A brief vacation from my rambling social criticism to offer a quick update on my life for my friends and family!

I am now fully moved into Cincinnati and my teaching orientation for the University of Cincinnati began today. This orientation will last for two weeks and involves learning basic teaching methodology as well as much prep work for the upcoming semester (which will begin on September 19th). I will be teaching one section of first-year German students and the class will meet five times per week. This is slightly demanding, as most classes meet only 2-3 times per week– but will force me to develop a lot of discipline right away as a teacher.

Also, my roommate, Martina, arrived from Austria and we have quickly found ourselves drowning in the details of being grad students. I am feeling overwhelmed, tired, anxious, and somewhat bewildered, but all the veteran grad students and professors keep telling us that it gets better and I’m going to trust them on that. So I will try not to dwell too much on the negative… Here is a fun, acrostic update of my so-called new life.

“C” is for crazy, because that’s above all how it feels to be here. Deep down, I am maybe very excited and happy to be here. But EVERYTHING is new– everything: people’s accents, big city, racial issues, transportation systems, the furniture in my apartment, professors, classes… And it’s not like Germany where I knew I would be going home at the end of the internship, I have to keep reminding myself that this is my LIFE. One day at a time!

“I” is for Insomnia. Between living out of a suitcase for a month, traveling between WI and OH for the past few weeks, noise on the street, and, most of all, nerves, I haven’t slept in three nights. Tonight I talked to an herbalist and if this doesn’t work, maybe I will make friends with some med-students who can further advise me.

“N” is for Noise. It’s noisy here! WoW!
“C” is for Communication. There are many Germans/ Austrians here, not to mention my roommate. Also my professors and colleagues communicate on a very professional level and communication seems to be a skill I really need to work on.

“I” is for Interesting, because I’m sure that’s what the coursework will be like once all my jitters subside. I’m taking classes this semester on “the Historical Novel” (the role of German literature and various works in influencing history), some Russian, a survey of early German literature (think middle-ages to just before the 18th century) and possibly a hefty research seminar.

“N” is for Neighbor. All alone in a new place, you quickly learn to value the smallest connections you have to people. There is one student upstairs from me from my department, a few familiar faces on the street, and most of all my new roommate, Martina. Martina is wonderful, we are both outgoing, clean-freaks, sensitive; yesterday, amid a pile of tear-soaked kleenex we also discovered we are both “Cancers” (a horoscope sign that is known for being overemotional). She is from Austria and we switch back in forth between German and English– which is a help for us both.

“N” is for Neighborhood. Cincinnati is a neighborhood-oriented city. I live in Clifton which surrounds campus. When I first got here, and my brother was here, I set out to conquer the whole metro area of Cincinnati. It quickly became apparent that this was too big a task. Now I am concentrating on getting to know my neighborhood first so I have a “home-base.” Where I live it is very loud and there is lots of garbage strewn about the ground. But it is amazing the little treasures you will find while walking around: a little shop, a restaurant or coffeehouse– you walk in and it is clean, cozy, and it is a small slice of home in the midst of chaos.

“A” is for Apartment. Our apartment is our haven! We do not have much, but already it feels like a home. There are high ceilings, wood floors, and everything is very clean and tidy. There is even another family in our building, and the father is a colleague of ours from the department. We are so thankful to have a very homey place!

“T” is for teaching. My time during the Master’s degree will be split between teaching (~20 hrs including class, prep, and office hours) and my studies. Both of these things combined will total out to more than a full-time job and we are not allowed to find work outside the department. This quarter I will be teaching one section of 100-level German students, which meets for 50 minutes five days a week. This is a notably demanding first teaching assignment (most college classes only meet 2-3 times per week) but it will force me to develop discipline and daily rapport as a teacher.

“I” is for Ice Cream. Graeter’s Ice Cream is traditional Cincy cuisine and let me tell you, I can see why (the heat). There is a little ice-cream parlor in my neighborhood and it is great comfort food.

Love and Miss You All!

Cole

Once upon a time there lived a vain queen whose only worry in life was to look beautiful and remain young. Many times every day she applied lotions and potions to her skin so that it would always look as white and supple as it did when she was a girl. But all the lotions and all the potions only made her skin very tired and the queen kept growing older and older.

