~ Soren Kierkegaard
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Freedom of Speech Quote
~ Soren Kierkegaard
Friday, February 26, 2010
Disconnection
Just when I think that everything that can happen has, another bomb drops, another knock at the door happens, another tremor shakes the foundations. I'm past the point of being able to respond appropriately, I think. I feel a constant hum of it, a physical sensation, and everything else becomes a touch, too, unpleasantly so, every word, every action around me, as stress makes me too sensitive to everything.
I drove home this afternoon with no sense of being in this world at all. I'm sure there was music on the radio, and I'm sure that is was, as usual, up loud. I'm sure that there were other cars on the road and that I drove my accustomed speed, but the only thing about it I remember was being amused that the song "Under Pressure" by Bowie was on as I stopped at a light and that I noticed it was starting to get dark. I couldn't tell you with any accuracy if that's because it was late or because rain was threatening.
Stability needs to return. Until it does, I guess I'll huddle here and try to heal myself in this brief moment of respite.
I drove home this afternoon with no sense of being in this world at all. I'm sure there was music on the radio, and I'm sure that is was, as usual, up loud. I'm sure that there were other cars on the road and that I drove my accustomed speed, but the only thing about it I remember was being amused that the song "Under Pressure" by Bowie was on as I stopped at a light and that I noticed it was starting to get dark. I couldn't tell you with any accuracy if that's because it was late or because rain was threatening.
Stability needs to return. Until it does, I guess I'll huddle here and try to heal myself in this brief moment of respite.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Hughes
His longer poems are wonderful, full of power, but tonight, it's not those weighty works that are calling me. I'm flipping through and reading the little ones, the brief and shimmering bits. He was a master of packing much into little, and I think it's nice, sometimes, just to look at those poems and appreciate them.
I'm going to share a few that caught my eye tonight. They are in no particular order. I hope they please you as they did me.
Star Seeker
I have been a seeker
Seeking a flaming star,
And a flame white star
Has burned my hands
Even from afar.
Walking in a dream-dead world
Circled by iron bars,
I sought a singing star's
Wild beauty.
Now behold my scars.
Heaven
Heaven is
The place where
Happiness is
Everywhere.
Little Lyric (Of Great Importance)
I wish the rent
Was heaven sent.
and one last one:
History
The past has been a mint
Of blood and sorrow.
That must not be
True of tomorrow.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Flight of the Muse
It's February. The local contest is here. I have nothing. I'm empty. AAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHH.....
There's a piece I wrote earlier this year, and I think it's strong, but it's not ready yet. It needs to tumble around in that rock polisher between my ears for awhile yet before I send it anywhere.
I wrote something about New Orleans, too, after I came back from my recent sojourn there, but it's a little on the dark side, a little eerie, and it's the most recent thing I have produced. I need to work on it more than any of the others. I'm going back to NOLA soon, too, and I want to see if I still feel the same about the poem and the city after this second trip there. Travel always makes me write, and I was in such a whirl during that first trip that there wasn't any time to do more than get fleeting impressions.
There's a piece I started,felt strongly about, and shelved called "For the Girls" that was inspired by watching the interaction between my students, watching how mean they can be to each other sometimes when one of them doesn't quite fit the expected pattern or is a little different. It, too, is too rough to send. It needs pruning, like a wild-growth shrub that sprang up too fast. I wrote three pages worth of that one before I put it away for later.
I guess it's not true then, to say that I have nothing. I guess it's more a problem that everything I have is weak and unfinished, like a string of houses the builder walked away from, windows gaping open, doors unhung. I don't know whether or not to try to get something together or just to skip it this year. I need my muse to descend and slap me around some so I can get something concretely polished. Maybe a miracle will happen here in the next few days.
There's a piece I wrote earlier this year, and I think it's strong, but it's not ready yet. It needs to tumble around in that rock polisher between my ears for awhile yet before I send it anywhere.
I wrote something about New Orleans, too, after I came back from my recent sojourn there, but it's a little on the dark side, a little eerie, and it's the most recent thing I have produced. I need to work on it more than any of the others. I'm going back to NOLA soon, too, and I want to see if I still feel the same about the poem and the city after this second trip there. Travel always makes me write, and I was in such a whirl during that first trip that there wasn't any time to do more than get fleeting impressions.
There's a piece I started,felt strongly about, and shelved called "For the Girls" that was inspired by watching the interaction between my students, watching how mean they can be to each other sometimes when one of them doesn't quite fit the expected pattern or is a little different. It, too, is too rough to send. It needs pruning, like a wild-growth shrub that sprang up too fast. I wrote three pages worth of that one before I put it away for later.
I guess it's not true then, to say that I have nothing. I guess it's more a problem that everything I have is weak and unfinished, like a string of houses the builder walked away from, windows gaping open, doors unhung. I don't know whether or not to try to get something together or just to skip it this year. I need my muse to descend and slap me around some so I can get something concretely polished. Maybe a miracle will happen here in the next few days.
