Frank Atkisson:
CLASS OF 2000
Staples High SchoolClass of 2000
Staples, MN
Frank's Story
Life
H'yellow. I'm still a dork, only I'm an Improved Dork, version 3.0. College was awesome, I'm married to the most sublimely excellent woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting and I'll eventually get around to kicking a career off in this field I went to so much trouble to earn certificates of education in.
That time is not now, however. For now, I'm being a total bum and dabbling in freelance writing. I'm living in Staples again, for the time being, though this is subject to change without notice.
My wife and I have inflicted no spawnlings upon the world as-yet, I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't really care about hunting, fishing, dirt bikes, four-wheelers, snowmobiles, trucks or stereos and I -still- read too damn much for anyone else's good.
Computers, however, are my "guy hobby", much as most of the aforementioned are beloved "guy hobbies" of the area; I take them apart, I put them together, I make them do everything they were meant to do better than they were made to do it and I enjoy myself.
I also listen to a lot of music. Music, as far as I'm concerned, is my muse of inspiration, especially for my other "guy hobby replacement": writing. I dabble in freelance sci-fi/fiction authoring, which doesn't exactly make a great deal of money, but, money isn't my benchmark for enjoyment, fulfillment or even success.
Money is, however, the benchmark by which I can measure how much neat stuff I can buy, so while it's not high on my list of important things, it's somewhere around the middle...at least until I can figure out how to design and manufacture better computer hardware on my own.
How this turned into a "What's important to me" monologue, I'm not entirely sure, but it's not a poor road to roam down.
Religion isn't important to me in as many ways as it is. I feel it to be important for a person to essentially invent their own core of beliefs based upon their personal perceptions of life, reality and whatever else factors into their view of such matters.
Needless to say, I'm not Christian, and I have a rather dim view of organized religion in it's entirety.
Politics...well, I think politics are a reflection of mankind's universal refusal to grow up. We don't need politics (as defined by the pedestrian use of the word) any more than we need to be told that it's bad to punch those who don't agree with us in the face.
I too well realize that, at any given moment, people around the world could just up and decide to be decent to each other. This may be the only thing that's never happened of all possible events, by world history's documentation, so while I'm not holding my breath with expectations, it remains my life's objective purpose.
I'm very opinionated on both subjects (politics and religion), which stands as forewarning to any one of you that might ever broach such topics with me. Don't confuse that for narrow-minded or stuck in them, however; I didn't go through college and survive my own opinions without learning how to keep them in constant evolution, but do bear in mind that, while all input is considered, not all input shall be agreed with.
I'm also a sucker for controversial topics. I don't mean redundantly puerile asshattery of the sort that involves anything to do with Paris Hilton being in jail (in literal or figurative, general-context senses), but bringing up topics like abortion, death penalties, health care, government policies (domestic or foreign), racism and the price of tea in China are surefire ways to get yourself into a discussion.
The same goes for modern technology, especially in regard to computer stuffs. I likes me my computer stuffs. Don't talk to me about computer stuffs unless you like such things too, or I will bore you to tears. I will then refrain from apologizing, and I might even laugh at you. I do things like that.
Peace and love to the lot of ya.
Frank out.
School
Highschool was a joke, though in retrospect, I think I was my own punchline. A good many of the teachers were awesome, but I was always left with the impression that I was attending a circus governed by clowns with top-hats, not educators. That was mostly, I think, due to the administration largely having been a circus of clowns with top-hats, but, maybe it was just me.
My fondest memories from back then don't really have much to do with school, nor do my happiest or craziest.
All things considered, that whole stretch of my life wasn't a good time for me, which also had virtually nothing to do with school, so both my best and worst memories of that time have precious little to do with school at all.
On the contrary, my best memories are of hanging out with my friends and doing stuff that wasn't liable to get anyone in trouble. It always annoyed me that "having fun" and "doing something stupid/illegal" were assumed synonyms, 'cause my idea of having fun never really ran that line.
I look back on highschool and always wind up laughing, just the same. What a bunch of socially awkward twits most of us were, which definitely includes myself.
As some of you doubtlessly noticed, partway through 11th grade, I dropped off the face of the world; quit school, in other words.
I was a troublesome teenager, of this I have no doubt. Hung out with mostly the wrong crowd, didn't apply myself to schoolwork and...well, actually, it'd probably have been the teachers who noticed this more'n any of my classmates, but, I also had a huge chip on my shoulder.
I had a riotously crappy homelife. I won't go into gory details, but it was abusive and demeaning in most ways either can be interpreted. That alone was most of why I wound up quitting school, though my behavior-induced trouble at school was just more strings for the figurative camel's back, and I snapped.
Unlike other doorknobs that snap and do crap like shoot up their school, I dealt with the actual problem in the only way I knew how; ran away from home, bounced around for a while, got a crappy job that'd pay the bills, got my G.E.D and enrolled myself in college as soon as I could do so without having to reference my parents' taxes.
I wouldn't recommend that kind've thing to just anyone as a method of problem-solving, but in my case, it worked out pretty damn alright. As it turned out, being away from my neurotically maladapted parents was exactly what I needed, and I went on to prove that to myself in col...Expand for more
lege.
