Beowulf's Backside

I had a chance to see Hollywood's new attempt at interpreting Beowulf yesterday, and my feelings are a little mixed. There were, as I expected, several glaring inaccuracies, omissions, conflations, and a heaping helping of juvenile sexual references and crudities. I didn't really expect them to stay true to the storyline.

Hollywood can't seem to do that anymore, no matter what the story at hand. Every director has to put his fingers in the pudding, for some reason. Never mind the fact that the piece of literature in question here has been doing fine on its on merit for more than a thousand years. I'm sure some twenty-first century visionary best knows how to jazz it up. I always wonder at the pure hubris of the motion picture folk sometimes when it seems as though the most popular and lasting interpretations of most literature-to-film productions are the ones that stay closest to the originals. Take the Lord of the Rings series, for example.

Anyway, descending the soapbox and coming back to the matter at hand, it was an entertaining little bit of fluff. I enjoyed it. I don't think I can use much of it in class because there was too much flesh for the classroom, including lots of Beowulf's derriere in the fight scene with Grendel and, of course, the much-advertised naked-golden-Angelina-Jolie monster.

The creators of this particular screen play, one of whom was Neil Gaiman, an author I love, also decided to explore themes I didn't particularly find present in the original epic. While it bothered me a little at first, after thinking about it more, I find myself increasingly liking the direction they took the story. It's less about invincible heroes and more about peeling back the curtain to look behind the legends. It's not my beloved epic poem, but I think it's okay in its own right. Maybe for our time of flawed figures, it's more important for us to peel away that curtain to look than to look at the cloth of gold time has drawn across.

A Good Man Gone

Today during 7th period, I got a message from my mother that one of my former teachers had passed away. Since my mother was a teacher, too, I grew up in the halls of a high school. Her colleagues were a part of my childhood memories and the halls of that school were my playground. I remember this man not just as a teacher but also as a part of that childhood, always present in his room across the building from my mother's. Even once I had graduated, whenever I would go back to visit or to see Mom on my way home from college, he was always one of the people I'd go by and visit with.

I just sat at my desk and cried. It's hard for me to believe he's gone. It seems like I just saw him yesterday, like I just talked with him in the halls of that other school a moment ago, and today I was told that he's gone for good. He was about Mom's age; they started teaching at about the same time and taught for about the same length of time, so he wasn't an elderly man, but cancer is no respecter of age, as we all know.

He had retired from the school where I had known him for so long, but he had gone back to work again, as it seems so many retired teachers do, and the last I'd heard of him, he was happy with it. He was one of those life-long teachers who I think of as being "called" to the field because of his great passion for sharing the knowledge that he loved with his students. Today the world is just that much darker for that much passion and concern being gone from it. He will be missed by those who know what it is to have been his students. He was a good teacher and a good man.

A Quote

Just found this and am putting somewhere where I won't lose it...

"Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music -- the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself." -- Henry James

Mothership

I ordered this about a month ago after seeing that it was coming out while I was cruising around iTunes one day. It came yesterday, and this morning, I drove to school listening to "Heartbreaker". Ahhhh.....

I love all kinds of music, really. I listen to just about everything except rap, but sometimes, there's nothing that will do except Led Zeppelin. I haven't had it in my CD collection for a long time, though. I haven't wanted to just buy one CD because I like so many songs, and funds haven't been sufficient in the old budget to spring for the box set. When I saw that Mothership was coming out, I was thrilled.

I know many music aficionados sneer at the "greatest hits" collection, and in truth, there are some bands whose every disc I own, but for the most part, I just like to have a collection of great songs by an artist that I can rip to my iPod or throw in the CD player. If I have every track from an artist, that's usually because I've been getting every album as it came out. It's true that there are a couple of songs that I do wish were present in this collection that are not, but that's what iTunes is for, after all....

I've made myself a nifty little playlist that's made up of three hours of the Stones and Led Zeppelin, and tomorrow afternoon once all my little darlings have headed back to their respective domiciles, I'm going to crank it so loud it shakes the mortar from the bricks, clean up my room, water my plants, unplug my electronics, and peel out of the parking lot to the blissful freedom of Thanksgiving holidays.

