The office rennovation project continues. I'm not one of those people who can work in a sterile office space. Several of my colleagues, both here at SMC and various other institutions, seem to take that stark, minimalist approach to office decorating. You can't find a picture of a friend, family member or pet, let alone a pen, pencil, or book. In fact, it's difficult to tell anyone even sits at the desk on a regular basis. That kind of environment just doesn't work for me. Every office space I've occupied, even if it was only a desk, announced "D Lives Here!"
My present office is no exception . . . except that I now have an entire office to myself. Green Lantern (the JLA Animated John Stewart), Mace Windu, Jabba's Palace Luke Skywalker, Shaak-Ti, Luminara, Superman, Godzilla, and Devil Ducky inhabit various regions of my desk. Ymir and diecast versions of the Justice League animated grace my bookshelf. The wall next to my desk displays an assortment of band posters, popular culture postcards (Blondie, Sid Vicious, Star Trek), and interesting advertisements. With the decorating essentially finished, I turned to music.
Since I spend a great deal of time in my office, I decided to rip a few CDs to the ol' HD. This is a new practice for me--I usually don't play music through my computer. However, since I really don't have any other media system in my office, the computer has to suffice. I loaded the following CDs earlier today.
Liz Phair--Exile In Guysville
Liz Phair--whitechocolatespaceegg
The Clash--London Calling
The Ramones--Ramones Mania
The Muffs--Really Really Happy
Metric--Old World Underground, Where Are You Now?
Joy Division--Unknown Pleasures
Ray Charles--The Very Best of Ray Charles
Miles Davis--Kind of Blue
The Sex Pistols--Englands Burning Ha Ha Ha
Blondie--The Best of Blondie
Siouxsie Sioux and the Bashees--The Best of
It's an eclectic mix, but it should keep me occupied when I tire of Internets radio.
Monday, September 26, 2005
The Feast Just Keeps on Coming!
Friday's Feast, September 23, 2005
Appetizer--Name something someone has done lately that impressed you.
Several students gave outstanding speeches.
Soup--Do you have any relaxing rituals? If so, what are they?
Reading a science fiction/fantasy novel usually winds me down late at night. A good run can also be relaxing . . . about a half hour after it's finished.
Salad--If you could spend the winter season somewhere other than your current location, where would you choose to stay?
I think I'd pick LA. The weather is more temperate and I'd be able to take in some great shows/bands.
Main Course--When was the last time you had dinner out, and what was the name of the restaurant?
Mabe's Pizza.
Dessert--If you had a boat, what would you name it?
The Millenium Salmon.
Appetizer--Name something someone has done lately that impressed you.
Several students gave outstanding speeches.
Soup--Do you have any relaxing rituals? If so, what are they?
Reading a science fiction/fantasy novel usually winds me down late at night. A good run can also be relaxing . . . about a half hour after it's finished.
Salad--If you could spend the winter season somewhere other than your current location, where would you choose to stay?
I think I'd pick LA. The weather is more temperate and I'd be able to take in some great shows/bands.
Main Course--When was the last time you had dinner out, and what was the name of the restaurant?
Mabe's Pizza.
Dessert--If you had a boat, what would you name it?
The Millenium Salmon.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Making Something Out of Nothing
It seems that Gene over at Something out of nothing is putting away the quill and ink and a small gap opens in my little corner of the Internets.
Several years ago, when my life and mind were in a shambles, Gene helped me sort out some extremely messed up thinking. He didn't always agree with my choices and actions, but he always listened and he always had an appropriate question to ask or anecdote to share. I can't even begin to estimate how many late night cigarettes we smoked during our long distance conversations. Smokes aside, our conversations usually resulted in more questions than answers . . . and that was a good thing. I can't speak for Gene, but I was in a place where I really didn't know what I wanted. I thought I knew, but I didn't. As I had done so many times in the past, I'd deluded myself into idealizing a situation to the point where I couldn't distinguish the true from the false. Our conversations, and the questions those conversations raised, were an important part of a process that eventually brought some clarity to my thoughts.
During the year it took to regain some mental perspective, an extremely painful year for both myself and Gene, I visited Something out of nothing several times a day. At the time, Gene updated the site almost every day, usually in the wee hours of the morning. While he'll likely dismiss the meaningfulness of his blogging, his posts meant something to me. Sometimes he mentioned our conversations, adding his thoughts to our suspended dialogue, and sometimes he didn't. Some days he'd turn a self-reflexive lens on his past experiences and actions; other days he'd recount a trip to the store. Despite the topic, I always enjoyed reading his work (and admired his writing ability, something I'll never match). On more than one occasion his posts forced me to take a deep breath, lean back in my desk chair, and reflect on my own life.
