Episode One: The Toshiba Menace

Thursday, August 4, 2005 started as a day of high hopes. We arrived at the Penske rental center at 10 AM, filled out the appropriate paperwork, and drove away with our 26 foot truck and tow dolly. Despite the steady rain, an oddity for Colorado, our spirits were high; we were ready for our big move. We spent the rest of the day emptying a storage space and gathering assorted odds and ends from our respective 'rents homes. After almost 37 years, both STK and I finally moved away from home.

Later than evening, STK and I spent several hours packing various last minute items around the condo. We boxed up the art, removed all the phones (except one), and packed our overnight bags. As we knew Friday would be a day of hectic truck loading, we tried to plan ahead for the Saturday roll out. Everything looked great!

Around midnight, I started the task of disassembling the entertainment center. Entertainment center is probably a bit of an exaggeration. Our 31 inch television sits on a TV stand designed for something more along the lines of 21 inches. Needless to say, the large television sitting on the rickety stand screamed potential disaster. While unplugging the VCR, I somehow managed to create an imbalance in the TV/TV stand continuum and the very large television tipped toward my 140 lb frame. As I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a dodge roll was out of the question. Bracing for impact, I noticed a small metal footstool just to my right. Images of a footstool sticking out of a smashed television screen flooded my head. I leapt into action . . . or something like that. I grabbed the television and managed to divert its trajectory just enough--it hit the footstool but not with enough speed to smash the screen. Saving the television, however, presented another dilemna: I was now trapped beneath the television.

STK, who heard the loud crash resulting from my mishap, raced into the living room just in time to hear me utter a feeble, "help!" Surveying the disaster scene and catching a glimpse of my feet protruding from the rubble, she exclaimed in a panicked voice, "Oh my God! Derek!" She raced to the rescue and helped disentangle me from the wreckage. I survived the incident relatively unscathed, as did the television. STK had a good laugh, and we're still laughing, about my electronic brush with death.

We went to bed on Thursday night exhausted and in good spirits. Unfortunately, neither of us noticed the storm clouds mushrooming on the horizon. The next few days would prove to be far more trying than either of us could have ever imagined.

We Now Return to Our Regularly Scheduled Blogging

Two rental trucks, dozens of mugs of truck stop coffee, and 1860 miles in the rear view mirror, we've finally completed the Move From Hell. Everyone keeps saying, "In ten years, we'll laugh about all this." And you know what? They're right. In ten years, I'm sure we'll all laugh about it. The operative phrase is "In ten years." Until then, I'm sure mention of this move will evoke nothing but grumbling and growling. Over the next few days I'll try to give a blow-by-blow account of the fiasco.

On a more positive note, our telephone, cable, and internet service are all up and running. Friends and family can expect an "Updated Contact Info" email in the next day or so.

Murphy's Law

Anything that could have gone wrong on the recent move, did. We're all in our new home, attempting to make order out of chaos. I'll post more next week--we should have internet installed by Monday. Just wanted let everyone know that we made it.

Here's a teaser for how horribly the move went--I'm flying back to Denver tonight to make another trip with the rest of our belongings.

Very Big Truck

In eight or nine hours, I'm picking up our moving truck. This isn't some pansy-assed oversized van, but a GREAT BIG 26-foot truck. Although the following admission is sure to make me seem less manly (like I worry about that), I'm more than a little intimidated by the prospect of driving something so large. Keep in mind that my everyday car is a 1995 Honda Civic. Honda Civic >>>> 26-foot truck. Yikes. If we didn't have to haul furniture, boxes, and assorted sundries, I could probably drive the Civic into the back of the Very Big Truck and hit the road! Remember when the Knight Rider car used to shoot out of the back of a moving semi? Replace Kitt with my Honda Civic and you'll get the image I have in my head. I'm way cooler than David Hasselhoff.

Seriously, though, driving such large vehicles has never been on my list of Favorite Things to Do Over the Summer. When behind the wheel of such a monstrosity, I never feel like I'm quite in control. I feel like I'm hurtling down the road, barely avoiding disaster after disaster. Is it just me or is it virtually impossible to see if there's a car saddled up next to the passenger side of a big truck? I'm always worried I'm going to squash some poor soul driving a tiny Honda Civic. Not only do I have to drive this behemoth of a truck almost 900 miles to our new home, I get to negotiate the narrow streets surrounding Denver's Washington Park. STK's folks live in that area and we have to pick up a treadmill, fancy cutting board (I'm still trying to picture what the heck this thing is--digital pics once it's in our possession), crib, and a half dozen boxes. We made a similar trip to my parents' place last evening. In addition to the bagged comics stored appropriately in three comic book boxes, I carried eight comic book filled banker/file boxes out of the depths of the parental storage unit. At 37 years of age, I think STK and I have finally relieved our parents of storage duty.

The one good things about this move is that J, my friend who knows much about all things traditionally masculine (home repairs, guns, driving big trucks), is making the journey with us. His task is to help me drive the Very Big Truck to our final destination. If I know J, he probably knows CB talk, owns a trucker hat, and will be capalbe of whipping the Very Big Truck into the smallest of parking spaces.* He's just like that. Unfortunately, I don't think J will be joining me for the Washington Park adventure. If you read a headline like "Idiot Rolls Moving Truck in Wash Park" in the next day or so, you'll know the Very Big Truck was more than I could handle.

*Beyond the smattering of trucker stuff we all learned during the 1970s craze? What was that all about? Remember the movies Smokey and The Bandit and Convoy? Remember the song? People actually paid money to partake in trucker culture. Oh, and who could forget BJ and the Bear? The adventures of a trucker and his chimpanzee companion kept us tuning in each week, eh? Actually, I'm happy to report that I hated BJ and the Bear. I was more a Dukes of Hazzard kind of guy.

Elusive

Body impermanent like spring mist;
mind insubstantial like empty sky;
thoughts unestablished like breezes in space.
Think about these three points over and over.

-Adept Godrakpa, "Hermit of Go Cliffs"

Copyright Wisdom Publications 2001. Reprinted from "Daily Wisdom: 365 Buddhist Inspirations," edited by Josh Bartok, with permission of Wisdom Publications, 199 Elm St., Somerville MA 02144 U.S.A, www.wisdompubs.org.

Tool Time!

Four days away from M-Day, moving day, and, as one would guess, things are a bit chaotic around the hacienda. Various boxes litter the carpeted landscape; there are endless errands to run and too many people to see. We're really trying to make time for everyone who wants to see us, but we're running out of time and energy. Continually disrupting TLO's schedule isn't helping is disposition, either. As of today, anyone who wants to see us has to stop by our place. Even though it's summer and I'm getting less sleep than normal, I've started setting my alarm. I need maximum pack/errand/visit time in my day. The lost hour of sleep really doesn't mean much--I ran on far less sleep throughout the past school year.

Yesterday, in what is surely a sign of the end times, I went in search of assorted hardware and power tools. In what I see as a bit of consumer irony, I purchased a 50-foot extension cord and a cordless screwdriver. Today, I'm headed out to buy a 6' stepladder and a hand truck. Do these purchases mean I'm finally becoming a grown up? Make no mistake, I'd rather be buying something fun like a new laptop, a Star Wars maquette, or a new pair of Doc Martens. Still, spending $$$ on toys for the next couple months seems kind of frivolous.

Tonight, we're headed north to see friends and family. My mother's birthday is tomorrow, so we're stopping by the 'rents tonight for a bit o' cake and celebrating. My sister and nephew will also be there. Oh, and I bet my parents make me take the boxes I've been storing in their basement for the last fifteen years. Can you say "comic books"?

Lutefeast

from The Feast. I finished this once before and my browser ate it. Still a few glitches in Firefox, I'm afraid.

Appetizer--Name 3 people whom you admire for their intelligence.
Michael. Dr. Burgchardt. Gene.

Soup--What's the last food you tried that you really didn't care for.
I rarely encounter foods for which I don't care. There are two major reasons: 1) I'm very aware of my likes and dislikes and expose myself to the foods I dislike; and 2) there are very few foods I dislike. Fried okra (can you say "fried phlegm) and my grandmother's lemon jello/corned-beef hash (hideous) come to mind.

Salad--If you could rename the street that you live on, what would you want it to be called?
How about Elm Street? The first Nightmare on Elm Street was a ton of fun. If I lived on Elm Street I'd consider changing my name to Freddy Krueger.

Main Course--When was the last time you were genuinely surprised?
A family friend, a minister from my teen years, attended a gathering. I hadn't seen him in close to a decade.

Dessert--Share a household tip.
Using newspapers to clean windows and mirrors reduces streaking.

Internet Awash with Porn ::gasp::

There's been quite a bit of hubbub about internet porn the last few days. In fact, the Senate decided it's time to step in and save our children from the evil of porn. Maybe I'm the exception, but I really don't have many problems "stumbling" across porn on the internet. If I go looking for it, I can find it without any problem. Encountering it, however, is rarely accidental.