Utopia

I'm currently reading Thomas More's Utopia for a course I'm taking, and I'm wondering why I never took the time to read it before. So many of the ideas in this small book appear elsewhere, especially in their dark forms in dystopian literature. It's amazing how very closely the dark universes of 1984 and Brave New World take the ideas in Utopia to their ultimate conclusion if the base precept is that mankind does not really have his fellow man's best interest in mind.

It's curious how many systems have tried to incorporate portions of Utopia. I can definitely see shades of Communism in it, as I can also see ideas that politicians are still suggesting about the best way to run education, government, and trade. My favorite quote so far has been one related to politics, and paraphrasing without the book in hand, it says something to the effect of, "they never allow anyone to obtain an office who campaigns for it." As we stand in the aftermath of state elections and on the precipice of national ones, I rather like that idea....

I'm Sure It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time...

Today, the delightful weather called me out of the house, so I decided to go to town to pick up some things to take care of some repairs around the house. I ventured in to our new Bed, Bath, and Beyond and spent WAY too much money along with what must have been most of the rest of Podunk, and then I went on to Lowe's to get some fluorescent tubes for a fixture in my laundry room and some other things.

While I was in Lowe's, I noticed Christmas has erupted full-force. I toured the aisles even though I feel a bit queasy doing it before Thanksgiving because it's become a sad fact that if you wait until after Thanksgiving, some things get hard to find. Go figure. I figure someday we'll have to start getting things for Christmas January 1st.

I looked up at the displays on top of the shelves, and I saw the inflatables. There were reindeer, Santas, and something I'm not quite sure I've ever seen before, an inflatable nativity scene. This is the one that gave me pause. I'm not a big fan of the inflatables anyway. I figure Roux would have a grand time shredding them into colorful ribbons all across the yard. The figures in this one, though, had frighteningly little chubby faces and a big fan blowing air into them all the time.

I guess it's great that the religious aspect of Christmas is "catching up" to the Santa aspect in popular decor, but I'm not sure that plug-in, synthetic fabric, light-up baby Jesus and wise men is really the answer to putting the right focus back in Christmas. I guess maybe anything that turns hearts and eyes back to the birth of hope and love has some redeeming qualities, even if it requires electricity.

Broken Pottery

As I was driving in to school the other morning, I was listening to the radio, and one of my favorite songs came on, Casting Crowns' "East to West". There's a line in it that says, "Jesus can you show me just how far the east is from the west / ‘Cause I can’t bear to see the man I’ve been / Rising up in me again".

That song is powerful on many levels, but on that particular day my mind had been drifting to pottery, partly because we're coming up on the season of crafts fairs and pottery is my number one purchase at those. Probably another reason pottery had come to my mind is that the song just before ended with a few bars of an old hymn, the sound of which made me think of "Have Thine Own Way, Lord", one of my favorites.

We all have dark secrets that we hide. We all have internal flaws. The combination of those two songs and the image of pottery along with my recent teaching of Hawthorne drew my mind to the pottery festivals of Japan. Before a potter would sell a teacup, he or she would gently thump the cup or bowl to make sure it rang true. A whole, unflawed cup or bowl would chime softly. If there was some hidden imperfection, instead of a musical sound, a dull chink was heard instead. The flaw killed the musical purity of it. A potter who was proud of his or her craft would refuse to sell the flawed piece, and it would wind up as a reject headed for a pile of shards somewhere.

I always felt so sorry for those flawed cups and bowls. In truth, there were times when I wanted to go from stall to stall and buy them to give them a home. You see, I identified with them. I have always figured that if God were to give me the "thump" test, there's no way I'd ring pure and true. I wish I could say that I'd chime with a note that would bring joy to his heart, but I think it's far more truthful to say that I belong on the pile of shards. I'm just grateful that God is the master potter who can recreate flawed pieces and find a use for me despite these flaws, maybe even because of them.

Black Veil

Today I taught Hawthorne's "The Minister's Black Veil" and I decided to wear Father Hooper's veil in class. Even with Halloween being around, finding a long black veil wasn't possible, so I had to improvise. I used a sheer curtain panel and draped it artistically. I think I looked a little like a pleurant.