I'm not one to beg people to continue writing when they've lost the passion for the work. From Gene's final post, it's obvious the time has come for Something out of nothing to conclude. The site served its purpose, I suppose, for both Gene and this faithful reader.
Thanks, Gene. Although you probably never intended it when you started writing your blog, you really did make something out of nothing.
Several years ago, when my life and mind were in a shambles, Gene helped me sort out some extremely messed up thinking. He didn't always agree with my choices and actions, but he always listened and he always had an appropriate question to ask or anecdote to share. I can't even begin to estimate how many late night cigarettes we smoked during our long distance conversations. Smokes aside, our conversations usually resulted in more questions than answers . . . and that was a good thing. I can't speak for Gene, but I was in a place where I really didn't know what I wanted. I thought I knew, but I didn't. As I had done so many times in the past, I'd deluded myself into idealizing a situation to the point where I couldn't distinguish the true from the false. Our conversations, and the questions those conversations raised, were an important part of a process that eventually brought some clarity to my thoughts.
During the year it took to regain some mental perspective, an extremely painful year for both myself and Gene, I visited Something out of nothing several times a day. At the time, Gene updated the site almost every day, usually in the wee hours of the morning. While he'll likely dismiss the meaningfulness of his blogging, his posts meant something to me. Sometimes he mentioned our conversations, adding his thoughts to our suspended dialogue, and sometimes he didn't. Some days he'd turn a self-reflexive lens on his past experiences and actions; other days he'd recount a trip to the store. Despite the topic, I always enjoyed reading his work (and admired his writing ability, something I'll never match). On more than one occasion his posts forced me to take a deep breath, lean back in my desk chair, and reflect on my own life.
I'm not one to beg people to continue writing when they've lost the passion for the work. From Gene's final post, it's obvious the time has come for Something out of nothing to conclude. The site served its purpose, I suppose, for both Gene and this faithful reader.
Thanks, Gene. Although you probably never intended it when you started writing your blog, you really did make something out of nothing.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Sunday's Feast
Friday's Feast, September 15, 2005
Appetizer--Do your closer friends tend to be male or female? Why do you think that is?
Definitely women. While I have a couple male friends, I have numerous female friends. Truthfully, I'm more comfortable around women. With men I think there's often a pissing contest to see who's more cool, knowledgeable about masculine things, and the like.* Whatever.
Soup--If you could wake up tomorrow with a new talent, what would it be?
How about the ability to dance ballet? I've always admired the skill and grace of ballet dancers.
Salad--Name a household cleaning item that you would recommend to others.
A Starbucks Barista grinder. If you're a coffee geek, like me, this is an affordable grinder that gets the job done. It reportedly produces grinds the equivalent of some of the much more expensive burr grinders.
Main Course--What do you strive for in life?
Serenity.
Dessert--On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how funny do you consider yourself?
Well, I think I'm hilarious. I'm a 10! This question could be better answered by STK or some of my friends.
Appetizer--Do your closer friends tend to be male or female? Why do you think that is?
Definitely women. While I have a couple male friends, I have numerous female friends. Truthfully, I'm more comfortable around women. With men I think there's often a pissing contest to see who's more cool, knowledgeable about masculine things, and the like.* Whatever.
Soup--If you could wake up tomorrow with a new talent, what would it be?
How about the ability to dance ballet? I've always admired the skill and grace of ballet dancers.
Salad--Name a household cleaning item that you would recommend to others.
A Starbucks Barista grinder. If you're a coffee geek, like me, this is an affordable grinder that gets the job done. It reportedly produces grinds the equivalent of some of the much more expensive burr grinders.
Main Course--What do you strive for in life?
Serenity.
Dessert--On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how funny do you consider yourself?
Well, I think I'm hilarious. I'm a 10! This question could be better answered by STK or some of my friends.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
I'm Just Wild About Meetings!
One of the things I didn't anticipate in my shift from adjunct-work-for-next-to- nothing-instructor to assistant-work-for-slightly-more-realistic-wage- professor is the number of meetings I have to attend each week. Presently, I have at least two, sometimes three, meetings a week. After the New-Kid-On-Block moniker wears off, I'm sure I'll be asked to serve on any number of college committees. Even with all the meetings, my present job sure beats the heck out of working a 9-5. I might be on a campus for eight hours a day, but much of that time is spent reading, thinking, teaching, and advising students. I count myself lucky that the days of sitting behind a desk doing the same thing over, and over, and over are long behind me.
