One Final Glitch in the System.

When attempting to sum up the past semester, my mind is all snow drifts and flat tires. I kind of feel a tad stranded in the middle of all it still, and it is kind of a rough task trying to sum it all up. To be perfectly honest, this semester has been a challenge for me. External factors have sometimes made me feel like a marionette being choked by the same wires which create action. However, despite all of that, I have come out of the other side in quite good shape, with a wealth of new experiences to draw from. And, one of the most important catalysts for that, was my time so far in the Writing Center.
In regards to the compositional process, I have always been a bit of a drifter. I have lost so many books with my best work, when hopping from bus to bus or train to plane. I have obscured my work in order to maintain an easy nomadic anonymity. The Writing Center was the first place for me where I actively joined collaboratively with other writers, to work on something resembling a common goal. While I still value my independence and unique voice as a writer, my time here as broadened my horizons in such a way that I feel I can implement my voice with more confidence within a group writing environment. I have always had the confidence to speak up for what I felt to be necessary to speak up for. Now, with my work in the Center, I feel like I now have the confidence to put that unabashed energy into an educational context, and I am eager to see what fruits that can bear.
I never have been fully engaged with the world, to be perfectly honest. Although I have been blessed with a ton of great friends and acquaintances, I have always chased after ghosts and spectral constructs of ideas down hallways and corridors; meaning, I like to roam and ramble, like a cat after a bird, only my bird doesn't exist. My time doing this has been of great help in allowing me to balance my desires to experiment and shape-shift, at least in the writing process, with a concrete sense of purpose and pride. The writers, the consultants, Melissa and Joy...everyone has been an absolute pleasure to meet, get to know, and to work with. The presence of people who have such pride in their abilities and their jobs is invigorating, and makes me want to keep swinging for the fences in regards to my own writing, and helping those students who happen to trek through our doors.
In closing, I would like to leave things for the semester in a fashion which I am most comfortable relaying my thoughts:

in the scribbles
populating margins, napkins
little thoughts that burn the cerebellum
and break free from pens and fingers tapping
in the words
without form, without meaning
which scream to be placed in context
and fight not to be limited by such.
in men, women, and children
who fight to be heard
and struggle with private thoughts which
MUST be made public.
in this grand procession
letters, phrases marching offbeat
i derive something resembling
a little peace of mind.


GOOD NIGHT NEW YORK! :)

Division Day.

Going into this article analysis paper, I am trying to get a handle on where I am as a consultant in general. The first half of this semester was complete blur, wisps of smoke and then...bam!...midterms. I have barely caught up to the fact that I started going BACK TO SCHOOL last spring, and now I am finding myself in the middle of plotting out an actual "American-Family-Approved" future. It's an odd place to be, considering the ground oddity that was my life for the previous 24 years. Growing up in a city of 4 million, in a world where anonymity is part of the game, it has been a real trip to move to a significantly less populated area, shedding my old new world for a cozy new one. Although I miss the nomadic revelry which characterized the ages of 18-22 for me, I am quite excited to be grounded with a wife, a bunch of good friends, and a chance to really "focus" on what I want for a change. This comfort and ease is something I am attempting to parlay into my work in the Center. The one thing I have heard a lot this semester is a variation of this quote; "I was afraid that I was going to be working with someone really 'stuck up'. I'm glad you turned out to be a real person." I have heard this several times, and each time it makes me feel more resolute in what I am trying to do. I am not the most technically sound writer by any means. I struggle with flying off in random directions at most points of my composition process. Yet, I feel with the varied lives I have led over my short lifespan, my appreciation for the here and now resonates with most of the writers I work with, helping both parties relax and attack the writing process with a bit more confidence.
In this spirit, I am on the lookout for great Writing Center literature on "anti-structuralism," in regards to consulting session structure. I honestly feel I work best flying by the seat of my pants, going into each session with a bit of the wide-eyed crazies going on. Writing can be a brutal, archaic, desolate process, and when you put to much emphasis on how to build a session, you forget that you are dealing with an actual human who is just looking for a measure of help. My life as a salesman has taught me many major lessons, yet one thing has always come up roses for me. You NEED to be able to tailor the pitch to the customer, rather than hoping your style will fit with an assumed "majority." Maybe it makes me a bit schizophrenic, yet I never have really copped to having an actual personality structure. I change so much, and adapt as best as I can, in order to attack each situation differently. I am obsessed with self-actualization, and this attention to internal detail is what helps me the most in the Center. Structuring a session is one thing. Restructuring your perspective to make each session work on their own accord, is an entirely different beast.

Half-Awake in a Fake Empire.