This internet porn thing seems like yet another instance where parental responsibility is being overlooked. Isn't it a parent's job to monitor their children? If they can't watch them all the time, which they clearly can't, shouldn't they be talking to their kids about appropriate behavior, about what's right or wrong for their particular family? Truth be told, I can't imagine a bit of porn will severely scar a teenager for life. In fact, I bet most teenage boys have stumbled across a father's, or maybe older brother's, hidden stash of porn magazines. Where's the government!? The government should be regulating paper porn in the home! Sheesh.

Get a clue, people. Insulating your childern from what you consider the unsavory parts of life isn't the solution. Sit down with your kids and talk to them about expectations. If you don't want your kids looking at porn, talk to them about it. Talk to them about why you don't want them looking at sexually explicit material. Of course, my position assumes that a parent is mature enough to actually discuss issues of human sexuality with his or her child. If your child violates your "ban" on porn in the home, ground them from the computer for a week. Increase the grounding on subsequent infractions. That's called a natural consequence: if you can't use the internet responsibly, you lose internet privileges. If you find out a child has been viewing porn at a friend's house, your child gets grounded from visiting for a while. I'd also probably call the other parent(s) and let them know what the kids have been doing. I'd avoid a confrontation with the parent and keep the conversation strictly informative.

Let's quit asking the government to pick up the slack for poor parenting.

Deep Breathing. Ow. Mmmmm.

One of the drawbacks of accepting a position at Small Midwest College, or any small liberal arts college for that matter, is the lack of a R1 library. If the grant money isn't pouring in, the library usually faces some limitations. I'm not sure why this became such a concern this weekend, like I don't already have enough courses on my worry plate, but it did. So, I spent a few hours poking around the library via the proxy server. Lo and behold, I can access most of the academic journals relevant to my discipline. The library doesn't have a paper copy of several of my favorites, but they do have electronic access. That means I can keep up on current research without any major travel time or photocopy costs. Some of my favorite academic journals include:

Communication and Critical/Cultural Studies.
Journal of Popular Culture.
Philosophy and Rhetoric.
Popular Communication.
Quarterly Journal of Speech.
Rhetoric Society Quarterly.
Text of Performance Quarterly.

I think the only journal I can't access is the Western Journal of Commucation. If I really start to miss that journal, I'll renew my Western States Communication Association membership. That's one concern eliminated.

We're still making progress toward the big move. I spent several hours packing the office and reorganizing the storage unit--I'm boxing and moving every non-essential item. By the time we get the truck on August 4th, most of possession will have been boxed, carried down from our third floor condo, hauled to the storage unit, and stacked. If all goes as planned, we'll be able to back the truck up to the storage unit and quickly walk boxes up the loading ramp. We'll then proceed to the condo and pick up the furniture. I'm guessing the furniture part of the move will take no more than two or three hours. Moving virtually everything in our condo on my own is taking a toll on my back. Thanks to some back exercises I incorporated into my workout about 1.5 years ago, I've had far fewer back problems than I have in the past. Still, I managed to tweak my back this afternoon. Imagine being stabbed just to the right of your spinal column every time you take a breath. Thank the maker for ibuprofen and bags of frozen peas--those wonderful little veggies make one hell of a form fitting ice pack. I have another two or three hours of work tomorrow; here's to a speedy recovery.

As an aside, someone is smoking outside and the wonderful scent is drifting in through the office window. ::inhales deeply:: I miss smoking every. single. day. I'm pretty sure I haven't had the last cigarette of my life. There may come a day when it's necessary to pick up the habit once again. Then again, maybe not. I like to keep my options open in that regard. Today, at least, I choose not to smoke. Things might be different tomorrow.

What The?

I began the oh so lovely task of packing over the weekend. Armed with my packing tape, reinforced boxes courtesy of United Airlines shipping (it pays to have connections), and my quick wit, I started boxing my wardrobe. I like to think I have a reasonable wardrobe. After filling a huge box with t-shirts, I may have to rethink my thinking. Would you classify 30+ black t-shirts as unreasonable? Mind you, my collection of black t-shirts are classified into distinct categories. I have several black t-shirts for snappy casual occasions; these are unfaded GAP t-shirts that look great with a pair of slacks and a sports coat. I have a handful of long-sleeved t-shirts that I wear a half dozen times during the winter months. The long-sleeved shirts are followed by blank, everyday t-shirts. Obviously faded, these shirts look great with torn jeans and shorts alike. A half dozen or so comic book t-shirts grace the confines of my closet (yes, I hang all my t-shirts. Who doesn't? Gotta love that wrinkle free look). I also own a dozen plus band t-shirts. As one might imagine, my white t-shirts follow a similar organization pattern. The entire t-shirt packing process took about an hour. An hour or two of packing a day should have us ready for the August 6 move.

The condo cluttered with boxes, it would figure that we'd receive several calls about showing the place. We received not one, not two, but THREE showing requests yesterday. We're pretty good about keeping the place in showing condition--a half hour of wiping/dusting/vacuuming and the condo is ready to go. That's with two of us at home. Yesterday, STK went to lunch with her grandparents and I stayed at home with TLO. The real estate office called: a realtor would be at the door in 45 minutes. I launched into action, as did TLO and the dogs. Absolute chaos ensued. I flew around the condo while TLO screamed like a banshee, the dogs hounding me every bit of the way. Profanities flew from my person in steady stream. I'm sure I appeared every bit the madman. I managed to pull the place together, secure TLO in his car seat, and herd the dogs out the door with five minutes to spare. And the realtor missed his fucking appointment. Bastard. The realtor did eventually show the place, TWO AND HALF HOURS LATE! Without any serious showings in several weeks, I suppose I can deal with late realtors if that's what it takes to sell the place.

Tasty Feast

Feast Fifty-Five

Appetizer--What is your middle name? Would you change any of your names if you could? If so, what would you like to be called?
Randall. I'm relatively content with all my names.

Soup--If you were a fashion designer, which fabrics, colors, and styles would you probably use the most?
I'm a big fan of cotton; synthetics, not so much. I'd probably go with a lot of black, white, and greens (forest, kelly, and olive--no pastels or florescents, thanks). The general style would likely be post punk/pseudo-military or something.

Salad--What is your least favorite chore, and why?
Emptying the cat litter. Cats are filthy creatures.

Main Course--What is something that really frightens you, and can you trace it back to an event in your life?
Sharks. Damn my parents for letting me watch Jaws as a child.

Dessert--Where are you sitting right now? Name 3 things you can see at this moment.
Home office. 1) Autographed flyer for the Start's Death Via Satellite EP. 2) Framed Green Lantern poster (two, actually). 3) Brand new copy of Star Wars Clone Wars Adventures Vol. III.

Smile

Better than a gift given with a joyous heart
Are sweet words spoken with a cheerful smile.

-Tirukkural 92

Excerpted from the Tirukkural, translated by Satguru Sivaya Subramuniyaswami. Copyright Himalayan Academy Publications, www.himalayanacademy.com.

No Worse for Wear

Yesterday, during a long run in 90 degree heat, I realized my life is pretty darn good. Despite the signficant life shake-up that occured with The Little One's arrival, nobody seems worse for wear. Oh, STK and I definitely get less sleep than we used to but, overall, we've adjusted. When TLO does keep us up, like last night, it's difficult to stay frustrated or angry. He's just so damn cute.

The move is looming on the horizon but I think we have everything under control. The truck and tow dolly are reserved, we have a pet-friendly place to crash after the first leg of the journey, and arrangements have been made to pick up the keys to our new place on arrival. The only possible snag is the sale of our condo, or non-sale as the case may be. It's looking more and more like the place won't sell before we hit the road. And that's not really so much of a snag as on inconvenience. If the place doesn't sell within the next six weeks we'll implement our contingency plan, look for a new realtor, and go from there. We're fortunate in that we do have the financial wherewithall to make mortgage and lease payments for an extended period. We'd rather we not do that, of course, but we won't be in financial straights. During one of our head-in-the-clouds moments yesterday, STK and I talked about keeping the place as our Colorado second home. How cool would that be? We'd be able to take prolonged vacations during the winter and summer breaks and be within minutes of all our friends and family. Dream on, brother.

I'm off to meet S and pick up a portable dishwasher. S is also moving and had a portable dishwasher with which she needed to part. A shadowy rendezvous was made, battered manila envelopes exchanged, and viola! STK and I have a dishwasher for the new midwest abode. The new place is an older home and doesn't have a built-in dishwasher; STK and I both find that unacceptable. Okay, I probably find it more unacceptable than STK--she's much more "we'll deal with whatever" than I. I, on the other hand, am used to my luxury items: indoor plumbing, dishwasher, washer and dryer, coffee grinder. You get the idea. With that acquisition out of the way, we'll turn our attention to packing for the move. Yippee!