One of the cool perks of my new job concerns travel funds. In the past, whenever I attended an academic conference my bank account took a pounding. This year, since I'm presenting a paper at a national conference, the school picks up the entire tab. As such, STK and TLO are attending the conference with me. While I'm at the actual conference, they'll tag along or do their own thing. The only real expenses for the trip are STK's airfare, which we snagged for $210, and food. Come mid-November, I'll be communing with Samuel Adams at his resting place. I'm also trying to swing a day trip to Concord (Walden Pond, in particular--I worship at the feet of Emerson and Thoreau). We'll see if we can work that in during our four day stay. We'll probably try to do the Freedom Trail thing, too. I wrote my MA thesis on Samuel Adams and the Boston Committees of Correspondence and can't wait to see the locales I envisioned in my mind's eye. I probably know more about the history of Boston than most, at least the decade or so leading up to the American Revolution, but have never visited the city. Go figure.
One of the cool perks of my new job concerns travel funds. In the past, whenever I attended an academic conference my bank account took a pounding. This year, since I'm presenting a paper at a national conference, the school picks up the entire tab. As such, STK and TLO are attending the conference with me. While I'm at the actual conference, they'll tag along or do their own thing. The only real expenses for the trip are STK's airfare, which we snagged for $210, and food. Come mid-November, I'll be communing with Samuel Adams at his resting place. I'm also trying to swing a day trip to Concord (Walden Pond, in particular--I worship at the feet of Emerson and Thoreau). We'll see if we can work that in during our four day stay. We'll probably try to do the Freedom Trail thing, too. I wrote my MA thesis on Samuel Adams and the Boston Committees of Correspondence and can't wait to see the locales I envisioned in my mind's eye. I probably know more about the history of Boston than most, at least the decade or so leading up to the American Revolution, but have never visited the city. Go figure.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
The Return of Friday's Feast!
Friday's Feast, 09/09/05
Appetizer--Who is the easiest person for you to talk to?
STK, without question. I can talk to her about absolutely anything.
Soup--If you could live in any ancient city during the height of the quality of its society and culture, which one would you choose?
Athens, most likely. I'd love to see ancient rhetoric in action.
Salad--What is the most exciting event you've ever witnessed?
The Denver Nuggets home win vs the Minnesota Timberwolves during the 2004 NBA playoffs. The atmposphere at the Pepsi Center was totally insane.
Main Course--If you were a celebrity, what would you do for a publicity stunt?
Proselytize about Scientology. No, wait. That's been done. I'd probably fake my death and disappear. I don't think I could stand all that attention.
Dessert--What do you consider the ideal age to have a first child?
Uh, 37?
Appetizer--Who is the easiest person for you to talk to?
STK, without question. I can talk to her about absolutely anything.
Soup--If you could live in any ancient city during the height of the quality of its society and culture, which one would you choose?
Athens, most likely. I'd love to see ancient rhetoric in action.
Salad--What is the most exciting event you've ever witnessed?
The Denver Nuggets home win vs the Minnesota Timberwolves during the 2004 NBA playoffs. The atmposphere at the Pepsi Center was totally insane.
Main Course--If you were a celebrity, what would you do for a publicity stunt?
Proselytize about Scientology. No, wait. That's been done. I'd probably fake my death and disappear. I don't think I could stand all that attention.
Dessert--What do you consider the ideal age to have a first child?
Uh, 37?
Saturday, September 10, 2005
The Precious Self
The whole world we travel with our thoughts,
Finding nowhere anyone as precious as one's own self.
Since each and every person is so precious to themselves
Let the self-respecting harm no other being.
-Samyutta Nikaya
Finding nowhere anyone as precious as one's own self.
Since each and every person is so precious to themselves
Let the self-respecting harm no other being.
-Samyutta Nikaya
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
RIP, Little Buddy
While several days have gone by since he left the desert isle for good, I feel compelled to comment on the passing of Bob Denver or, as I'll always remember him, Gilligan. Gilligan's Island is one of those shows that people either love or hate. I've never encountered a single person who said, "Eh, it was okay." Let's face it, the show wasn't all that deep. The narrative sequencing is repetitive, the characters one dimensional, and the general content is kind of like cotton candy--it looks and tastes great but there isn't a whole lot of substance.
And I loved every episode. Gilligan provided a nickname for my dog and child (I frequently refer to both as "little buddy"), introduced me to the wonders of banana and coconut cream pie, and never failed to elicit a smile from my face. I really can't put my finger on why I found Gilligan such a likeable fellow or why I still count the television show as one of my all-time favorites (right up there with The Dick Van Dyke Show and Buffy the Vampire Slayer). He was a bumbling fool, and an absolute imbecile, especially when the castaways were about to be rescued. That said, Gilligan was a genuine nice guy. He always helped the others out and rarely, if ever, put his own interests before anyone else.
