Admittedly, two of those endings came in the form of video games, but those are significant to me in a particular sense--I'll get to those in a minute.
The third of the eponymous endings is this: I have officially finished my last class. I have somehow survived my first year as a teacher. I'm waiting for the reality of that to sink in. While I wait (could take weeks...but don't worry, this blog probably won't be that long), I'd like to put down a little bit of my sentiments.
School is Out
I've always enjoyed academics. I've enjoyed learning, reading (as you may have seen elsewhere), and most things attached to academics. I lamented--truly lamented--graduating from college, though the feelings were a little far removed because of the circumstances. I've toyed with the idea of immediately looking into a Master's program and returning to my life as a student. Recently, Gayle and I decided to push back Peter's last (we hope) surgery until mid-June of 2010. This means that a guaranteed push back in finances and capacity to actually attend school again. If our family grows again, as we're thinking it might, then that will further extend the commencement of that goal.
So the idea of school being out is intensely bittersweet, and right now it's profoundly bitter for me. I recognize that what I love to do is learning, and I can do that best when teaching. I don't tell my students this (mostly because my friend complained about a teacher who said this to him, and I recognize the validity of my friend's irritation), but I learn as I'm teaching them. I really do learn with them and from them. So my capacity to reason, to understand, and to think grows because I have to do so to help my students. That isn't to say that I know nothing and anyone could take my job; instead, it's saying that what I get out of the experience, what I learn about the curricula, is greater than what they do.
With all of that floating around in the back of my mind, I'm trying to see more of the sweetness that comes from having summers off. Make no mistake, three motivating reasons for being a teacher are June, July, and August. But for me, they aren't the largest reasons. I will genuinely miss what I have this year. One of the few things that my feeble brain has been able to come to grips with--in large part thanks to my missionary service in Florida--is that what I have now is significant and unrepeatable. A modified hedonism is in effect: Enjoy this moment for what it is, particularly if you don't have a future moment you need to plan for yet. (That sounded WAY better in my brain than it did on the screen. I'm not changing that.) That is not to say that this year will be my best year (though I fear that's the case); that is not to say that next year will be any better (though I hope it so). It is to say that what I have now can never be repeated, and that makes me sad. It also leads me to a tangential thought on the 'How to Read' blog I put up a little bit ago, and the two video game endings I mentioned in my pre-ramble.
Tangent First
Tangent: Reading (and this, I think, should be broadened away from simply text interaction like this or in a book, but inclusive of any form of communication, whether it be audio, visual, interactive, or tactile) allows me to encapsulate life into more identifiable moments. Gayle is reading a book series that I read at the end of high school, soon after we broke up--a move that lasted for a couple of years, but ended when we got engaged and then married. Anyway, in the books, there are two characters who are in love and, after a long period of separation, they get back together. They get all makey-outy and etc. on each other, which ramped up my hormones. I got all makey-outy on Gayle after finishing one of the books.
The point is not to be scandalously autobiographical, but instead to point out that now I can't think about that particular book (The Stone of Tears) without remembering that night.
This isn't unique to just the Goodkind books; I distinctly wishing I was with F'lar and Lessa one time when I was in Boy Scouts, reading about their world instead of passing out campaign flyers in the frigid October air to people who didn't want a Boy Scout ringing their doorbell. And this time of year, with the endless sunsets of May, drive me to distraction because Cinnabon closed while I was in Florida, and I have a nearly overpowering urge to buy a Resident Evil novel and a Cinnabon and eat away while reading some mindless zombie lit--a tradition that started years ago when I first became interested in the Resident Evil series. In fact, many of my memories are entwined in the fabric of books. It is little wonder, then, that I am so enamored of books; they comprise a major facet of my identity.
Couple with this is the fact that I remember the stories, too. Sometimes, I can recall on which page, left or right, a particular phrase or image is located. I have purposefully wanted to read a book again, but refrained because I knew what happened too well.
That isn't to say I have an eidetic memory or anything like that. I have plenty of things that I don't remember. I just don't know what those are. Anyway, the way this all links together is simple: Unlike a school year, books remain. Reading for me is a chance to freeze time, to return to something that is always there.
I mourn whenever Hamlet dies at the end of the fifth act. But I can always go back a few pages and hear him again. As a character, he both never lives yet never dies, and that sort of miracle of literature is so intoxicating I don't think I'll ever tire of it.
Snake!! (And Spoiler Alert For Any MGS Potential Fans)
Which leads me (finally) to the other two endings. Today at school, a student of mine asked for my help on beating Metal Gear Solid on the PlayStation. Neither he nor I had another final, so we found a spare room and TV and knocked the game out in a couple of hours. (Yeah. I have some of the geekiest, coolest kids in my classes.)