Overheard at Barnes & Noble

STK: I didn't get his diaper tight enough and he peed right on me!
K: Some people pay good money for that.
D: We think it might be his first fetish.
A: We don't want to know if this is genetic.
D: We'll keep that to ourselves.

Perplexed

Like the majority of those on planet Earth, I'm saddened by the acts of violence committed against the people of London earlier today. Nobody should have to face that kind of violence. Ever. Despite the atrocities committed today, there are those who would respond with additional atrocities. I found the following message board post this morning. A poster named Nancy wrote:

Perhaps it IS time to stop being politically correct, & just start shutting down mosques & deporting muslims back to the middle east they all come from. BTW, I haven't heard a peep from any muslim news source concerning any muslim authorities or organizations whatsoever condemning this latest outrage. Therefore I infer they approve. More reasons to turn them into sheets of nuclear molten glass.

Genocide is a great answer, Nancy. Keep up the stellar thinking, eh? When another poster suggested Nancy was unfairly categorizing all Muslims as terrorists, she responded:

how? How do you determine which muslim is a decent person & which is a terrorist?

Well, why not assume that the VAST majority are not. Out of roughly 1 billion Muslims, how many are involved in legitimate terrorist activities? 10,000? I'm not a terrorist expert or anything, but even that number seems a little high. If that number is roughly correct, that means that only .00001 percent of all Muslims have any connection to terrorism. All numbers aside, why don't we hear the same exhortations after an abortion clinic bombing by a radical Christian pro-lifer? Can you imagine someone asking, "How do we determine which Christian is a decent person and which is a terrorist?" And she finished her observations with this:

I have been checking out the various news sources, and I have so far come up with NOT ONE expression of outrage, condolences, sorrow, revulsion, or anything other than support for the actions of these muslim scum. Not one imam, ayatollah, or islamic university teacher, not one muslim authority. Nothing, nada, zip. Faced with resounding silence on the part of muslims worldwide at this behavior, I must therefore conclude they all approve & support it. And they wonder why they are being increasingly viewed as less than human, and their religion with fear & contempt?

This kind of thinking terrifies me more than a handful of ideological zealots using bombs as their primary means of advancing political change. Why should all members of a faith be expected to denounce, and even apologize for, the actions of a fringe element? Again, do we hold all Christians responible for the actions of Eric Rudolph or David Koresh? I'm absolutely perplexed by this kind of behavior. The only sense I can make of it, and maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree by trying to make any sense of it at all, is the old "people fear what they don't understand" argument. That explanation isn't very satisfying today. The belief that "All Muslims are terrorists" will only lead to additional pain and suffering, to more innocents being targeted.

Anyone want to make a prediction regarding the first reported incident against a mosque or an innocent group of Muslims? And so the cylce of senseless violence continues.

Newcomers

I've added a couple new journals/blogs to the roll here at Rhetorical Imprints.

The Girl Zone is authored by elusis, a dear friend from the local goth scene. She's a damn fine deejay, an excellent scholar, and a wannabee pirate. Actually, she really thinks she is a pirate. I'm not sure how her clients react to all the "arghs", rum, and prominently displayed jolly rogers.

ishaunted offers her ruminations on dog vomit, beef, and other daily pursuits at i live here. k is one of the first people I met in the local goth scene some seven years ago. She and one of her friends nicknamed me "Silver Belt Boy" due to my most excellent collection of alternative silver studded belts. Over the years, k and I have consumed countless cups o' java and packs of cigarettes while dreaming of travelling back in time to join the Bromley Contingent. The fact that she owns her own Starfleet uniform--I've seen it--should tell you everything you need to know.

Welcome to my neck of the blogosphere, friends!

Just Another Day

As a child, the Fourth of July was one of those exciting holidays. The family would typically make the trip over the river and through the woods to grandma's place for a few days. We'd swim (grandma had, and still has, a pool), barbeque (complete with gram's divine potato salad), and then head off to the Central City fairgrounds for the fireworks display. My sister and I screamed for Dad to honk the horn when a particularly exciting starburst lit the sky.

My teens and early twenties saw a different focus emerge on the 4th of July: beer! Gone were the idyllic days of barbeques, fireworks, and lightning bugs; the 4th of July became yet another excuse to get stupidly drunk. This wasn't a day for a slight buzz, but a swill fest of falling-down-slurred- speech-profanity-laced-tirades-pissing-on-myself drunkenness. Good times, good times.

Today, I see the 4th of July for what it is: Amateur Day/Night, Version 2. Other than New Year's Eve, you'll never find a better day to observe the idiocy that comes from occasional drinkers trying to act like lushes. Leave the serious drinking to the professionals, folks. While all the wannabe alcoholics make me chuckle, the presence of so much booze also makes me a little uncomfortable. As such, I usually go out of my way to avoid any kind of public activity on the 4th; as one of my old AA friends used to say, "Your best course of action is to treat the 4th of July as just another day." For those of us in the recovery gig, that's good advice.

In celebration of Just-Another-Day-That-Happens-to-fall-on-the-4th-of-July, STK, TLO, and I had a pretty subdued day. The highlight of the day was taking TLO out for his first ride in the stroller. We needed to pick up some photo paper at the local CompUSA, a store within a stone's throw of our condo, and thought the trip would make the perfect 1st outing. We made the trip, returned home for a light dinner, and completed the night with several episodes from the 1st season of Alias. I'm not sure how we missed the show during it's original run, but we did. We really like it. Of course, STK and I both have a thing for shows featuring a kickass female lead.

A Feast By Any Other Name . . .

Friday's Feast, July 1, 2005

Appetizer--Where do you plan to go on vacation this year, or where would you want to go?
I'm not sure this counts as a vacation, but I'm going to an academic conference in Boston, MA later this year. I'll probably spend a grand total of two hours at the conference, then spend the rest of the time visiting Samuel Adams' grave, Walden pond, etc. If I was to go on vacation, I'd probably head for San Francisco, CA.

Soup--What color is your bedroom? If you could redecorate it, what would you change?
Beige. If I had my druthers, I'd go with a sage green.

Salad--Do you have a bumper sticker on your vehicle? What does it say?
I have several bumper stickers:

Freedom of religion means every religion.
You laugh at my because I'm different; I laugh at you because you're all the same.
theStart
One Man Army
Sleater-Kinney
No Doubt
Metric
The Ramones

Main Course--What's the worst pain you've ever been in?
The first couple weeks of getting sober absolutely sucked. The physical and mental pain were unbelievable. One of the reasons I stay sober is that I never want to go through the first few weeks of sobriety ever again.

Dessert--Who is your favorite celebrity? What do they do that inspires you?
Gwen Stefani is probably my favorite celebrity, despite the crap she calls her present pop album. Holla Back Girl? WTF is that? I'm not sure she inspires me so much as I really enjoy her artistic endeavours with No Doubt.

Practice

Friday has been one of those days when I had no sense of balance whatsoever. Since getting sober over twelve years ago, there's been one nagging character defect I seem unable to address: staying in the moment. Readers will recognize mindfulness, the practice of keeping the mind focused on the present moment, as a common theme in my writing. I read about mindfulness, I write about mindfulness, but I struggle with instituting the practice in my day to day life. Rather than keeping myself focused on the present moment, I go through life with my mind firmly entrenched in the future, fretting about things that might come to pass. Despite being keenly aware of my tendency to fixate on future events and project negative outcomes, 90 precent of which never come to pass, I don't implement the practices that I know will keep me in the present moment.

Gene and I used to talk about this quirk in human behavorior on a regular basis. If I remember our conversations correctly, we decided that most people have a fairly thorough understanding of their shortcomings, character defects, and problematic behaviors. Most people also understand the action, or actions, they need to take in order to make life adjustments. Where the whole process of change breaks down is in implementation: most people don't follow through on the "fix." We have a decent diagnosis, we understand the cure, but we suck at administering the cure.

Today, for example, I let myself get stressed about potential complications and difficulties with the upcoming move. We're a little over a month away from M-Day, Moving Day, and several stars haven't aligned exactly as I'd like. The condo still hasn't sold and isn't gathering much in the way of attention, my final paycheck from the University was about half of what I expected,* and there are still a couple kinks in the actual moving process. Minutes after checking my bank account, I decided that the entire move was a disaster in the making and announced to STK that I'd made a horrible mistake in accepting the tenure-track position. I swear I had one of those little storm clouds--rain, thunder, lightning, and all--following me around for a couple hours. STK let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I'm not very pleasant company when I'm manufacturing our demise.

Several hours later, I managed to refocus my attention on the present moment. An extra difficult workout usually does that for me. By pushing myself physically, I'm literally unable to focus beyond my next breath, my next stride. My mind stops and I'm unable to think of anything other than present actions. Having achieved mental clarity, I see my thinking for what is: illusory. All of today's stresses were manufactured within my own mind. In fact, we've had contingency plans in place for all my imagined complications for several months. We thought all these things through months ago, but my twisted mind can't leave well enough alone.

