Archive for the 'Correspondence' Category

Open Letter to the Boys in the Back

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on April 2, 2008
in Correspondence and Paedagogy
. 3 Comments

Dear boys -  my dear, dear boys,

I’m not sure how to begin this letter.  I still feel that there’s so much I don’t know about you.  For starters, I don’t really even know what your faces look like.  For the first eight or so weeks of class, I had two of you mixed up.  In my defense, those two of you are both of medium height, medium build, and have medium brown hair.  More than that, though, it’s the fucking hats.  They cover at least 60% of your face when you wear them like that, you know?

I’m sure you do know, actually.  I’m sure that’s why you wear them that way.  You don’t want to be here and the pain and torture of having to even look in the general direction of me or your fellow students is too much to bear.  And eye contact — the thought of that must send shudders to the deepest places in your souls, if in fact you have souls.

It would normally be enough to make me feel deeply sad.  You’re all (well, most of you) clever boys and you could do really interesting things in this class.  You’re perceptive and witty — I notice all this, see, when I hear you talking about your weekend plans, your moms, or any number of other off-topic things.

But you seem not to care what you could accomplish here, with my help and your own commitment to the class, so you shield yourselves with the hats, carefully coordinating the camouflage prints on them with those on your hunting jackets and the mud on your boots, and, in a move that belies your countrified senses of fashion, you pull out your cell phones subtly (not subtly enough) under the desk and txt away furiously during class.

You know you’re not supposed to — hence, I’m sure, the covert behavior and sneaky, slump-shouldered posture — so why look so shocked and appalled when I ask you to put the phone away?  Why — when at this moment you finally deign to look toward the front of the room — fix me with such a murderous glare?

Like I said, we really don’t know each other that well, so I have to ask.  I only know the few facts I have managed to gather via my awesome powers of detection (and the fact that I once overheard a relatively lengthy portion of the conversation one of you had with your mother when she called during our workshop and you actually answered the phone and proceeded to speak to her during class, during fucking class).  Are you a bunch of violent criminals, embittered by your years spent “on the inside” who view your liberal arts classes as a further extension of the long arm of The Man?  Is it just that your parents forcing you to go to college, threatening you with taking away your huge trucks?

I’d just like to know, see, so that next time one of you sends those daggers of ill will out of your otherwise hidden eyes, I will know whether to run and hide or just nail you to the wall with my words. Because I am done trying.

Love and kisses,

The Name’s Not Ms.

open letter to my twenties

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on December 11, 2007
in Cheese Sandwich and Correspondence
. 2 Comments

Dear Twenties,

As I am sure you know, the time has come for us to part company.  It’s been a long, lovely ride, but this is my stop and I am getting off.  Goodbye to you, suckas!

Don’t get me wrong, there were a lot of things about you that were truly good:  I gave up vegetarianism, for one, and every piece of bacon I now eat tastes just that much more delicious for its long absence.  I was For Real In Love for the first time, which was also a pretty amazing thing.  In retrospect, however, I’d have to say that my relationship with bacon has worked out much better for everyone involved. Except the pigs, of course.

In my twenties I think I also got the friendship thing right:  I managed to keep the really important friendships and ditch the toxic ones.  Learning to recognize the toxic ones alone was a major accomplishment.  For some reason, it took me a while to figure out that if someone’s basic function in your life is to make you feel shitty about yourself, then that person is not a friend.  An ingenious insight, I know.

On the other hand, a lot about you straight up blew, Twenties.  The long-nourished infatuations with people who didn’t love me back (so much wasted time!), the exchange of running for sitting at a desk or on a couch, the mounting student loan and credit card debt — those are fun little mistakes I plan never to repeat.

I hate to tell you Twenties, but I think the Thirties are going to kick your ass up one side and down the other.  I’m no longer a student now, for the first time since before kindergarten.  I have a terminal degree and a real adult job and a dog.  I am at the beginning of my real life now, looking forward to establishing myself professionally and starting to earn a Serious Adult Salary (soon, we hope, right?).

The friendships keep getting better and better and I’m sure the relationships will, too, now that I know what I want out of them.  One lesson learned, relationship-wise, for example: It is not okay if your boyfriend thinks that sitting on his couch smoking pot while you watch him play Nintendo is a fun date activity.  Not okay.

Twenties, I bid you a bittersweet adieu.  I’d love to stay and chat some more, but I have a mission.  I am off to meet the Thirties and together we are going to step out and kick some serious ass. Sorry, Twenties, but it’s over.

