School update

For those of you who have been following this blog for a while, you may remember that I have been struggling with a terribly boring course at school. I had a research paper to write about schedules and files in a medical office, which I procrastinated doing for three weeks. Not like me at all, but exactly like me when I'm faced with tasks that I deem unworthy of my time.

I finally wrote the paper and reported here that I had written it in about an hour. I thought it was pure garbage. I said I'd get back to you all on my grade and here it is: 100%.

What am I to make of this? There were research papers that I worked hard on, doing excellent research that was far beyond the requirements of the courses. Yes, I got good grades on them, too (but not always perfect grades). Should I continue to BS my way through my classes? Is that the lesson I should take away from this little experiment? No. I'll continue doing what I do, but I have to admit, this does bother me some. It was a test of sorts - would the person grading me be able to discern the difference? Apparently not.

Procrastination

I've never had a big problem with procrastination. Sure, there are plenty of things that I've put off doing, but in this area, I think I'm in the "normal range" (whatever that means). Oh, what does that mean? I suppose I rate normalcy as not being overly one way or another. In the case of procrastination, there are some things that I put off and other things that I get to right away. Thus, normal.

However, I am having a big problem with my schoolwork. It has been so boring to me that I find it nearly impossible to engage with it. And since most of the work is online, it's quite easy to navigate away from the page (as I'm doing right now).

This is interesting: I realize that if there was a textbook, I'd probably be more engaged. This is the second "class" in a row without a textbook, and I had a problem with that course material, too.

Textbook or no, the course material is painfully dull. How much can one read about filing systems? I took an exam yesterday and encountered questions like how many filer drawers are needed for x amount of files. I did the math, but my answer was wrong. Of course, I didn't use the "official" numbers that were in the course, for I never wrote them down. I couldn't bring myself to take notes. . .I skimmed, over and over again.

I need to knuckle down, but I can't seem to. One thing I've never been was a diligent drudge. I've never been big on taking notes, for one thing. In the past, I've found that taking notes gets in the way of paying attention to what I'm listening to or reading. Now, I must take notes, for I've no textbook to refer to.

How do you push yourself to do something that you can't stand doing? Right now, I'm feeling like I'd rather subject myself to various forms of torture than do this work. Maybe I am subjecting myself to torture by doing this work. That's what it feels like.

Any suggestions would be truly appreciated!

Painting note: Henry Fuseli The Nightmare 1781
While searching for a painting of someone asleep, I found this. An artist I have never heard of, or seen (or if I did, I don't remember it).

In which I admit that not everything is interesting

I am studying medical billing, coding and transcription. I didn't knowingly sign on for the billing part of this coursework, but it's part of the curriculum.

Earlier today, I realized I had read about ten pages of material and not a word of it had sunk into my poor addled brain. It was about as engaging as reading an IRS instruction booklet. Now, I do know an accountant who does find reading IRS publications to be truly fascinating, so I know that theoretically, everything is interesting, but as much as a generalist as I am, there are indeed some things that bore me to tears and practically make me want to get down on my knees and beg for mercy (please delivery me from this tedium!)

I find medical coding to be completely fascinating, but that's probably because I like reading things like surgical reports and trying to make sense out of them. When I was young, I had a secret desire to be an epidemiologist, so I do get some pleasure out of understanding such obscure language with the extra added bonus of not getting blood on my hands (with gloves on, of course) nor hearing the cries of suffering patients.

I sailed through all the coursework up until now. Anatomy and physiology, pharmacology, and medical law were all fascinating. Having open-ended research projects helped, because I'd pick subjects that, if studied properly, could have taken years to write a paper on. Right now, I have to write a paper on the workings of independent medical billing companies and just looking at their websites starts to induce a low-grade migraine.

I was thrilled when my online courses were down for technical reasons this afternoon. This is not a good sign.

Thank you for indulging a bit of a whine. On the perfume front, I am mystified by Montale's Wood and Spices, for it smells neither of wood nor spices. My first reaction was "huh?" and plans for a good scrub. But two hours later I realized that I had not scrubbed it off and that I found the smell pleasing. I lifted my left wrist to my nose and thought "mmmm". Very nice! But what is it? I haven't a clue. Anyone who knows the answer to this, please leave a comment!