And so I revisit my toolbox of "fixes" once again. I remind myself of the practices that keep my mind out of the future and in the present: meditating, breathing, walking, pausing when agitated, acknowledging worries and letting them go. If I keep returning to these practices and keep trying to incorporate them them into my everyday life, I know I'll eventually teach myself to stay in the now, to embrace of the present moment. Most of the time.

*An error on my part, I'm afraid. I misread my May 31 paycheck and thought I was getting the majority of my summer pay on my final paycheck. Rereading the May check stub, I already received half my summer pay. As a result of my error, we have about a grand less than we'd budgeted this month. Ooops.

"It's Hard Work, Blah, Blah, Blah"

Facing declining approval rating numbers, Curious George will adress the nation tonight and assuage our fears about the Iraq War. Let me save you the trouble of wasting any time listening to this joke of a speech. Here's what he'll say.

"A beacon of freedom and democracy in the tumultuous Middle East . . . blah, blah, blah. It's hard work opposing the enemies of liberty . . . blah, blah, blah. We liberated the people of Iraq from one of the most brutal dictators of the 20 century . . . blah, blah, blah. Through perseverence and determination, the Iraqi people will be a shining example . . . blah, blah, blah. Terrorists cannot hide . . . blah, blah, blah. We thank those who gave their lives protecting our liberties and those of the Iraqi people . . . blah, blah, blah."

In other words, we won't hear one. new. thought. Instead, Curious George will continue to feed us the same tired bullshit we've been hearing for the last couple years. So, I'd encourage you to find something more entertaining to do with your time. Here are a couple of ideas.

Watch Blow Out. This is the best reality television show ever! That's high praise coming from someone--me--who generally dislikes reality television. Watching Jonathan manage two salons, develop a new product line, and participate in fashion events is pure gold. Seriously, this is presently my most anticipated television show of the week (the 4400 & Dead Zone are a close second).

Learn to make sorbet. Cool, refreshing, and healthy.

Watch, or listen, to the NBA draft.

Have a mental debate with Tom Cruise regarding the question, "Is psychiatry a pseudoscience." You can always trump Tom by saying, "At least I don't believe dead aliens are the cause of my problems."

Flags Galore

I stumbled across several decent pieces regarding the flag burning issue. Enjoy.

Burning Desire.
Flag Burning a Non-issue.
Flag Worship.
Salazar Backs Flag Proposal.

The final article really gives me pause. When I voted for Ken Salazar, a Democrat, I assumed he would represent the views of those on the left. I guarantee that 80 percent or more of those who voted for Salazar oppose the idea of a flag burning amendment. If that's the case, and I truly believe that it is, why is Salazar voting for the amendment? I'm sorry he has images of his father's flag draped coffin etched in his mind, but that doesn't mean he should go out and cast a vote based on personal feelings. He can deplore the burning of the flag and still respect a person's right to do so. Michael made this argument, quite eloquently, on his blog.

You can bet Senator Salazar will be getting a phone call from this unhappy constituent.

Gotta Burn Me Some Flag

It would appear those wacky conservatives are at it again. Rather than addressing some of the real issues of the day, House Republicans have pushed through a flag burning amendment. The brief amendment reads, "The Congress shall have power to prohibit the physical desecration of the flag of the United States."

I wonder if House Republicans will immediately offer a follow-up amendment that reads, "The Congress shall have power to trample freedom of speech as they see fit." This whole flag burning issue has been debated over, and over, and over. In Texas v. Johnson, the Supreme Court ruled flag burning a legitimate exercise of free speech. Who needs the Supreme Court? We'll just rewrite the Constitution. Ugh!

If the Senate passes this bill and the states ratify the amendment, I suspect I'll join the thousands of dissenters burning the flag in protest. Oddly enough, if this amendment goes through the flag will mean less to me than ever. Right now, I'm a person who stands at attention during the national anthem or Pledge of Allegiance, someone who is respectful of the flag and that for which it stands. Curtailing my right to desecrate that flag as a matter of free speech will force me to rethink my commitment to that practice. A government intent on restricting dissenting voices, a government symbolically represented by the flag, will get no respect from me.

Hide and Feast

Appetizer--What time do you usually wake up each day? If you could choose your wake-up time, when would it be?

I've been getting up at 1 am, 4 am, 7 am, and 10 am. If I had my druthers, I'd go to be around 3 am and awake around 9 am. That seems to be my natural sleep pattern.

Soup--When was the last time you bought groceries? What store did you go to? Name 3 things you purchased.

I stopped by King Soopers yesterday and picked up, among other things, bananas, IBC root beer, and toilet paper.

Salad--How many books have you read so far this year? Which was your favorite and why?

Truthfully, I'm not sure I can actually count the number. Although I read a great deal for enjoyment, it's also something of an occupational hazard. I'd say I've read somewhere between 50-75 books. Of those, David McCullough's John Adams proved thoroughly enjoyable (and enlightening).

Main Course--What is something you consider to be very elegant? In particular, what about that item/place/person conjures up the feeling of elegance?

The ballet. Several years ago, I discovered the beauty and elegance of the ballet and now try to attend as many performances as possible. Everything about the experience--from the performance, to the dress and manners of those in attendance--exudes elegance.

Dessert--Who taught you how to drive?

My mother, I think. My dad never had a lot of patience for that kind of thing.

Picture Show

Earlier this morning Michael wrote:

On behalf of all your regular readers, we are happy for you and wish you and your little family the best. But we need to see pictures. Thank you in advance for your cooperation. ;)

Your wish is my command. Visit Almost Obi-wan for all things Gareth.

I'm sure someone is bound to ask, "Why'd you start another blog for kid pics and updates?" That question can be answered in a couple parts. First, Rhetorical Imprints is my little corner of the cyberverse. If I want to drop the f-bomb fourteen times in a post, this is the place to do it. If I want to let Dark Derek creep out a bit, this is where he makes an appearance. As odd as it may sound, I'm not sure I want my expletive laden posts adjacent to an entry about a first tooth. Second, I vent about family on Rhetorical Imprints from time to time. To avoid the inevitable hurt feelings of family members, I've decided to keep them sheltered from my wrath. If I post pictures on Rhetorical Imprints, family members will stop by several times a week to see if there's anything new. It's probably best to save my father the annoyance of yet another liberal-minded post regarding gay marriage, the stupidity of the Iraq war, etc.; we fight about that stuff enough as it is. Almost Obi-wan is a place where he can enjoy the exploits of his grandson without my vitriol and irreverent humor (not that Rhetorical Imprints has displayed much of either, of late).

Enough about Almost Obi-wan.

The doctor gave STK and GMS the okay to head home late Sunday afternoon. Since then, we've been settling into what we hope will be a somewhat regular routine. For the first couple days it was all about survival--eat, sleep, change diapers, repeat.. Changing STK's diaper was a much more involved process than GMS's. That, I suppose, is a tale left to her telling. Monday evening, STK, GMS, and I watched the AFI tribute to George Lucas and then followed up the festivities with a viewing of the A New Hope DVD.

He cannot escape his destiny*--he will be a Star Wars geek.

*Speaking of destiny, check out Michael's post at Army of Dorkness.

All is Well

I'm home for a just a couple seconds to check on the dogs, give them some attention, and make sure the condo hasn't been pillaged. All continues to be well with STK and Baby G. I have many parenting misadventures to report. That said, less than 36 hours and I'm already getting the hang of things.

It's Alive!

At 6:42 AM, Gareth Michael entered the world of the living. Despite a rough delivery that ended in a C-section, both mother and son are now doing fine. Although I'm not really sure why, everyone keeps telling me his vital statistics are kind of important. He weighs in at 19 inches and 7.89 lbs.

I'm off for a quick nap and shower before returning to the hospital. More later.

Wednesday Potpourri

Today was one of those interesting days that doesn't seem to have any rhyme or reason. I did a little bit of everything, in fact.

*STK and I caught the morning matinee of Batman Begins. If you're a fan of Batman, you should probably see this movie. Excellent backstory and terrific fight sequences. Nolan, the director, finally managed to catch the movements and fighting style of Batman on film. Batman doesn't fight criminals straight up. Instead, he uses stealth and the element of surprise to beat them senseless.

*Checked on student loan consolidation and, if I'm understanding the information correctly, I've been approved. That should save me tens of thousands of dollars over the next 30 years.

*Contacted realtor about progress toward selling the hacienda. The metro area real estate market has been pretty slow for a couple of months and we're looking into some new ways of spurring interest. We discussed everything from open houses, to expanded listings, to feng shui.

*Worked out for an hour.

*Watched Hitch with STK and thoroughly enjoyed it. Although Hitch starts as the "date doctor," by the end of the movie he discovers what I've known for years: there are no rules to dating. I should totally write a book on this topic--maybe I could get on Oprah! I'd love to kick Dr. Phil's ass all over national television. Figuratively, of course.

