...never have I been so glad to have a weekend over... I felt like I turned into the guys I went to high school, cause all weekend I was saying to myself, "Don't worry, Monday is only ___ days away." It was a day that I regarded with both hope and fear, but in either case, it was the goal.
Today I had my first test. Scratch that...today I had my first three tests. Translation of this fact means that my weekend was CRAZINESS. Except for church, work, a rehersal, and Intervarsity, I was hitting the books all weekend. I don't ever remember studying so hard or long in my life. But now, finally, they are over and my writer's cramp can work itself out and hopefully the rock between my shoulder blades will move on. Praise the Lord for the stamina to make it through this first big bump...now let's just hope that the test scores reflect my work.
I have a whole day between me and the next test...so I'm gonna go run and listen to music for a really long time...then I'm gonna go home and take a nap.
I, Morgan Holmes, solemnly vow not to touch a text book for the next 3 hours.
HUZZAAH!
Monday, September 25, 2006
Monday, September 04, 2006
Class-y
For most people this time of year, the word “class” refers to the occupation that is suddenly consuming large portions of our life. But the word has taken on whole new meanings in the past week, and although going to class is becoming the rule and not the exception, the term “class” (and all of its forms: classy, classic, etc) is making the old brain turn.
It all started last week in my second class…it’s an honor’s seminar, which essentially means it’s a lot of smart kids and a smarter teacher who sit around for a semester and read and discuss a TON of material relating to a subject that has little to do with academics. This semester the course title is “Aesthetics and Ethics of the Social Class.” Fun.
So our prof sends us a list of 4 books (“go ahead and start on them early…take them on vacation even!”), we come to class and pay 25 dollars for another “packet” (which weighs the same amount as my chemistry text), and settle into the routine. We started the discussion with some pretty typical examinations of social classes in America. It’s a fact of life that surrounds us each day, but it’s a topic that is pretty taboo in our society. This is America…the melting pot…the land of opportunity…the home to great men who pull themselves up by their bootstraps and change the course of history. Classes?? HERE??? Surely not. Fake. That’s what our message of equality has become. Social injustice is all around…but greater than the injustice is the oh so clear lines that distinguish the group you “fit in.” This discussion was sad, but it wasn’t until the next class period that I really started to get heated.
We’re reading a text by Paul Fussell called, appropriately, “Class.” It’s about as frustrating as it is painfully “accurate.” The guy takes on the role of an omnipotent and omniscient social critic and begins ripping people’s lives apart. He talks about the “social markers” which place us into categories. The type of car you drive, whether or not you ever wear purple, or worse, purple suits. Whether your clothes have lettering on them. Your affinity for cats. The designs on your tie. The utensils on your kitchen counter. The number of times a month you go bowling. The places you visit on vacation. Where you stay when you visit those places. How much you talk about wealth and money. Where you go to church. What you serve on Thanksgiving. How you decorate your bathroom. What types of flowers you have on your table during special events. The types of metal furnishings you have in your living room. Think I’m kidding? Well, you’re wrong. And that’s just possessions and entertainment. There’s a whole other description of class as evidenced by what people do for occupations and the rest of “life.”
As we discussed his opinion in class, I found my mind wandering. I think what got to me in this guy’s book was not his information, but his tone. Flat. In your face. Blatant. And an absolutely impenetrable opinion. “Think that a purple shirt you have is cool?? Clearly you’re lost…and what’s worse, you WORKED to buy that thing. Heh…guess your kids are going to be middle class too, because only old money is really high class these days.” It’s not that I’m fighting for purple…not that I think that classes don’t exist…I’m just becoming aware more and more that my attitude is painfully similar to his.
I’m a social critic. I’m a judgmental person. My first impressions are pretty accurate for the most part…and while I usually get to know a lot of different types of people, I find them categorized even in my own brain. People watching is one of my favorite things to do…I love sitting back at soccer games or at the super market or in the business school and just observing the various bubbles of “reality” around me. I relish the crabby kid whining for more candy as much as the model and her hot man making their way to the fancy restaurant. WHY??? Who cares??
I like to think that when I observe I’m learning some psychology or studying the human existence. And maybe I am. But I’m also making assumptions, and dishing out praise or distain just as quickly. Even when I criticize with pity or understanding, at the end of the day I’m still sitting on my butt and figuring out where I am in “the grand scheme of society”…above or below them?? That is the question.
I got in my car and the commercials were on.
“Do you ever watch the millionaires around you and wonder how they got so lucky?? The truth is…THEY ARE NO DIFFERENT THAN YOU! The truth is that you too can become very rich by…”
switch of the dials…next station:
“Have you been longing for a super sleek new Ipod Nano?? Well now, you can have one absolutely FREE by…”
The same sing-songy voices everywhere.
