On Really Bad Advice

When I hear people apologizing for how lame of a phrase “It'll get better” supposedly is, all I can muster is a rueful smile. Because you know what I always got to hear? Something along those lines: “The time will come when you're gonna wish yourself back to this very time of your life.” Well, if that doesn't make you cheer up and appreciate what you have. What it did was make me feel kind of guilty for being unhappy in the first place. And then there is the implication in this statement that it is - apparently - only gonna get worse – much worse. So that should make you wanna get up in the morning or, you know, like just put an end to it right away.

But the thing is, that this is - of course - not quite what the folks were saying. In fact, they weren't talking about me and my problems at all. They were essentially projecting the feelings they had about their own schooldays onto me. Apparently they did fare a lot better than I did. Go figure. And it seems like they couldn't even imagine that it might be different for me. I did realize this back then, but that didn't make the statement any less annoying and hurtful. I mean it would have helped a lot, if someone had just acknowledged my experience for starters.

Now I at least get the triumph of saying that they were wrong. It didn't get worse. It got infinitely better - even though I'm still sort of in limbo at the moment. But I wouldn't wanna go back to this time of my life if you gave me a truckload of cash for it. And I'm damn well never ever gonna be going to any reunion. I just hope there will never come a time when I'd wanna do go back because I'd pretty much have to hit rock bottom to get to that point.

On Language Learning and Self-fulfilling Prophecies

A while back I wrote a post about how it's not your teacher's responsibility for you to learn something, but your own. So for the past few weeks I've been following my own advise and tackled my french, which after four years of language learning in school was rudimentary at best. I'm happy to report that it's going quite well. Much much better than it ever did in school. And along the way I have formed some ideas about why that is.

There are of course some technical drawbacks to the approach we took in school. The focus on grammar at the expense of exposure being a major one of those. I believe we never even got to hear a native speaker until we were already about two or three years into our studies. And it turns out our teacher's pronunciation was anything but decent. Another one would be the lack of context clues when it came to vocabulary learning. Because lists of pretty much random words are an unnecessarily inefficient form of learning material.

These are some of the reasons that usually get cited when we wonder why kids are doing so poorly in their language studies. But I think that's only scratching the surface. I believe these wouldn't actually be that much of a problem – or rather that students could easily remedy those themselves. The thing is, though, that the root of the problem goes much deeper.

I just now discovered what the two biggest obstacles to language learning I faced back in school actually were: the class environment and the low expectations of our teacher and subsequently of ourselves. I think those two were actually reenforcing each other. Let me paint the scene for you.

It was just after our advancement to secondary school. I was one of the few who had actually chosen the science program because it came with the french classes and not the other way around. And some kids, I think, were just there because their parents had forced them into it. So you could say that roughly two thirds of this class had no motivation at all to learn french and our teacher didn't provide any either. On the contrary, she greeted us with an introduction on how difficult this class was going to be and how much hard work we were required to do. Needless to say this speech probably did more harm than good for the few of us who had up to this point actually been somewhat enthusiastic about the endeavor.

Also, since we were all still in the process of finding our place in this thrown together group of kids, you can imagine that there was a lot of disruptive behavior going on. Some kids tried to distinguish themselves by being very loud and wisecracking, others thought it was cool to act up to authority figures. You get the picture.

So this coupled with the very inefficient grammar focused approach to language learning led to very poor results. These in turn frustrated both the students and the teacher, and lead to the latter thinking very poorly of her students' abilities in general, which she didn't attempt to hide. All this served to create the illusion that language learning in general and learning french in particular was much harder than it actually is. In this kind of environment and the mindset it creates it is no wonder that people wouldn't even dream of achieving fluency.

So long story short the problem with school was not so much what I didn't learn than what I did. Namely that language learning is hard and I couldn't expect more of myself than merely scraping by – like most kids were doing. After all this was the general consensus not only in school, but in the whole of society. It essentially became a self-fulfilling prophecy until I – pretty much by accident – became fluent in English. Because if you spend a lot of time on the Internet, you'll have a hard time getting around it. After all more than 50% of online content is in English. And if you're too impatient to wait months longer for the translation of your favorite book series' next installment than the English speaking world does, you might just consider to get the freaking thing and figure out what's in there. But even then the lesson was so internalized that I thought of English as more of an exception – a sort of fluke. After all it didn't feel like I had put all that much effort into English learning. It just sort of happened?!

What this little tale ought to show is that teaching methods aren't the only problem here. There are other things at play that are much much more destructive, because they are so deeply engrained in the system and play on your subconscious to create mental barriers. And language learning isn't the only school subject to suffer this curse. I'd say that almost all of them are afflicted in varying degrees. When have you first heard how hard math is?

It has taken me years to even begin to repair this damage and find my way back to the curious, hungry for knowledge girl that I once was. And although I am well on my way now, I'll probably still have a long long way to go. After all you don't just cast off that kind of conditioning over night.