Image Note: Winter Snow "paint by numbers"
When I was a tattooist and someone wanted me to do a large all-black "tribal piece" i would sometimes say to them, "Imagine you were a kid and someone gave you a paint by numbers kit and a small black crayon. Then they told you you had to color the whole thing black,not go over one line and not leave even the smallest dot of white left at the end. . ." Not only is that boring, but it's cruel.
Check out the Smithsonian's Paint by Numbers exhibitition here.

More late reactions to old news

The other day I found the July 28th issue of Newsweek sitting under some books. The cover story was "Murder in the 8th Grade". The subtitle of the story, right there on the cover (with a picture of the murdered boy) was "At 10, Lawrence King declared he was gay. At 15, a classmate shot him dead. A tale of bullying, sexual identity and the limits of tolerance."

From reading this, even without opening the magazine to the article, I was already angry.

I did go on to read the article, and it just made me angrier. First off, none of us needed to read the story of Lawrence King's life, unless it was to memorialize it. But this article was no memorial. Even though the author claims otherwise, the "tale" of Lawrence King's life is not responsible for his death. Did his being born to a drug addicted mother have anything at all to do with his death? He didn't commit suicide. Another child murdered him.

Yet, we are told all the salacious details of this poor kid's life. And then, to add insult to injury, we are told that his self-identifying as gay at an early age may have made him act out, thus causing other boys to be angry or afraid of him. It is postulated that, in the past (which past?) children didn't hear words like "gay" bandied about so freely, so they would not have identified so early as being homosexual. This is simply not the case. Whether a child has the words or not, they do know, and at very early ages, that they are different or that they are attracted to others of the same sex. This was true one hundred years ago. It is true today. Whether we call homosexuality "gay" or "potatoism" or nothing doesn't change a thing. Are we to believe if we stuff words like gay back in the closet that children will be better off? What a bunch of nonsense!

When I was in the 7th grade, everyone knew that there were two boys who were homosexual in our classes. There probably was more than two boys (and girls) who were gay in our school, for it was large, but I was friends with these two who were "out". We banded together because we were all bullied and teased because we were "different" in some way. But that's not really my point. My point is that there have always been kids who are not "sexually normative". Blaming "permissiveness" for creating a situation where Lawrence King may have set himself up for being killed is just plain wrong.

The real questions are barely asked (because no one knows what they are), and so, they are hardly addressed. Once again, a child kills another child. This time there's "a reason", it seems. No, Lawrence King didn't deserve to die because he was a problem in the school.

Why are there so many school shootings? We've been asking this, half-heartedly, since Columbine. Everyone says "it's because of bullying". Well, there was a whole hell of a lot worse bullying in the past and kids weren't shooting each other. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying that bullying is okay and things were better in the old days, but when I read that things may have been better in the old days because we didn't allow students as much freedom of expression, well, I just say "No!"

I have no idea why kids are more apt to pick up a gun and shoot someone in these times. I have some guesses, and none of them have anything to do with childhood sexuality (which exists, has always existed and will continue to exist, no matter how much it unnerves adults).

Today, I'm going to reserve any ruminations about the "whys" for another time. I'd like to encourage anyone who's reading this to sit for a minute or two in silence for Lawrence King.

Image note: I suppose it may be seen as macabre to put this image up on this post. I had tried to find some 1970's gay pride button images, but only found one on someone's blog and since it was his personal collection, felt funny about using it. The reason I wanted to use an image like this is because of a very good friend I had back when I was in high school. At the age of 16, he wore a button that read "How dare you presume I'm hetereosexual?" He also wore makeup on occasion, along with clothes that basically screaming "flaming!" The school we attended was small and it was particularly bully free, but that was probably because almost everyone there had been bullied at other schools (and I suppose that's what landed us in the school for misfits).

Most people who read his button had no idea what it meant. Some of them didn't even know what the word "hetereosexual" meant, never mind the sarcasm. It was 1974. I don't know if my friend ever was the victim of a hate crime, but I've been. Back in 1980, I was walking down the street one evening in New York City and some guys started yelling at me from their car, "Lesbian! Go to hell!" and other assorted phrases of nastiness. They were fixated on the fact that I had a tattoo on my biceps. It was an affront to their sensibilities. One of them got out of the car and punched me in the face, knocking me unconscious. Yes, boys and girls, it once was dangerous for a woman to have a visible tattoo. It appears that it is still dangerous to be homosexual. And Newsweek dares tell us that perhaps the closet is the safest option? I am outraged.