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pyhee
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Name: Sarah Country: Korea, South Gender: Female
Interests: Acting, chess, religion, philosophy, sewing, horseback riding, dancing (salsa, hip-hop, bellydancing), writing stories, singing, playing v-ball, playing the piano, swimming, art (or any craft for that matter), chillin with my friends, listening to music. Expertise: Waiting until the last minute to do my chem problem sets, eating chocolate, the art of hitting the snooze button on my alarm, having late-night conversations, laughing, shining shoes, zoning out Occupation: Student
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Member Since:
3/30/2003
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| We have some competition going on between the med one men and women. In the midst of the polemic, apparently some of the men suggested that instead of “men vs. women”, the stakes should be, “doctors vs. nurses.” Trying to keep good humor, I responded to all of the women and suggested “women vs. men” should instead be “doctors vs. murses.” Then I stared at my inbox for a while, and sent an email to my classmate: “Does no one else think this is unprofessional, sexist, and offensive?” I posted an entry not too long ago after being chided for an attempt at humor that apparently came across as insensitive. In that same vein, my first email was good-natured because I asked myself: should I not be offended? Regardless of whether I should have been or not, I was offended. This is not a rant about the inappropriateness of the comment, because there is a second part to the story. After lecture, a classmate of mine told me a pretty offensive joke. Before I go on, let me contextualize by saying that this guy has a reputation for having a rather porous social filter. I don’t say this with any disapproval—as a matter of fact, I get along with him quite well, and this is because I expect him to say things that are completely inappropriate. But, per his behavior whenever I see him, it is always with the mind and confidence that he doesn’t mean any harm by it. That said, I recognized right away that the joke was pretty abhorrent. But I burst out laughing. Obviously the humor registered somewhere in my brain—I would just never, ever, ever repeat it in a remotely professional setting or in company where I cared at all about my reputation. I’m not going to repeat the joke—that just gives you an idea of how inappropriate it was. But I will say this: the “doctors vs. nurses” comment was pretty mild compared to what I heard after lecture. Yet the former offended me, while the latter did not. So I tried to break it down. In any other context, the subject matter of the joke would not be funny at all. I’ll hint at the nature of the joke by giving an example: I did not laugh when I watched Schindler’s List or read Night. Such jokes are offensive, I imagine, because they treat suffering not only with indifference, but with amusement. To be able to laugh at another person’s misfortune (if the misfortune is bad enough, because, come on, we all laugh at the video where the guy gets whacked in the nuts with soccer ball) is, as far as I can tell, bad form for either one or both of the following reasons: 1) the ability to laugh at suffering implies a degree of indifference for such suffering, and this reinforces a particularly negative quality of behavior, or 2) if we laugh in the presence of the one suffering, the person feels that his or her suffering merits not consolation and indignation, but ridicule, and this is hurtful. I think I have my bases covered, so in examining reason number one, I’ll say this: there is a great deal of indifference to suffering that we accept in society, and its acceptability seems to depend on the context. Take my ever ubiquitous example of the homeless guy on the street. I’m not going to get into a rational argument about the true benefit to society in giving a homeless guy a dollar, but this is only because that is irrelevant. Empathy is not a product of rationale. As a matter of fact, the ability to override empathy with such dictums as, “they will only use it for booze,” or, “what kind of world would it be if we were always helping those who won't help themselves” is, in my opinion, actively trying to be indifferent to another’s misfortune. Regardless of whether you’re doing society a disservice or not, he still might be without a meal that night. Or cold. Or sick. Passivity to caring, one may argue, is not as bad as actively finding suffering to be funny. Perhaps. But in jokes that make light of others’ suffering, it is not the misfortune in itself that makes the joke funny. We are expected to laugh in spite of what we have been taught about how to act when others are suffering, and perhaps the audacity (and we can only recognize the audacity because of the twinge in our consciences) serves to make the joke even funnier. Indifference takes care of the “in spite” part. Example: in case you haven’t heard the Tiger Woods joke, it goes something like this: Q. What’s the difference between a golf ball and a car? A. Tiger Woods can drive a golf ball three hundred meters. There are two elements to this joke. We’re not expected to laugh simply because of the pun on “drive.” But we also aren’t expected to laugh simply because Tiger Woods drove his car into a tree. I