April 23: "Carol" Dipping, Creating a Final, Nervous Answer

As always, I will do a Carol dip this twenty-third day of April, Monday, in the year of our Lord 2012.  I do this simply because my brain doesn't fire on all pistons on the first day of the work week.  It's easier simply to come up with a life question, and then let Charles Dickens do the rest of the work.  My only job is to interpret the answer I receive.  I don't know why, but I get nervous about these random responses from the book of Carol.  As if they really mean anything or hold any power over my future.  I just hate gloomy, negative prospects.  Even when I was a kid, I would shake the Magic 8 Ball until it gave me the answer I wanted.

Before I shake the Magic 8 Ball this morning, however, I just wanted to share my agenda for today.  The most important task I have to complete is creating the final exam for my mythology class.  It shouldn't take too long, but I hate the whole process.  I don't like trying to design a test that basically demonstrates two things.  First, how much my students have learned/not learned during the second half of the semester.  Second, how effective/ineffective I was as a teacher during the second half of the semester.  Obviously, these two factors are very closely related.

Now that I have that off my chest, I will move forward with my question for the Christmas Spirits this early a.m.:

Will I ever win the Nobel Prize in Literature?  (Hey, I might as well go for the gold.)

And my answer from A Christmas Carol is:

The cold became intense.  In the main street at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered:  warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture.

Well, I like the scene being described.  In the face of glacial deprivation, a bright beacon of warmth shines forth.  Like moths to a candle, people gather around this flame, warming themselves, finding pleasure in its nascent greatness. 

Yes, Virginia, there will be a Nobel Prize in your future.  Your literary genius will not be denied by the world.  Young and old alike will celebrate your fame and talent in rapture.  In a cold, dark world, you will be a source of hope and light.

Saint Marty better start working on his acceptance speech.

I gotta get a copy of this book

March 26: Carol Dip, Show Me No More, Prizes

This morning, being Monday, and me, being exhausted, are not getting along very well.  Everybody drags after  the weekend, I know.  Nobody, after having a couple days off, willingly takes up the yolk of work again.  It would be unnatural.  Even my computer seems to be working at a slower pace after having a couple days at home.  However, return to work I must, even if only 35% of my brain is functioning correctly.

As a result of my total lack of motivation and energy, I will be doing a Carol dip this morning.  (For those of my disciples tuning in for the next installment of Project Memoir, do not despair.  It will be coming in the next day or so.)  I know this practice is cheap and easy, but sometimes I like cheap and easy.  I've already consulted my copy of A Christmas Carol on a couple of questions without very satisfying results.  Therefore, I'm not going to cheat.  I'm going to ask my question and accept whatever answer I get.

My questions is: 

Will this blog ever be named a Blog of Note (BON) by the people who run blogger.com?

And the answer from my copy of A Christmas Carol is:

"No more!" cried Scrooge.  "No more.  I don't wish to see it.  Show me no more!"

Well, that sucks.  I'm going to have to give up Carol dipping.  It's not good for my self esteem.  It never yields very positive results.  According to my interpretation of that quote, I'm not going to be named a BON.  Ever.  In fact, I should never ask or contemplate that question ever again.

It's true that I tend to invest a great deal of importance on awards and recognitions.  Any person who's read my posts at the beginning of October know that I tend to become very (some might say unhealthily) obsessed with the Nobel Prize in Literature.  I can't help it.  For some reason, I attach great importance to these kinds of accolades.  It's the reason I was a straight "A" student through high school and college.  It's why I graduated summa cum laude.  It's why I get pissed off every time the people at Blogger choose to recognize yet another food or fashion blog.

It's not that I think I'm better than everyone else.  I don't.  I think it stems from a need to be liked.  If I win an award, if somebody tells me I've done something exceptionally well, that means I've got admirers.  We all want to be liked.  Even Scrooge.  We all want to be surrounded by people who think we're great.  I know I do.  It's one of the reasons why I teach.  All my students have to pretend to like me for at least three or so months.  Perhaps I don't need a plaque or trophy to prove my worth, but it doesn't hurt.

I'm not going to say that simply writing this blog is the only reward I need.  Simply knowing there are people out there who might be benefiting from my nuggets of wisdom isn't tangible enough.  I want a title.  Blogger of Note, for starters.  Then maybe Blogger of the Year.  Pretty soon, I'll have a book deal.  Then I'll win the National Book Award.  In the same year, I'll win the Pulitzer Prize for something.  That will put me on the radar of the Swedish Academy.  After being nominated a few years in a row for the Nobel Prize for Literature, I will eventually be named the winner.  I will fly to Sweden in early December to collect my prize.  I won't be able to walk down the streets of Stockholm without being mobbed by admirers.  And when I return home, I will be asked to be Grand Marshall of my town's Fourth of July Parade.