My old authentic US Navy cap, provided by J (J could do a damned good imitation of Gilligan howling, "Skipper"), is off to the original little buddy. Thanks for everything, Willy.
And I loved every episode. Gilligan provided a nickname for my dog and child (I frequently refer to both as "little buddy"), introduced me to the wonders of banana and coconut cream pie, and never failed to elicit a smile from my face. I really can't put my finger on why I found Gilligan such a likeable fellow or why I still count the television show as one of my all-time favorites (right up there with The Dick Van Dyke Show and Buffy the Vampire Slayer). He was a bumbling fool, and an absolute imbecile, especially when the castaways were about to be rescued. That said, Gilligan was a genuine nice guy. He always helped the others out and rarely, if ever, put his own interests before anyone else.
My old authentic US Navy cap, provided by J (J could do a damned good imitation of Gilligan howling, "Skipper"), is off to the original little buddy. Thanks for everything, Willy.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Complete
There are too many things in this world to be learned, and life is too short to learn everything, so we should complete that which we have begun rather than dabbling in many things.
-Geshe Ngawang Dhargyey, "Advice From a Spiritual Friend"
-Geshe Ngawang Dhargyey, "Advice From a Spiritual Friend"
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Social Issues.
During the month of January, SMC (Small Midwest College for those who aren't up to speed) has J-Term. J-Term provides students the opportunity to take one class, and one class only, and focus all their attention on the subject matter. For example, it wouldn't be unusual for a professor to schedule 4-5 hours a day, MTWRF, and a discussion session in the evening. In essence, the students immerse themselves in the topic of study. J-Term classes are also an opportunity for faculy members to offer classes a little out of the ordinary. Some professors put together study abroad trips like a trip to the Canary Islands to study multicultural nonverbal communication or a journey to Japan to study/live the life of a Buddhist. I think I also read a course description for a trip to study the spiritual places of Great Britain. Other professors choose to stay close to home and offer such classes as The Politics of Rock and Roll (Political Science department), Environmental Philosophy, or Midwest Winter Ecology (Biology).
Friday, the department Head informed me that I need to design/suggest a course for the J-Term. After a bit of thought, I'm thinking of offering a class on science fiction and fantasy films and television. Rather than a survey course that simply teaches the history of science fiction and fantasy, I want to focus on the way science fiction and fantasy texts have addressed important social issues. I've become increasingly interested in this topic over the summer.
I've always been interested in the way popular culture artifacts invite us to enter a dialogue about social problematics. An episode of Everwood might encourage us to discuss teenage sexuality, a storyline on Alias might suggest we rethink The Patriot Act, and 30 Days could inspire a dialogue regarding poverty and the minimum wage. This summer has produced a variety of similar examples within the genre of science fiction and fantasy. The latest Harry Potter book, for instance, enters the public debate regarding terrorism, George Lucas allegedly critiques the Bush administration in Revenge of the Sith, and the remake of War of the Worlds revisits the images of 9-11. And so, I thought I'd offer a J-Term course that examines how we use science fiction/fantasy films and television as a way to make sense of the world around us (or challenge the sense we've made, maybe?). Some examples of film/television and their corresponding topics might include:
Forbidden Planet/The Day the Earth Stood Still/Planet of the Apes--WMDs
The Things from Another Planet/Invasion of the Body Snatchers/War of the Worlds/E.T./Edward Scissorhands--Fear of the other/Xenophobia
Lord of the Rings/Star Wars--Issues of Good vs Evil.
Blade Runner/The Terminator/Frankenstein--Technology out of control.
Logan's Run/A Clockwork Orange/1984/Minority Report--social engineering and/or privacy issues.
Existenz/The Matrix--Epistemological issues: how do we know what we know?
Buffy/Smallville--any number of teen issues.
Based on my brainstorming, I'm pretty sure I can develop an excellent class. Texts for the class would include books that offer academic critiques of film/television such as From Alien to The Matrix : Reading Science Fiction Film, and Liquid Metal: The Science Fiction Film Reader. I'd also put together a series of eReserve readings consisting of journal articles and pieces from the popular media (like When Harry Met Osama).
Any thoughts? Any additional films/television shows I could add? How about topics? I think this could be a pretty engaging class.