am in no way trying to justify the use of such jokes in any and all contexts, and this is precisely because I believe that, of the two possible reasons that offensive jokes should be offensive, the second reason – that someone who is suffering may hear and be hurt – is really the clincher. Todd had commented on one of my posts about the use of “your mom” jokes, and how they are not necessarily offensive in themselves. In poor taste, perhaps, but this largely depends on who is present. Using a “your mom” joke on your boss may be a faux pas, but use it on someone whose mother recently passed away and you’re in entirely different territory. Why? Because we understand the hurt it may cause them. And it stops being funny. My classmate’s joke did not offend me because I had no personal stake—but part of me realized that others did, and this was where my conscience kicked in. Was the joke harmful if no one else who had a stake in it heard? I’m going to say no, and that the only way it could be harmful was if it reinforced a particular attitude that perpetuated hurtful actions. Whether it does or not is, I admit, an entirely different debate. Secondly, simply from observing my classmate’s behavior, I knew that he held no ill-will or prejudice against the demographic targeted in the joke. Now to bring the post full-circle. Why did I find the “doctors vs. nurses” joke offensive? First, I didn’t know the person who said the joke. There was nothing there to convince me, without giving him the benefit of the doubt, that his attitude was not in same way making a statement about women’s abilities to become doctors. Now, from a sampling of guys that I know, chances are that he doesn’t inherently believe that men make better doctors than women. But in the absence of any countering evidence, the indifference that he showed to the attitude that women shouldn’t be presented as inferior – in light of the fact that misogyny in medicine was no myth for quite some time—was enough to make me chafe. Secondly—and this is probably the bigger reason—there was the lack of consideration that, in making his comment, he may very well have offended some of his classmates. This goes back to the “your mom” jokes. Clearly if he did not intend to offend, he would have had to make the assumption that either a) no one would be offended, or b) that no one should be offended. But what determines whether someone should or shouldn’t be offended? Most men would argue that it’s silly to get offended at a “your mom” joke when it is clear that the source of the joke has no real ill-will toward the target. But intent is not always enough, and if the person has had a particular experience, the joke can sting. Perhaps there would have been no harm done if I had never heard the joke. But I have heard it, and in order to not be offended, I have to be okay with idea of men finding the notion of women being inferior doctors amusing. Regardless of his intent, somehow I just can’t be okay with that. | | |
| Every now and then I'll go through a phase where I notice a particular actor, become mildly obsessed with the actor, and will proceed to watch just about every movie featuring the actor that I can get my hands on. These episodes are transient only in the sense that my zeal will last for only so long, and then my interest sort of goes dormant for a while until I relapse. But it never really goes away completely.
Here's a list:
- Robert Powell (probably the most severe case and one that culminated in a website that, despite the embarrassing schoolgirl adulation plastered all over the webpage, I can't bring myself to take it down)
- Gary Oldman
- John Malkovich
- Willem Dafoe
- Alan Rickman
- Mark Hamill
I think it's safe to say that my choice of actors had little to do with physical attractiveness (with the exception of Mark Hamill, whom I am in love with simply because he is Luke Skywalker). Some of them hold a particular gravity on the screen (Alan Rickman), and others I admire for their ridiculously versatile acting (Gary Oldman is my acting god).
When I was seventeen, I noticed Crispin Glover as the Creepy Thin Man in "Charlie's Angels." He was delightfully weird with his Spock eyebrows and complete lack of lines--and let's not forget that high-pitched scream! I looked up his credits on imdb and found that the only film available at the video rental in which he had a leading role was "Willard". I rented it, but for some reason didn't appreciate "Willard" nearly as much as I do now. That phase ended fairly quickly, and I didn't watch any more of Mr. Glover's films until recently.
Last year I opened a NetFlix account and started sifting through titles by actor. I don't remember why Crispin Glover's name popped into my head, but I ended up watching a few YouTube clips of the Creepy Thin Man and pretty much relapsed. I watched "Willard" again, then "River's Edge" and "Fast Sofa", and Crispin Glover became my new actor obsession.
Fortunately, he's become a lot more active in the bigger Hollywood productions (though he was known best for his role as George McFly in "Back to the Future" back in the day); he was the voice of Grendel in Beawulf, and he's the Knave of Hearts in Tim Burton's new "Alice in Wonderland". Turns out that he'd also been touring with his own film projects as well, but I paid little attention since I doubted that he would be coming to Northern Cali anytime soon.