It was fun. Since I have that class first period, I put it on before the first period bell and stood hall duty in it before class began. I wish I'd had a camera in the hall taping the reaction of the students who weren't coming in my classroom. It was hilarious. Of course, all my students know me well enough by now that they were completely unphased. I am, after all, "that weird teacher" and in my classroom, I suppose, all things are possible. I like to think that I'm giving them things to talk about when they have their high school reunion.

Hawthorne is a favorite of mine, but The Minister's Black Veil is a true favorite. The physical expression of the internal reality that everyone has something to hide is as real today as it was then. It goes back to that quote by Issa that I love so much about walking on the roof of hell picking flowers. Today I thought about my own "black veil" that hides all the things I don't want the world to see, not necessarily hidden sins, but hidden secrets, things from the past. I wish I could lay it aside as easily as I slid my makeshift black veil off at the end of the period today and all those memories with it. Unfortunately, as Father Hooper understood, some things aren't quite so easily hidden, forgotten, or put aside as that.

Have It Your Way

Does anybody remember the old Burger King jingle about having it all "your way"? That was back in the day before the big shiny plastic-headed scary man showed up. I think, though, it was the start of something....

Today, I was forced from my warm cocoon on the couch with the latest Greg Iles paperback and a snoring 65-pound pit bull to go out and forage for cat food and supplies to make it to pay day. After counting pennies and finally just using the stinking credit card (hey, who's NOT in debt these days, right?), I was backing out of the Wal-Mart parking lot when a song I didn't like came on the radio. I automatically switched stations. No joy. The next station I picked was also playing something that wasn't one of my instant all-time favorites.

I found myself a little irritated. Now, granted, the Topamax seems to be making irritation a lot more frequent that it should be for me, but to get irritated over the radio? And then it hit me. I'm used to my lovely little iPod, and a world full of music programming tailored just for me.

As I drove home, radio firmly off, I starting thinking about how many things we customize to our individual wants and desires now. Of course fashion is an expression of taste and all the many shades of it, including hair and accessories, but we can now order our cars customized straight from the factory. We can get laptop computers in a rainbow of colors. There are "skins" to cover graphing calculators (I saw this on a late night voyage to Office Max) to keep them from being mundane tools. We have cases for cellphones and iPod which we can then load with graphics, videos, and music of our own choosing. We can instantly "demand" practically any movie ever made from Internet providers. For the most part, any food we have the slightest craving for (except umeboshi, of course) can be had with a little effort.

Is this good? I am the first to jump on the customize it bandwagon. I own very few things that I have not in some way "tweaked" to mark as my own. I think it's important to be able to express individuality and creativity. I'm just wondering if maybe, just maybe, we're not getting just a wee bit....dare I say it?...spoiled? If we are, is that a bad thing?

MRI

Yesterday was my MRI. I came home when 7th period started, and I took my Xanax about 30 minutes before the test started.

I really can't tell you much about it after that. Xanax is some serious stuff. I remember riding in to the hospital. I remember being fascinated by bright colors and saying some really stupid things. I remember being rolled up into the machine and having a plastic grille put over my face, but I didn't feel any fear at all.

The machine wasn't at all like I remembered. It wasn't a huge confining metal tube this time. Whoever redesigned it had a brain apparently. It was still a tight space, but just knowing that only my head was inside it made it better. Of course part of that may have been the fact that I was flying somewhere out in space on the Xanax, too, and wouldn't really have cared if they'd set me on fire. I barely even flinched when they put the dye IV in, and my fear of needles is the stuff of legend.

I'm glad it's over. If I can just somehow adjust to the Topamax (I stepped up the dose last night, per orders), then I might finally be able to get on top of this thing instead of being ground to a fine powder beneath it.

Stupamax

Today I had to play the organ for our church's Homecoming Sunday since our regular organist had guard drill this weekend. That would have been enough stress, but when I arrived to practice, the sanctuary was full of people so I couldn't practice, and my music director forgot to tell me about one of the choir specials I needed to be able to play. I immediately felt those twinges that in the past have meant a migraine is about to descend from above like the hammer of the gods.