The "Real" Housewives
Bravo has a lot of reality TV these days. They have a whole string of shows that are variations on a theme, the Real Housewives series. I know you've probably seen the commercials if you're here in the States. They go to Orange County, New York, and Atlanta and follow a group of ultra-rich women around as they basically ham it up and fight with one another. What the hell kind of entertainment is this?
Granted, okay, I've never seen more than about five minutes of any of these, and that was only because I was in the kitchen or the middle of something I couldn't turn loose of to get to the remote after a show I do watch ended. What little of them I have seen has consisted of catfights, romantic melodrama, excessive spending, and dubious parenting. Again, I ask, why is this entertainment?
It pains me to watch someone wreck their lives or the lives of others when its fictional. How much worse is it when it's real? These shows have been on for several years now, so we've been privy to all sorts of moments and momentous decisions that probably are absolutely none of our business at all. Why?
To me, these shows are a part of a larger trend in culture to make the private public. I don't believe that every single thing in a person's life is the public property of the whole world. There seems to be a growing Brave New World mentality that "everybody belongs to everyone else." I don't care for that very much. Maybe it's because I've read that book so often and I know how it turns out. Maybe it's because I am, at heart, such an intensely private person myself.
"But you write a blog," you say. "You're putting your life out there for others to view." Yeah. You're right. I do. And some of the stuff I share here is very personal indeed. However, that being said, I do not have a camera following me around every day (at least not with my knowledge...otherwise, greetings Big Brother, and that's the end of my dystopian novel allusions, I swear....) watching me fall on my face and screw up for the amusement of the whole world. What you see here is what I want you to see. Think of me as a magician on the stage, the juggling fool and not the trainwreck on the news. To me there is a difference.
Maybe that's the way the Housewives think of their shows, too. Maybe once those cameras stop rolling, they take off their cat claws, put away their damp hankies, kick off their heels, and just are. Maybe, after all of it, there is not much reality to it at all. I guess I'll never know. I wish we could find a way to be more fascinated by things other than the spectacle presented.
Granted, okay, I've never seen more than about five minutes of any of these, and that was only because I was in the kitchen or the middle of something I couldn't turn loose of to get to the remote after a show I do watch ended. What little of them I have seen has consisted of catfights, romantic melodrama, excessive spending, and dubious parenting. Again, I ask, why is this entertainment?
It pains me to watch someone wreck their lives or the lives of others when its fictional. How much worse is it when it's real? These shows have been on for several years now, so we've been privy to all sorts of moments and momentous decisions that probably are absolutely none of our business at all. Why?
To me, these shows are a part of a larger trend in culture to make the private public. I don't believe that every single thing in a person's life is the public property of the whole world. There seems to be a growing Brave New World mentality that "everybody belongs to everyone else." I don't care for that very much. Maybe it's because I've read that book so often and I know how it turns out. Maybe it's because I am, at heart, such an intensely private person myself.
"But you write a blog," you say. "You're putting your life out there for others to view." Yeah. You're right. I do. And some of the stuff I share here is very personal indeed. However, that being said, I do not have a camera following me around every day (at least not with my knowledge...otherwise, greetings Big Brother, and that's the end of my dystopian novel allusions, I swear....) watching me fall on my face and screw up for the amusement of the whole world. What you see here is what I want you to see. Think of me as a magician on the stage, the juggling fool and not the trainwreck on the news. To me there is a difference.
Maybe that's the way the Housewives think of their shows, too. Maybe once those cameras stop rolling, they take off their cat claws, put away their damp hankies, kick off their heels, and just are. Maybe, after all of it, there is not much reality to it at all. I guess I'll never know. I wish we could find a way to be more fascinated by things other than the spectacle presented.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Recycling the Barn
I made something for the first time today in a long time. I haven't done anything useful with my hands in ages. I've been thinking though, about doing something with one of my favorite quotes by Emerson for some time now, and cruising around on Etsy has been inspirational. I wanted to have the quote up in my room, but I didn't just want to print it off and frame it. I wanted an actual piece of something with it on it. Today, I decided I would see about making something to fulfill that desire.
I started with a piece of old oak barnboard from the collapsed structure on the north side of my property. I poked around out there, and even though most of the siding was stripped off it two years ago before it fell down to help make the Red Field cabin, I was able to find an interestingly-shaped piece and extract it from the pile. I took my grandfather's hand sander and went after it to clean it up a bit after I got all the old nails out. When I got the roughness and dirt off, a beautiful pattern of graining appeared where the board had been planed. I don't know enough about such things to know if these are hand-planing marks or the marks of one of the old sawmills that ran around here, but it's not the sort of thing you see on modern wood. When I put the final coats of sealer on it and bring out the detail in the wood, it's going to be gorgeous.
I sat down in the floor with my calligraphy lettering book and some paintbrushes and lettered in my quote. That took me about an hour and a half to do. Trying to do some of that fancy lettering with a paint brush on a rough board surface might not have been the best of all choices, but I think it came out okay. I should have put the paint in a squeeze bottle and done it that way. It would have given me a "pen nib" to work with instead of the spreadable brush fibers. Oh well.....
