Thoughts Upon Completing an Assessment of Composition 101 Students at Three Rivers Community College

The problem lies mostly with style, not content.

It's not that the students lack good ideas, but rather that they have not yet developed the confident writing voice with which to express them. Even an essay about school uniforms can be made entertaining by a strong, unique voice.

The process by which that skill is attained is iterative and beyond the scope of any singular semester, but I think it begins with a foundational understanding of grammar and mechanics. Dry as they may seem, these are the tools with which every great piece of writing is crafted. Grammar needs to be presented not as a stuffy, boring set of conventions, but in fact the opposite: a way to artistic freedom. In the same way that a knowledge of music theory opens doors for musicians, being well-versed in grammar enables the writer to fully express himself with authority and legitimacy.

When you have mastery over the rules, you can write anything you want—and be taken seriously.

Music Diaries→

Frank Chimero has taken my musical time capsule concept to a whole new level with music diaries:

At the beginning of 2011, I started a music diary on Rdio. I’d make a new list of frequently listened-to songs each month, and ledger them into a playlist without worrying about how it all sounded together. It was a garbage plate of music.

[...]

Now, as I start the first list for 2013, it feels like I’ve stepped into a time machine when I glance over previous months and years. Sticking a song to a month and year turns it into a more spacious memory palace.

I've quickly fallen in love with several songs from his 2012 shortlist, like Beach House's "Other People" and Bat for Lashes' "Marilyn". Both artists I'd never heard of before.

I wrote about Rdio a few months ago, and the more I use it, the more I like it, especially given its social features.

I'm definitely going to start making music diaries. You can subscribe to Frank's playlists via his Rdio profile. My profile is here.

Footfalls

I don't have a thing for feet, but I love the sound of footsteps. Perhaps it's my penchant for Pink Floyd's "On the Run".

You can tell a lot about a person from how they allow their feet to connect with the earth. Do they drag their heels or touch down softly? Do they move heavily or lightly? Can you hear them coming down the hall, or do they just seem to appear from around the corner?

Do they walk mindfully or heedlessly? Do they seem to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders or only a sense of lightness and freedom? Are they running late, or are they already where they need to be?

Perhaps we should ask ourselves the same questions.

Boys and Girls Are Dumb

Here's the thing.

There are seven billion people on the planet. Out of those seven billion, you'll meet tens of thousands. Out of those tens of thousands, you'll maintain real relationships with only one or two hundred. Out of those one or two hundred, only a handful are really worth knowing. Only a handful will know you intimately.

So when you find someone that helps you be the best possible version of yourself, someone who makes you laugh and feel loved and like you can do anything, someone who isn't nuts and doesn't want to do anything with your emotions but nurture and protect them, you hang on to that person, and you don't treat them like shit.

It's not always easy, and the timing is never perfect. But you make it work.

You respect them.

You listen to and support them—through everything.

You don't play games.

You say what you mean, and you mean what you say.

You give them what they need.

You don't give up.

You do whatever it takes.

You make it work.

A person unwilling to adhere to each of these values is not worth having in your life. Look to the next better thing.

The world is full of people willing to screw you over, on purpose or by accident. People are generally good, but that doesn't mean they aren't looking out for themselves first. I don't blame them. You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of someone else.

That's why unconditional love is so rare. For two people to be so confident in who they are—as a team and as individuals—that they are each capable of putting the other person first regardless of conditions or convenience is so rare, it can take a lifetime to find.

Those odds are the stuff miracles are made of.

I Resolve to Be Extraordinary

This year, I'll turn twenty-six.

Throughout my twenties, I've been concerned with living the most peaceful life possible, not externally, but internally. I have always sought a state of mind free from the bonds of competition, fear, and envy. In my pursuit, I have failed as often as I have succeeded, but in doing so I have gotten better. I have learned.

I realize that what I know now is the result of every moment that has lead me to this point. I am grateful for each of them. They have taught me what matters.

In 2013, many more moments will happen. Some will be joyful. Some will be terrible. Some will be long awaited. Some will be unexpected. All will contribute to who I am this time next year and for the rest of my life. I am eager to find out.

But as always, it is not the moments themselves, but how I deal with them that determines who I am.

I cannot control what you think of me. I cannot persuade you to feel what I feel or to believe in what I believe.

