Sweet Tooth - My New Favorite Online Time-Wasting Activity

I could sit and read these for hours.
Literally.
Hours.

Teachable Moment - "Recognizing" Humor

I've been researching ways to teach humor to my creative nonfiction students, as this is by far the hardest unit to really pin down, I've found. So, like always, I try to just Google my way to something curious, a way to spark my own inner teaching muse. I like to think if they can find cool stuff on Google, so can I. Why not show them the best of the web, when appropriate.

So after a crystal-ball-type-search of "Why is humor individual?" I came across this astoundingly logic-based blog posting. It reads like one of those really great Newsweek articles that you find wedged between all the horrors of politics and the economy. A spark of something truly, intellectually brilliant, in a shiny-magazine-article-packaging way: humor can be understood as a cognitive act, i.e. we've sorta figured out how the brain recognizes this thing called humor. The first paragraph as an amuse bouche:

"The theory is an evolutionary and cognitive explanation of how and why any individual finds anything funny. Effectively it explains that humour occurs when the brain recognizes a pattern that surprises it, and that recognition of this sort is rewarded with the experience of the humorous response, an element of which is broadcast as laughter."

Humor is based on patterns. When I recognize something (it is now a pattern, having occurred more than once), it makes me laugh as a reward for being observant. I notice something "funny" about my hubby--his fly is unzipped, let's say--I laugh because I recognize that it should be up, not down. The pattern of zipped flies is broken by this oddity; I get a laugh at his expense because, hey, I noticed it first. This type of humor, I can only imagine, strengthens when the actual "oddity experience" becomes a pattern. So, when I notice my hubby's fly unzipped the fourth time this week, it's EXCEPTIONALLY funny, because a) I recognize that it should be up, generally, and b) I recognize that he does this all the time. Double Bonus Humor.

The article does say the humor of patterned content IS debateable though, since "no content can be inherently more or less funny than any other. It's all about the person looking on the scene, since "[t]he individual is of paramount importance in determining what they find amusing, bringing memories, associations, meta-meaning, disposition, their tendency to recognize patterns and their comprehension of similarity to the equation."

What I'm really interested in, though, is trying to push my students to understand this by looking at two humorous essays of completely different styles and subjects. When I have taught these two essays together (in the past), students invariably have one that they like better. Why?, I ask. They usually can't explain, and if I try to do the same it ends up begin more about technique than an actual preference. (Thus the curse of the lit major. We can't just read an essay, we deconstruct it, right?) I'm happy with just figuring out what we like in these, but as we move toward actually writing humorous pieces of their own, I want a stronger arsenal of suggestions.

I'm thinking/hoping to use this article as a springboard to help them deconstruct their favorite scene (after an interim away from the piece) and see what patterns might exist. Then, to move forward, I'll ask them to think about patterning something that the reader can associate with, as a way to better their chances for being humorous. I'll tie this to a freewrite they'll have just done on "life's irritations" or "obsessions & phobias" and I'm hoping, convince them to make these seemingly inconsequential subjects "ring true" in the minds of the readers. It should make them laugh every time, right...at least that's what all the latest research shows. : )

Sweet Tooth - The $8 Chair

Just thought I'd share my most recent steal-of-a-deal. I picked up this super-cute mid-century modern chair at Goodwill for $8 (actually $10 with a 20% off coupon). After a hearty round of Resolve + Febreeze, the upholstery is in decent condition. It does need a little TLC to cover the scratches on the wood legs, but seriously, folks. It was 8 bucks.

I consistently pay more than that for a decent martini in this town. Am I right? Yes. Gotta love furniture that's less than your bar tab!

Two Words (ok Ed, three!) - (You) Read This!

Perusing the web for an article on active and passive voice usage in business communication (for my professional writing students) I stumbled across Ed Barr's really great blog.

My favorite recent posting is entitled "You only need two words."