All of the above are really ways we're trying to distract ourselves from the impending arrival of TLO. He's now three days overdue and, by doctor's orders, we're in Let-Nature-Take-Its-Course mode. Another reminder that I'm not very good at letting life proceed at its own pace. When did I become such a control freak?

Desire

Must. Have.



Limited Edition Clone Wars Barriss Offee and Luminara Unduli Maquette

Revenge of the Feast

Appetizer--Name one thing that made you sad this week.

I was a little sad and nostalgic as I walked across campus for the last time. I spent a LOT of time on that campus and will definitely miss it.

Soup--What was the last object (not person) you took a picture of?

STK and myself. Everytime we have the camera out, I take a picture of the two of us. Yes, I hold the camera.

Salad--Who do you talk to when you need help in making a decision?

STK. Mom. Walt.

Main Course--If you were a weather event, what would you be, and why?

Didn't we answer this question last year?

Dessert--Suggest a website that you think your readers would enjoy visiting.

GreenCine Daily Blog. Cool movie blog.

Errand Boy

With major events on the immediate horizon (no, TLO still hasn't arrived), I got an early start to the day and ran many errands before noon. I started the day with a quick trip to Discount Tire. My left rear tire had a slow leak and needed fixing, pronto. The gang at Discount discovered a nail, fixed the leak, and had me on my way in less than 45 minutes. The best part about this outfit is that they don't charge you for such minor repairs. All they ask is that you keep them in mind when you purchase your next set of tires. Too cool for school.*

After the tire repair adventure, I made my way to the Post Office. I ordered a new video card a week ago and when I installed it, it became apparent the card had been damaged during shipping. The card is being returned for a duplicate.

I then made my way to the vet for Bishop's annual shots. An uneventful trip for once.

And now I'm back at home, waiting for TLO to arrive. Today's the due date and we have no indication of an impending arrival. We have an appointment with the doc tomorrow AM, provided TLO doesn't surprise us today. Waiting is the hardest part, I tell you.

*My present tires are from Discount--they've already got my business.

Monitors, Keys, and the Return of Mr. Mohawk

As the TLO's due date is only a few days away, we're now at the stage where we visit the doctor on a weekly basis.* The whole doctor thing has become rather routine--check vitals, ask about any problems, check TLO, check STK, go home, wait for something happen. Yesterday's visit, however, was anything but routine. After the doctor's poking and prodding, STK experienced some unusual bleeding and we were told that while everything was probably fine, we should go to the hospital to have everyone checked out. Off we went for almost five hours of monitoring! Thankfully, everything and everyone is okay and we're back in wait mode. STK and I decided the whole affair was a good trial run for the real deal. On a more certain note, our doctor suggested he wouldn't let TLO go more than a week beyond his due date. We have another appointment scheduled for Tuesday--if TLO hasn't arrived, we'll be discussion options. One way or another, TLO will likely arrive in the next week to ten days.

Less significant than yesterday's excitement was the close of my final semester at the alma mater. Right after students completed their final exams, I sat down and graded, graded, graded. A few hours later I had tests graded and final grades assigned. I turned in all my keys along with my final grades. The upcoming year will be first time I haven't walked the campus as a student, instructor, or professor. Weird.

With the start of summer vacation finally upon me, I'm now sporting the celebratory mohawk. Once I get to my new job, I'll have to be careful about doing anything too alternative for a couple years (translation: until I get tenure). Mr. Mohawk will be removed for the start of the Fall 2005 semester. Until then, oi!

*If he goes beyond his due date, and it appears he will, we'll start visiting the doctor every couple of days.

Holding Pattern

No winners in the first, and probably only, Rhetorical Imprints delivery pool. My mind is in one of those places where I do not do well--patience. I'm not great with situations that are essentially out of my control. Unfortunately, almost everything in my life is presently out of my hands: waiting for people to visit, and buy, our condo, waiting for TLO to arrive, and waiting to set an actual date for our actual move.

Most people think I go through life flying by the seat of my pants. Nothing could be further from the truth. I'm most comfortable with rigid routine, provided I'm the one who devised and implemented the routine. For instance, I go through a very set ritual when getting ready for work. From the time I get up until the time I get in my car (55 minutes, give or take a minute), I engage in a precise ritual. The shower consists of hair washing, conditioning, body lathering, and face washing. It's always in that order. Emerging from the shower I put in my contacts, brush my teeth, take allergy medication, moisterize face/eyes, apply deodorant/powder. Walking across the hall I put on an undershirt, boxer briefs, socks, and pants (in that order). Partially clothed, I go to the kitchen and: start coffee, feed cats, let dogs out to pee, feed dogs, pour cup of coffee, return to office to continue dressing. With cup of coffee in hand, I stop by my closet and put on my belt, shirt-of-the-day, and pick out my shoes. I quickly put keys, gum, wallet, lip balm in my pockets, sit down at the computer and read the news/drink coffee/put on shoes. At exactly 6:30 AM I take the dogs out for the morning poop. Returning upstairs, I give Clay his medication, both dogs get a treat, and I stop at the kitchen sink to wash my hands. I fill my travel mug with coffee and place a bagel next to the mug. Travel goods ready to go, I make a quick stop at my bathroom to spritz on a bit of cologne, as well as coconut-lime-verbena hand lotion. Nothing says "sharp dressed man" like pleasant smells and soft hands. I return to the bedroom, kiss STK, and head for the car; my school backpack has been packed the night before and is sitting next to the front door. If anything waivers in this routine, I get rattled. Thankfully, that only happens about once every three weeks.

Similar rituals permeate my life. I follow a strict before & after class routine at school, I eat lunch at exactly the same time everyday (and have a very set menu: power bar or yogurt, piece of fruit, granola bar/dry cereal, piece of candy or two. I haven't varied from this lunch in years), and workout at least five days a week (at the same time, of course). My workout alternates between two consistent routines. I either do stretching/weight lifting/cardio (identical stretching and weight routines every. single. time) or stretching/cardio (identical stretching and cardio distance every. single. time). I could probably list another half dozen or so rituals, but I'm starting to feel a bit obsessive compulsive.

As one might imagine, the uncertainty of real estate matters, TLO's arrival, and our upcoming move has me a little disconcerted. I have absolutely no control over when the condo will sell, when TLO will get here, or when we'll actually be able to move (we kind of need to be here for the condo closing--provided it sells in a timely fashion, which is another stress altogether). Despite all the things that are out of my control, I'm not going completely crazy. I allow myself about a 1/2 hour of AAAARRRGGGHHHHHH time each day, then take a few breaths and remind myself that life happens in its own time and on its own terms. If I do the work I can, then step out of the way, everything will work out.

Calming, smiling. Present moment, wonderful moment.

Just Keep Feasting. Just Keep Feasting. Just Keep Feasting.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Appetizer--What comes to mind when you hear the word bizarre?
During a student council meeting circa 1985 or so, Mr. Stanford suggested a bazaar as a fundraiser. J and I looked at each at the same moment, screwed up our faces in a hideous manner, and growled, "Bizarre?!" Mr. Stanford didn't find it very funny.

Soup--Using just a few words, describe your childhood.
Kick the can. Fishing. The Creek. The Hedge. Jefferson Street.

Salad--Name one thing you do each day that you feel improves your appearance.
Exercise. I'm toned and my weight hasn't fluctuated more than 2 lbs in the last 11 years.

Main Course--On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how would you rate your self-confidence?
7.5

Dessert--Where did you last find a bargain?
Newegg.com and Abebooks.com.

Pomped and Circumstanced.

Despite a darkened sky, torrential downpour, and tornado warning, I walked across the stage last night and formally received my doctoral degree. Yes, I was resistant to even participate in the event; yes, I wound up enjoying myself. In the next week or so, I'll be looking for a distinguished frame in which to hermetically seal my diploma. Believe it or not, that was the biggest suprise of the evening. Unlike other graduations, where participants receive an empty diploma case, the Ph.D. graduates received the real deal.

The moment of the event that will forever stick in my mind, however, might seem rather trivial to most. After sashaying across the stage, shaking many hands, and submitting myself to being hooded, I started the long walk around the still seated MA graduates, a walk that paraded each graduate passed thousands of spectators. Looking up, I spotted STK looking down at me. She smiled and nonverbally asked me to pose for a picture.

In the brief three or four seconds I stood motionless, a kaleidoscope of thoughts flashed through my head: difficulties, struggles, and sadness whirled among successes, triumphs, and happiness. A primary thought emerged from the clutter: my life has been filled with simplicity, serenity, and joy since STK entered my life. Thanks to her love, support, and no short supply of tolerance (I can be a difficult person with whom to live--I have a lot of quirks and idiosyncrasies), I was able to focus much needed energy on my academic pursuits.