I watched the end of MGS for the first time since beating MGS4, which meant that I watched it for the first time period, really. That's a tangent too complex and off-topic for this blog, so I'll suffice to say that seeing the ending of MGS reminded me why it's such a widely regarded game. I wouldn't be surprised if, a dozen years from now, people will still be saying that MGS is the masterpiece of the '90s.
Anyway, once that was over, I came home with Peter (who fell asleep in the car), and beat MGS3, which I have been playing recently. I wanted to try the series chronologically, to see how all of the pieces fit in a post-MGS4 reading of the games. After seeing the ending of MGS again, however, I don't think I'll play MGS1. It's a fun game, but not as much fun to play as the others, and I really want to look at MGS2 in its context of the whole series.
Watching the final cutscenes of Big Boss' escape and the typical Kojima-whoops-you-thought-this-but-you-were-WAY-wrong ending, I was struck with a powerful feeling of nostalgia and loss. Yes, I can play the game again. I can play other games. I can experience the narrative again, but the life of the character, the sacrifices that Snake felt while saluting the grave of The Boss, knowing the truth of what she sacrificed....it struck me as immutable, an ineffable touch on the human experience. The digital characters and the frustration at actually beating the game faded. I felt that I had truly accomplished something, and it had destroyed an amazing woman. (By the way, if you haven't played any of the MGS games, this isn't supposed to make sense.)
In fact, I felt similarly after defeating Liquid at the end of MGS. It wasn't as poignant as it is when I play all the way through myself, but it still resonated with me. It still spoke to me, and pointed out all of the things that the MGS games should make me think about. I cared.
This isn't to say that every game makes you care as much. Even in Resident Evil 5, I don't care about Chris' journey as much as I do about getting trophies or enjoying the game. (That being said, I do disagree with my friend who said that Chris didn't change. No, he didn't change much, but by the end of the game, he found the answer he asked himself at the beginning--it isn't a lot, but it's much more than what Leon Kennedy goes through in Resident Evil 4.) Aside from the casual games, there are a lot of titles that simply don't have compelling characters in them--I play for the sheer ludic fun of it all.
But that's the power of Metal Gear Solid and why, in my opinion, it has become such an impressive and important series. It's also the power of literature. It is that ability to create something unreal and make it real. That's what makes Shakespeare so endlessly fascinating, it's what makes Mozart still played, it's what makes The Lord of the Rings movies worth the time commitment. That's what reading--truly reading, knowing how to read--is all about.
And to Commence
Whence comes the beginning, then? Well, a new chapter in my life, that's for sure. Just like I can never be an unmarried bachelor again (divorce doesn't count--nor is it an option); just like I can never be unfathered (is that even a word?); just like I can never really return to the mission field; just like I can never be who I was yesterday--or who I will be tomorrow--I can never be a first year teacher again. So I'm starting over. I'm starting new. And I think that this blog will be a harvest field of thought as the summer progresses. I plan on beginning the revisions of my story, Words of the Silenced, next week, a frightening suggestion since this is the book that was rejected last year. Also, I'm thinking of taking some of these ideas, mix them up with some new philosophers I've been introduced to thanks to some current readings, and put them into a codified exploration of how I think about video games. If that goes according to plan, I will essentially have a draft of what I want my Master's thesis to be about--if I can find a school that's willing to let me do that as, say, an MFA thesis. So, like I stated in that last-linked blog post, my new life will commence.
It has been nine months since that entry was given, and I have to say that I'm a better, happier person than I was then. Let's hope I can say the same in another nine months.
UPDATE: As soon as I finished this blog (another end), I went off and finished The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Another end...and a highly recommended book.
The third of the eponymous endings is this: I have officially finished my last class. I have somehow survived my first year as a teacher. I'm waiting for the reality of that to sink in. While I wait (could take weeks...but don't worry, this blog probably won't be that long), I'd like to put down a little bit of my sentiments.
School is Out
I've always enjoyed academics. I've enjoyed learning, reading (as you may have seen elsewhere), and most things attached to academics. I lamented--truly lamented--graduating from college, though the feelings were a little far removed because of the circumstances. I've toyed with the idea of immediately looking into a Master's program and returning to my life as a student. Recently, Gayle and I decided to push back Peter's last (we hope) surgery until mid-June of 2010. This means that a guaranteed push back in finances and capacity to actually attend school again. If our family grows again, as we're thinking it might, then that will further extend the commencement of that goal.
So the idea of school being out is intensely bittersweet, and right now it's profoundly bitter for me. I recognize that what I love to do is learning, and I can do that best when teaching. I don't tell my students this (mostly because my friend complained about a teacher who said this to him, and I recognize the validity of my friend's irritation), but I learn as I'm teaching them. I really do learn with them and from them. So my capacity to reason, to understand, and to think grows because I have to do so to help my students. That isn't to say that I know nothing and anyone could take my job; instead, it's saying that what I get out of the experience, what I learn about the curricula, is greater than what they do.