Last month I was doing a little catching up with Mr. Glover's films and noticed that someone had posted his tour dates on a message board. Lo and behold, he was going to be in Grandview on Nov 22. Seats were $20.
You can bet I was all over that.
Before I go on, I must say: Crispin Glover has done a ridiculously good job of coming across as eccentric. Genuinely eccentric. Look up "David Letterman and Crispin Glover" on YouTube to see him almost karate kick Letterman in the head during his guest appearance. But that's why I find him so fascinating.
His tour consisted of readings from his book, a screening of his film, and a question and answer session. The books were a series of obscure titles in which he had basically cut and pasted sentences and pictures, written his own words in, and produced a series of passages that make absolutely no sense whatsoever. His films are no more conventional; nearly the entire cast has Down Syndrome, and the lead actor (if you can really call the role a leading one) has a severe case of cerebral palsy. There is plenty of taboo subject matter thrown in there with the intent of making you squirm.
So, I didn't know quite what to expect when I got to the theater. But I got a center seat in the second row, and when Crispin Glover walked out on stage the first thing I noticed was that he was no less attractive in person than he was on camera. He is an alarmingly beautiful man. He did a few readings from his book, accompanied by a slideshow, and then thanked us for coming before walking back stage while the movie "It is Fine, Everything is Fine" was to start.
But it didn't really start--at least, not for an hour or so. Something was wrong with the projector wheel, and eventually Mr. Glover ran back onstage to say that he had a digital copy of the first film in his trilogy "What is It?" on his computer, and that we would be watching that instead. He then proceeded to hook his computer up to the projector, and I'll tell you, seeing Crispin Glover's desktop displayed on the screen was a little bizarre. He has a mac, by the way.
While he was messing with the display, the owner of the theater apologized for the delay and announced that concessions were free. I was starving, so I ran to the lobby for some popcorn.
While I was waiting, I heard someone say behind me, "The movie is starting now." Of course I turn around, and Crispin Glover is looking right at me. Lest I give the impression that I was more interested in popcorn than I was in his film, I followed him into the theater, where he stood for a second in the aisle to make sure that the picture was good. Then he walked back toward the door, and as I held the door open for him I was thinking, "I HELD THE DOOR OPEN FOR CRISPIN GLOVER!!"
The movie wasn't any more or less weird than I expected it to be, so there were no surprises. After the movie was over, Mr. Glover came to the front to ask if there were any questions. I had seen interviews with him before, but I was reminded once again: Crispin Glover is remarkably articulate, and there was no hint of eccentric while he talked. He spoke for quite a bit about his vision for the film, and how he was trying to make a statement against corporate filmmaking and the barriers they set up for creative expression, and why he chose actors with Down Syndrome. I got to ask my question, so by the time the Q&A session was over I was as happy as a clam.
The best part was to come, and that was actually getting the chance to shake his hand and talk to him for a few minutes about his films. By then, it was one o'clock in the morning, but he still took the time to ask ME questions and to carry on a conversation, even though he must have been exhausted. I told him how much I respected his work, and he smiled and said, "Thank you, I really appreciate that." He shook my hand, thanked me for coming, and I just about floated out of the door.
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| Update on today's post:
So I emailed the dean to let her know that I had canceled my appointment after speaking with my anatomy professor and apologizing if I had been intrusive; she wrote back saying that she had been "a bit tense" about a meeting she had that day. She also asked me to come back in to discuss a way to organize a group of med2 students who could serve as mentors for the med1 students next year.
A bit confused, but yay for happy endings...
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| When in a position of not-much-authority and attempting to get something done effectively from the bottom up--and when lack of insistence may result in lack of progress--I find that it is difficult to toe the line between being effectively persistent and being obnoxiously brazen.
"Brazenness" (yes, that's a word) implies "acting out of one's rightful place." What behooves us to restrain ourselves from acting "out of place"? Is such action inherently offensive? Well, I suppose nothing is "inherently" offensive...but do enough people get offended when others "act out of place" that it is reasonable to expect others to refrain from doing so? Is that even a legitimate criteria? (If enough people are irritated that I wear purple socks, does that mean I should stop wearing purple socks?) Or is it more along the lines of tacky, or lacking in decorum? And while we're at it, I'm intrigued with this idea of "rightful place." Naturally it implies a hierarchy; in most cases, social or work hierarchy. What intrigues me is this idea of having a "rightful place" outside of an explicitly structured hierarchy (the workplace). In this setting, does acting out of place threaten something? Or am I just completely missing the point?
