A New Home

This blog has moved! I’m afraid I’ve grown weary of WordPress’s lack of features and compatibility with…well…anything, so I’m packing up and heading to Tumblr, which is infinitely superior.

So update your RSS feeds and bookmarks. A Fever Flirty Nun has officially become a TumbleLog.  The new address is http://keepingupwithruffin.tumblr.com/.

See you there!

Heartbeat

My heart rate is rather elevated at the moment. I’m not quite sure why, so it’s a bit a concern. Perhaps it’s the Sudafed PE?

I’m about to start another week of wobbly circadian rhythms. There’s a part of me that honestly thinks there will be good news this week. I imagine it is brought on by the series of confrontations that I have had with Housing. At this point, the director of my program is involved in the situation, and I’m pretty sure a tenured professor pulls a lot of weight with any department. Whatever happens, I just hope the end is near. I’m tired of this issue dominating my life (and my blog).

The weather around here is beginning to change. Now that fall has arrived, the mornings are chilly and windy. I’m anxious and nervous to experience a New England winter. The other day I told my fellow TAs (most of whom are from around here) that I am enjoying the weather here much more than the weather in Tennessee. Their response, in unison, was, “Wait for it.” This is gonna be interesting.

But the fact is that I do enjoy the atmosphere here. Housing aside, I’m adapting to the personalities and cultural differences that surround me. I am a kid from the South, who came to Massachusetts as an English instructor. My family often used the regional stereotypes to joke before I left, but the reality is that my grasp on writing and language is fairly strong. I don’t get the feeling that my students look at me and think that I am a murderer of the English language. From the questions I get in class, and the answers I am able (sometimes surprisingly so) to provide them, I get the sense that my students are confident in my knowledge – if you can call it that -  of the subject. Further, and perhaps more importantly, they are depending on me.

And I love that. I love that I can empower and enable people to help themselves, to go beyond the status quo or the mediocre. To use their skills to get what they want. I love that I can tell students are already more motivated than they were four weeks ago. That’s beautiful.

It’s also a very awesome thing that professors I have never even had for class know my name already. It’s definitely a perk of being a TA. And while we’re talking about good things, I am happy to have professors who care not only about academic progress of their students, but about their students’ personal development as well. Like I said, the director of my program (who is also one of my professors) volunteered to step in and help out with housing, even when I said he didn’t have to worry about a problem that wasn’t his to worry about. He says that it’s part of his job to “take care of” the TAs, and yes, he is my boss.

But I don’t know another employer OR another professor who would get involved in a housing problem for one of his employees/students. Unless that employer/professor genuinely cared about said employee/student. That’s what I get from this program. People who care, who try to help, and who honestly want to ensure academic and personal growth.

That’s why I came to UMass Dartmouth. And so far, I am getting exactly what I hoped for.

And It Just Became Dangerous

As of last evening, my housing situation is no longer humorously uncomfortable. No, now it is officially a safety hazard. Let’s break it down.

I’m in my room upstairs, typing up a draft of a class assignment, when all of a sudden, the fire alarm begins to deafen me. And I don’t mean that metaphorically; the thing was so loud that I literally thought to myself at one point that I was going to lose my hearing. So I grabbed my wallet, my phone, put on shoes, and headed downstairs.

Then there was the smell. Then there was the smoke. Then, when the fire alarm subsided, there was the yelling.

Apparently, one of my roommates had left a few eggs boiling on the stove for about two hours. He had forgotten about them. All the water boiled away, and the eggs began to burn. What gets me is that we don’t have smoke detectors in the townhouse – we have heat detectors. On the ceiling. About 10 feet away from the stove. Which means there had to be a fire in order to generate enough heat to sound the alarm. Either that, or some really, really hot smoke.

So once we get the initial problem under control, another one of the roommates begins to lose his mind. Like, honestly, having some sort of breakdown. Either he was terrified by the alarm, or he was just plain pissed at the other guy for being such an idiot. I don’t know. But he started hitting people, shouting obscenities left and right, and once he got that out of his system, he started to clean. Clean like a maniac.

Meanwhile, the cops came to check out the situation. People  came from all around because they could smell the burning food. And a lot of people were nice enough to bring fans to help us clear out the smoke. Oh, and by the way, whose pot do you think my roommate was using to boil those eggs? If you guessed mine, you get a gold star. Nasty, hard-boiled, burned eggs stuck to the bottom of my non-stick sauce pan.

Now, I’m not saying accidents don’t happen. Sure, this could have happened to anyone, right? I would say yes if it weren’t for the fact that the SAME roommate who caused all the commotion last night left boiling pots unattended again today…twice. TWICE. The first time, his water began to boil over, and I caught it in time to turn it down and remind him that he left the stove on again. The second time, he was smart enough to set the timer to go off, but what do I find when I return from grocery shopping? A timer beeping incessantly and a roommate upstairs playing video games.