No headache came. Instead, I suddenly had a Topamax moment instead. The lights had pretty little halos surrounding them that shimmered. The notes on the page, when my mind was actually conscious of scanning them, were meaningless spots of printer's ink. My hands, thank God, moved independently of my stricken brain, and as far as I know, everything went well. Everyone seemed to like the offertory, the only portion of the service other than prelude and postlude where I perform alone, so God got me through another one.

After the service, my aunt, our pianist, came over to talk to me, and she found out that I was taking Topamax. She also takes it, and she gave me the most appropriate name for it that I've yet heard: Stupamax. It makes me feel stupefied and act stupidly, so I think that's my new favorite name.

I have a theory about the drug that I'm going to fly by my doctor next time I see him. It seems like anytime I would normally be having a migraine, I get the "stupids" instead. I don't know if that's just a coincidence, or if that's the way this is going to work. Maybe it's just revealing the stupid that was hiding behind the thin veneer...who knows?

Because I'm such a technophile, I tend to make analogies equating my brain to a computer quite frequently. When the Topamax kicks in, it feels like my brain has "too many windows open" or something. Today, the image of a little pop-up warning me that my virtual memory was running too low kept threatening to make me giggle in the middle of the sermon while I was staring at the sparkly chandeliers in the sanctuary.

I'm trying to have a sense of humor about this, but sometimes, especially days like today when mental acuity was needed, it's really not all that funny. Although, I guess if you were watching me weave back and forth on the organ bench, it might have been quite a laugh.

Living with Topamax Part I

I say part one because I foresee this being a running series....

When the alarm went off this morning, I almost could not even drag myself out of bed. My body refused. It simply refused. I managed to crawl across the bed to the phone and called Mom to check that she was up and let her know that I was, our morning ritual, but as soon as I hung up the phone, my eyelids slammed shut again.

I finally made it in to the shower, but the overwhelming sense of exhaustion remained even after the hot water started to flow. Toweling off, I was tired. Brushing my teeth, I was tired. Getting dressed, I was tired. Driving to work, I was probably a danger to myself and others as I fought to stay awake.

There's no reason other than the Topamax for this. I was up til 11 last night, but that can't explain the way I felt. That also can't explain what came later.

Around 10:00, my brain just quit for the day. It packed up its workbag, flipped off the light switch, and went home for a long weekend. Unfortunately, I had to flail around and try to cope with teaching without it. My students were kind, but I hate having to even ask them to be kind because I am weak. Let me tell you now, there's nothing quite as disquieting as having your mental facilities cut in half and knowing it. I felt like everything I was trying to do was being done underwater in a strong current. Words and names for things went missing, a symptom I have whenever I have a really bad headache.

My doctor warned me that I might have the tiredness and some of the same types of processing issues that the migraines themselves bring as my brain chemically adjusts to the Topamax, but my LORD, I am only taking the lowest dose right now. If it's going to get worse in a few days when I step it up to the next dosage, somebody is going to have to nursemaid me to keep me from walking into traffic and forgetting where I live. I hope I adjust soon...

The Beauty of Books

I just got back from my night class, and I am struck afresh by how much I love reading and literature. We're doing Absalom, Absalom! by Faulkner, and there is almost everything in the world in that novel. It's a wonderful work.

We spent the evening looking at specific passages from the novel and doing close analysis of them. While I know that probably sounds like one of Dante's Inferno levels for many people, for me, it was great. Too often, I'm the one doing all the "heavy lifting" for a work, so when I get to sit with people who enjoy the reading as much as I, it's a special sort of refueling.

Books make that communion possible. The amazing thing about them is that they make that communion possible between any two people from any backgrounds anywhere in the world as long as both of them have read the same work. I've talked with students from all over the world about the ideas in To Kill a Mockingbird, and even though that novel is set in the Deep South of the past, even modern Japanese college students can feel the power and talk about the connections they feel.

This aspect, more than the fantastic escapism, more than the portals to new knowledge, this power to unite, even briefly, even casually, is the best part of books. Through our reading of them, we can learn not just about ourselves, but we can bridge the gaps that are all too large and common in our modern world with simple conversations. How wonderful!

