Americans are selfish greedy bastards. We all know this and don’t care. This is because we are all selfish greedy bastards. Pretty soon now, we’ll drill lots of holes in the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge. Thanks oil president. I use nature as the inspiration for a lot of my writing. I think that in the future we should have many less babies and concentrate on the ones that we do have. Less children means more attention. Also, less people use less land and also do not destroy it quite so quickly. Abortion is a friend of the earth.
In terms of equality, my family has always been pretty unequal. Usually the parents always get their way. I think equality is treating people equally. This is a crazy concept that a lot of people have trouble understanding. Are all people created equal? Of course not. If that was the case, my phallus would be larger. If that were the case, we’d all be exactly the same at birth. What kind of question is that? Should all people have equal rights? No way, that would be chaos. If we all had the right to kill people that would be bad. The right to kill should only be exercised by people that will kill in an inoffensive fashion (heads of state and such). Should all people have equal access to resources? Sure, why not? What does it matter, that’s not going to happen. Are you going to bring gasoline to Ping Xiao in China? I didn’t think so. Do all people have equal rights? No. Why would anyone think that all people have equal rights? Who writes these questions?
My family expected me to be smart and work hard. Luckily I’ve succeeded in some capacity. The questions you are asking are too personal. My high school was all rich white kids, even the black kid. The learning situation was great. Most of the teachers were good. Man, these questions are invasive. I’m not answering that. Since my mother was a teacher, she helped further my education when it needed assistance. I think all people should have access to education except for those in comas.
To summarize, I feel this country is a confused and misdirected one. It is time for us to reflect on ourselves and realize a couple things. We are a world leader, but mostly just with our weapons and economy. We are not the world leaders of education, peace, artistic inspiration, or happiness. You might think I’m digressing here, but I don’t think I am. By telling you how I feel about this world, I’m revealing something much more important than my environment, language origins, or answers to trivial mundane questions. I’m revealing my passion, vices, and ideas. I’m letting you see whatever you think is good, bad, and ugly. I want you to love me, hate me, be inspired, or revolted. That makes my autobiography realistic and gives it passion. Unfortunately, that’s tough to do when all of it has been scripted down to the last sentence. How spontaneous or wonderful is reading ten pages of answers? You are now understanding my mind. Here I am. A product of a lot of boxes I’ve created here. Shelved and discounted. Just wait, I’m not done yet.
The effect of me doing this autobiography was boredom for me and you. As a result, my life is several hours closer to that box I mentioned earlier. Basically, I would parallel this paper with being anally probed by a fierce warrior alien species from a different planet over an extended period about the length of my life. I felt like this exercise was mechanical, invasive, and thoroughly uninspired. How’s that?
I’m sure a lot of my beliefs are in contradiction with the American educational system. So are the beliefs of almost every person on this planet. That’s why there’s a line between professionalism and personal matters. I’m sure my students will have lots of conflicting views with me. That’s okay. We’re all different. I have lots of patience. I accept everyone grudgingly.
Basically I have learned that I have to do this again at the end of the year. That’s a bummer. Maybe next time I will have the opportunity to apply my newly acquired academic knowledge rather than meandering about with poorly-constructed mechanical sentences. It can only go up from here. I achieved all the objectives because I answered all the questions (at least the ones that weren’t inappropriately invasive.) This “new learning,” (that I have to write this paper again) will be useful when I have to write this paper again. As a future educator, I will use this knowledge to never reproduce this horrible, lengthy, mechanical exercise. I will have to repress all memory of this activity before I will ever be able to use it in a classroom. Thus, I never will.
I wrote it.
I turned it in.
I got credit.
This paper has not been changed in any way from the one that I turned in.
Unfortunately, like many Americans, I hardly know anything of my past. We, as a people, tend to forget our roots, and give in to just being “Americans.” I am part a lot of things. You see, where I come from is subjective. Am I matrilineal or patrilineal? Most people are going to say here that they are a fraction of different descents. I am too. However, those things (being generations beyond the voyage) are foreign to me. I do not know the land of Germany. In fact, as an American, I don’t know much of anything besides the fact that my country is supposed to be “the best.” Most of what I know is apathy and antipathy. I know that I don’t know. I have no links. I barely remember my grandparents, just like they barely remembered me.