It reminded me of my trip to Chicago a few weekends ago. I was feeling a bit out of my element because my friends were definitely a little richer than I was. We were “browsing” in stores that I couldn’t pronounce, me fingering clothing and trying on ridiculous belts with another buddy, them blowing a few hundred bucks in each store…buying whatever looked good and getting it without even trying it on. And when we walked back into the center of the shopping area, I saw a sign, with a mall logo on it, that said: “Water Tower Place: Defining You.” Defining you?? No, no…you can define what clothes people wear maybe, I thought, you can define the fashions, the brands, the most revered purses, the most expensive footwear. You might even be able to define people’s attitudes. But the people themselves?? Ha! See if I buy so much as a bubble gum ball while I’m here!! As we walked out, it hit me like a ton of bricks that they very fact that they can put that on a sign in a mall says something about the people that walk by. It means we believe it. It means we’ve bought in to the lie that we are what we wear or buy or yearn for. It used to be that we were what we ate. Now we are the shoes we walk on and the cell phones that we have pressed to our ears. And my reaction, I realize now, means that I have decided I am superior to that mindset. Better. Higher. More intelligent.
Great…that’s all I need. More categories. And another reason to elevate myself on the self classy-fication ladder.
You see, for every person who is loaded…who has 5 corvettes in their driveway, who attends Harvard, who jet-sets to an island every other weekend, and for the girl at Millikin carrying a different designer purse every day, I have a prideful answer. “I may not have money, but I’ve got work ethic.” “Sure, you’ve got a hot boyfriend, but I know how to be independent.” “I don’t waste hundreds of dollars a year on clothing…there are kids starving in Africa.” Fussell would call my reasoning “hopelessly middle class” because I feel that I have to prove myself to those who “have more.” I call it stupid. And arrogant. And fake. And some other words I can’t say.
It’s not about money, or purple, or bowling. It’s about they way that I long to uphold myself. And about the way that we all crave respect, admiration, and “status” for something.
Indeed, all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.
A person is no longer a Jew or a Greek, a slave or a free person, a male or a female, because all of you are one in Christ Jesus.
And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's descendants and heirs according to the promise.
Galatians 3:27-29
…sheesh…what more status do I think I need than the identity of Christ himself?? The rub?? This status requires us to put ourselves aside. To lose our lives for his sake. To humble ourselves in his sight and the sight of all men around us.
I have no clue how to do this. And something tells me that wearing purple for the rest of my days and hugging cats as often as possible won’t help. So now I have to go read the last 120 pages of Fussell’s book…and I pray that it may open another window for me, not to look on the black and white lines of social class around me, but to look at myself, and the desperately selfish mindset I have fallen into.
Hope you all are doing amazingly well…another more optimistic (and hopefully shorter) post to follow. Blessings~
It all started last week in my second class…it’s an honor’s seminar, which essentially means it’s a lot of smart kids and a smarter teacher who sit around for a semester and read and discuss a TON of material relating to a subject that has little to do with academics. This semester the course title is “Aesthetics and Ethics of the Social Class.” Fun.
So our prof sends us a list of 4 books (“go ahead and start on them early…take them on vacation even!”), we come to class and pay 25 dollars for another “packet” (which weighs the same amount as my chemistry text), and settle into the routine. We started the discussion with some pretty typical examinations of social classes in America. It’s a fact of life that surrounds us each day, but it’s a topic that is pretty taboo in our society. This is America…the melting pot…the land of opportunity…the home to great men who pull themselves up by their bootstraps and change the course of history. Classes?? HERE??? Surely not. Fake. That’s what our message of equality has become. Social injustice is all around…but greater than the injustice is the oh so clear lines that distinguish the group you “fit in.” This discussion was sad, but it wasn’t until the next class period that I really started to get heated.
We’re reading a text by Paul Fussell called, appropriately, “Class.” It’s about as frustrating as it is painfully “accurate.” The guy takes on the role of an omnipotent and omniscient social critic and begins ripping people’s lives apart. He talks about the “social markers” which place us into categories. The type of car you drive, whether or not you ever wear purple, or worse, purple suits. Whether your clothes have lettering on them. Your affinity for cats. The designs on your tie. The utensils on your kitchen counter. The number of times a month you go bowling. The places you visit on vacation. Where you stay when you visit those places. How much you talk about wealth and money. Where you go to church. What you serve on Thanksgiving. How you decorate your bathroom. What types of flowers you have on your table during special events. The types of metal furnishings you have in your living room. Think I’m kidding? Well, you’re wrong. And that’s just possessions and entertainment. There’s a whole other description of class as evidenced by what people do for occupations and the rest of “life.”