Migraines

I went to see a neurologist today about my headaches. It seems that in addition to all the other bum genes I inherited, a "migraine gene" seems to be one of them. My grandmother had them, but they mostly skipped Mom. Isn't it wonderful to be the generation to which the random gene skips?

The doctor was very nice. I wasn't sure what to expect, but he was actually a double major with English in his undergrad. That's so very rare. He had two really interesting things to share about links between literature and neurological conditions that I had never heard before, so of course I had a good time. Anytime I can learn something new, I'm pretty much happy. Maybe that's a coping mechanism, but through the years and through the medical experiences, a decision to just look at it all as a source of education has helped.

He gave me a prescription for a migraine prevention med to take daily, and I'm to have an MRI Tuesday. Just the thought of being rolled into that tube distresses me. I'm very claustrophobic. He's given me some Xanax, something I haven't ever had before, so I imagine that I won't care what they do to me. The last time I had one, I was only in up to my chest so they could get images of my knee. I remember it sounding like about a million of those windup monkeys playing tin drums. Maybe if I can just keep that image in mind, it won't be so bad.

Well, tomorrow is Parent Teacher Conference Day, and I'm sure that's going to be a barrel of laughs, so I am headed off to bed.

Homecoming Week

This is our school's Homecoming Week. That means that all normalcy goes right out the window and insanity prevails. Today was Halloween Day in the week of dress-up days. We had costumes both tacky and creative all over the place. I had a mime, Raggedy Ann, a Ninja Turtle, Mario, and Death all in first period.

Tomorrow is "Wacky-Tacky" Day, which, for the past two years at least, the students have largely interpreted to mean they need to come to school looking like something dragged in for questioning from the Vegas Strip. They couldn't understand why the administration wasn't in favor of calling it, even unofficially, "Pimp and Ho" day. No, I'm really not kidding. They honestly couldn't see anything wrong with the idea of being called a pimp or "ho" even in jest.

I fail to see what any of this has to do with the idea of Homecoming. Mostly, it's just a pre-Halloween week of costumes. The only day that has anything to do with the actual idea of our school is the final day, a dress up day for our school colors.

Why can't there be some events designed to focus on the tradition and history of the school, or even some sort of welcome given to the classes of yesteryear who return? Instead, like so many other things that started out meaningfully, it's turned into a meaningless week-long debauch.

I try to tell myself not to be such a grump about it, but I really wish there was more focus on school pride and less simple rebellion against the dress code. There ought to be something to make us all proud to be from Podunk. Then Homecoming might be something worth remembering.

Taking It All Back Again

Two weeks ago, I went to see my doctor because I had my usual sinus crap, and his nurse took my blood pressure. Without posting the gruesome numbers here, let's just say it was running high. Not quite "Oh my God, you're about to explode" high, but close. This isn't the first time it's spiked high. I had problems with it in grad school based on diet and stress. I cut back my salt and exercised and it responded beautifully. It also spikes high when I am fighting one of these colds from hell, so I wasn't really worried.

Last week, I went back, and it was still high. Usually, it goes down after a round of antibiotics. Equilibrium is restored, and my body goes back to business as usual. Not this time, though. The life I am living has finally taken its toll. The words hypertension and medicine were mentioned. I wanted to bury my face in my hands and cry. Is there never a break?

I met with a dietitian Wednesday. She was a very bouncy older lady who wears and understands the value of wearing Birkenstocks, so once I got over my initial wariness and she stopped talking to me like I was a person of subnormal intelligence (something I find almost all health care providers do, at least initially), we got along fine. I have to cut my caffeine back to one soda a day (ONLY ONE DIET MOUNTAIN DEW!!!!!), I'm to cut my salt radically, and I am to lose weight.

Normally, this would have put me into a spiral, but to tell the truth, all these things are just symptoms of something much larger. I have done the very thing that the AP trainers warned me not to do. I remember the very first trainer I ever worked with telling me that nothing burns a teacher out faster than AP, that we as new teachers needed to make sure that we gave as much time to having a life outside the classroom as we did crafting and sculpting our lesson plans. I haven't done that.