Exposition:
In case it wasn't reflected in my posts, I really liked anatomy. The material was enthralling, and I thrived on the learning atmosphere and the attention that the faculty gave their students. (Yes, I love it when my teachers pay attention to me. I am an insufferable teacher's pet. It makes learning easier.)
It is the policy here not to allow students that aren't in an alternative program (it's called the independent study program, or ISP; it's basically curriculum minus the lecture, where you learn everything on your own) to return as teaching assistants the following year for anatomy. I really, really, REALLY wanted to come back as a TA. I also refused to enroll in ISP. But the more I thought about it, the more I figured that asking around about the possibility of being a TA couldn't hurt.
So I asked. I emailed one of my anatomy professors (who is also the leader for the anatomy block), asked him about a good time to stop in, and spoke with him the next day about my interest. He was surprisingly receptive to the idea of having more student involvement in teaching, and I left his office feeling encouraged and enthusiastic about my prospects. He suggested that I email the academic program director and the associate dean of student life to get the ball rolling, and asked me to check back in with him about my progress.
So I did. I emailed, telling both of them about my idea and asking if there was a good time for me to swing by their respective offices. I waited about a week and a half, and heard nothing back. Our academic program director happens to be one of our professors, so after lecture one day I introduced myself and mentioned that I had sent the email. I could tell by the look on his face that he remembered, but the look on his face wasn't particularly encouraging. I laughed and told him so, and he admitted (good-naturedly) that he had received my email, but that it was not in his place to act on my behalf. He then suggested that I go speak with the associate dean of student life.
So I did. Since I had asked about a good time to swing by and hadn't heard back, I figured it wouldn't hurt to go by the office to see if I could introduce myself.
When I arrived, the dean's door was open, and she was on her computer. I knocked (on the open door) and said immediately, "Is this a bad time?" The dean said that she was trying to get some things together, and told me that I should have made an appointment. I apologized and introduced myself, clarified that I had sent her the email earlier, and told her that I had wanted to swing by to ask if there was a good time that I could meet with her. She told me (referring to my email), "I wasn't sure exactly what you wanted. You're welcome to volunteer, but I don't think I can do anything about it. I think its something between you and your instructor." She then reminded me that it wasn't something we could talk about by just "popping in", and that I should make an appointment.
The receptionist was out (the receptionist desk was literally about two feet away from the dean's door), so I waited for a while and chatted with my friend Rose, who was waiting for her appointment with someone else. I must have waited for about fifteen minutes, and the dean came back out and apologized that the receptionist was out for so long. I explained to the dean that I didn't need an appointment, and that if it wasn't something that she thought would be useful to discuss, I could leave; I just wasn't sure who I needed to speak to about my question. The dean said, "No, I can meet with you. Just not without an appointment."
The receptionist eventually came back, and I made my appointment, albeit feeling as though I wasn't really going to get anywhere. As a last ditch effort, I decided to run by my anatomy professor's office one more time.
After leaving the dean's office, I definitely felt in some way that I had been intrusive. But I couldn't pinpoint exactly how. Her tone seemed disapproving, and my immediate reaction was to wonder if I had overstepped a boundary in knocking on her door. My intent was to ask if there would be a good time to meet; of course, if she was busy, a referral to the receptionist made sense. But her repeated reminders that I SHOULD have made an appointment sort of implied that I shouldn't have knocked on the door in the first place. All of the staff and faculty contact information is listed on our website; I took this as a go-ahead to contact them if we had questions, even if it was, "is there a good time to meet?"
There is a happy ending, and I'm glad a went to my anatomy professor again. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have found out that his intent in having me run by the assistant dean and the program director was just to ensure that we wouldn't be stepping on any toes if he let me be a TA. Needless to say, there was a severe lack of communication going on, but all of this REALLY made me think: if knocking on the dean's door was being a little too insistent, going back to my professor was even more so. But it worked out. And I'm not quite sure what my take-home message from all of this should be.
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| What I have learned so far in my training at the Suicide Prevention Hotline: It is both a blessing and a curse that, ultimately, our greatest sense of comfort and happiness lies in our relationships with others.
I believe it pays off to cultivate yourself so that others feel joy when they are around you. It almost never hurts to give, but I cannot even bring myself to imagine the pain of those who have no one.
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