I am currently a fourth year student at Eastern Michigan University. I came here after deciding that Engineering was one of the least personally fulfilling careers that a human being could endeavor in. When I decided to become a professional student, I found a lack of potential employers and thus refocused my goal towards teaching. My major is Language, Literature, and Writing for Secondary Education with a minor in Mathematics. I commute from Novi to Ypsilanti four times a week. I live with my parents, my dog, and my two brothers (does that order mean something?) I drive a slowly dying 1988 Mazda RX-7 with a strong heart and failing everything else. I spend my time doing schoolwork, corresponding with my girlfriend (that lives 500 miles away), writing, and playing footbag. The environment I live in is Oakland county. It’s pretty nice if you enjoy orange in the Fall and orange in the Summer. I live in a room that is mostly inhabited by my younger brother and used to fulfill his insidious “fixes” for computer video games. I don’t have a lot of privacy. I get spurts of travel to see my extended family. Those don’t happen much because my family is pretty poor. Most of the time, I am static.
My language origin is American English. Go figure. I also speak Spanish slang and Japanese food. What more does one need? My family, two generations back, spoke American English too. In my family, we use language to make fun of each other. Sometimes we talk about problems and fix them if ridicule isn’t effective. Sometimes we talk about things during dinner or awkward family crises. Since we’re mostly male, we stay far away and never touch each other. This affirms our stance as heterosexuals that are not incestuous. Usually, I communicate through either heartfelt nonsense or scintillating cynicism? Whatever I use, it’s sarcastic as all hell. That’s good though. Sometimes these paper formalities tend toward the dry side. My communication is usually through the written word. I love to write poetry. I’m a frugal word user. I tend to over or under-write issues. Sometimes I’m cryptic and inspired, and other times I’m blunt and practical. Maybe that relates to the dualistic nature of my major and minor. All that left and right brain nonsense might play in here.
My family is pretty direct. We avoid talking to each other because we don’t have much in common besides living in the same house. We’re open to talk about anything. We like to have debates. Everyone has input, but usually I just laugh at my little brother.
Religious origins? Suddenly I feel like I’m in a governmental interrogation. What is religious? This feels like a box. I come from a Judeo-Christian background two generations back. Even though I respect these traditions, I don’t know many serious enough about them in order to make me want to join one. Even though most of this world is Christian, hardly any of them follow the Ten Commandments, Jesus, or Christianity in general. I don’t care what denomination, be a Christian and I will have respect. When I meet religious Christians, I am put in awe and inspired. When I meet the traditional wishy-washy Christian (the kind that supports any kind of war, yet preaches “Thou shalt not kill” or lives the American life of excess (two cars, a large house, expensive shoes or tastes), yet preaches “Thou shalt not covet..” and generally fails toward a humble life), I am wishy-washy in my perception. I do not detest people of any religion, but I do detest the mockery that many people make of certain religions. It’s easy for me to pick on the Christians here, because they’re the world’s largest religion, but this philosophy applies across the religious board for me. If there is a religion I identify most with, it is Bhuddism. Note, I do not call myself a Bhuddist. I know I am not a Bhuddist. That’s what people need to say, “I identify with Christianity, Shintoism, Bhuddism, Islam, Judaism, Taoism, and so on.” There’s a difference between identifying and associating yourself with a religion. By associating yourself with a religion, you are speaking for the people of that religion. I think it’s very important that if you affiliate yourself with something as deeply connected to your soul as religion, that you follow that affiliation with a firm representation of your religion, its beliefs, and its people. I guess this is the part where I’m put into the box that says my affiliation. I am a “nontheist.” That’s right not a theist, atheist, agnostic, or otherwise. I am a “nontheist.” That means I think, “There might be a God, there might not, but it doesn’t really matter either way.”