With all of that floating around in the back of my mind, I'm trying to see more of the sweetness that comes from having summers off. Make no mistake, three motivating reasons for being a teacher are June, July, and August. But for me, they aren't the largest reasons. I will genuinely miss what I have this year. One of the few things that my feeble brain has been able to come to grips with--in large part thanks to my missionary service in Florida--is that what I have now is significant and unrepeatable. A modified hedonism is in effect: Enjoy this moment for what it is, particularly if you don't have a future moment you need to plan for yet. (That sounded WAY better in my brain than it did on the screen. I'm not changing that.) That is not to say that this year will be my best year (though I fear that's the case); that is not to say that next year will be any better (though I hope it so). It is to say that what I have now can never be repeated, and that makes me sad. It also leads me to a tangential thought on the 'How to Read' blog I put up a little bit ago, and the two video game endings I mentioned in my pre-ramble.
Tangent First
Tangent: Reading (and this, I think, should be broadened away from simply text interaction like this or in a book, but inclusive of any form of communication, whether it be audio, visual, interactive, or tactile) allows me to encapsulate life into more identifiable moments. Gayle is reading a book series that I read at the end of high school, soon after we broke up--a move that lasted for a couple of years, but ended when we got engaged and then married. Anyway, in the books, there are two characters who are in love and, after a long period of separation, they get back together. They get all makey-outy and etc. on each other, which ramped up my hormones. I got all makey-outy on Gayle after finishing one of the books.
The point is not to be scandalously autobiographical, but instead to point out that now I can't think about that particular book (The Stone of Tears) without remembering that night.
This isn't unique to just the Goodkind books; I distinctly wishing I was with F'lar and Lessa one time when I was in Boy Scouts, reading about their world instead of passing out campaign flyers in the frigid October air to people who didn't want a Boy Scout ringing their doorbell. And this time of year, with the endless sunsets of May, drive me to distraction because Cinnabon closed while I was in Florida, and I have a nearly overpowering urge to buy a Resident Evil novel and a Cinnabon and eat away while reading some mindless zombie lit--a tradition that started years ago when I first became interested in the Resident Evil series. In fact, many of my memories are entwined in the fabric of books. It is little wonder, then, that I am so enamored of books; they comprise a major facet of my identity.
Couple with this is the fact that I remember the stories, too. Sometimes, I can recall on which page, left or right, a particular phrase or image is located. I have purposefully wanted to read a book again, but refrained because I knew what happened too well.
That isn't to say I have an eidetic memory or anything like that. I have plenty of things that I don't remember. I just don't know what those are. Anyway, the way this all links together is simple: Unlike a school year, books remain. Reading for me is a chance to freeze time, to return to something that is always there.
I mourn whenever Hamlet dies at the end of the fifth act. But I can always go back a few pages and hear him again. As a character, he both never lives yet never dies, and that sort of miracle of literature is so intoxicating I don't think I'll ever tire of it.
Snake!! (And Spoiler Alert For Any MGS Potential Fans)
Which leads me (finally) to the other two endings. Today at school, a student of mine asked for my help on beating Metal Gear Solid on the PlayStation. Neither he nor I had another final, so we found a spare room and TV and knocked the game out in a couple of hours. (Yeah. I have some of the geekiest, coolest kids in my classes.)
I watched the end of MGS for the first time since beating MGS4, which meant that I watched it for the first time period, really. That's a tangent too complex and off-topic for this blog, so I'll suffice to say that seeing the ending of MGS reminded me why it's such a widely regarded game. I wouldn't be surprised if, a dozen years from now, people will still be saying that MGS is the masterpiece of the '90s.
Anyway, once that was over, I came home with Peter (who fell asleep in the car), and beat MGS3, which I have been playing recently. I wanted to try the series chronologically, to see how all of the pieces fit in a post-MGS4 reading of the games. After seeing the ending of MGS again, however, I don't think I'll play MGS1. It's a fun game, but not as much fun to play as the others, and I really want to look at MGS2 in its context of the whole series.
Watching the final cutscenes of Big Boss' escape and the typical Kojima-whoops-you-thought-this-but-you-were-WAY-wrong ending, I was struck with a powerful feeling of nostalgia and loss. Yes, I can play the game again. I can play other games. I can experience the narrative again, but the life of the character, the sacrifices that Snake felt while saluting the grave of The Boss, knowing the truth of what she sacrificed....it struck me as immutable, an ineffable touch on the human experience. The digital characters and the frustration at actually beating the game faded. I felt that I had truly accomplished something, and it had destroyed an amazing woman. (By the way, if you haven't played any of the MGS games, this isn't supposed to make sense.)