Word of the queen’s vanity spread throughout her kindgom until it reached the ears of two swindlers, Proctoria and Gimble. They introduced themselves at the gates of the queen’s castle and asked to enter.

“We are two expert chemists and we have engineered a wonderful lotion to make the queen’s skin look as young as ever. This lotion is so light and fine it will not appear clumy or oily, but will leave it feeling soft and refreshed. Everyone will be amazed at her skin, except those who are too incompetent to appreciate such beauty.”

T he Queen overheard and approached the gate. The swindlers smiled at her and her sagging wrinkles.

“Besides being invisible, your Highness, this lotion contains pro-retinol A to rejuvinate dull, lifeless skin and Sodium Laureth Sulfates which smell very nicely. Plus, it is easy, breezy, beautiful.” The Queen was impressed. She immediately let them stay in an old room at the edge of the castle while they concocted their lotion every day and night.

Each night as the queen was getting ready for bed she would look at her face in the mirror but all she could see were crow’s feet and sun spots. She comforted her despair with the thought that, at the other end of the great hall, two experts were working to create something that would once again make her look young and fresh. She imagined what her new skin would look like until she fell asleep with a giant grin on her face.

The queen made one of her subjects inspect the chemist’s progress each day. Every time they entered the laboratory, the swindlers would enthusiastically explain all the intricate steps in creating the secret lotion.

“Later we will be adding the Blue Coloring #2 and artificially-added vanilla essence. What you’re seeing now is far from the finished product.” But the subject saw nothing in the beaker where the lotion should be. He remembered that only the really stupid people were unable to see the lotion so he kept his anguish to himself.

Finally the day approached when the lotion would be finished. The queen threw a huge celebration for her entire kingdom to show off her new face. That morning, the swindlers gave her the beaker of lotion. The queen could not see the lotion but her subject began to rub it into her face. She also did not feel the lotion on her face, but then again the lotion was supposed to be fine and light.

She looked in the mirror and at first she didn’t think she looked any younger or more beautiful. Proctoria and Gimble assured her she did because their consumer reports said the lotion worked and how could she contest consumer reports from all 7 continents. Besides if the lotion didn’t work then she had no hope. So after that she looked in the mirror and felt wonderful.

She felt wonderful walking around on the street, knowing she had consumer reports from all 7 continents supporting her. She felt wonderful when the people looked at her. She was sure every moment was making her look younger and younger. She felt wonderful when some of the children played on the royal road beside her at the celebration.

Until one young child pointed at her, “But I thought she was supposed to look younger! Why, she looks as old as a goose!” His mother grabbed his arm and shushed him with some whispered words that remained unheard by the queen, who laughed awkwardly at the boy’s foolishness.

“But everyone knows that people get old– why does she think she’s any different?” The boy answered his mom incredulously. Proctoria and Gimble looked at the boy angrily.

“Actually, son, our studies conclude that getting old does not necessarily mean looking old. In fact,” Proctoria stated, now looking around at all the disillusioned faces of the entire kingdom. “With our new line of lotions, NONE of you should ever have to look at an ugly wrinkle again.”

And that is how the kindgom was sold on Proctoria and Gimble. News of their fascinating products spread throughout other kingdoms and countries until their company became one of the largest chemical manufacturing companies in the world. Unfortunately, soon after they signed their biggest merger deal, changing their name to Proctor and Gamble, the queen died of skin cancer related to foreign chemicals absorbed into the skin. Proctor and Gamble declined to comment on the topic.

If you should like to order some of Proctor and Gambles age-deying lotions or any of their other fascinating products, please call 1-800- DEATH IS INEVITABLE, STUPIDITY ISN’T.

I believe it was the existential philosopher Sartre who penned the startling words, “hell is other people.” Although that quote possesses more truth than I’d like to admit, it lacks a certain definitiveness that the concept of hell warrants. Also lacking in its capacity to enlighten its audience on the depths of such a topic (no pun intended) was tonight’s ABC 20/20 entitled “Hell: Why are We Obsessed with Hell?”