What I have done is stay too late, sleep too little, eat very poorly and with no attention to the food, sit behind my desk until it gets dark, drive home, and fall down knowing that the next day is going to be a photocopy of the one just finished. I know this sounds negative, but I really don't mean it that way. I love what I do. I couldn't go do it if I didn't. It's just that I've been burning my fragile little birthday candle at both ends with a blowtorch, and the reserves that I once had have melted into vapor and smoke.

I don't take care of myself physically. I don't read for fun. I don't watch movies to relax. I don't see my friends or email the ones who live too far away. I don't have people over for dinner. I haven't produced any new poetry in over a year. I have been so busy submerging myself in trying to be the best teacher I can be that I've almost lost all the other aspects of who I am. This bout with my blood pressure has been sort of a wakeup call for me.

I need to reconnect to the things that are important. I need to take the time to do things that don't have anything to do with my teacher self. I need to try to repair the damage I've done to my relationships with my friends by my inattentiveness and all-consuming absorption. I need to heal the imbalance in my physical self before the problems I'm having become lasting and potentially debilitating ones.

Therefore, from this point forward, I'm taking it all back again. I need to turn around and find my way out of the place I'm in now before all hope of navigating a new path is gone. I don't know if I can change these things now, but I intend to try. Maybe the effort itself will be something that changes me for the better.

The New Shelfari Widget

As you can see, I've added the newest edition of the Shelfari widget to my site. Ain't it cool? (Yeah, I know it's not grammatical. So what? I'm off duty.) I love the new design. I like that it shows a rotating assortment of books and that I can pick what shelves I want it to pull from. The graphics are pleasing, too. To me, it's just another nice update from a service that's getting better all the time. Thanks, Shelfari.

Recently....

I haven't written much lately, but hopefully I'll be able to return to a more regular blogging schedule. There's been too much going on lately, and the sinus infection turned into bronchitis, so I've been coming home and sleeping a lot lately.

I've also been fighting a virus on my computer. I am more or less losing that battle. I need Technology to come and take care of it for me. My meager techno skills are insufficient to get this thing off my machine. I have done it damage, but I know it's still lurking waiting to strike again.

On that topic, why the (insert an appropriate word)do people sit around and make these things? What kind of sick freak does that? What's the point? I could sort of understand, if not condone, spyware. At least I can understand the point of it. The little wastes-of-space who send malware out just to mess with people ought to be ground slowly to powder between two large stones, starting with the toes. I can just see them, closeted in their rooms, pushing up their glasses, heavy metal posters coating the walls, giggling in their little cracking, pre-pubescent voices.

What I want is a program that can trace these things to the source and annihilate an offender's computer in a spectacular fireball of doom. I want a message to appear on the screen about 5 seconds before that that says, "This is because you're a stupid little (again, insert a word of your choosing) who deserves to have your backside kicked up around your ears. Go get a life." That would be worth engineering. Technobuddies of mine, especially L, don't you want to make me one of those?

Actually, I know that's not possible, but just the thought of the look of awe and horror on the face of whatever little (word, word, word) caused me to have to fight my computer to accomplish basic tasks the last three days makes me very happy.

More CI

The one good thing, if there were any good things, about being sick this weekend was that I watched almost all of the 6th season of Law and Order CI while I was incapacitated on the couch. That show just keeps getting better and better. I am really looking forward to the coming season and the fact that the season will be on USA so I can see it.

My favorite episode was one of the last ones I saw. Goren's father may or may not be a serial killer. That would explain a lot, wouldn't it? I love the way the characters keep getting deeper and more complex.

Well, I have things I'm supposed to be doing, and soon it will be bedtime. I have done okay today, all things considered, but I'm pretty wiped out. I probably needed one more day in the bed.

Sick

If you're wondering where I am and why I haven't written lately, suffice it to say that I have the sinus infection from hell. Mostly, I'm just sleeping. In the meantime, it appears most people are looking for Elvis Pez, Dr. Who YouTube, Beowulf Boasts, or the Sutton Hoo helmet and sword anyway based upon my hit counter's information....