Rather than turn this piece into another self-congratulatory blog entry, I want to thank you, STK, for being in my life. Thank you for love, kindness, and patience. Thanks for listening to me read passages that I'm sure made little or no sense to someone outside my field (hell, parts of Bakhtin and Derrida still flit at the edge of my understanding). Thanks for letting me have my mini-meltdowns. Thanks for allowing me the time and space to read, write, and meet with various writing partners and advisors. Most of all, thanks for being you. Your presence brings a balance to my life, a balance I've always struggled to find. I've never felt so validated and loved. I'm a much better person, and scholar, with you as a partner.

I'd Rather Rule In Hell . . .

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

I'm apparently going to spend all eternity in the Second or Sixth level of Hell

Second Level: You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain. Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate.

Sixth Level: You approach Satan's wretched city where you behold a wide plain surrounded by iron walls. Before you are fields full of distress and torment terrible. Burning tombs are littered about the landscape. Inside these flaming sepulchers suffer the heretics, failing to believe in God and the afterlife, who make themselves audible by doleful sighs. You will join the wicked that lie here, and will be offered no respite. The three infernal Furies stained with blood, with limbs of women and hair of serpents, dwell in this circle of Hell.

Talk about a rough week ;)

Fricken Fracken ::mumbles stream of expletives::

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SIGNIFICANT HYPERBOLE FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT.*

I was overjoyed to discover that the federal government is about to raise interest rates on student loans. I was under the assumption that my loan was at a fixed rate. However, after looking at my account information I don't think that's the case--I think I'm in the dreaded "variable" loan category. If that's true, a 1.93 percent jump is pretty significant. When you have the amount of student loan debt that I have, it's a HUGE freakin amount over the course of a loan. So, I looked into a student loan consolidation, spent some time filling out the necessary online forms to get the process started, and the site crashed. Argh! That flushing sound you hear is a 1/2 hour of my life going down the tubes.

In addition to the loan crap, I'm getting a little tired of people calling EVERY FREAKING DAY to ask how STK's feeling. She's 8.5 months pregnant, how do you think she feels? STK and I are not co-conspiring to keep you out of the loop. Much to our own consternation, there's nothing to report. Ditch the paranoia and relax. WE'LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN SHE GOES INTO LABOR. WE WILL NOT LEAVE YOU OUT OF THIS SIGNIFICANT PIECE OF INFORMATION. Okay, we might delay calling you until we've been at the hospital for a while so we can have some peace and quiet. Sheesh. Some people.

Inhabiting the Kind of Annoying category is my upcoming graduation ceremony. You know how excited I am about attending? Zilch. Nada. Zero. Not in the least. I depise these ceremonies that mean little or nothing. I fulfilled the requirements for my degree and don't need a silly ritual filled with poor speeches and overblown pomp and circumstance as some kind of closure on my graduate career. Give me the freakin' diploma and let's call it a day. Unfortunately, several people in my family really want me to attend. They see it as some kind of special honor and recognition. Whatever. I'm secretly hoping The Little One decides to join us between now and Friday afternoon. What a great reason to ditch my own graduation!

Where did I put that ibuprofen?

*In other words, none of this stuff goes beyond annoying.

Used

Used books ordered this afternoon.

Civility: Manners, Morals, and the Etiquette of Democracy, Stephen L. Carter.
Editorial review from Amazon.com: In this followup to Integrity, Yale law professor Stephen Carter continues to meditate upon the "prepolitical" qualities on which a healthy society is based.

Why do people show poorer manners today than in previous ages? How did we come to confuse rudeness with self-expression and acting on our "rights"? Carter looks at these and other important questions with a combination of his personal experiences and an extremely long shelf of reading material, all the while maintaining an informal writing style that continually--but politely--engages the reader, inviting him or her to think about these issues along with Carter.

There are important messages here about generosity and trust, about respecting diversity and dissent, and about resolving conflict through dialogue rather than mandate. Stephen Carter would never be so uncivil as to demand your attention, but Civility most definitely compels.

Mediated: How the Media Shapes Your World and the Way You Live in it, Thomas De Zengotita.
From the publisher: From Princess Diana's funeral to the prospect of mass terror, from oral sex in the Oval Office to cowboy politics in distant lands, from high school cliques to marital therapy, from hip-hop nation to climbing Mt. Everest, from blogs to reality TV to the Weather Channel, Mediated takes us on a tour of every department of our media-saturated society. And at every turn we see ourselves as we are, immersed in options, surrounded by representations, driven to unprecedented levels of self-consciousness - and obliged by these circumstances to transform our very lives into performances.

The Practice of Everyday Life, Michel de Certeau.
From the publisher: Michel de Certeau considers the uses to which social representation and modes of social behavior are put by individuals and groups, describing the tactics available to the common man for reclaiming his own autonomy from the all-pervasive forces of commerce, politics, and culture. In exploring the public meaning of ingeniously defended private meanings, de Certeau draws brilliantly on an immense theoretical literature in analytic philosophy, linguistics, sociology, semiology, and anthropology—to speak of an apposite use of imaginative literature.

Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and how It Transformed Our World, Mark Pendergrast.
From the publisher: Coffee has been banned as a creator of revolutionary sedition, vilified as the worst health-destroyer on earth and praised as the boon of mankind. Its history provides a window through which to view broader themes of colonialism and culture clash, the rise of mass production, modern-day media and marketing, women's issues and international commodity schemes. It also illustrates how an entire industry can lose focus, allowing upstart micro-roasters to reclaim quality and profits. Mark Pendergrast enlivens his scrupulously researched history with anecdotes, eccentric characters and period commentary that will give readers stories to share - over good cups of coffee - for years to come.

Zen and the Art of Rhetoric: An Inquiry into Coherence, Mark McPhail.
From the Publisher: Drawing on poetry, personal narratives, critical analysis, and epistemological explorations this book expands traditional conceptions of rhetoric beyond an "art of persuasion" to a power to manage diverse conceptions of reality, freeing the study and practice of discourse from the essentializing constraints of foundationist philosophy. As an "inquiry into coherence," the book explores social, political, and pedagogical issues ranging from racism, to cultural and ethnic diversity, to the role of argument and persuasion in the creation and perpetuation of difference. The result of this exploration is as understanding of rhetoric as a Tao, a Way of being, thinking, and speaking grounded in what the author calls "dialogic coherence," an actively non-argumentative approach to language, life, and method that is based upon the philosophies and practices of the Eastern martial arts.

Interconnected or Inconsequential?

Motherfucking cocksucker motherfucking shit fucker what am I doing? What am I doing? I don't know what I'm doing. I'm doing the best that I can. I know that's all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? Is my work doing any good? Is anybody paying attention? Is it hopeless to try and change things? The African guy is a sign, right? Because if he isn't, than nothing in this world makes any sense to me. I'm fucked! Maybe I should quit. Don't quit! Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don't fucking quit! I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to fucking do anymore! Fucker! Fuck shit!

--Albert Markovski in I Heart Huckabees

Facing a crisis of the existential kind, Albert turns to the husband and wife team of Bernard and Vivian for answers to some very difficult questions. Who am I? What does it mean? What is life really about? Is life about everything or nothing? Is my sense of self fixed pre-ontologically or does self emerge from a confluence of experiences, decisions, and resulting actions?

Regarding the self, I lean toward the latter; as far as I'm concerned, there is no essence prior to birth. The people we encounter, the experiences we have, and the decisions we make are the stuff of which the self is made. Still, the most significant question of the film remains: What does it all mean? Unfortunately, I struggle with this question on a regular basis. The idealist in me wants to believe that we're all interconnected, that my actions and beliefs contribute to the improvement of the human condition. I am you and you are me. If I hurt you, I hurt myself. If I don't oppose social injustice on the other side of the world, I'm ignoring my own plight. Interconnected, all our interactions contribute to the meaningful existance of humankind.

There's also the nihilist within me that says, "None of it matters. It's all bullshit. There's no meaning, no secret to life, and no great answer. This is all there is to it. In the grand scheme of things your actions don't mean squat." If there's no great meaning to life, then the answer is always in the now. If my writings, relationships, experiences, and actions don't mean a damn thing in the grand design (a nihilist, like myself, would question whether there's anything remotely resembling a grand design), I still experience the joy, and suffering, of the now. The way I treat myself and others in the present moment, determines the general quality of my life in the present moment. Since karma, salvation, and the like are meaningless, there's nothing beyond the here and now. Beyond this very moment, nothing matters.

Does life have meaning? Are we all interconnected? Does any of it matter? Is it all meaningless? Like Albert, I have no fucking idea. Shit.

Most days, I'm okay with that.

Movie Mania and More!

As the summer commences, STK and I begin our annual Festival of Movies We Missed Throughout the Year . . . our something like that. Here's what we've watched the last couple weeks.

Blade: Trinity
Elektra
King Arthur
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Lemony Snickets A Series of Unfortunate Events
Love Actually
A Mighty Wind
Pollock
Ray

Out of the films we've watched to this point, Life Aquatic and Pollock emerge as the standouts. In fact, I think STK and I might try to pull together Team Zissou costumes for Halloween. Too damn funny.