When I was done lettering, I looked at the piece and it was missing something. I thought about the quote, and I knew I'd like to add some symbol of knowledge, but I knew that I wanted whatever I added to be something from the barn, something in keeping with the style of the board. It came to me quickly to cut something out of the tin from the roof. I've seen lots of things in catalogs and at craft shows where people have taken old license plates and so forth and done projects, so I decided why not try to do something with that roofing tin? I went and borrowed a pair of tin snips from my father and came back with the plan to cut out an owl for my piece.
I'm glad I formulated the world's simplest owl pattern. Good LORD. Scissors and paper, it ain't. There has to be an easier way to cut tin. Otherwise, how do all these craftspeople do it? I got the owl done, but it took me at least an hour to get it there. Once I was satisfied with the shape, I hand shaped it to give it a little dimension and started applying some color other than that already present from the rust.
The owl is drying now. Once all the paint has had a chance to cure, I'll assemble it and do any last minute touchups or corrections. Then I'll seal the whole thing. I think it's going to look pretty good considering this is my first project of this kind ever. I like the look of the owl, especially. I may try to do more to recycle pieces out of the old barn. I like the idea of giving things from it new life. It feels good.
I started with a piece of old oak barnboard from the collapsed structure on the north side of my property. I poked around out there, and even though most of the siding was stripped off it two years ago before it fell down to help make the Red Field cabin, I was able to find an interestingly-shaped piece and extract it from the pile. I took my grandfather's hand sander and went after it to clean it up a bit after I got all the old nails out. When I got the roughness and dirt off, a beautiful pattern of graining appeared where the board had been planed. I don't know enough about such things to know if these are hand-planing marks or the marks of one of the old sawmills that ran around here, but it's not the sort of thing you see on modern wood. When I put the final coats of sealer on it and bring out the detail in the wood, it's going to be gorgeous.
I sat down in the floor with my calligraphy lettering book and some paintbrushes and lettered in my quote. That took me about an hour and a half to do. Trying to do some of that fancy lettering with a paint brush on a rough board surface might not have been the best of all choices, but I think it came out okay. I should have put the paint in a squeeze bottle and done it that way. It would have given me a "pen nib" to work with instead of the spreadable brush fibers. Oh well.....
When I was done lettering, I looked at the piece and it was missing something. I thought about the quote, and I knew I'd like to add some symbol of knowledge, but I knew that I wanted whatever I added to be something from the barn, something in keeping with the style of the board. It came to me quickly to cut something out of the tin from the roof. I've seen lots of things in catalogs and at craft shows where people have taken old license plates and so forth and done projects, so I decided why not try to do something with that roofing tin? I went and borrowed a pair of tin snips from my father and came back with the plan to cut out an owl for my piece.
I'm glad I formulated the world's simplest owl pattern. Good LORD. Scissors and paper, it ain't. There has to be an easier way to cut tin. Otherwise, how do all these craftspeople do it? I got the owl done, but it took me at least an hour to get it there. Once I was satisfied with the shape, I hand shaped it to give it a little dimension and started applying some color other than that already present from the rust.
The owl is drying now. Once all the paint has had a chance to cure, I'll assemble it and do any last minute touchups or corrections. Then I'll seal the whole thing. I think it's going to look pretty good considering this is my first project of this kind ever. I like the look of the owl, especially. I may try to do more to recycle pieces out of the old barn. I like the idea of giving things from it new life. It feels good.
The Blue Eagle Returns
After a frustrating afternoon of trying to install my doc cam and not being able to do it (why, oh why won't that USB connection error stop???), I came home expecting a very lackluster evening. There was a minor moment of excitement and curiosity due to a large and unusual piece of telephone company equipment parked in my pasture. They're laying new phone line here, and if you've never seen the machine they use to do that, it's really sort of fascinating. I had no idea it kind of injects the line into the ground. They're working now, in fact. I think I may go out and watch them in awhile. How often does that happen, after all?
I opened my mailbox once that minor mystery was resolved and gathered what was there. In it was a small, flat, red, white, and blue USPS mailer envelope. I was instantly happy. There was only one thing that could be that size: my passport. I had applied for my renewal the last week of January, and just that act had been refreshing to my soul. I hadn't realized how much I missed just knowing it was sitting there, safely waiting for me to grab it and head off somewhere.
My passport had expired several years ago, but I hadn't gotten it renewed because I hadn't had an immediate travel need for it. I should have realized that just having it there was a type of need. There is a calmness that comes from knowing that if a trip comes up, I can go. If I decide at some point for some reason to go abroad, the biggest legal hurdle, that official document, is already secured.
It frees up my daydreaming, and apparently something in my subconscious mind as well because I dreamed of moving away last night. The place I moved to was a mixture of Japan and Ireland, all mountains, sea, and verdant everywhere I looked. I don't know exactly what place my brain was cooking up, but it was gorgeous and full of peace and wonder. Maybe having the passport will be a ticket back to the land of dreaming if nothing else.
I opened my mailbox once that minor mystery was resolved and gathered what was there. In it was a small, flat, red, white, and blue USPS mailer envelope. I was instantly happy. There was only one thing that could be that size: my passport. I had applied for my renewal the last week of January, and just that act had been refreshing to my soul. I hadn't realized how much I missed just knowing it was sitting there, safely waiting for me to grab it and head off somewhere.