Really, finally over,

Vague

memo from the desk of what the difference is between today and tomorrow

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on October 30, 2007
in Correspondence and Paedagogy
. 17 Comments

Today is this day. It is Tuesday. Today is the day on which, during the hours between twelve and four, you charming little whippersnappers can drop by my office to discuss revising your essays. During this discussion I will give you more brilliant ideas and suggestions than you are worth, wasting my finite brain power on your insignificant needs, wasting it on advice you will not heed, instead of using it for things that are relevant to my own life, such as thinking about David Boreanaz and deciding what kind of whiskey I am going to be drinking this evening.

Tomorrow is not today; it is different. Tomorrow is the day after today. Tomorrow is Wednesday. Tomorrow is not a day on which you can drop by my office, because I will not be here. Rather I will be using my finite brain power on things that are relevant to my own life, such as thinking about David Boreanaz and wondering why I drank so much whiskey the night before.

Do not ask me when my office hours are tomorrow. This is a question that is impossible for me to answer.  “When are your office hours tomorrow,” asks the wind silently. “When are your office hours tomorrow,” says the sound of one hand clapping. “When are your office hours tomorrow?” The question is like a Zen koan posed by the Buddha in a forest when no one was there to hear it.

We at the Desk of What the Difference is between Today and Tomorrow appreciate your careful attention to this matter.

memo from the desk of not impressing

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on March 28, 2007
in Correspondence, Grammar and Paedagogy
. 10 Comments

If you are wondering, as many are, how to create a strong first impression when you make contact with the instructor who will be teaching one of your courses, you might be interested in the following tutorial. 

Email is always the right option: it’s sleek and elegant, and a subtly nuanced mode of communicating.  You are going to want to make sure your instructor is able to really see your personality and to connect with you as an individual.  For that reason, try to write the way you speak, or, better yet, tha wa u txt.  Capitalization, spelling, and punctuation are but brittle fossils of yesteryear, so don’t follow tradition in this instance: just fire away!

First, you’ll want to address the email to the instructor.  Now once again, we at the desk of Not Impressing must stress that you avoid outdated modes of address, such as "Dear Professor Lastname."  Seriously bo-ring! In fact, why bother looking up the person’s name or rank?  Quick communication is a must; there’s simply no time for research.  Just address yourself to "Proffessor"  (remember, spell-check is so Windows 95).

Then, state your case baldly and with no attention to style, manners, or artifice.  Who wants some kind of pro forma politeness when trying Not To Impress?  Here is an example of what we’re talking about:

I was interested in taking this class in the spring and i was wondering if u had a previous syllabus. Also i would appreciate it if you could tell me the course load (assignments) that are required in this course. honestly, i’m really looking for a lighter load because it’s my last term. It’s greatly appreciated.

Witness how this writer has made only sporadic use of the shift key, leaving the first person pronoun in lower case much of the time and even neglecting to capitalize the first words of some sentences.  What a breezy air it gives! How the prose sparkles on the page!  Don’t you feel refreshed?  Note as well that the writer prefaces the penultimate sentence with "honestly," then proceeds to state that she is looking for an easy grade.  Some might wish to hide this information, preferring to suggest a certain diligence or passion in the subject matter.  Not here, oh no.  The confessional tone followed by an admission of laxity provides an endearing element that would otherwise be lacking.  Now the professor in question will not only be inspired to offer her the information (and the lighter load) she seeks, but will also likely wish to become her friend.  The writer has thus set herself up to have both an easy A and some special treatment throughout the term.  Brilliant.

Finally, an appropriate closing will be required.  Forget closing greetings such as the stale, fussy "sincerely."  The professor already knows how sincere you are, right?  Maybe you’re thinking of signing off with an expression of thanks, such as "thanks," but that should be avoided as well.  Instead, simply type your name immediately after the final sentence of the body of the email.  Who needs their name on a special little line all by itself?  Not you, friend!

If you have followed these instructions, you will have created a winning email:  it will be quick and casual, just like you!  It will evoke feelings of comradeship and sympathy in your instructor, while simultaneously not risking creating an impression of intelligence or diligence.  You wouldn’t want expectations of you to be too high, now, would you?   Of course not.  Stay right there in the middle, just where you belong. 

open letter to 2007

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on January 1, 2007
in Correspondence
. 1 Comment

Dear 2007,

We seem to be off to a fine start, me with a refrigerator full of healthy food, six new pages written, and a neighborhood run.  For the most part, 2006 sucked heartily, but if the last few weeks are any indication, you are going to be very, very different.  2007, you are cordially invited to bring it.

AV