So if you don’t hear from me for several days and there’s a news story about a student housing complex burning to the ground at UMass Dartmouth…well, I won’t finish that sentence. All I know is that I’m pissed. About the whole insane situation. About the uncooperative housing department. About the fact that I can’t sleep. About the fact that I could end up kindling at any given moment. Seriously, I’m considering moving into the office.

I’m no celebrity, but get me outta here!

Notes From The Middle

The following are lessons I have learned from being in situations in which I am the confidant, consultant, or otherwise unwilling ear to two different parties who both confide in me about the same thing. Usually, said “thing” is the other person in the drama. Let me break it down. There is Party A, who has a problem with Party B (or vice versa), who then talks to Party C: me.

I hate drama. A lot. And I hate when people would rather talk about other people than simply have a civil face-to-face discussion about their problems with one another. Similarly, I hate being friends with BOTH Party A and Party B, because that causes a conflict of interest in me that is rather difficult to overcome. I usually like to listen to people’s problems – it’s part of my ethos. But in situations like this, things get complicated, frustrating, and downright unhealthy – usually for Party C (again, that’s me). So, here we go.

Lessons on Being the Middle Man

1. Party A’s version of the story will conflict with Party B’s version. There’s no way around it. You will want to clear up the details, but wait…you’re supposed to be the confidant to both of them, remember?

2. When talking with one of the Parties, you will accidentally slip up and reveal more than you are supposed to know. Now you’re in an awkward situation, and you must cover.

3. Party A will claim that he/she doesn’t care about the situation. Party B will insist that Party A is torn up about the situation. Naturally.

4. Both Parties will inevitably say, “Don’t tell anyone I told you this” or some variation on that.

5. You will want to help the situation, but you must resist! As the middle man, you are nearly powerless.

5a. Your version of “help” probably includes somehow taking sides. Unless there is someone clearly in the wrong (e.g., a crime is committed), there is no way you can fairly “help” the situation. And forget about your personal beliefs; they do not matter.

6. At least one of the Parties will almost definitely feel betrayed by you somehow. And you will find that that Party trusts you less than they did beforehand.

7. Remember, you are not a mediator, and this is not your battle to fight.

8. When Party A questions Party B on how you know certain information, Party B’s explanation will likely be a simple, usually inaccurate, “Because he asked.”

8a. The Party who claims, “Because he asked,” probably got you involved by dropping vague hints and provocative statements, the meanings of which would not have been understood unless you had questioned them.

9. It is quite possible you will be made into a scapegoat, with all bad feelings shifting to you so that Party A and Party B can move on to fight another fight.

10. Your final reflection on the situation will leave you feeling any number of the following: I am untrustworthy, I only made the situation worse, I’m not a good friend, I really didn’t help anything, Why does this keep happening?, I am not here to hold anyone’s hands, I don’t understand these people, Open and honest is rather refreshing – why can’t they try it?, They’ll be fine but I’ll be alone, and/or Damn – here I am again to clean up a mess.

Remember, these rules may vary for you. I know that my experience in this kind of circumstance tends toward the negative, and usually I just feel really, really bad about myself when all is said and done. I suppose it just comes with the territory. But take notes, people. When Party A and Party B tangle you in their web of secrecy, power struggle, and repressed emotion, it’s hard to escape. Particularly if you, like me, genuinely want to help. But that word – help – is just too ambiguous, and who are you to determine what’s helpful and what’s best?

So forget petty drama. Forget heavy drama. Stay out of people’s business. You can’t be friends with everyone, and sometimes, you can’t help one Party without hurting the other. And afterwards, all you will have done is cause a burden on one Party, or uncomfortable explanations for another. It’s not worth it. Be a friend, but keep your self-respect, fight your own battles, and for Christ’s sake, let people solve their own goddamn problems. Chin up, move on.

Oh, I forgot to tell you, this will be on the test.

Quotes from Today

“I have a feeling that you and I are gonna be the kind of friends who say what they really think about each other. I don’t think I would say anything about you to someone else that I didn’t plan to say straight to your face.”

“I hate Stephanie Vie. So I’m going to turn in this tweet as my assignment, and I better get a damn A+ on that shizz.”

“Isn’t part of our resistance to change attributed to our fear of change? Isn’t a fear of change human nature?”

“I typically enjoy jerky and bumpy experiences, but that elevator is terrifying.”

“I’ve often tried to see myself through someone else’s eyes. It has led to many, many depressed evenings.”

“Hold on…that classroom is on the second floor. Which means my theory about every classroom having outdoor access is totally wrong. Let’s just keep this between us.”

“Wait, they were secret service agents for Sarah Palin? I’m guessing it was hard to stay dedicated.”

“Hey, Tyler, are you interested in an internship?”

On the Skills/Interests section of a Biz Comm resume: “Microsoft Word, Excel, Hockey, Ladies, Tree, Bevys.”

“Oh my God. I’ve been here for over 12 hours. No, that can’t be right. What…what the hell time is it?”