My passport had expired several years ago, but I hadn't gotten it renewed because I hadn't had an immediate travel need for it. I should have realized that just having it there was a type of need. There is a calmness that comes from knowing that if a trip comes up, I can go. If I decide at some point for some reason to go abroad, the biggest legal hurdle, that official document, is already secured.
It frees up my daydreaming, and apparently something in my subconscious mind as well because I dreamed of moving away last night. The place I moved to was a mixture of Japan and Ireland, all mountains, sea, and verdant everywhere I looked. I don't know exactly what place my brain was cooking up, but it was gorgeous and full of peace and wonder. Maybe having the passport will be a ticket back to the land of dreaming if nothing else.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The Things That Thrill Me
So apparently I'm getting a doc cam soon at school. Freakin' YES. I can't wait to have that thing set up on my desk and running. I've been wanting one for years, and I've really been craving one since I saw a teacher at the school we visited in NOLA using hers with her AP classes. There are so many applications for one in English that it practically boggles the mind. I have so many things that I like to show students that I can just pop under the doc cam now and make huge. Students can put samples of their own work up for discussion. I can share my annotations on texts when we are doing discussion. I guess, if things get really desperate, we can make hand puppets under it, too....
Tech stuff thrills me. All the way down to my geekish socks and Chucks. I know the toys are bells and whistles and that none of them are necessary for good teaching, but man oh man, they make the job so much easier, so much more appealing. They also save me time and help me innovate. Every time I get a new tool or have a new service placed at my disposal, my little brain starts turning, and I start coming up with new projects, new ways to approach my curriculum, new angles in to that knowledge. It stays fresh for me and hopefully it's enjoyable and challenging for the students, too.
We have some new things headed our way soon, and I have just been to a tech conference, so all I need now is a little time to scheme...er...plan. That's what I meant to say. Plan. Right. Plan.
Tech stuff thrills me. All the way down to my geekish socks and Chucks. I know the toys are bells and whistles and that none of them are necessary for good teaching, but man oh man, they make the job so much easier, so much more appealing. They also save me time and help me innovate. Every time I get a new tool or have a new service placed at my disposal, my little brain starts turning, and I start coming up with new projects, new ways to approach my curriculum, new angles in to that knowledge. It stays fresh for me and hopefully it's enjoyable and challenging for the students, too.
We have some new things headed our way soon, and I have just been to a tech conference, so all I need now is a little time to scheme...er...plan. That's what I meant to say. Plan. Right. Plan.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Oh, I Couldn't Ever Have Said It Better....
Valentines Day Quotes, Sayings for Your Valentine: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love. ~Author Unknown"
Oh, how perfect a quote for Valentine's Day! Oh, how perfectly it sums up the goal for my life! Yes, and yes, and yes again.... Sigh....
Oh, how perfect a quote for Valentine's Day! Oh, how perfectly it sums up the goal for my life! Yes, and yes, and yes again.... Sigh....
The Need for Courage
I need more courage. For some things, I am fearless. I am not afraid to go to new places, to move to new countries by myself, to live alone. For others, I can conquer what fear I do have and go forward into whatever consequences there are. I don't fear confrontation, at least not usually, and I have (famously or notoriously) no problem expressing my opinions in word or speech. For others, though, for the things that probably matter the most, I cannot seem to break out of patterns I established so long ago. It's the simple personal interactions that scare me stiff.
How do I repattern myself? I ask myself that question over and over again. I have friends who are truly bold, who have gone out and who have grasped those things they want with both triumphant hands. I continue to sit in my tower and watch, afraid. And don't tell me, "Carpe Diem." Don't tell me, "What's it going to hurt to try?"
In the moments when I'm faced with those situations, it's like I'm back on top of that tall tower in Wales again, hooked to that rappelling harness again. I want to do it, I want to go down the side, but I am frozen, unable to trust in the equipment I have. That decision didn't feel nearly as hard as some others I wind up in, as some of the situations I've been in lately, even.
Maybe someday when it's really important, I will have the courage it takes. Maybe that will be the only thing that really matters and I can be forgiven for all my fear if I can conquer it in that one shining moment. I hope that day comes.
How do I repattern myself? I ask myself that question over and over again. I have friends who are truly bold, who have gone out and who have grasped those things they want with both triumphant hands. I continue to sit in my tower and watch, afraid. And don't tell me, "Carpe Diem." Don't tell me, "What's it going to hurt to try?"
In the moments when I'm faced with those situations, it's like I'm back on top of that tall tower in Wales again, hooked to that rappelling harness again. I want to do it, I want to go down the side, but I am frozen, unable to trust in the equipment I have. That decision didn't feel nearly as hard as some others I wind up in, as some of the situations I've been in lately, even.
Maybe someday when it's really important, I will have the courage it takes. Maybe that will be the only thing that really matters and I can be forgiven for all my fear if I can conquer it in that one shining moment. I hope that day comes.
Kayak Kissing Commercial
I guess this would make a meeting a lot more interesting. Unfortunately, I always wind up as the guy to the right....