Every year, my family celebrate all the traditional American holidays. We celebrate Easter, the 4th of July, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Isn’t that crazy? My family celebrates holidays in the strictly commercial hallmark sense. Our heros are the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, and John Adams. Nobody cares about the specifics. You see, I am a product of that nonsense I am speaking of. We don’t know that all these dates are arbitrary as well, nor do we care to celebrate them in an honorary sense (unless we’re honoring capitalism). Nobody knows when Christ “rose”, the delegates actually signed the Declaration of Independence, the exact days of the Macabee’s miracle, or Christ was born. In this American conglomerate of muddled thought, we are all searching for a little time to ourselves. Vacation, by God! Thanks Jesus. Too frank? What about the Bhudda? He never gave me a vacation. The Japanese Kami never came and told me to take a day off. The government never flowed with the Tao to create my vacation. All my holidays are someone else’s glories. I have never met a pilgrim. I could never ask for a Hopi holiday. Do you understand this vague oppression? I spend my year celebrating everything I don’t believe in. I spend my year celebrating events that no one cares to remember or elucidate upon. Celebrations of all of our national holidays have just become confusing traditions which lack meaningful constructive use. As an American, I am mad. And if I were Christian, I think I would be even angrier. I think a great deal of tradition is silliness. Fireworks for the signing of a legal document? A pine tree for the birth of a god? Multicolored eggs for a spirit rising from the dead? Feasting on a day the pilgrims fasted (a thanksgiving day)? Does anyone know how this nonsense gets propagated? Does anyone out there know the true stories? Could they enlighten me on the roots of our mythological holiday system?
All of our celebrations take place at our wealthiest relatives’ houses. Usually there’s a ton of good food and “many hands, make light the work.” All of our family, at least the parts on good terms, usually comes. We all participate in the exact same nonsense that the rest of Americans participate in. It used to be I would sit in the garage and smoke for hours. Now that I’ve quite smoking, I don’t know how I will make it through these social functions. Save me, please.
What are my beliefs? Oh boy. I know you’ve already heard more than need be said. Sometimes I like to be heard. Don’t you? There are some frustrations in this world that get me going sometimes. I’m going to keep from digressing though. I believe in peace. I believe that all people should learn to live together in peace. All human beings should work towards understanding, compassion, and love. I believe that humans need to begin to unlock the secrets of the universe and creation through creative, scientific, and religious inquiries. I believe in the slow accumulation of the fractals of truth this universe has to offer. I believe there is something “bigger” than the human species. I believe that life is precious in all forms. I believe that good and evil are supplementary and not adversarial. I suppose you can see most of my values in those beliefs. I also value human understanding and open expression. I value things that are new and reveal more fractals of truth. Have patience and the doors will open.
As far as my family, we all have roles. My mother nurtures us. My father reprimands us. We kids play and work. Historically, my parents have both worked to make ends meet. However, due to the slow conglomeration of media, and the recent trend of the economy to be awful, my father was laid off over a year ago. My mother supports the other four of us and our rotten dog Austin. Mostly our hierarchy involves everyone not liking our dog. When we feel crappy, we all talk about how dumb he is. Austin then goes outside and eats his poop.
Our family enforces a fair number of daily tasks. Each person has weekly responsibilities that make the household run smoothly. We spend a fair amount of time griping and complaining that each of us is doing more than their fair share. There wasn’t much need for discipline in our house. We have all been very good kids. The few times that we did screw up, we have been reprimanded accordingly and effectively. My family is almost completely individualistic. We all do our own thing and mind our own businesses. That is how it has always been. I would not call myself either individualistic or communal. I fit both of these roles in different circumstances. In learning, I am individualistic, but in teaching, communal.
Usually my family goals were to get good grades and stay out of trouble. My family rewarded me by not punishing me. I have achieved a lot of goals on my own. Sometimes I celebrate those achievements with my family. We don’t really have negative or positive feelings about our family. We are all family, and no matter what we do, that’s still the case. We’ve all tried very hard to refute this point. My goal is to be happy. Most of my family, and strangely humanity, have the same goal. Sometimes my goal is to finish an excessively lengthy, boring, and mechanically-questioned paper. Usually, my family does not share this goal, however.
All of my family work in some capacity. My mother is the only one that gets paid to do so. We all attempt to help with housework and supplementary income. Our work ethic is pretty weak. We are lazy. I am currently, much to my glee, being put through school. Usually I apply myself very rigorously to writing. This is an excellent example of how to make my writing feel tortured, mechanical, and futilely endless in sight.
Material possessions in my family are sacred. If anyone touched my blue sock, I would be very mad with them. My parents come from a place they call “The Freedom House.” That just means that they were hippies. Nobly, when my grandmother died, they raised my mother’s seven brothers and sisters in a three-bedroom doll house. My father amassed a small fortune working for the Eastern Echo, while my mother raked in the dough teaching ungrateful high school kids algebra. Thus, we covet belongings. We hide everything we like to eat and I always place my blue sock in a safe.