As we discussed his opinion in class, I found my mind wandering. I think what got to me in this guy’s book was not his information, but his tone. Flat. In your face. Blatant. And an absolutely impenetrable opinion. “Think that a purple shirt you have is cool?? Clearly you’re lost…and what’s worse, you WORKED to buy that thing. Heh…guess your kids are going to be middle class too, because only old money is really high class these days.” It’s not that I’m fighting for purple…not that I think that classes don’t exist…I’m just becoming aware more and more that my attitude is painfully similar to his.
I’m a social critic. I’m a judgmental person. My first impressions are pretty accurate for the most part…and while I usually get to know a lot of different types of people, I find them categorized even in my own brain. People watching is one of my favorite things to do…I love sitting back at soccer games or at the super market or in the business school and just observing the various bubbles of “reality” around me. I relish the crabby kid whining for more candy as much as the model and her hot man making their way to the fancy restaurant. WHY??? Who cares??
I like to think that when I observe I’m learning some psychology or studying the human existence. And maybe I am. But I’m also making assumptions, and dishing out praise or distain just as quickly. Even when I criticize with pity or understanding, at the end of the day I’m still sitting on my butt and figuring out where I am in “the grand scheme of society”…above or below them?? That is the question.
I got in my car and the commercials were on.
“Do you ever watch the millionaires around you and wonder how they got so lucky?? The truth is…THEY ARE NO DIFFERENT THAN YOU! The truth is that you too can become very rich by…”
switch of the dials…next station:
“Have you been longing for a super sleek new Ipod Nano?? Well now, you can have one absolutely FREE by…”
The same sing-songy voices everywhere.
It reminded me of my trip to Chicago a few weekends ago. I was feeling a bit out of my element because my friends were definitely a little richer than I was. We were “browsing” in stores that I couldn’t pronounce, me fingering clothing and trying on ridiculous belts with another buddy, them blowing a few hundred bucks in each store…buying whatever looked good and getting it without even trying it on. And when we walked back into the center of the shopping area, I saw a sign, with a mall logo on it, that said: “Water Tower Place: Defining You.” Defining you?? No, no…you can define what clothes people wear maybe, I thought, you can define the fashions, the brands, the most revered purses, the most expensive footwear. You might even be able to define people’s attitudes. But the people themselves?? Ha! See if I buy so much as a bubble gum ball while I’m here!! As we walked out, it hit me like a ton of bricks that they very fact that they can put that on a sign in a mall says something about the people that walk by. It means we believe it. It means we’ve bought in to the lie that we are what we wear or buy or yearn for. It used to be that we were what we ate. Now we are the shoes we walk on and the cell phones that we have pressed to our ears. And my reaction, I realize now, means that I have decided I am superior to that mindset. Better. Higher. More intelligent.
Great…that’s all I need. More categories. And another reason to elevate myself on the self classy-fication ladder.
You see, for every person who is loaded…who has 5 corvettes in their driveway, who attends Harvard, who jet-sets to an island every other weekend, and for the girl at Millikin carrying a different designer purse every day, I have a prideful answer. “I may not have money, but I’ve got work ethic.” “Sure, you’ve got a hot boyfriend, but I know how to be independent.” “I don’t waste hundreds of dollars a year on clothing…there are kids starving in Africa.” Fussell would call my reasoning “hopelessly middle class” because I feel that I have to prove myself to those who “have more.” I call it stupid. And arrogant. And fake. And some other words I can’t say.
It’s not about money, or purple, or bowling. It’s about they way that I long to uphold myself. And about the way that we all crave respect, admiration, and “status” for something.
Indeed, all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.
A person is no longer a Jew or a Greek, a slave or a free person, a male or a female, because all of you are one in Christ Jesus.
And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's descendants and heirs according to the promise.
Galatians 3:27-29
…sheesh…what more status do I think I need than the identity of Christ himself?? The rub?? This status requires us to put ourselves aside. To lose our lives for his sake. To humble ourselves in his sight and the sight of all men around us.
I have no clue how to do this. And something tells me that wearing purple for the rest of my days and hugging cats as often as possible won’t help. So now I have to go read the last 120 pages of Fussell’s book…and I pray that it may open another window for me, not to look on the black and white lines of social class around me, but to look at myself, and the desperately selfish mindset I have fallen into.
Hope you all are doing amazingly well…another more optimistic (and hopefully shorter) post to follow. Blessings~
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