Birthday
I had a good one this year. My best friend had a day of stuff planned, so I was just sort of carried from place to place for a day. It was wonderful not to have to choose what to do or where to go since I spend almost every minute of every day making those decisions for myself and others. I loved everything we did. The food we had was wonderful, and we painted pottery which was something I haven't done since I worked for a ceramics studio in college. It was relaxing because I was making something, and it also brought back a lot of old memories.
After painting, we went to Borders, and of course, I am always in my home territory in a real bookstore. I enjoy just the energy of being in them. I found two good things to read, one for AP, and one for personal amusement.
After I got back from Jackson, I went to the hospital to see a friend of mine's little girl. She and I share the same birthday. She got sick the evening of the 12th, and she's been having tests and procedures ever since. I remember what it was like to be little and sick, and I know all too well what it's like to have your birthday suck, so I wanted to take her something. I found a very cute little giraffe at Babies-R-Us in Jackson (one of the scariest places I think I've ever been) and took it to her since, you know, giraffes make all things better. She seemed to be doing okay, but she already understood the mechanics of hospitals at age 3, knowing that she couldn't go home as soon as they put the IV in her hand. I wish no child ever had to have that knowledge.
After painting, we went to Borders, and of course, I am always in my home territory in a real bookstore. I enjoy just the energy of being in them. I found two good things to read, one for AP, and one for personal amusement.
After I got back from Jackson, I went to the hospital to see a friend of mine's little girl. She and I share the same birthday. She got sick the evening of the 12th, and she's been having tests and procedures ever since. I remember what it was like to be little and sick, and I know all too well what it's like to have your birthday suck, so I wanted to take her something. I found a very cute little giraffe at Babies-R-Us in Jackson (one of the scariest places I think I've ever been) and took it to her since, you know, giraffes make all things better. She seemed to be doing okay, but she already understood the mechanics of hospitals at age 3, knowing that she couldn't go home as soon as they put the IV in her hand. I wish no child ever had to have that knowledge.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Dinner and Disquiet
I had a chance last night to have dinner with someone I haven't seen since high school. We've been chatting some on FaceBook, that mass meeting place of people past and present, and it was so good to see him again. He, too, left here after college and went elsewhere. Unlike me, though, he hasn't decided to come back. He was home to visit, and as we ate and talked, I saw this place through his eyes.
He asked me what there was that is exciting. I wanted to laugh. Not a thing. This is not a place that does exciting. I talked about a couple of things that have changed here recently, and they are big, good things, really, but not things that probably will thrill the soul of someone accustomed to the pace of a faster life.
We talked about living abroad and it stirred memories in me of what it was like to be somewhere else, to be in that life again. Inevitably, he asked me why I stay here. I answered him as I always do, that I haven't been given any sign that I'm supposed to be somewhere else, but I felt so frustrated by that answer. Do I love what I do here? Yes. Still. In spite of it all. Does some part of me still look to the skies and wonder about soaring again? I can't say that's not true. What's wrong with me? Why does there have to be this perpetual yearning, this constant struggle if this is the right place?
My friend will get on a plane again in two days and plunge back into that other life. I remember what that was like. I remember the dual-edged feeling, the pain of leaving my family and friends and the soaring excitement of heading back into that other place, into my life. Part of me can't help but envy him spreading those wings and flying away even while another part of me is still glad to be standing firmly on the ground. I wonder if these two disparate people will ever find a way to be at peace.
He asked me what there was that is exciting. I wanted to laugh. Not a thing. This is not a place that does exciting. I talked about a couple of things that have changed here recently, and they are big, good things, really, but not things that probably will thrill the soul of someone accustomed to the pace of a faster life.
We talked about living abroad and it stirred memories in me of what it was like to be somewhere else, to be in that life again. Inevitably, he asked me why I stay here. I answered him as I always do, that I haven't been given any sign that I'm supposed to be somewhere else, but I felt so frustrated by that answer. Do I love what I do here? Yes. Still. In spite of it all. Does some part of me still look to the skies and wonder about soaring again? I can't say that's not true. What's wrong with me? Why does there have to be this perpetual yearning, this constant struggle if this is the right place?
My friend will get on a plane again in two days and plunge back into that other life. I remember what that was like. I remember the dual-edged feeling, the pain of leaving my family and friends and the soaring excitement of heading back into that other place, into my life. Part of me can't help but envy him spreading those wings and flying away even while another part of me is still glad to be standing firmly on the ground. I wonder if these two disparate people will ever find a way to be at peace.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Highway Freaks
On the way home from Jackson tonight, something odd happened. I was flying down the interstate as usual listening to my iPod, thoughts rambling idly over the events of the conference I'd left behind not long before. It was dark, and I was both passing vehicles and being passed depending on the different speeds we all were traveling. I was somewhere deep in Bienville National Forest where the exits are few and far between when the idiot in the Suburban pulled up behind me.
He came flying up fast while I was pulled out to pass something else, and I pulled in to let him by. He zipped past and pulled in ahead of me. Then he slowed way down. This happens. People don't use cruise control. They get a phone call. They suddenly realize they are driving at a ridiculous speed. Whatever. I pulled out and went to pass him.
