póllәtiks

pol-i-tics (noun) [póllәtiks]


1. Activities associated with government

the theory and practice of government, especially the activities associated with governing, with obtaining legislative or executive power, or with forming and running organizations connected with government

(takes a singular verb)

Encarta Dictionary from Microsoft Word 2010

Does that mean that the correct use of the word in this context would be "Politics sucks?"  Sounds wrong but yet so right on so many levels.
I am tired of trying to find kind and gentle ways to explain my stance when it does not align with friends.  They make comments or post on Facebook and I feel like I need to defend what I believe.  However, 1) I wonder if anything registers after I say I disagree, and 2) Does anyone really care?  I scour the internet for articles that may support my views.  Sometimes I have to reassess previous conclusions as I find information that is new to me.  But I try to be knowledgeable. I try not to step on the toes of people with whom I may disagree.  I sound pathetic.  Maybe I should just take forums like Facebook and TV news for what they are: unintentional or even purposeful expressions meant to boil important beliefs down to sound bites or talking points.
To hell with all of it.

Politics=Rabbit Pellets

As the political quagmire deepens during this punishing election season, I notice more and more often that my neighbors are raising rabbits.  (the rabbit thing--borrowed directly from my daughter Colleen)

Don't Waste the Fuzz

There is all of this fuzz caught in the filter of the dryer.  Maybe I could use it to stuff pillows.  Maybe I could somehow spin it into yarn.  It seems such a waste to throw it out or let it burn in the dryer vent.  Stuffing seems to be the solution.  Now, what to do with the ubiquitous cat fur--maybe felting?

A Little Hazy but Happy

It is almost 3 a.m.  I can't quite force myself to go to bed.  There is something going on--something in my head or maybe something emotional.  There is the urge to hit myself on the back of my skull to see if I can get it into my conscious realm.  In the meantime, I loved today for its 90 degree high, so much better than the 100+ that has plagued St. Louis for much of the summer.  I am proud of my son participating in his 1st triathalon and finishing.  I am happy that my daughters are not like some of my aquaintances' children who would just not fit in a family like ours.  They would not be interesting enough to hold their own.  I like my family, my children, the way each is unique but with undercurrents that make them a fascinating unit.  Some might say I am lucky.  Others would say I am blessed.  I am just happy things have turned out the way they have.

Funk

This is probably not the best time to write an entry. I do not feel physically well, and I am unhappy with my job. I might as well be honest: I am unhappy with myself. I have multiple tools available to me that can improve my outlook, but I am currently choosing to ignore them. I am not thinking "poor me." I think I am just in a funk. I am also not a springtime person. I prefer fall and winter. Maybe I will move to Alaska or Iceland. Maybe I am just concentrating too much on myself.
If someone handed me this paragraph to critique, the obvious target would be the overuse of the word "I."

Facebook

Now that I have a Facebook account, I am not sure how to distinguish between what might be appropriate for the blog and what would fit better on Facebook. I do not remember these philosophical dilemmas twenty, even ten, years ago. Maybe length and depth are the criteria. I also imagine more people follow my Facebook page than read my blog. I have "friended" so many people. (I still have not accepted friend as a verb. I am not too excited about gifting either.)
I guess if I want many people to immediately know I have a hangnail, I will post that to Facebook. If, on the other hand, I want to discuss the philosophy of injuries to the hand, I will add that to the blog.
About the hand. . .

Response

I was reading propaganda from the community college where I work, and I found myself responding, "Yah, whatever." Maybe I need an attitude adjustment. . . or just less imposed comradery(sp?) and forced school spirit. I enjoy my students and the people with whom I work, and I try to do my best to make the classroom experience a good one. Just don't try to regiment what I do into some formula for bureacracy's sake. There, I've said it.

More Teaching

I thought, for about a minute, that it would be fun to draw and write a cartoon. If I did, it would be akin to Dilbert and Get Fuzzy, the former because I have some experience with school bureaucracy and the latter just because. Lampooning post-secondary education would be particularly enjoyable. Alas, my drawing skills are subpar. Maybe I could write a book of essays, sort of a Woody Allen tribute, just not as Jewish and depressed.

To Teach

I never tire of teaching. Of course there is the occasional tedium, and frequently there is the smart ass in the back row, but I love it anyway. Part of the fun is getting to know the quiet students, the shy ones, the angry ones who have been forced to take a class against their will, the men and women who are hungry to learn, and even the smart asses. All of their stories are fascinating to me. I am so fortunate to have fallen into this career.

Computers

Sometimes it is as though the monitor is a big, gaping mouth swallowing me whole. I go from email to Facebook to internet to blogs I follow. Time does not exist inside the mouth. When I escape, as inevitably I do, the clock that has been in the corner of the screen suddenly surprises me. Will I always escape or will I become like Tron?
I noticed, however, that my sojourns into cyberspace have not included posting to my blog. Hmmm.