Eating Cake: A Memorandum

Another Monster Me photo, courtesy of the Photo Booth Mac app. I chose this photo because I kinda like the way my hair looks in it. Very stylish, don't you think?

Newsicle

Yay! My friend Shoko is getting married! Next summer! In Seattle!

And now all my enthusiasm--and exclamation points--have run out. But I really am very happy for my friend. She deserves every happiness--and a permanent resident visa.

Acid-Base Chemistry

Today's tutoring session was supposed to be about acid-base chemistry, but my niece's chemistry instructor has fallen behind a little bit, so we covered a bit more stoichiometry problems instead. I feel like I dodged a bullet because, damn, I don't much like acid-base chemistry. I love acid-base indicators though. (In fact, I used to lift litmus paper from my labs, just to have around the house. And I did once pledge to name any female offspring of mine Anna Phenolphthalein. Wouldn't that be the most awesome name ever for a little girl? I think so.)

So, no, we didn't get to very much acid-base chemistry. Instead we covered dilutions involving molarity and other types of stoichiometric calculations. And we reviewed a bit of organic chemistry, IUPAC naming and the barest, tiniest bit of electron pushing, which I love.

My niece is doing pretty well in her chemistry class. English? Well, don't get me started. Of course my niece is doing well in the class, but almost every time we meet, she has some story about her English instructor that makes me want to scream. This week, the English instructor dismissed the class after about ten minutes with the explanation that she didn't have anything to teach them. This followed on the heels of a lecture about how the students keep making the same mistakes in their writing. I was, like, maybe the instructor could have used the class period to TEACH THEM HOW TO AVOID MAKING THOSE MISTAKES. But, no. The instructor also told the class that at the rate that she's covered her syllabus, the class was probably going to end about two weeks early. I was, like, WHAT?! THE?! FUCK?! I've never had an instructor just rush through the syllabus willy-nilly so that she could finish up the semester two weeks early. Seriously? That's either incompetence or this lazy-assed bitch wants a head start on her summer vacation. Either way, WHAT?! THE?! FUCK?!

Yes, I was in WHAT?! THE?! FUCK?! mode, but because I believe in taking advantage of the incompetence of others, I told my niece that since she's doing so well in the class, the instructor's lack of teaching skills is really no skin off her teeth. The other students, the students who aren't doing so well? They're hosed. But my niece will be fine, so screw those other students, right? Let them eat cake.

No, that's not what I told my niece. Of course I'm not going to toss those other students to the wolves just because my niece is able to outdistance them. I suggested to my niece that maybe she could talk to the other students about some things they could do. First, they could talk to the instructor during her office hours to let her know that they want to spend more time in class going over the material that they're having problems with. If that didn't work (or if the instructor made excuses why she wasn't going to do that), then the next thing they could consider doing would be going to the dean to lodge a complaint against the instructor. I told my niece that, yes, even though she's doing well in the class, she herself could so something like this if she feels very strongly about the situation. I don't think she will, but she should know that she has options. Besides that I'm a big fan of sedition, so how awesome would it be if my niece could talk the other students into action? She could be the next Norma Rae.)

And You? You Will Eat Cake.

This is another poem by Frank O'Hara. It's called:

Lines For The Fortune Cookies

I think you're wonderful and so does everyone else.
Just as Jackie Kennedy has a baby boy, so will you--even bigger.
You will meet a tall beautiful blonde stranger, and you will not say hello.
You will take a long trip and you will be very happy, though alone.
You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.
In the beginning there was YOU--there will always be YOU, I guess.
You will write a great play and it will run for three performances.
Please phone The Village Voice immediately: they want to interview you.
Roger L. Stevens and Kermit Bloomgarden have their eyes on you.
Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.
Your first volume of poetry will be published as soon as you finish it.
You may be a hit uptown, but downtown you're legendary!
Your walk has a musical quality which will bring you fame and fortune.
You will eat cake.
Who do you think you are, anyway? Jo Van Fleet?
You think your life is like Pirandello, but it's really like O'Neill.
A few dance lessons with James Waring and who knows? Maybe something will happen.
That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.
I realize you've lived in France, but that doesn't mean you know EVERYTHING!
You should wear white more often--it becomes you.
The next person to speak to you will have a very intriquing proposal to make.
A lot of people in this room wish they were you.
Have you been to Mike Goldberg's show? Al Leslie's? Lee Krasner's?
At times, your disinterestedness may seem insincere, to strangers.
Now that the election's over, what are you going to do with yourself?
You are a prisoner in a croissant factory and you love it.
You eat meat. Why do you eat meat?
Beyond the horizon there is a vale of gloom.
You too could be Premier of France, if only ... if only...