He sped up.
I used the might and power of my four cylinder engine and got around him. By this point, I was doing about 80. I don't usually drive that fast unless I'm having a bad day and am listening to loud rock. It was night, I was in deer country, and the only angry I was was at the weirdo in the truck.
A few minutes later, he came slowly cruising up around me again, lingering in the passing lane. I slowed down some, hoping he'd just go. Again, he pulled in ahead of me and slowed down. I slowed down, too, intending to force him to go on, but he kept losing speed. I pulled out to pass, and he started accelerating again, keeping pace with me as I steadily went faster and faster.
I redlined it, hit 85 or 90 and fled. He dropped back for awhile, but I slowed down after a few miles, and next thing I knew he was right back in my rear view mirror on my bumper. I called home at that point because I felt like I needed to tell somebody something. It was creeping me out. I felt like I was trapped in a TV show or a melodramatic novel. I was about a minute away from calling the Highway Patrol when I saw the lights of a major exit I knew up ahead.
There was also finally another vehicle around us, an eighteen-wheeler, and I stuck my little Cruiser to the back of it like a scared kitten to its mother until I could take the exit. The Suburban stayed behind me until the last minute, and then it pulled around the truck and went on. I sat at a gas station at that exit for awhile, just trying to get my nerve back before I came the rest of the way home.
I've never had anything like that happen to me before. The plates on the vehicle, what little of them I saw, were in state, and fairly local. The whole thing made me wish I was driving my dad's huge four-wheel drive Dodge so I could have just been like, "Keep screwing with me, buddy. I will just freakin' drive over you." I hope I never go through any more interstate fun like that again.
He came flying up fast while I was pulled out to pass something else, and I pulled in to let him by. He zipped past and pulled in ahead of me. Then he slowed way down. This happens. People don't use cruise control. They get a phone call. They suddenly realize they are driving at a ridiculous speed. Whatever. I pulled out and went to pass him.
He sped up.
I used the might and power of my four cylinder engine and got around him. By this point, I was doing about 80. I don't usually drive that fast unless I'm having a bad day and am listening to loud rock. It was night, I was in deer country, and the only angry I was was at the weirdo in the truck.
A few minutes later, he came slowly cruising up around me again, lingering in the passing lane. I slowed down some, hoping he'd just go. Again, he pulled in ahead of me and slowed down. I slowed down, too, intending to force him to go on, but he kept losing speed. I pulled out to pass, and he started accelerating again, keeping pace with me as I steadily went faster and faster.
I redlined it, hit 85 or 90 and fled. He dropped back for awhile, but I slowed down after a few miles, and next thing I knew he was right back in my rear view mirror on my bumper. I called home at that point because I felt like I needed to tell somebody something. It was creeping me out. I felt like I was trapped in a TV show or a melodramatic novel. I was about a minute away from calling the Highway Patrol when I saw the lights of a major exit I knew up ahead.
There was also finally another vehicle around us, an eighteen-wheeler, and I stuck my little Cruiser to the back of it like a scared kitten to its mother until I could take the exit. The Suburban stayed behind me until the last minute, and then it pulled around the truck and went on. I sat at a gas station at that exit for awhile, just trying to get my nerve back before I came the rest of the way home.
I've never had anything like that happen to me before. The plates on the vehicle, what little of them I saw, were in state, and fairly local. The whole thing made me wish I was driving my dad's huge four-wheel drive Dodge so I could have just been like, "Keep screwing with me, buddy. I will just freakin' drive over you." I hope I never go through any more interstate fun like that again.
Podcasting
I finally got to go to a hands-on podcasting session today. I am amazed how simple it finally turned out to be. Sometimes, I just need somebody to sit me down and walk me through it. (Kinesthetic learner, much?) We used Macs and GarageBand, and never, never have I wanted a Mac so much as I did when we were working with that software. It was just so freakin' easy. Everything was intuitive and drag-and-drop simple.
As much as I love this little netbook for its size and portability, I wish it had some of the programs that MacBook did. Why can't the computer companies "play nice" together and give us all something that's sort of the best of all of it? I know, I know...and the spheres will align and cats and dogs will dance together....
Anyway, that little philosophical excursion aside, I think I can do the whole podcasting thing now. I want to try to make a few on my own, and I have a couple of ideas for some projects for my classes, too. I just need some time to plan. It seems like my head is full to bursting with good ideas, projects, and units, but I have no time to plan. All my time is consumed with red tape and trivia. Maybe I can just focus on one big new thing and develop it in the next little while. If nothing else, maybe summer will give me some time.
My students do such amazing work with all the things I put in front of them. They are naturally able with technology. I just can't imagine what sort of wonders they would come up with if I can just get a little bit of time together to make a unit where their end product is a podcast. It should be (once I get the groundwork done) a lot of fun, too. Now if only we had a cart of MacBooks..... Oh Technooooloooogyyyyyy......
As much as I love this little netbook for its size and portability, I wish it had some of the programs that MacBook did. Why can't the computer companies "play nice" together and give us all something that's sort of the best of all of it? I know, I know...and the spheres will align and cats and dogs will dance together....
