In class the other day, we got our midterm exams back. The professor gave us some time in class to correct our answers so we could go over them as a class. One of the questions was a “define this term, then explain how it works” kind of thing. As we went over the answers, as usual, our professor got sidetracked and gave us all a life tip.
He explained (I’m paraphrasing here) that if a question starts with a term, define the fuck out of it. If you don’t, you’re basically telling the person grading the answer that, right off the bat, you have no idea what you’re talking about. This takes away from your argument and you look like an idiot.
He’s right. Sometimes I’ll answer a question without defining the terms right at the beginning, and halfway through I’ll realize I’m just bullshitting. It hasn’t hurt me too much just yet, but I’m getting to the point where I actually need to know what I’m talking about.
But until then, I’ll stick with the bullshit.
This is from my Values reflection paper, which counts as my “final exam” grade. I was spinning bullshit and it turned into this. I probably need to get to sleep soon.
I still believe that a web of positivity connects us all. My new view is a little more complex than just a definition of our morality through our daily interactions. Our circumstances are relative, but our humanity is one thing. As human beings we are expected to do certain things and expected to not do certain things, not only for others, but for ourselves. I spent 10 minutes at Kroger yesterday watching shoppers put pocket change into the Salvation Army bucket. Yes, it helps the needy, but right after the annoying bell-ringer says “thank you,” every single person smiled and had a little “pep in their step” as my grandmother would call it. One little girl, clad in a puffy white jacket that made her look like the Michelin Man more than a toddler, asked her mom for a quarter and instead of waddling over to the gumball machine, went straight over to the woman with the bell and handed her the quarter. Adorable, sure, but that little girl was really fucking cute. Like, I don’t really want kids, but holy shit, if anything could possibly make me want to be injected with whatever fertility drugs Kate plus 8 got in her uterus, it’d be that. Even if you were Stalin, about to commit genocide against your own people, if you saw that, you’d be like “d’awwwww,” stick your thumb in your mouth, put on your footie pajamas, grab your teddy bear and ask your mother to read you Goodnight Moon. That’s how fucking cute it was.
Author’s Note: This is staying in the paper.