It could happen.  OK, I might not get the Fourth of July thing, but the rest is totally realistic.  Blogger people take note:  my time has come.  Give into the inevitable.

God wants Saint Marty to be a Blogger of Note.

Why fight fate?  Give me the award.

March 17: St. Patrick's Day, Carol Dip, New Cartoon

Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone.  No, I'm not going to go out carousing.  I'm not going to paint the town green and drink a keg of green beer.  I'm too old and have to get up too early for church tomorrow morning.  I will celebrate more traditionally.  I will watch The Lawrence Welk Show and go to bed.  Maybe I'll eat a corned beef and cabbage pizza.

I don't have a lot of time today to write a reflective post.  Therefore, I'm going to do a Carol dip.  For those of my disciples unfamiliar with this practice, I shall explain it to you.  I think of a question.  I open my copy of A Christmas Carol, flip through it, and randomly put my finger on a page.  Where my finger lands is the answer to my question.  It's like using the book as a Magic 8 Ball.

So, here goes...

My question is this:  Will I win the poetry contest I entered this week?

And the answer is...

"No, no!  There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once.  "Hide, Martha, hide!"

Well, that's shitty.  I don't have to look to deeply into that statement to interpret the answer.  All I have to do is read the first two words.  That isn't quite the answer for which I was hoping.  However, it's the answer I got, and I have to live with it.

Saint Marty's gotta run.  His daughter's waiting at the dance studio.

Confessions of Saint Marty

January 23: Carol Dipping Again, Ice Storm, Teaching

Well, this morning, as soon as I got moving, I decided to try Carol dipping one more time.  I thought it was an interesting exercise yesterday afternoon, and it yielded some thoughtful reflection on my part (plus a good comment).

So, this morning, my question was:  Will my teaching go well today?

The answer from A Christmas Carol was:

"Well!  Never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit.  "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"

Mrs. Cratchit makes this statement to her oldest daughter, Martha, on Christmas Day.  Martha, it appears, lives and works outside the Cratchit home.  Martha explains to her mother about the work that caused her to be late for Christmas dinner, and Mrs. Cratchit gives the above response.

Now, the dilemma is how to interpret this answer to my question.  Of course, the obvious interpretation is that, as long as I show up, my teaching will go well, and I should just sit down and relax a little.  I do like that attitude.  I tend to become a little too tense about teaching, worrying about lesson plans and readings, preparing and preparing again.  The best classes I've ever taught were the ones where I just stepped into the room with a vague plan about what I wanted to accomplish.  I'm on my toes, and the students are engaged.

Care to have a warm with me?

The other, more appropriate, interpretation (at the moment) is that I shouldn't worry about teaching.  Classes were cancelled at the university a few minutes ago due to an ice storm.  Therefore, I should just sit down before the fire and have a warm, as Mrs. Cratchit says.  I like that answer a little better.

My day has suddenly opened up.  No teaching.  No university office hours.  No school for my kids.  No religion or dance classes for my daughter.  I am considerably free of obligations today.  Not free of work, but of obligations.

Saint Marty is going to have a good day.

January 22: Carol Dipping, Augusten Burroughs, New Cartoon

In his memoir Running With Scissors. Augusten Burroughs writes about Bible dipping.  Basically, the crazy family he lived with would ask the Bible a question, flip through the pages, and stop on a random passage.  That passage would be the answer to the question.  Basically, it's using the Bible like a Magic 8 Ball.

There's a long history of people using books like this.  In Italy around Dante's time, citizens used Virgil's Aeneid like a sacred text, as well.  Now, I sort of can understand Bible dipping.  (I've done it myself, just for fun.  Really.)  But
Aeneid dipping is just plain nuts.  At least the Bible has divinely inspired text.  It's not a slot machine.  You can't drop in a question, pull a lever, and have it spit out the correct answer.  However, my experience with Bible dipping allowed me to view my problem in a different light.  There's some benefit to that.

Therefore, I've decided to Carol dip.  Yes, I'm going to ask a question about my life, flip through my copy of A Christmas Carol, and put my finger on a page.  Whatever passage my finger lands on will provide my answer.

Here goes.

My question is:  Will I get a full-time teaching job at the university this year?

And my answer is...

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them.  A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats.  You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.  There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

Now, I just have to decipher the answer from that passage.

The passage concerns Jacob Marley's visit to Scrooge, and how Scrooge doubts the reality of Jacob's presence.  Scrooge is doubting himself.  He's using every excuse in the book to dismiss the truth of the ghost's appearance.  And, of course, Jacob Marley's ghost is standing before him, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with Scrooge's senses.

So, basically, the book is telling me to not doubt myself.  To trust that that full-time teaching job at the university is coming my way.  Believe in myself, and all will work out.

Saint Marty will take that answer.  God bless us , everyone!

Confessions of Saint Marty