Anyway, that little philosophical excursion aside, I think I can do the whole podcasting thing now. I want to try to make a few on my own, and I have a couple of ideas for some projects for my classes, too. I just need some time to plan. It seems like my head is full to bursting with good ideas, projects, and units, but I have no time to plan. All my time is consumed with red tape and trivia. Maybe I can just focus on one big new thing and develop it in the next little while. If nothing else, maybe summer will give me some time.
My students do such amazing work with all the things I put in front of them. They are naturally able with technology. I just can't imagine what sort of wonders they would come up with if I can just get a little bit of time together to make a unit where their end product is a podcast. It should be (once I get the groundwork done) a lot of fun, too. Now if only we had a cart of MacBooks..... Oh Technooooloooogyyyyyy......
Sunday, February 07, 2010
The Magic Carpet
While I was in New Orleans, I got to go to Arcadian Books and poke around just a little. We only had a few minutes to browse, but in that time, I managed to find a signed copy of the Ellen Douglas/Walter Anderson book The Magic Carpet. It was, in fact, one of the first books that caught my eye, almost like it was sitting there on that high shelf waiting on me. I grabbed it quickly and tucked it under my arm with a heart filled with glee. It is, after all, February, the month I fill with those tiny little delights to fend off the Birthday Crap. This jewel qualifies in the extreme. The Magic Carpet is a combination of Walter Anderson's woodcuts for folk and fairy tales and Ellen Douglas' prose retellings of the tales that inspired him to make those wonderful works. This is the first time I've actually been able to get my hands on it although I've been wanting it for years. It's so lovely it makes me sigh.
I love Walter Anderson's art in all the forms I've found it, watercolor, woodcut, carved figure, ceramic form.... His watercolors are experiments in the spirit translated into solid form, and his woodcuts always remind me of the art of some lost culture. I have several of them bought from Realizations on the coast hung in various places here in the house. The combination of his otherworldly art and Douglas' sensitive and unusual tellings of these familiar tales makes for a book I can pick up with pleasure again and again.
I have it sitting on the old army trunk I use for a coffee table. It looks right there. It is both something I've wanted for a long time and a reminder of a good recent trip. I guess it was an early present from the Crescent City.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
What I Want for My Birthday
My birthday slips closer on little velvet cat feet, and people, especially my parents, have started asking me what I want this year. I haven't the faintest idea. I know I need to come up with some kind of list, but the truth is I don't know. There isn't any one item or object I've been yearning for (well, other than a big Hemi Charger, and I think it unlikely that I'll get that for a birthday gift), and anything small I have a tendency to pick up for myself all along.
What I really want for my birthday, of course, is not something that can easily be wrapped up. I'd like a clear sense of where I'm going in the next few years. Maybe somebody could give me a crystal ball of some kind. Alternately, I could also use a big compass with a needle that always points toward the right thing, the right people. Sometimes lately, I feel like I'm wandering a little lost.
Then again, maybe I'm just supposed to get a sense of contentment for my birthday. That won't be something I can get from anyone but myself. Maybe that's what I'll see about wrapping up for myself.
What I really want for my birthday, of course, is not something that can easily be wrapped up. I'd like a clear sense of where I'm going in the next few years. Maybe somebody could give me a crystal ball of some kind. Alternately, I could also use a big compass with a needle that always points toward the right thing, the right people. Sometimes lately, I feel like I'm wandering a little lost.
Then again, maybe I'm just supposed to get a sense of contentment for my birthday. That won't be something I can get from anyone but myself. Maybe that's what I'll see about wrapping up for myself.
Wrack-a-frackin' iTunes
I have spent most of the evening trying to reload my iPhone. This morning, iTunes notified me that it was time to download the newest version and I did. I needed to update my iPhone, so I hooked it up after the upgrade was done, and that's when the real fun began. I got the first error message telling me that iTunes didn't recognize my phone anymore. It suggested reformatting my phone. I had dropped it this morning, and although I thought it was okay, I thought maybe something had gotten messed up without my realizing it, so I decided to go ahead with the reset.
After the reset, iTunes could recognize the phone, but all my apps were gone. Nothing bought from iTunes would load. I "wasn't authorized" on this computer anymore, never mind the fact that this is the computer I've been using the whole time.... AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH........
I redownloaded a new copy of iTunes and had it "repair" itself. It then suddenly realized that, oh my gosh, yes, by cracky, it could connect to the iTunes store, and lookit, I really HAD paid for all that stuff (even if it was free), and it condescended to reload my phone very, very slowly.
If you think it took a long time to read, you have no idea how many hours it took to do. Thank God there were reruns of I Love Lucy on to keep me laughing in the interval. I have very limited patience with things like this anyway, so only Lucy cramming chocolates down her blouse and spying on Bill Holden coupled with the knowledge that fragile iPhones shouldn't fly kept me from playing expensive frisbee once or twice today. Next time, I won't reset the phone. I'll start with a clean install of iTunes first.
After the reset, iTunes could recognize the phone, but all my apps were gone. Nothing bought from iTunes would load. I "wasn't authorized" on this computer anymore, never mind the fact that this is the computer I've been using the whole time.... AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH........