Besides watching Elektra and Lemony Snickets, I also managed to get quite a few things accomplished.

Researched possible new laptop.
Cleaned office.
Took boxes of toys and books to storage unit.
Installed infant car seat base.
Returned all books checked out from school.
Replenished supply of Kaladi Bros. coffee.

It's been a productive, yet relaxing, day.

You Can Feast If You Want To

Friday's Feast. Mmmmmm.

Appetizer--What job would you definitely not want to have?
Any job involving septic tanks comes to mind. Running a close second is anything in banking. Been there, done that, it sucked.

Soup--Oprah calls and wants you to appear on her show. What would that day's show be about?
Something about recovery, probably. I'd share my story than use my Triple Black Belt in Recovery to tell people to get a clue.

Whiney Alcoholic: I just can't quit drinking. It's not my fault. My father was an alcoholic.
Me: Not your fault? Did someone pin you down and pour booze down your throat?
Whiney: No!
Me: Then it is your fault. Quit blaming genetics, the pain in your life, and the actions of others for your problem. If you really didn't want to drink, you wouldn't. There are tons of programs out there to help you. Do you really want to quit?
Whiney: I don't know.
Me: Then quit wasting my time. I can't make you get sober. When you're really ready to quit, we'll talk. Go have another drink and let me know how that works out for you. Oh, and thanks.
Whiney: For what?
Me: For reminding me what it was like before I quit drinking. I was exactly like you. I never want to go back there. Yuck.

Salad--Name 3 vegetables that you eat on a regular basis.
Green peppers, carrots (I eat approximately 3 pounds a week), celery.

Main Course--If you were commissioned to rename your hometown, what would you call it?
Whogivesashitville. I haven't been back in years and probably won't visit for quite some time. There's really nothing there that interests me.

Dessert--If you had a personal assistant, what kind of tasks would you have them to do?
What I need more than a personal assistance is a house cleaner. I'd love someone to come in once a week and give the place a good dusting, vacuuming, toilet scrubbing, etc. I seem to be able to handle the rest quite well. Actually, I don't really trust anyone to take care of anything involving work. I'm kind of a control freak when it comes to school.

Baby Pool

As guesses are starting to roll in, I thought it might be time to formalize predictions. When will The Little One join the world? According to those in the medical know, he should arrive on or around June 13. At our last appointment, the first of weekly visits that continue until TLO arrives, Mom and baby were in excellent condition. We've already received the following predictions.

May 30--Alita
May 31--STK
June 2--Me. I started down the path toward sobriety on June 2, 1993. Two years ago (June 2, 2003) I quit smoking. June 2 is a damn fine day for rebirths and new beginnings so why not start another new chapter in my life on June 2.
June 3--Stacy
June 5--Susan
June 6--Tess
June 10--Michael K.
June 11--Nicke
June 13--Mike
June 15--Tiffany

If you want to offer a prediction of your own, do so in the comments. I'll update the list periodically. The winner will receive a No Prize of my choosing.

Happy Birthday to Feast, Happy Birthday to Feast!

Friday's Feast

Appetizer--Approximately how many hours per day do you spend watching television?
One, maybe? I watch several shows regularly (Smallville, Battlestar Galactica, ST: Enterprise, Everwood), but I'm not a "let's sit down and see what's on TV" kind of guy.

Soup--Which colors decorate your kitchen?
We have a fairly ordinary kitchen. The walls are ivory and the cupboards are a medium woodgrain.

Salad--Name 2 brand names you buy on a regular basis, and what do you like about them?
GrapeNuts: They're so crunchy! Woolite Dark: terrific for your black clothes (of which I have more than is probably healthy).

Main Course--What is your biggest fear?
Without a doubt, sharks. The fear is so bad that I can't even wade in the ocean. Yikes! Even though it's completely irrational, I'll sometimes get freaked out while swimming laps at the recreation center. Thankfully, I'm able to remind myself that a shark probably can't squeeze up through the drainage system. A mutated octopus, on the other hand . . .

Dessert--If you could wake up tomorrow and find yourself in another location, where would you want to be?
In the small midwest town that will be our home come fall. I'm so ready to make that move.

Bonus Birthday Question--What's your favorite flavor of birthday cake?
I'm fond of white cake with gobs of frosting (the corner piece is mine!), smothered in vanilla ice cream. How's that for plain?

Army of Dorkness

If you haven't checked it out already, visit the Army of Dorkness blog. I've posted my thoughts regarding Revenge of the Sith.

Sniff This

Driving home from school today, I made the mistake of listening to the Jim Rome Show. If you're not familiar with his program, it's a sports talk program featuring Rome's "take", or "takes," on the sports controversy of the day, interviews with athletes, and conversations with sports fans. Today, he deviated from the normal sports chit chat and related a story about his four year old boy. The tale went something like this:

I tried to keep it out of my house. Really. I did everything I could. It's not in the house and I've never encouraged him to watch. My four year old pointed to the television screen yesterday and said, "That's Darth Vader, Dad." Even though I tried to protect him, he's now all about lightsabers and Star Wars. Mind you, he's four, not thirty four, and he will have sex with a woman someday.

I realize not everyone is a Star Wars geek like myself, but why the hate? Why do "normal" folk feel the need to slam those who express tremendous passion about Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, or any other film, television, or book phenomena? Seriously, why would anyone care if I wear a costume to tomorrow night's premiere, decorate my office with action figures, or watch the various trailers repeatedly? I'll never understand the need to diminish another person's fanaticism.

Rome's diatribe is particularly perplexing when you consider what he does for a living: he sits around and talks about sports all. day. long. That's right, he sits around and talks to professional athletes, comments on games, and converses with sports fanatics. Sports. We're not talking political science, scientific discovery, literary critique, or any other intellectual subject. We're talking sports; he sits around and talks about games. Games. He celebrates sports fandom with the individuals who paint themselves with team colors, decorate their bathrooms in a Green Bay Packers motif, talk some mean sports smack, and schedule their entire lives around a sports schedule. How is that any different than being obsessed with Star Wars?

A jock sniffer derides Star Wars nerds? Pot--Kettle--Black. That's freakin hilarious, eeerrrrrr, pathetic.

The Beginning of the End.

For the last several weeks, I've had the distinct impression that some things in my life are coming to an end. Oddly enough, quite a few things ARE coming to an end. I received an email titled "You have been unsubscribed from the Hcom-abd mailing list," signalling the end of my ABD graduate student status. I wrapped up the last full semester of teaching at my illustrious BA & MA alma mater, an institution of which I've been part, as a student or instructor, for almost 20 years.* I read numerous farewell notes from students including one that literally brought tears to my eyes. Several faculty members approached me at a departmental gathering and expressed how much my presence would be missed. At the same gathering, my MA thesis advisor congratulated me on completing my Ph.D. and expressed delight upon hearing about my new position. His exact words were, "Congratulations! That's an excellent school!" I admire him like no other in the academy; his obvious approval and excitement has been the highlight of the year. Considering the Star Wars saga is coming to an end this week, there really are some rather signficant endings approaching quickly.

I feel a bit sad about all that.

*I'm teaching a brief, four-week summer session of Communication and Popular Culture so I haven't reached the official "So long and thanks for all the fish" date. Teaching during the summer is really weird. The classes are much smaller (20 students vs 50; that means I have 20 students this semester instead of 230) and the buildings are the campus version of a ghost town.

Postmodernist. Imagine that.

Postmodernism is the belief in complete open interpretation. You see the universe as a collection of information with varying ways of putting it together. There is no absolute truth for you; even the most hardened facts are open to interpretation. Meaning relies on context and even the language you use to describe things should be subject to analysis.

Postmodernist 100% Cultural Creative 81% Idealist 81% Existentialist 69% Romanticist 56% Modernist 31% Materialist 25% Fundamentalist 13% What is Your World View? created with QuizFarm.com

Good thing I wrote my dissertation from a postmodern perspective, eh?

The Plague

Returning from the mailbox, STK and I stared at a non-descript envelope and scratched our heads. The postal address read, "D, STK, and TLO." TLO isn't even here yet and he's receiving mail? No longer able to suppress our curiosity, we tore into the package with great fervor and, as a result of our inquisitiveness, unwittingly unleased the scourge of 14th century Europe. We've contracted a case of Black Death!



Fever, swelling pustules, and plentiful, purplish-black hematomas--it's the gift that keeps on giving.

Thanks, Mike!

Yet Another Feast

Appetizer--Whose intelligence do you find intimidating?
Dr. B. The title of my blog, in fact, is an indirect nod to his intelligence. Or is it direct? He'd have something to say on the matter, I'm sure.

Soup--Name something you've done that surprised yourself.
Asked STK on date. As she was a friend and I thought she was out of my league, I took a deep breath and approached . . . after six weeks of beating around the bush.