On the Demystification of the Artist

Most of us, at some point or another, have probably found ourselves truly awestruck regarding a work of art or a piece of writing, thinking “I wish I could write or draw or think like that.” Some pieces are just that remarkable. They lead us to imagine their creators – and by extension all of their peers – as higher beings, more enlightened than us mere mortals, who could never live up to that kind of standard.

Like so many of us I used to live with this kind of mindset. I was so in awe of artists and writers. It was ridiculous. Without ever being conscious of doing this, I made them out to be some kind of demigods. Never in a million years would I have thought that I myself might be able to create something as beautiful and meaningful as they did. There were just worlds and worlds between us. And so I never really let myself try essentially holding myself back.

I don't even remember exactly when that changed, but somewhere along the way I realized that writers and artist weren't that much different from us, and that I didn't have to be Shakespeare or Leonardo freaking Da Vinci to express myself and create something. I think might actually owe a lot of this epiphany to Stephenie Meyer of all people. When I saw her in the DVD extras, she seemed like such an unlikely person to be capable of being an author. And lets face it, her books are not that well written either – but she is an author nonetheless. So I thought, why not just try? So I did, and it was fun. People even liked what I did and some of them even started looking at me like I actually was one of them writers now. Who would have thought? Without even the ambition of ever getting published people thought of me as a writer.

Somewhere along this process I started thinking about us rather than them. It turns out as small as this shift of perspective seems, it was actually a quantum leap. Being able to imagine writers – and consequently artists in general – as complex mortal beings didn't just help me with my writing. I also feel like I understand a lot better what they or their works could be saying.

Because by placing the artist in some kind of divine sphere, I apparently perceived their works as a lot more mysterious than they actually were. I as a mere human being was just not supposed to understand – I was to merely admire and praise. Taking the creators out of this sphere, allowed me to get over this mental block and really think. Before that I would probably not even thought of writing reviews and blog posts.

Since then I also tackled art again – which I had been neglecting for quite some time – and it is actually fun, now that I don't hold myself to such ridiculous standards anymore. Not only that, but it also seems much easier. I still don't think that I or something I create will ever be god's gift to humanity. But that doesn't mean that the things I think or feel are not worthy of being expressed or shared.

On The Fault in Our Stars and False Beliefs About An Author's Authority

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I was a bit wary at first, because, you know, cancer book usually equals depressing and/or preaching. But no, this is definitely not your typical cancer book. Thank god for someone who doesn't use a serious illness to show healthy people the worth of their lives and yada yada yada. And though it is sad, it's not as depressing as one might expect from a cancer book. As usual John Green's wit serves to lighten the mood – even if that means that his characters sometimes sound a lot like him. What I love most about his books, though, is that they always give me something to think about. And because of that I will readily forgive him all of his minor short comings.

What kept me thinking long after I read this particular book was the question about whether or not authors are the one and only authority to their books. In the book Van Houten clearly holds the opinion – as does John Green – that the text is the authority and it's readers are free to interpret or build on it. There are, however, authors who would beg to disagree. (I won't name any names, but I hazard the authors who won't have you write any fan fiction of their works are some likely candidates.)

My stance is that fictional stories are ideas, and – even though copyright law might disagree with me there – ideas are not property per se. They didn't use to be thus and neither should they be. Of course you can't copy and paste, but you should be able to think and build on ideas. I admit that it is difficult to draw the line, but the way today's copyright law draws it is just beyond ridiculous. Re-imaginations, recreations and reincarnations are the surest ways for ideas to survive in posterity and that is what we risk losing.

But this wasn't supposed to be about the can of worms that is copyright law. The question is whether or not what the author imagines outside or even inside the text does have any more weight than what you would. And I'm with John and Van Houten on this one. It doesn't. You might read things into the story that the author didn't intend or the ending of a book disappoints you, and you decide to pretend it never happened or come up with a different one instead. By all means, knock yourself out.

You shouldn't view books and stories as holy scripture and the author their prophet, because conversations have much more creative potential than lectures. And though even authors themselves might confuse authorship with dictatorship, that doesn't make it any more right. Thinking for yourself is a skill that needs to be cultivated – as it should be, otherwise you'll be much too susceptible to manipulation. So yeah, you should go ahead and make reading your own experience. Let creativity bloom - even if it is in opposition. Posterity might just thank you for it.



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On the Lack of Romance and Lots of Selfish Belief in the Letters of Abelard and Heloise

Letters of Abelard and Heloise by Pierre Bayle

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I must say that these letters were not quite what I had expected. That was because Abelard and Heloise didn't exactly live up to their reputation. I'm not sure how they ever ended up on the most-romantic-tragic-love-story-list. Don't get me wrong, I found the letters to be profoundly interesting on many different levels. A treasure for historians. Interesting character studies. But romantic? Not so much.

Abelard strikes me as too much of a narcissist to raise much sympathy for his misfortunes – especially since he basically does everything in his power to turn everyone against him. And the sad thing is, he doesn't even notice it – because he's just too damn full of himself. Lot's of self serving bias going on in there, I'd say.