In fact, I felt similarly after defeating Liquid at the end of MGS. It wasn't as poignant as it is when I play all the way through myself, but it still resonated with me. It still spoke to me, and pointed out all of the things that the MGS games should make me think about. I cared.
This isn't to say that every game makes you care as much. Even in Resident Evil 5, I don't care about Chris' journey as much as I do about getting trophies or enjoying the game. (That being said, I do disagree with my friend who said that Chris didn't change. No, he didn't change much, but by the end of the game, he found the answer he asked himself at the beginning--it isn't a lot, but it's much more than what Leon Kennedy goes through in Resident Evil 4.) Aside from the casual games, there are a lot of titles that simply don't have compelling characters in them--I play for the sheer ludic fun of it all.
But that's the power of Metal Gear Solid and why, in my opinion, it has become such an impressive and important series. It's also the power of literature. It is that ability to create something unreal and make it real. That's what makes Shakespeare so endlessly fascinating, it's what makes Mozart still played, it's what makes The Lord of the Rings movies worth the time commitment. That's what reading--truly reading, knowing how to read--is all about.
And to Commence
Whence comes the beginning, then? Well, a new chapter in my life, that's for sure. Just like I can never be an unmarried bachelor again (divorce doesn't count--nor is it an option); just like I can never be unfathered (is that even a word?); just like I can never really return to the mission field; just like I can never be who I was yesterday--or who I will be tomorrow--I can never be a first year teacher again. So I'm starting over. I'm starting new. And I think that this blog will be a harvest field of thought as the summer progresses. I plan on beginning the revisions of my story, Words of the Silenced, next week, a frightening suggestion since this is the book that was rejected last year. Also, I'm thinking of taking some of these ideas, mix them up with some new philosophers I've been introduced to thanks to some current readings, and put them into a codified exploration of how I think about video games. If that goes according to plan, I will essentially have a draft of what I want my Master's thesis to be about--if I can find a school that's willing to let me do that as, say, an MFA thesis. So, like I stated in that last-linked blog post, my new life will commence.
It has been nine months since that entry was given, and I have to say that I'm a better, happier person than I was then. Let's hope I can say the same in another nine months.
UPDATE: As soon as I finished this blog (another end), I went off and finished The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Another end...and a highly recommended book.
Comments
It's pretty sweet.
By the way, I ordered Metal Gear Solid 2, and I'm hoping to get it some time next week.
Yes and no. I'd never seen the Otacon ending, true, but it was my first time experiencing the ending since beating MGS4 last year. So it was the first time in the last 12 months that I've seen the ending of the game.
I just beat MGS2 m'self. So incredibly good...not to hype it up too much.
My dogs are also nice-looking outr?about the laser gyroscope I got from DealtoWorld.com. They unceasingly follow the gyroscope as it spins, although at principal they kept barking at the laser slight advertise, and also because it produces music. But after they got worn it, they've stopped barking but simply keep following the gyroscope whenever I start spinning it. Kids are also bonny amused alongside it. On occasion it's good to possess pleasing toys on all sides the lineage so that you can go away the bit of frippery trifle with on while the kids are being amused or playing with it while you count prepare foodstuffs or fall heir to changed. The gyroscope is unified such play with with this purpose.
The gyroscope I bought from DealtoWorld.com has a dragon as a pattern on it, and produces a dainty accompany with red, obscene, and green colours. Take a look at the pictures I've uploaded of the gyroscope with laser light show. The music produced from the gyroscope is not that renowned but facts plenty to consider any supplementary customer to the house. The gyroscope is red and black, making it look extraordinarily cold, and measure macho with that dragon imprint.
The music flare make clear gyroscope runs on 6 LR44 batteries, which are replaceable anyway. I've also euphemistic pre-owned this gyroscope to stagger my girlfriend during our anniversary celebration. I did the cheesy thing of decorating the hotel room with roses and when I led her in, I started up the gyroscope as well so that the laser light register produces a romantic effect. I also had some battery operated candles so all the moonlight effects created a slightly romantic atmosphere. She loved it, past the way, to my relief. I also bought the candles from DealtoWorld.com. These days it seems to be my non-fulfilment shopping put in favour of all gifts and ideas in compensation emotional occasions.
Since Christmas is coming, this laser light playing gyroscope can perhaps be a great Christmas gift in behalf of the toddler or even the humour! Alternatively, the gyroscope can simply be a gracious reckoning to the ordinary Christmas decorations. I can imagine placing it within a mile of the Christmas tree and perchance spinning it when guests arrive in the house. Looks like [url=http://www.dealtoworld.com]DealtoWorld.com[/url] is getting my business still again!
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