You are up to you, and I am up to me.

And so, at the start of a new year, I resolve to be the best possible version of myself. I resolve to do things that fulfill me and remove those that don't. I resolve to love and protect unconditionally those who are closest to me. I resolve to take care of myself so that I may be best equipped to do all of the above.

I resolve to be the person you want to be around.

I will not force things to happen, but rather create circumstances that allow them to. I will not struggle to meet anyone's expectations but my own. I will not fight for anything I don't love.

I will not try to sell you on who I am. Who I am will speak for itself.

I resolve to be me. In doing so, the things that are meant to happen will happen, and the people who are meant to be in my life will be.

I look forward to an extraordinary year.

Once More Unto the Breach

My friend Richard J. Anderson has a new year's resolution:

New Years Resolutions are stupid, and almost guaranteed to fail. Yet, here I am on the last day of 2012, making a resolution, and backing it up with a big, public post on the Internet. That resolution is that I will be posting to Sanspoint every day—or at least every weekday.

For a good majority of QLE's first year, I committed to publishing every weekday. I still don't have a definitive sense of how worthwhile an endeavor that was.

Publishing every day is hard. Motivation comes and goes, and it's often difficult to detect whether or not you're wasting your time. Yeah, yeah, "writing is rewarding even if no one reads it," but that doesn't mean spending time and energy on a piece and not getting a peep in return isn't demoralizing.

To its credit, I believe daily publishing helped me establish a small reputation in my corner of the Internet. I may have even helped a few people. I also believe that, when it comes to writing, quantity begets quality, so I certainly don't regret it.

The eminent Jason Rehmus in a letter to Patrick Rhone:

Publishing a new piece each day isn't an end, but it's simply a path, maybe even just a small part of your path. Even if you don't publish one day or one week or one month, you're still traveling on the path in front of you. Choosing to write every day is a decision to set yourself in motion instead of staying still. An object in motion can change direction more easily than one at rest.

Shortly after QLE's one-year anniversary, I got a job teaching English. While it's been incredibly rewarding, it's also afforded me little time to write blog posts. I felt guilty about that for a long time, but as Jason says, it's all part of the same path. Writing or not writing—time still moves forward.

I don't believe in publishing for publishing's sake. I've written every day before; I know I can do it. But I will not allow my site, which I love, to become a source of stress because of some promise I made on the Internet.

I don't want to replace "I feel bad because I haven't written anything lately" with "I feel bad because I have to write every day."

So no, I'm not resolving to keep any sort of schedule here just yet.

That being said, I do miss the thrill of publishing and the camaraderie of my online colleagues. Thus, I am resolving to write. I resolve to write what I want, when I want, in the hopes that what comes out will be something I wanted to produce, rather than something I was obligated to come up with.

In no way do I mean to discredit guys like Patrick and Richard. They're both far more brilliant writers than I, and I have no doubt they'll produce quality insight on a daily basis. I look forward to reading it, and you should too.

Publishing every day is something every writer should consider at some point. I did it, and it was rewarding and worthwhile. For now, though, this is what works for me. And we should always do what works for us.

Have an extraordinary 2013. See you soon.

To Be Alone with Your Thoughts

To be alone with your thoughts is at once a state of great freedom and insidious terror.

The imagination is an entity of creativity, of wonder and what-ifs, of potentials and possibilities. The mind is an entity of knowledge, of fact and logic and practicality. I envision the imagination like a mist surrounding the mind. Sometimes it serves as a cloud, lifting the mind up to new heights. Sometimes it becomes a fog so thick that the mind disappears entirely.

When presented with real solitude, the imagination runs wild. Little effort is required to push it out the door and into a world of endless thoughts and ideas. The imagination takes the mind by the hand and whisks it away like leaves on a blustery day. Or a sign in a hurricane.

Where the two wind up, however, is not so easily guaranteed.

My imagination often leads me to places of inspiration and optimism, but just as frequently to places of fear and despair. It collects all the loose thoughts floating around in my head and synthesizes new creatures, some delightful and some frightening. It creates scenarios, dozens of hypotheticals, none of which may be true, but all of which seem absolute. And because this alchemy takes place only within the confines of my mind, while I lie idle on the couch, there is no escaping it. There is nowhere to run. There is only wondering and waiting.