Salad--List 3 people whom you have only "met" online, but consider good friends.
Gene--I didn't like Gene when I first met him in 1995. Over the years, however, he became one of my trusted confidantes. Although I haven't heard from him in a while (hint, hint), I still think of him often and still consider him a friend.

Nicke--I met Nicke back in 1995, too. We served on the same vTrek ship and carried our affiliation over to ICQ and email. She still lurks about somewhere.

Neal--Another vTrek acquaintance. I just "talked" to him a few weeks back.

Main Course--Where is the dirtiest place you've ever been?
Amsterdam's Red Light District. On one side of the street is a tremendous cathedral, the other is graced with scantily clad women dancing in storefront windows. Is that dirty or naughty?

Dessert--What is the best example of "perfection" that you can think of?
Kaladi Bros. Coffee. You can't improve on perfection.

No Longer Worried

Ever have those moments when a message you need to hear falls in your lap? Case in point:

One should not imagine oneself to be one with the eye or independent of it or the owner of it. The same with the ear and all the other senses, including the mind. Nor should one imagine oneself to be identical with the world or contained in it or independent of it or the owner of it.

In this way, free from imagining, one no longer clings to the things of the world. When one no longer clings, there is no more agitation, insecurity, and worry. Being no longer worried, one can reach into the depths of oneself and understand that where there has been loss there is now fulfillment.

-Samyutta Nikaya

From "Buddha Speaks," edited by Anne Bancroft, 2000. Reprinted by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Boston, www.shambhala.com.

Trendy Ass Poser

Our choice of new vehicle has apparently raised an eyebrow or two, particularly in regard to our alternativeness (or apparent lack thereof). I've heard at least three comments along the lines of, "I never thought I'd see the day you joined the yuppie crowd." Yeah, we probably could have looked into a used hearse but I hear those things are death waiting to happen on snow and ice. We're also pretty sure the dogs might get freaked out by the lingering scent of corpse. We also could have looked into an unreliable, but alternative looking, heap that won't start in temperatures below 40 degrees. I know a ton of alternafolk who deal with that situation throughout the year. They're late for work on a regular basis but boy do they look cool! So, yes, we decided to take the plunge and go for a reliable four wheel drive vehicle that might provide a little extra safety and room for ourselves, the soon-to-be little gothling, and the menagerie of pets. Besides, we think it looks cool. With Devil Ducky already sitting on the dash, the Element looks even cooler. Just wait until we slap a few punk and goth stickers on the sucker!

Imagine the looks we'll get when we drive into our new hometown. People will see the Uhaul and SUV and think to themselves, "Oh, the new professor and his family have arrived. How nice and normal they look!" Their pleasant midwest smiles will turn to looks of confusion, and mabye even dismay, as we crawl out of our vehicles with combat boots, piercings, tattoos, and goth/punk rock t-shirts displayed proudly. We'll make sure TLO is dressed in his black finest, too. All that said, STK and I realize that our subcultural identities are becoming a less salient aspect of who we are. Sure, we'll always consider ourselves different, apart from the mainstream, and members of the goth & punk scenes.* At the same time, our familial and professional identities are taking on a greater importance. Believe it or not, there is something of a method to our madness. By highlighting my identity as a professor, rather than that of subculturalist, I'm granted access to malleable minds. Similarly, STK's profession as an art teacher allows her to challenge young people to think in new ways.

As Stevo from SLC Punk would say:
"You can do a hell of a lot more damage in the system than u can outside of it. That's the final irony, I think. That and this...when all was said and done i was just another, goddamn, trendy ass POSER."

*To be honest, I don't even know if I belong to scene anymore. While I hang with goths, I really don't listen to a lot of goth music. Out of 64 CDs I have in my car, only two are really goth (Siouxsie and the Banshees & Autumn). The rest are an eclectic mix of female-fronted punk and indie rock, whatever the hell indie rock means these days. I guess riot grrrl punk is probably the most appropriate label I can apply to myself these days.

Car Talk

With $1000 of auto repair bills looming, STK and finally faced the inevitable: it's probably time to replace one of our automobiles. My car, a ten year old Honda Civic coupe, still runs like a dream; with over 150,000 miles on the tires, I'm still getting 48 miles per gallon. The fact my trusty car keeps on cruising really isn't all that surprising. The vast majority of the miles put on the car have been highway miles. So, while my car keep on plugging along at a good pace ::knocks on wood::, it's also worth about $1.25 when it comes to trade-in value.

STK's car, a 1998 Nissan Altima, is also in great shape.* That said, her car is reaching the point-of-no-return in terms of trade-in value. If we don't use her car on a trade-in soon, we'll never get anything for it and we'll be faced with the proposition of driving our cars until their very last breath.

Keeping all that in mind, I spent the last couple days looking at potential new cars.

UPDATE: Okay, I saved a draft of this post about 8 AM Saturday morning. Since then, much has occured. This evening, STK and I ventured to a local Honda dealership looking for a particular model and color of a vehicle we've been eyeing. Believe it or not, the dealership had EXACTLY the vehicle for which we were looking (a quick internet search suggests this was the only dealership in the state to have this particular model and color--why on earth are 5 speeds so difficult to find? Sheesh). After sitting down and pushing the pencil for a while, we convinced the dealership to give us exactly what we wanted. Having haggled on price, we were still reluctant. The clincher was 1.9% financing (thank goodness for perfect credit). Folks, that's like borrowing money for nothing. We can't get that rate at our credit union.

At 9 PM tonight, we said goodbye to the Altima and drove home in our new, Galapagos Green Honda Element. The vehicle provides everything we need: five speed manual transmission, 4WD, room to transport TLO, the dogs, and additional cargo, urethane-coated floor (no carpet means no dog hair sticking everywhere--wet mop the floor and the interior is clean!), cruise control, AC, and much, much more. If the vehicle lives up to the reviews by both professionals and owners, we'll be very pleased with the purchase.

*It's in great shape but boy does it suck in the snow. I've never driven a front-wheel drive car that's any worse.

Feast-o-licious

Appetizer-Name a store or restaurant you no longer visit because of a bad experience you had there.
Wal-Mart. It's not so much a result of my bad experience but that of millions of workers. Wal-Mart is the absolute bottom of the barrel when it comes to treating employees right.

Soup-If you could own any building in existence, which one would you want?
How about a Research 1 library?

Salad-What's your favorite commercial these days?
Take your pick of any of the multiple Revenge of the Sith commercials.

Main Course-When was the last time you felt guilty about spending money, and what was it you purchased?
I bought a couple Revenge of the Sith figures last month and probably should have waited until this month.

Dessert-Friday's Feast is going to be having it's First Birthday in 2 weeks. What should we do to celebrate?
How about another Friday's Feast?

No Rules!

Tomorrow is the last lecture day of Interpersonal Communication Skills. Although the course isn't in my area of specialization, I've enjoyed teaching it for the last couple years. This could be the last time I'll ever teach the class. As such, my current students asked me to put together a dating advice list. To be honest, this list has been in the works for 20 years or so and I finally formalized it this morning.

Top Ten Pieces of Dating Advice

1. Don’t date at work. The workplace is stressful enough as it is. Trying to juggle a professional and romantic relationship with someone can be extremely difficult.

2. If you ask someone out on a date, be decisive. If the person agrees to go out, follow up with a specific plan: "Great! How does coffee at St. Mark’s sound?" "Great! What would you like to do?" is not decisive. At the same time, be flexible. If the person obviously dislikes the idea of coffee, offer an alternative. Keeping several suggestions in mind is always a good idea.

3. Never date potential. In most instances, what you see is what you get. Fixer uppers are a lot of work and you rarely get a good return on your emotional investment.

4. Coffee or drinks is always the best choice for a 1st date. If the situation goes badly, it’s easy to put an end to the misery. With dinner and a movie, you’re stuck for several hours.

5. Date for fun, not a lifetime partner. Positioning every person you meet as a potential Mr. or Ms. Right puts an extreme amount of pressure on a date. Give it time--you’ll both discover if the other person is someone with whom you want to explore a committed relationship.

6. Be explicit about your interest. "We should get together some time" is not a clear expression of romantic interest; "We should go out on a date" is much clearer.

7. Past relationships are not a great conversation topic on a first date. Trials and tribulations of past partnerships will come out over time.

8. Encourage the other person to talk. Ask about their hobbies, musical preferences, favorite movies, and the like. These questions keep the conversation moving and indicate interest. Keep it light.

9. Don’t be afraid to tell the other person that you’re not hip to a second date. Be kind, but be honest. Failing to return a call is not kind.

10. There are NO rules to dating. Get rid of the dating silliness. If you get someone’s number and you’re really interested, call the next day (toss out the 48 hour rule). Getting someone to chase you or playing hard to get is nothing more than game-playing. If you treat dating as a game that requires an extensive rule manual, you're going to wind up playing a game rather than engaging in a worthwhile relationship.

Thoughts?