Confidence is a peculiar concept. You can take all your vitamins and work out constantly, yet unless you have at least a slight propensity for preening like a freshly bathed peacock, it won't mean diddly squat. I got extremely lucky. Despite not having a chiseled physique, and confusing frosted flakes for Flintstones chewables, I have been able to cultivate a sense of self-worth which has translated into a bit of luck in my relatively short life span. A huge part of this for me, has and always will be, writing. I adore the cruel mistress of the "perfect sentence." I lose sleep on purpose, just to free write about turtles and politicians. I'm never satisfied with my own work, yet that restlessness is essential for me to function as a working member of society. Having my own personal ocean to waste time in gives me the strength to forge ahead with interpersonal communication, rather than sitting home in the fetal position watching Golden Girl reruns on Lifetime. It has been a true gift just to be able to fancy myself as some semblance of a writer, and I feel obliged to help others reach this plateau, no matter what the odds.
This is where this week's discussion on basic writers hits home with me. I feel spoiled and slightly ashamed in some ways, for I have been extremely lucky to have (usually) awesome feedback from most of my mentors and teachers, in regards to my professional, personal, and academic musings. I haven't been beaten down, or told you can't do that, at least to the extent where it hurt. I feel there are basic writers out there, who are just as talented or more so than any damn one of us, yet because of whatever disconnect may be occurring from brain to fingers, it doesn't automatically leap out at the reader. The fact that these people can be marginalized, put down, and forgotten due to a bug in their compositional structural integrity, is a complete crock of (expletive), and needs to be rectified as best as possible. I understand writing for an audience. I understand when you compose something, you need to keep the (potential) reader in mind. However, when did we become so reliant on approval, that we had to sacrifice the basic joy of just creating something, if it didn't fit into a preconceived thought process about what a piece of writing is supposed to be? I guess, as we get closer to the almighty time of pedagogy, I am starting to be exposed as what I truly am; I am a (relatively) flaky idea guy. Some of the best conversations I can remember have transpired with people with disabilities, a fair amount of them with tossed-aside bums of the San Francisco midnight. Their ideas have been a nexus of creative ideals for me, and I have liberally lifted a great deal of their collective world outlooks, in order to be whatever goober I am now. My theory is the fact that basic writers have the same powerful, perspective-altering viewpoints just waiting to be shared. All it's going to require is somebody patient enough to open their (expletive)-ing ears, and listen.

Plug.

I am working out randomness at this blog addy

glitchesinthemonkeycage.blogspot.com

not clean, nor polished, nor whatever. Any feedback would be cool beans.

Oodles of O's

The computer is a fancy little thing, ain't it? We've come a long ways from hooking up Commodore word processors to our giant box set televisions, marveling about how that damn frog can dodge all those crazy car-like blocks (Frogger, anyone?). With the advent of the World Wide Web, and the nature of human curiosity inherent, the internet is evolving into this weird amalgam of porn, sports, absurdity, and altruism. It's exciting, and it's nerve-wracking, yet we are pioneers on a new terrain; our thoughts, our delusions, our dreams, mapping the future world with nothing but concepts and html code.
Right now, with my music blaring and my coffee steaming, I am coming to grips with the whole concept of email consultations. We are helping disembodied writers, who probably emailed us their work while wearing penguin pajamas and reading Cosmo, looking for some guru on the online composition mountaintop to make their words sparkle and shine. Is this a good thing, or is it another example of our culture's shift into self-imposed impersonality? Well, it depends. I think we are walking a very fine line when it comes to taking the "collaborative effort" into the digital realm. It seems like it would be very easy to play up to the stereotype of "fix-it shop," when allowing writers to basically drop of their work in our Google inbox, and let someone else worry about it. Yet, as we discussed the ways of approaching these consultations in class, I began to soften my stance. As with anything, how you frame these sessions makes all the difference. If you attack the paper with cyber red ink, basically playing the deconstructionist, the writer gets nothing out of it except a new, improved paper, sans any effort on their part. However, if you hit them with questions, comments, and concerns in a more global construction sense, it is possible to maintain the spirit of collaboration, even in the land of emoticons.
This being said, do I feel like this form of one-on-one is for me? I have no clue yet, though I do have a slight inkling as to what I prefer. Earlier this week, I had my first repeat customer on the consultation circuit. We had engaged in a brainstorming session over his production review of a play for his Theatre 101 class. He came back, all smiles, with the finished product, dying for me to read it. Just seeing how you have helped someone in their face when they walk into the Center, is not something I feel can even be approximated on the digital front. Despite my various anxieties when it comes to sociability, I still believe that the most powerful form of communication is the age-old medium of face-to-face, fire and volley. A computer screen cannot run the human gamut of facial cues and nonverbal understanding. Well, at least not yet. So, for me, I am guessing the land of number 2 pencils and fluorescent bulbs buzzing might be my pick. Despite this, I am more than happy to give anything a try, and I am excited for the opportunity to do something a little weird and a lot new.

Smash It Up.