I think this concept of "concision as emphasis" is fabulous for professional writing students, and in some ways can be a basis for creative writing as well. It's not always about how much detail you can add. It's not the fancy words or the beautifully extended metaphor. Often the most profound messages stand out simply because of their, well, simplicity.

To me, these statements share another commonality, (which I've fixated on since I just prepared a lecture about sentence structure). These two-word sentences only include a subject and a verb. An object is not included, not necessary. These sentences focus on the action of a single entity, and declare a type of singularity. One person, one action, one moment, one impact. These sentences expand emotionally because they define only a single point out there somewhere. It is the reader's responsibility, then, to position herself in regards to the sentence. "How does this change me, now?" she might ask. What has ultimately been accomplished, then, is a sentence that necessarily engages the reader by not dictating how she must relate to that new information. Relationships are made, but they are more profound since the reader is part of the process. She understands.

Teachable Moment - Careers, Lives & the "Big" Decisions

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about careers and how people make a living. As I mentioned before, I'm teaching a few sections of a professional writing course, and this particular course always makes me think about "what else" I should be teaching. I'm not just showing them how to write memos and emails, this class is about making a series of important professional decisions. The first decision is to take the course and improve their writing skills...good choice, I'd say. The second is a unit where we deal with application packets. Let's apply for real jobs, or at least see how close we can get to a decent application.

What I sometimes have to say is "Don't just pick the job you think you have to apply for." What I really want to say is "Imagine yourself at this job for 5 years. Do you think you will like an 8-5 in a cubicle? Do you like the prospect of paying off student loans on 'commission only'? Will this allow you to do all the things you've been doing in college that you love, like hiking or sports or traveling?"

Nobody asked me those questions in college. Nobody even really implied that, hey, one day you'll HAVE TO GET A REAL JOB! How can this be?!? I'd say it was a bit of good karma from my end...so a brief synopsis for those who may not already know...

Luckily, I followed the "traditional professional path" of a literature major / creative writer and went to graduate school. Luckily, I was awarded a teaching associateship. Luckily, I loved teaching. Luckily, I was hired by the same university from which I graduated (i.e. I worked the network and had minimal "application requirements"). Luckily, (after a brief stint in direct mail marketing) I came back a second time to the same university at a higher pay rate and more stability. Luckily, I survived a horrendous economic tsunami that rendered many of my former colleagues job-less and benefit-less. MOST luckily, I still love my job.

I still have a hard time dealing with the fact that I, anal-retentive super-planner me, just went with the flow. Only when I went back to teaching a second time was I truly choosing my career path in all honesty. Why, do you ask? Because I hated working 40 hour weeks in an office. I didn't like being told when to come in and when to leave. I didn't like having to take a full hour for lunch. I didn't like not being allowed to work 40 hours in 4 days to get a three-day weekend every once in a while. I didn't like having to constantly "team-build" during meetings and forced social outings. I didn't like being stuck in job where I was paid, and valued, based on my "direct experience" and not on my "life experience."

Teaching was my out. It was also my passion. It also was flexible enough to make me feel like a whole person every single day. What does that mean? It means I can keep house, walk the dogs, run errands, cook a homemade dinner, spend quality time with my husband, AND make a contribution to the life of a developing writer/professional EACH AND EVERY DAY, all in one day. It's as close to making everyone happy all the time that you can get. I love my life, my students love my teaching (mostly, ha) and accessibility nearly every day of the week, and ultimately the department loves that students write great things about me on course evaluations. Win-Win-Win.

So what can I do to help these fledgling professionals? Reiterate that a career is something you will commute to, sit though, and actually do work for every day, hopefully, for the rest of your life (with some advancement and changes of course); it's a package deal, though, a career...so it's not just about the dream job on paper, it's about the type of work that fits your life, the one you had, well, long before you ever put your nose to the proverbial grindstone.


Where did all this come from? A funny little article the hubby sent, about "overrated industries." For the record, #1 is a dream we dream together, though we're both too rational to ever jump in (knock on wood!)