Our minds are the one thing over which we have complete control, and yet they often seem to be the most difficult thing to control.

For this conundrum, I have no solution... other than practice. We must not fear our imaginations or the places they may take us. Rather, we must remember that these destinations—for the moment—exist only in our minds.

We may not be able to control the possible futures our imaginations present to us. But we can still choose to act—to get off the couch—and determine whether these visions become reality.

The Hypercritical Way→

David Smith has some great commentary on the end of Hypercritical:

I started to think retrospectively about Hypercritical and why I liked it so much. John has demonstrated that it is often far more satisfying to understand why you like something than to just blindly hold an opinion. I began the process of re-listening through the entire Hypercritical catalog, all 158 hours of it. My goal was to be able to clearly describe why I love the show so much. The result is a critique methodology that I’ll rather overbearingly refer to as The Hypercritical Way.

He's also compiled a twenty-minute clip reel of some of his favorite Hypercritical moments. Terrific tribute.

Via Merlin

Farewell, Hypercritical

Hypercritical, John Siracusa's podcast with Dan Benjamin, has just concluded with its hundredth episode.

I haven't listened to every episode of the show. For me, the topics ranged from utterly engrossing to completely inscrutable. But the one thing that has always remained constant is John Siracusa's incredible perspicacity, and that's why I mourn the show's conclusion.

John's ability to dissect with astounding depth everything from video game controllers to geek culture has consistently floored me, and I will miss the weekly opportunity to learn from his powers of observation and criticism.

Thanks, John, for your diligence and dedication throughout the one hundred episodes of Hypercritical.

The Fromagerie

As previously stated, I keep a small circle of close friends. I don't talk to strangers, and I have no interest in small talk. I am loyal to those who are closest to me.

Still, I often wonder if that's the best practice.

A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, I had lunch with my undergraduate advisor (still my advisor in many ways) and a mutual friend of ours at a fromagerie and bistro.

As we ate and discussed the ins and outs of English professorship, I noticed a waitress, whose beauty I found so astounding that I found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. My company, being older, wiser, and always eager to help me find love in unexpected places, encouraged me to strike up a conversation with her. I obviously demurred, finding it preferable to hide behind my cheeseburger.

Of course, after we parted ways, I realized there was no way I could not talk to her and still live with myself, so I went back inside.

I told the waitress behind the counter that one of her coworkers was wearing a gray, v-neck sweater and inquired about her name. She poked her head around the corner and confirmed my beloved's identity. I asked if I could talk to her for a moment and was told I could find her upstairs at the bar.

Terrific.

The bar was crowded, despite being near closing time. I found her washing a dish (let's say), quite magnificently. I only had a minute to survey the scene and plan my approach before she whipped around and appeared right in front of me, taller than I'd realized.

I greeted her warmly and introduced myself before asking if she'd like to have dinner somewhere, sometime.

I don't know if women rehearse their reaction to these sorts of inquiries, but she seemed genuinely taken aback and managed to find the words explaining she had just broken up with her boyfriend days earlier.

Damn.

I offered my condolences and asked how she was doing, to which she responded, "Not good."

They had been together for a year, and I explained that my last relationship, despite being equally "brief," had also had the depth of one lasting several times that. She seemed consoled by it, and then proceeded to thank me for my invitation because—even though she had to reject me—it was exactly what she needed to hear on this particular day. I said I was happy to help, and perhaps another time would suit us better.

After I left her, I realized I could not in good conscious leave without providing my contact information. I tore a page out of my Field Notes and scrawled the following note:

Pretty Lady Whose Name I Will Not Disclose on This Blog,

It was wonderful to meet you. I hope you feel better soon.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Andrew Marvin

(555) 555-5555

(In case you could ever use an extra friend.)

I slipped the note to the waitress behind the counter, giving her explicit instructions that it was for its intended recipient only, and she promised to deliver it promptly. I thanked her, said "Happy Thanksgiving!", and left.

I share this story because I'm beginning to think action is preferable to passivity when it comes to relationships. I have no desire to befriend every person I meet or clutter my life with acquaintances, but I also can never be sure whether that person over there might be one who changes my life.

I like to think we each have several people walking the earth who possess the capacity to turn us into the best version of ourself. Maybe we won't meet the one who does until five years from now. Maybe we'll meet them tomorrow. Or maybe we already have.