College
College was great. It was where I finally got to get away from my psychotic parents and actually focus on one of my all-time favorite activities; learning stuff.
I got my A.A at CLC in Brainerd, which was about the best place I could start from after I quit highschool, and the atmosphere was marvelous. That, combined with the reiterated observation of having gotten away from my psychotic home-life, was all the set-up I needed to wrap my brain around my education.
I did well enough at CLC to finish out my four year and acquire my B.A through the University of Minnesota, all in pursuit of my dual major of Social Psychology/Cultural Anthropology.
Once I had my B.A, I took a bit of a break, worked down in the Twin Cities for a while with a marketing and advertising agency (social marketing sucks, by the way, unless you have no soul), which got me pretty well connected in my field, even if the actual work was dubious and reprehensible.
I went from there to UCLA, where I enrolled in their social psych masters' program...and let me tell you, that was a departure from everything I'd experienced before. It had a lot of highs and lows; the high was that the program is awesome. My wife and I spent a number of months traveling around Europe when I was doing the research for my master's thesis, and their correspondence staff made both the trip and the research work a lot easier.
I apparently did pretty well in the program, as I was given quite a number of glowing references when I applied for the doctoral program at none other than our own home-state U of Minnesota.
I could've gone elsewhere, but I'd developed a certain appreciation for Minnesota once I'd been away from it for a while, and returning seemed like a good idea at the time. Of substance to note is that the U of M's social psychology program is extremely solid, and I found it to be both enjoyable (it's hard to find a doctoral faculty that's so laid-back yet so professional as we've got there) and enriching.
To complete the full-circle of nostalgic irony, my wife and I even moved back to Staples shortly after I completed the Ph.D program, and now I'm sitting here like a stubborn lump, taking some time off to relax and let the realization that I'm almost 26 sink in.
I'm turning into an old man. It's dreadful. You lot aren't getting any younger either, so, with all due maturity and grace, I say "neener neener" to you.
And...that's my college bio in a nutshell! Enjoy.
Workplace
I've done so many entry-level, brain-not-required jobs in the past ten years that I wouldn't know where to begin if I were at all feeling compelled to bother describing them.
Really, my work history is anything but noteworthy, and the best-paying job I've ever had was in a field that made me feel like I was both lying and stealing from unsuspecting, typically impoverished strangers.
...And that shall forever remain my descriptive synopsis of social marketing in advertising. When you're being paid to work with advertisement developers on strategies with the overall objective of "How can we most effectively make people think they need this crap we're peddling?", you find out in a real big hurry if you've got a soul or not.
As it turns out, I have one, and it's keenly functional.
I also like being able to sleep with myself at night, so, I got out of that job pretty quickly, and no amount of money will bring me back to it.
There are a lot of things in life that money can't buy, which Mastercard's hallmark-wannabe socio-marketing strategists have been endearing people with for some time now...but, I digress.
I've flipped burgers, I've done lawn care, I've been an assistant social worker, I've been a nursing assistant in retirement homes/nursing homes and hospices alike.
It's all been very educational. In my over-arching career as a social psychologist (or, as I prefer, cultural anthropologist), I see very plainly the value of having done those various jobs, and it's a value far in excess of the starvation wages they nigh-universally provide.
When I was flipping burgers at a diner, some of my co-workers taught me the value of taking real pride in your work, even if your job is menial; that you do it for yourself. That's a lesson I've applied to everything I've done since, and it's served me well.
As an assistant social worker, I was essentially the office stooge. I made sure the social workers' desks were well-supplied, I did the form-filling interviews with new clients and I did the paperwork-filing (and dossier-maintenance) on existing clients.
Most importantly in all that was that I did a lot of the paperwork and face-to-face interviewing of new clients, many of whom were juveniles who'd been taken into state custody. It broke my heart repeatedly to transcribe a lot of the information they'd give me; to see the looks in their eyes as they'd tell their stories.
I don't know where any of those kids (and adults) wound up in their lives, but they collectively taught me a lot about what it is to be human.
Working as a nursing assistant in retirement/nursing homes and hospices was the job of all jobs, however.
Almost all of my co-workers in such facilities were there for two reasons; insurance and a paycheck. Some were new nobodies like I invariably was (I worked a CNA pool, so I was always all over the place), some others were veteran CNA's of 5, 10, 20+ years.
Very few actually cared about the people they were working with, however. I think some wanted to, and doubtlessly some did more than they'd ever let on.
I got a lot of very heart-wrenching memories from that job. The one that stands out the most was an old married couple who'd been together since they were children. I'll call them Ted and Mary, as their names are confidential.
I worked at this particular facility quite often, and I'd come to know Ted and Mary fairly well. Mary died unexpectedly, and I think it crushed me more than it did Ted, who made himself start walking again after Mary passed away.
His reason? Mary was someplace where she didn't need him to look after her, and she'd have wanted him to live, not give up and die.
Ted taught me; is still teaching me; a lot about what being a husband is. About being a man. really. We never spoke about those things, but we didn't have to.
You don't learn things like that out of books. You live them.
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