That’s right, sandwiched in between episodes of George Lopez and a Jimmy Kimmel was a reportage detailing a concept which at one time ruled entire cultures: the concept of Hell.

Reporter Richard Wier interviewed a handful of individuals, ranging from a clinincally insane serial killer to a reformed preacher to an ex-nun.  Each interviewee had a different perspective of hell; some, such as Marilyn Manson and the serial killer, claimed that they were ready and willing to go to hell, since, ” you don’t get to do anything in heaven anyway.” Another man claimed he has already experienced hell a decade ago, when he tried to kill himself. Wier points out, too, that most world religions share some concept of hell, though its specific characteristics and invitation list differ.

The majority of interviewees, however, came to the conclusion that hell does exist– not in an otherwordly form, but here on earth.  Hell, they claim, exists in the minefields and genocides of Africa, in the eyes of cold-blooded perpetrators, and in the darkened prison rooms where women are raped.  In a definite breech with traditional Christian thought, as well as with many other prominent religions,  hell is reduced from something otherworldly and fearsome, to something profane and everyday.  Some even go so far as to reduce eternal damnation to matter of personal preference, much like one chooses a piece of fruit in the supermarket or a group of friends.  “Heaven just isn’t me, I wouldn’t fit in,” declares Marilyn Manson matter-of-factly, going on to state he wouldn’t mind going to hell when he dies.

I kept wondering, as person after person gave their opinions on hell, isn’t this somethign we should talk to God about?  I mean, we’re not talking about gun control or contract negotiations, here, but HELL. If ANYONE were interviewed, shouldn’t it be God himself?  While many of the interviewees disagreed on many of the more daunting aspects of hell, they all shared one common quality: all of their arguments were based around themselves and what they “felt” about the existence of heaven or hell.  I could be wrong, but last time I checked, I’m pretty sure that HELL existed independent of human reasoning or preference.

That question may lead to some tension, and heaven forbid ABC leave their audience with <gasp> something to think about the rest of the night.  In the nick of time, Wier offers a solution to the daunting puzzle of Hell: good deeds.  By performing good deeds of service, many people in the show comforted themselves from the “hell” they found around them (such as the holocaust or civil wars in Africa).  After all, if hell is merely a construct that exists on earth with no eternal ramifications, then by golly, we can beat this thing. Ladies and Gentlemen, the headlines: “Mayor Guiliani declared wednesday that the hell that infected NYC on 9/11/2201 is safely in remission, according to recent tests. This success is attributed to combined efforts between good deeds in all sectors of society.”

It must be pointed out that this optimistic view of hell, or whatever it is the reporter was trying to portray, vastly differs from most worldviews held by all citizens of the world from the dawn of man.  It certainly differs from all civilizations upon which our western cultural traditions are built. To shrug off the constraints of “superstitious” concepts such as hell, is neither virtuous nor intelligent, but ignorant.  I find myself outraged that even someone such as holocaust-survivor Ellie Wiesel, interviewed on the show, could place there trust in a humanity which is perfectable and inherently good; have we not learned this lesson many times before, this lesson of evil. Have we not learned this lesson hundreds of thousands of times in the 20th century alone?

The most clear thinking interviewee on the show was someone who first appeared crazy. It was a man who claimed to have had a near-death experience first as a child and later as an adult.  His experience as an adult differed greatly from that of his childhood; in fact, he had attempted suicide when he felt his life slipping from him.  He lost consciousness and woke up in what he knew to be hell. Although what he saw would be consistent with Judeo-Christian teachings on the subject, his description of that hell differed greatly from the mythical qualities we often assign to it.  It was an experience of isolation, alienation, and full understanding of the wrongs he had committed in life. The man ended up being brought back to life, he dramatically changed his behavior, including a $1,000/ week drug habit.  He now counsels survivors of suicide, but does not place his hope in his ability to do good while counseling.

To Wier’s question, “Why are we obsessed with Hell?” I would like to answer, “No one seems to be obsessed with Hell.” To be sure, we’re obsessed with something alright, but it ain’t hell. It’s something else: humanity. Ourselves, perhaps. Let us just hope that another brilliant philsopher was wrong when he said, “the greatest scheme of the devil was when he convinced humans that he wasn’t there at all.”