For my family, time is linear. We are all going to die soon. Nobody is having babies, so I guess our line is just about done. Usually family functions occur when someone does die. Then we get together and cry. We are typically late, but then again, it’s not like the “guest of honor” cares. Usually there are no repercussions and we are all happy just to be a family and not dead like the person in the box.
My family is not in harmony with nature. We use cars that burn gas. However, we do recycle. Recycling produces a significant amount of waste. Since we are wasteful Americans, my mom refutes that she and my father were hippies. I know better. I believe that nature is a treasure. We are slowly destroying that treasure because Americans are selfish greedy bastards. We all know this and don’t care. This is because we are all selfish greedy bastards. Pretty soon now, we’ll drill lots of holes in the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge. Thanks oil president. I use nature as the inspiration for a lot of my writing. I think that in the future we should have many less babies and concentrate on the ones that we do have. Less children means more attention. Also, less people use less land and also do not destroy it quite so quickly. Abortion is a friend of the earth.
In terms of equality, my family has always been pretty unequal. Usually the parents always get their way. I think equality is treating people equally. This is a crazy concept that a lot of people have trouble understanding. Are all people created equal? Of course not. If that was the case, my phallus would be larger. If that were the case, we’d all be exactly the same at birth. What kind of question is that? Should all people have equal rights? No way, that would be chaos. If we all had the right to kill people that would be bad. The right to kill should only be exercised by people that will kill in an inoffensive fashion (heads of state and such). Should all people have equal access to resources? Sure, why not? What does it matter, that’s not going to happen. Are you going to bring gasoline to Ping Xiao in China? I didn’t think so. Do all people have equal rights? No. Why would anyone think that all people have equal rights? Who writes these questions?
My family expected me to be smart and work hard. Luckily I’ve succeeded in some capacity. The questions you are asking are too personal. My high school was all rich white kids, even the black kid. The learning situation was great. Most of the teachers were good. Man, these questions are invasive. I’m not answering that. Since my mother was a teacher, she helped further my education when it needed assistance. I think all people should have access to education except for those in comas.
To summarize, I feel this country is a confused and misdirected one. It is time for us to reflect on ourselves and realize a couple things. We are a world leader, but mostly just with our weapons and economy. We are not the world leaders of education, peace, artistic inspiration, or happiness. You might think I’m digressing here, but I don’t think I am. By telling you how I feel about this world, I’m revealing something much more important than my environment, language origins, or answers to trivial mundane questions. I’m revealing my passion, vices, and ideas. I’m letting you see whatever you think is good, bad, and ugly. I want you to love me, hate me, be inspired, or revolted. That makes my autobiography realistic and gives it passion. Unfortunately, that’s tough to do when all of it has been scripted down to the last sentence. How spontaneous or wonderful is reading ten pages of answers? You are now understanding my mind. Here I am. A product of a lot of boxes I’ve created here. Shelved and discounted. Just wait, I’m not done yet.
The effect of me doing this autobiography was boredom for me and you. As a result, my life is several hours closer to that box I mentioned earlier. Basically, I would parallel this paper with being anally probed by a fierce warrior alien species from a different planet over an extended period about the length of my life. I felt like this exercise was mechanical, invasive, and thoroughly uninspired. How’s that?
I’m sure a lot of my beliefs are in contradiction with the American educational system. So are the beliefs of almost every person on this planet. That’s why there’s a line between professionalism and personal matters. I’m sure my students will have lots of conflicting views with me. That’s okay. We’re all different. I have lots of patience. I accept everyone grudgingly.
Basically I have learned that I have to do this again at the end of the year. That’s a bummer. Maybe next time I will have the opportunity to apply my newly acquired academic knowledge rather than meandering about with poorly-constructed mechanical sentences. It can only go up from here. I achieved all the objectives because I answered all the questions (at least the ones that weren’t inappropriately invasive.) This “new learning,” (that I have to write this paper again) will be useful when I have to write this paper again. As a future educator, I will use this knowledge to never reproduce this horrible, lengthy, mechanical exercise. I will have to repress all memory of this activity before I will ever be able to use it in a classroom. Thus, I never will.