But it can't hurt to say hello.

The Problem with Loyalty

I'm a loyal person.

I keep a small circle of close friends. Always have. Chalk it up to nerdiness, academia, introversion, et al. I don't always know whether it's the best model, but it's the model I've adopted. It enables me to put my best into each relationship. As with multitasking, the more inputs clamoring for your time and attention, the less each receives.

Tasks, of course, are not people. While you may stay up all night with a task, it doesn't embrace you in the morning. You don't take bullets for tasks. You don't wake up every morning asking yourself how you can make a task feel special today. A task doesn't care.

People matter, but it takes a lot to find the good ones. There are over seven billion of them out there, and only a handful are worth knowing. I've met a few, and to them I hold on as tightly as I can.

Even after months and years, real loyalty is unwavering. Often inexplicably so. At times, against better judgment.

I live to make you feel safe. Beautiful. Invincible.

But I can only do so much from here.

The problem with loyalty is that it creates attachment, and attachment invariably leads to suffering.

My heart is loyal to a fault.

The Handshake→

My friend J. D. Bentley has decided to take his website full-time via The Handshake, his new reader-supported venture:

By becoming a supporter, you’ll also be enabling me, an independent writer, to turn a lifelong dream into a reality. I realize that may not be the most enticing part of the deal, but I’m deeply appreciative of the opportunity to make a career out of what I enjoy doing.

J. D. is one of the most talented writers I've come across in my Internet travels. He possesses a kind of ancient wisdom far beyond his years and is an inspiration to me and all who've read him. If there's anyone who has the capacity to make it as a writer on the web, it's J. D., and I have no doubt he'll succeed.

You can support J. D.'s writing for $5 a month or $50 a year. Well worth it.

Room Again for Old Things

Before I was an English professor, I was living a very strange period of my life.

I was virtually done with my master's, but I hadn't found anyone who would pay me for my above-average education. I had a lot of free time, so I filled with things I loved. Being unemployed is demoralizing, and you have to keep busy. I taught karate, I joined a band, I recorded podcasts, I did a lot of yoga, and I wrote to my heart and mind's content.

And yet, I'd often feel stressed out. Not because of workload, but because of external—and subsequently internal—pressures to get off my ass and put my degrees to use.

But how could I? I was doing things I loved. I was living a life comprised almost entirely of passions. Not even slightly lucrative, but very joyful, save for the financial stress.

And yet, ultimately unsustainable. A guy's gotta eat.

Now I'm teaching English composition at a nearby community college. I love it, and hot damn is it nice to have income.

But I was conflicted, because the daydreaming, passion-driven, Internet-living, writer, podcaster, entrepreneurial wannabe in me was protesting.

WHAT ABOUT YOUR BLOG?!

Yeah, I know.

When you set off on a new endeavor, you spend a considerable amount of time adapting. New schedules, new people, new workflows, new locations, new responsibilities, and more. Old things seem... inconsequential. Certainly your Internet website does compared to your newfound stewardship of tomorrow's burgeoning, young minds.

But eventually, harmony returns:

Things have been crazy. Transition surrounds. Time and attention are at a premium. Sleep is a gift.

Life will settle shortly and balance will return. It always does.

It has. Perhaps not fully, but it's getting there. And there's room again for old things.

Patience. Then, balance.

Ahem...

One thing's for sure: the longer you go without writing, the harder it is to start again.

And you feel like the only proper way to end your blogging sabbatical is with a brilliant, mind-blowing post heralding your return to the Internet.

But waiting for such brilliance to arrive takes forever.

So, hello.

Teaching has been great, but it's obviously forced me to put my digital life on the back burner. I've missed it.

I've been thinking about how best to resume things around here, and while I've yet to arrive at a firm conclusion, I thought it better to stop waiting for the perfect solution.

I spent almost a year posting something here every weekday, but I've deemed that schedule to be no longer sustainable. I mean, I could do it, but I'd prefer a renewed focus on quality. We'll see what that looks like.

If you're still here, thank you. I've been gone a long time, and I feel bad. This is an icebreaker.

When Harmony Returns→

My cohost, Sir Jeffrey Inscho:

Things have been crazy. Transition surrounds. Time and attention are at a premium. Sleep is a gift.