I redownloaded a new copy of iTunes and had it "repair" itself. It then suddenly realized that, oh my gosh, yes, by cracky, it could connect to the iTunes store, and lookit, I really HAD paid for all that stuff (even if it was free), and it condescended to reload my phone very, very slowly.
If you think it took a long time to read, you have no idea how many hours it took to do. Thank God there were reruns of I Love Lucy on to keep me laughing in the interval. I have very limited patience with things like this anyway, so only Lucy cramming chocolates down her blouse and spying on Bill Holden coupled with the knowledge that fragile iPhones shouldn't fly kept me from playing expensive frisbee once or twice today. Next time, I won't reset the phone. I'll start with a clean install of iTunes first.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Random Stuff
Nothing deep tonight. I'm tired and a little sad tonight, so I definitely don't feel much like philosophy. I don't want to talk about the sources of the sadness here, so I'm going to focus on totally irrelevant fluff instead. Excuse my indulgence and escapism. Perchance it will elevate my mood.
I got my lightsaber chopsticks from ThinkGeek today. They are awesome. I can't wait to use them. I got the Vader ones, so they're bright red, too, and cheery. I don't know exactly how durable they will be, but they look great. I will try to refrain from waving them around in the air and making sound effects.
I also finally got a hard case for my iPhone. I spend a long time looking at different cases and trying to decide, but I wound up with a wooden case made from actual redwood. It feels really good in my hand, it protects the phone admirably, and it is really different from everything else I saw. I love the fact that it's wood and not plastic or silicone. It didn't cost any more than the other types of cases, and it even allows me to remove the bottom so I can dock it. It was just what I wanted.
After being out of school for three days, it was so nice just to be back in my classroom today. I missed my students so much. They were glad to see me because they didn't have a huge pile of sub work, but I was glad to see them because it was them. They're the reason I keep doing this, after all.
I'm getting ready to do Shakespeare's biography tomorrow. I can't wait. I love Shakespeare. I know it may not thrill the students' soul, but it is always a highlight of my year. Shakespeare makes me happy. I hope the crew I have this year will go with me on the journey.
I think this is enough random bouncing for tonight. I'm going to go grab 72 pounds of dog or so and go to bed. Maybe a snoring pit bull will be a remedy for the blues.
I got my lightsaber chopsticks from ThinkGeek today. They are awesome. I can't wait to use them. I got the Vader ones, so they're bright red, too, and cheery. I don't know exactly how durable they will be, but they look great. I will try to refrain from waving them around in the air and making sound effects.
I also finally got a hard case for my iPhone. I spend a long time looking at different cases and trying to decide, but I wound up with a wooden case made from actual redwood. It feels really good in my hand, it protects the phone admirably, and it is really different from everything else I saw. I love the fact that it's wood and not plastic or silicone. It didn't cost any more than the other types of cases, and it even allows me to remove the bottom so I can dock it. It was just what I wanted.
After being out of school for three days, it was so nice just to be back in my classroom today. I missed my students so much. They were glad to see me because they didn't have a huge pile of sub work, but I was glad to see them because it was them. They're the reason I keep doing this, after all.
I'm getting ready to do Shakespeare's biography tomorrow. I can't wait. I love Shakespeare. I know it may not thrill the students' soul, but it is always a highlight of my year. Shakespeare makes me happy. I hope the crew I have this year will go with me on the journey.
I think this is enough random bouncing for tonight. I'm going to go grab 72 pounds of dog or so and go to bed. Maybe a snoring pit bull will be a remedy for the blues.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
New Orleans
I just got back from a professional trip to New Orleans. I haven't been there since I was six or seven years old, and I remember almost nothing about that trip, so this was really like a first trip down for me. Because my main focus was the school visit we were on, I didn't have a lot of time to do the touristy thing, but I did get to do some. Mostly, I walked and walked.
It's an old, old place. It feels that way, too. The age seeps up from the damp ground like a vapor. It had that river-city feel to it, but it also had a feeling far different from Memphis or St. Louis. I didn't feel like Memphis or St. Louis would swallow me down by accident. New Orleans kind of felt that way. Oh, it wouldn't be a personal thing, really. Probably, it would have been an accident. But I would be gone all the same.
I think I needed more time with the city to shake that impression, time to be there in the clear light of day instead of traipsing around the dark streets at night, time to see more that just the tourist dives, time to see the true history. I will go back down and try it again. Any city with so much heart deserves a deeper exploration.
It's an old, old place. It feels that way, too. The age seeps up from the damp ground like a vapor. It had that river-city feel to it, but it also had a feeling far different from Memphis or St. Louis. I didn't feel like Memphis or St. Louis would swallow me down by accident. New Orleans kind of felt that way. Oh, it wouldn't be a personal thing, really. Probably, it would have been an accident. But I would be gone all the same.
I think I needed more time with the city to shake that impression, time to be there in the clear light of day instead of traipsing around the dark streets at night, time to see more that just the tourist dives, time to see the true history. I will go back down and try it again. Any city with so much heart deserves a deeper exploration.
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