A question- is it possible that all of the sectioning and sub-sectioning we engage in order to get certain tasks completed is a hindrance rather than an absolute necessity? Let’s clarify a smidge here. The academic community finds ways to section us off by major, and then within those majors, it splits us off even further by areas of emphasis and interest. This splitting off is meant to give us a focused path to a degree, which will hopefully complement the procurement of employment post-college. Yet, coming from the school of “knowledge is power” and other Schoolhouse Rock ditties, I am of the opinion that expanding your mental arsenal to encompass areas of study which are either uncomfortable, or seeming inessential to your “grand plan,” is the basis of being a well-rounded student AND person.
From a writing center perspective, this concept takes on more weight. There are grammar Nazis, composition Turks, and my particular breed; philosophy dorks. And, this is just an overview of the staff. Our writer base encompasses the exact level of diversity present in the whole of the college. A non-traditional student with four children saunters in looking for a crash course in semi-colon usage. 30 minutes later, an exchange student from Romania needs clarification on what her teacher is trying to convey on the assignment sheet. Finally, to cap it off, you get an 18 year old with their elbows firmly implanted in the grain of our desks, silently cussing the notion of a required visit. This is an extreme amount of variance, which necessitates blending ninja skills, pirate bravery, and Chuck Norris effluence. We just have to be there, willing to adapt and learn, working on weak spots while not allowing our strong points to rust over. I think the number one quality a consultant should have is the understanding that you can never know enough, shedding egos in such a way as to allow the experience itself to dictate the course of action, rather than any predisposed notion of the “right way.”
Let us look at this in the context of an example. My week in the writing center was, in one sense challenging, yet more rewarding than I expected a second week could be. One session was a brainstorming session with a fresh out of the pond 18 year old noob. Another was a second draft revision with a Japanese exchange student. To cap that off, we had the scariest one of all for me; the dreading technical paper grammar dive. Now, I cannot say I handled each seamlessly. I am not expecting myself to EVER be a jack of all trades , let alone at this early stage of the game. Yet, in the midst of all of this confusion, I found a comfortable anchoring point to shelter me from the storm. I want to be here. I want to help. I want to learn, and continue learning, and continue learning, and continue learning (you get the picture). As long as we have the willingness to work, along with the energy of a gerbil on amphetamines, there is no epic fail. Any little screw up on the way is an enhancement, and should not deter us from continuing to pound away. Sectioning ourselves off into comfortable areas of expertise, with a planned objective set comfortably within reach, is a travesty for anyone who just wants to live their work. Helping people never occurs on a straight line, and doesn’t take a specialist’s cold touch. It takes guts, nerves, and a little bit of embracing slight insanity.

No Alarms, No Surprises, Please.

Fearing what we cannot control does not deter us as prideful entities from attempting to anyways. The beast is fearsome, and the beast has gnarly teeth, but what's a little disembowelment for the chance at playing David? Now, this is an extreme example, and I probably would raise eyebrows by equating (insert politically correct multicultural acronym here) students with mythical monsters of lore. Yet, in the psyche of the "white bread" middle American Caucasian, the barriers which exist between the comfort of their lattes and NBC fall lineups, and the swirling outsider nature of the immigrant/international life, seem just as daunting. I don't believe this is xenophobic, so much as it is a part of inherent cultural division. To put it bluntly, stereotypes and distrust are just as American, British, or Canadian as apple pie, crumpets, and hockey fights, respectively. This country was founded on "all men are equal" with giant spiky asterisks looming. Other countries skipped the rhetoric, and went straight to the asterisks. "One nation, one people" will never catch on, because we don't want it to. We want our regional sports rivalries, our Olympic flag waving ceremonies, and even our war(games). It's nature to choose sides, to exclude, and to be wary of change. So with this being said, where do the international/L2/ESL/yippie ki yay/ whatever students fit into this line-drawing exercise? Or, do we really need them to fit at all?
Somewhere in our discussion on Thursday night, a concept hit me like a ton of apples off the cart. Why are we putting cultural differences and assumed intelligence ahead of our stated objective of WRITING CONCERNS? Guess what...it matters not what you think about the Palestinian/Israeli conflict, nor does it matter if you are up on current Japanese pop music trends. We, as consultants, are here to help one community; writers! Weird, eh? I understand that barriers of language, presentation, etc., exist. I know not every session will hit "breakthrough" on the awesome-meter. Yet, piece by piece, puzzle by puzzle, we are here to help every race, creed, color, sexual orientation, or any other property of identity which walks through our doors. If they happen to be from another country, and need the extra help with sentence structure, we are adult enough to make this distinction (I hope!). I happen to know many people from outside the States who grasp the nuances of English more than I ever could hope to. And I'm the consultant! We have to take this, case by case, person by person, because an attitude of generalization only serves dehumanize our work, rendering it inadequate.
In this spirit, I would like to talk about the one student I consulted with this week, who fit the qualification of an (acronym wanted) student. He was from Japan, and was very concerned about his formatting and structuring, in regards to a business letter he was writing. We tackled every concept I could cram into 30 minutes of face to face, and if anything seemed unclear, I did my best to bring it out of the ether. He gave me several ego-boosting compliments, stating at the end of our time, "I most definitely will be back." This one sentence was huge for me. I just treated him as a person with writing concerns, who wrote at one level and wanted to get to another. He recognized that, became comfortable, and reciprocated it such a way, that our session was more productive than I could have hoped. Division is inherent, I guess. Yet, courtesy and hard work never got the memo.