Life will settle shortly and balance will return. It always does.

Please forgive the infrequency of activity here. Something had to give. Andrew and I hope to be back on the airwaves next week and posting will commence again when harmony has returned.

My thoughts exactly. Teaching is going very well, but it's taken up a large amount of my time and attention.

Hang in there with me. QLE will wake up again soon.

Thanks so much for your patience and readership.

ZenGeek 007: The Written Word

Our splendid seventh episode:

This week, Andrew and Jeffrey talk about writing! They discuss why writing is a part of their lives, their respective creative processes, and how not to fear the Publish button. They also touch on their favorite writers, essays, apps, environments, soundtracks, and more. Plus, you'll find out their views on the Oxford comma, style guides, BIC pens (gross), and adverbs!

Listen, rate, and/or leave a review on iTunes.
Listen on our website.

Intermission

Hello, friends.

Posting will be light over the next few days as summer draws to a close and I prepare for my new teaching gig. We'll return to our regularly scheduled pursuit of inner peace next week.

In the meantime, consider checking out some old articles from QLE's first year, and be sure to catch up on ZenGeek!

Thanks so much for reading, and I'll see you soon.

Andrew

ZenGeek 006: Nerd Dump

Our somewhat topical sixth episode:

This week, Andrew and Jeffrey indulge in a smorgasbord of tech-related news and topics. They discuss their new jobs, the pros and cons of coffee, and the recent scrutiny of link blogging. They also dive deep on the issue of App.net: what it is, what it isn't, and what it all means. Talk of their respective views on Things versus OmniFocus round out the episode.

If you love you some ZenGeek, don't forget to click five stars or leave a review on iTunes!

Listen, rate, and/or leave a review on iTunes.
Listen on our website.

A Brief Word About Twitter

People are angry about the recent changes to Twitter's API.

I'll be honest: I understand very little about what's going on with Twitter. I'm not a developer, and my eyes tend to glaze over whenever I try to read the jargon. (Marco Arment has a nice summary though.)

The gist seems to be that Twitter is clamping down on what developers can and can't do with the service, which, according to most, is going to make Twitter significantly less awesome. As a result, my Apple nerd brethren have begun defecting en masse to App.net, a new platform whose Alpha service resembles an extra-geeky Twitter with a $50 entrance fee.

I don't know enough about the issue to judge Twitter's actions. Presumably, they're doing what's best for Twitter. That's their prerogative. If Twitter becomes unusable, it will bum me out. I love Twitter.

But fortunately, App.net has come along just in time to shelter us from Twitter's turn to the dark side. If you're over there, you can find me as andrewmarvin.

As we transition from the old to the new, I'm reminded how important it is not to allow ourselves to become overly attached to anything, let alone a social network. Technology moves quickly. If Twitter becomes something to be abandoned, we will adapt, move forward, and be OK.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or benefitted from this article, please consider sharing it with the button below. Perhaps follow me on Twitter. Need something? Email me.

Crawl or Fly

Time flies when you're having fun, and time crawls when you're not having fun.

Think about how long an hour feels when you're stuck at a desk doing less-than-exciting things, just waiting for the clock to reach the time when you're permitted to do something you love.

It stands to reason that if we could have fun during unenjoyable activities, we'd theoretically be able to fast forward through them.

For example, I'm teaching karate camp this week, which means six hours of the same twenty kids every day, which means I need an endless supply of patience and emotional strength. It would be very easy to wake up miserable every morning, watch the minutes tick by, and only think about how great it's going to feel when the day is over.

But thinking that way actually makes the day feel slower. If I try to make the best of it, the day goes by faster, which makes the experience itself less miserable and—because time flies when you're having fun—it makes 3 PM arrive sooner rather than later.

If I was sitting at a desk all day, I'd want to make it as enjoyable as possible: keep the area clutter-free, buy some decent speakers to listen to music, and maybe add something to my desk that makes me smile when I look at it.

The point is that the quality of our experience during times we don't enjoy is entirely dependent on our ability to make the best of them. So when I wake up in just a few short hours to spend yet another day teaching the same rambunctious kids, I have to decide whether I want to make the day fly or crawl.

It's up to me, and to you.

Thanks for reading! Want more? Grab the free QLE Manifesto. Perhaps follow me on Twitter. Need something? Email me.