And what about Heloise? Well, I've got a little more sympathy for her and her situation. What I find strange though – and maybe that's just my modern mind - is that among all those lamentations neither of them writes a single word of their offspring? All they talk about is themselves and their miserable lots. And that brings me right to the topic of their faith. You don't need to read much between the lines to notice that their so called piety and religious career, if you will, is a purely selfish endeavor. There's none of the nobler motivations. No ambition to make the world a better place and what not. All those I could tolerate within the proper framework – even as an atheist. For them, though, religion is but a means to an end. And I'm quite repulsed by that.

What strikes me as very ironic is that they feel oh so bad about having chosen their paths for the wrong reasons and about their lingering love for each other. So they apparently come to the conclusion that they should embrace their roles and try harder in order to – here it comes – receive absolution and save their own souls. They don't even seem to grasp the fact that this very foundation of their belief essentially turns everything they do into a selfish act. Yeah, they probably should feel bad, but they do so for all the wrong reasons. And the saddest part is Abelard's self-righteous attitude that people like him so often tend to display.



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On the Evolution of Dr. Dolittle

Have you ever thought about what has become of the good old Dr. Dolittle? I mean how many kids and young adults today still know the original story rather than the watered down version from the 1998 movie with Eddie Murphy? Not very many, I find. And that is too bad, because I would go as far as to say that this newer version in it's message is not only shallow, but potentially harmful. My point is this: it stifles ambition by perpetuating the nefarious myth that genius is something your born with – or (most of us) not.

Remember the Doctor from the book or the 1967 movie with Rex Harrison? He actually made an effort to learn the languages of animals – hundreds of different languages, in fact – because he prefers their company to that of his fellow humans and wants to understand them better to be more able to treat them right.

And what about the Doctor from 1998? He just magically has the ability to understand and communicate with all animals, but resents this gift and the animals, since he just wants to be normal and accepted by his fellow humans. He eventually learns to appreciate his special gift (sort of), but not before it is validated by other humans and helps him earn their praise.

So while the Doctor from 1967 used to illustrate how genius is forged through concentrated work and effort in the direction of one's natural inclination, the newer version perpetuates the myth that genius is something you have to be born into – and not work for to achieve. Not only that, but it also makes the point that it is actually a burden you have to bear, because it's not considered cool by your peers. I mean, what the hell?!

This just goes to illustrate the widespread desire in today's society to not only be effortlessly special, but most importantly to have this validated through praise. Where would we be had Socrates or da Vinci or Einstein or Tesla or any great mind in history worked under this assumption?

I would even suspect that this frame of mind and its close relatives are largely responsible for the impression (or maybe reality?) that people are getting dumber. Faith in your own abilities is a huge part of the learning process. If you take that away and substitute it with messages like the born-to-genius-myth or the math-is-so-hard-myth and stuff like that, you'll have yourself a nice self-fulfilling prophecy.

On Monstrosity, Talent, and Perceptions of Reward and Punishment in The Phantom of the Opera

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I must say that with all the names being thrown around right from the beginning and the references to the complicated architecture of opera house I was very confused at first. That, however, got a lot better with the progression of the story and long after I was finished, I found myself pondering the implication that monsters may or may not be born to look the part, but ultimately made by humans/society.

I've never thought about this much before and it certainly awoke a whole new sympathy for Grendel. Did they – the phantom and Beowulf's Grendel that is – really have a choice or where they rather forced into the role of the monster by society. And if so, who is worse – they for embracing it or us for forcing this role upon them?

What's also interesting is that negative roles seem to be more reenforced than positive ones. While negative aspects like a monstrous appearance are likely to be found indicative of a person's character, positive ones like talents are often attributed to an external force. Take Christine for example. She and the Angel of Music where somewhat reminiscent of Dumbo and his feather. Like Dumbo even she herself didn't belief in her own abilities. Now, that might be good to keep a person humble and prevent them from becoming a megalomaniac or narcissist, but the underlying concept does have a serious downside.

What it comes down to is reward and punishment. Christine's talent is believed to be a reward for being good and working really hard, while the phantom's appearance is considered a punishment for being bad. The difference being that the reward is given after she put up a lot of effort, whereas the phantom's supposed punishment is received at birth. What horrible crime could he have committed in his mother's womb to deserve this? Sabotage a brother that we never heard of in a less ambivalent fashion than the biblical Jacob? Or do we believe in past lives here? And why is this punishment so permanent, when the rewards are so fleeting? Or are they fleeting because their source is corrupted?

Like Dumbo Christine only believes that she needs the Angel of Music to shine, while all she needs is really within her. And what she thought to be the Angel of Music is actually nothing of the sort, but a hoax. However, the demystification doesn't lead to her believing more in herself like it does with Dumbo. Instead it seems to make her lose her passion for music, because it now evokes negative associations – like the things linked to your psychopathic stalker will naturally do. Now, to sum this up, a book that gives you so much to think about is always well worth a read.



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