Friday, the department Head informed me that I need to design/suggest a course for the J-Term. After a bit of thought, I'm thinking of offering a class on science fiction and fantasy films and television. Rather than a survey course that simply teaches the history of science fiction and fantasy, I want to focus on the way science fiction and fantasy texts have addressed important social issues. I've become increasingly interested in this topic over the summer.
I've always been interested in the way popular culture artifacts invite us to enter a dialogue about social problematics. An episode of Everwood might encourage us to discuss teenage sexuality, a storyline on Alias might suggest we rethink The Patriot Act, and 30 Days could inspire a dialogue regarding poverty and the minimum wage. This summer has produced a variety of similar examples within the genre of science fiction and fantasy. The latest Harry Potter book, for instance, enters the public debate regarding terrorism, George Lucas allegedly critiques the Bush administration in Revenge of the Sith, and the remake of War of the Worlds revisits the images of 9-11. And so, I thought I'd offer a J-Term course that examines how we use science fiction/fantasy films and television as a way to make sense of the world around us (or challenge the sense we've made, maybe?). Some examples of film/television and their corresponding topics might include:
Forbidden Planet/The Day the Earth Stood Still/Planet of the Apes--WMDs
The Things from Another Planet/Invasion of the Body Snatchers/War of the Worlds/E.T./Edward Scissorhands--Fear of the other/Xenophobia
Lord of the Rings/Star Wars--Issues of Good vs Evil.
Blade Runner/The Terminator/Frankenstein--Technology out of control.
Logan's Run/A Clockwork Orange/1984/Minority Report--social engineering and/or privacy issues.
Existenz/The Matrix--Epistemological issues: how do we know what we know?
Buffy/Smallville--any number of teen issues.
Based on my brainstorming, I'm pretty sure I can develop an excellent class. Texts for the class would include books that offer academic critiques of film/television such as From Alien to The Matrix : Reading Science Fiction Film, and Liquid Metal: The Science Fiction Film Reader. I'd also put together a series of eReserve readings consisting of journal articles and pieces from the popular media (like When Harry Met Osama).
Any thoughts? Any additional films/television shows I could add? How about topics? I think this could be a pretty engaging class.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Uplifting Moment
I had one of those amusing teaching moments today. As part of the first day of class, I always ask students to introduce themselves, talk about their future aspirations, and offer one unique thing about themselves (something that makes them different from everyone else in the class). It's a fun little exercise that helps me learn a little about my students AND helps me do some name recognition. For instance, I'll make a mental note that Jennifer is part of a water skiing performance team (a fictional example). Anyway, this is a real exchange that happened in class earlier today. The "S" signfies a student and the "M" is me.
S: My name is blah, blah, blah. You know, I'm not really sure exactly what I want to do with my life. I do know that I want to do something that enhances humanity in one way or another. A unique things about me is that I spent the summer interning with Pfizer, the pharmaceutical company. You know, they make Viagra.
M: Well, there you go. Enhancing humanity in one way or another.
The class erupted into laugher--a couple students were obviously shocked that their professor would make such a joke and hid their faces in embarassment. Seriously, how could you not make that joke? That was a curveball, minus the break, floating out over the plate. You have to give it rip, you know what I mean?
S: My name is blah, blah, blah. You know, I'm not really sure exactly what I want to do with my life. I do know that I want to do something that enhances humanity in one way or another. A unique things about me is that I spent the summer interning with Pfizer, the pharmaceutical company. You know, they make Viagra.
M: Well, there you go. Enhancing humanity in one way or another.
The class erupted into laugher--a couple students were obviously shocked that their professor would make such a joke and hid their faces in embarassment. Seriously, how could you not make that joke? That was a curveball, minus the break, floating out over the plate. You have to give it rip, you know what I mean?
Monday, August 29, 2005
Eh?
Anyone know how to pronounce the name "Gereon"? It's a German name and I'm absolutely clueless.
I've enabled anonymous posting once again. We'll see if the spammers stay away.
UPDATE. Problem solved. I ran into the person with the name and simply asked him how to pronounce his name. It's pronounced Garion. Hard G.
I've enabled anonymous posting once again. We'll see if the spammers stay away.
UPDATE. Problem solved. I ran into the person with the name and simply asked him how to pronounce his name. It's pronounced Garion. Hard G.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Welcome Back My Friends to the Show that Never Ends
I'll return to the moving tale in the few days. I promise. Recent events, however, call for some kind of post. Yesterday, I officially started my gig as Assistant Professor. Yes, Thursday consisted of eight hours of new faculty orientation: introductions, mountains of paperwork, and a half dozen "This is Small Midwest College" presentations filled the day. In the evening, new faculty attended a dedication service at which we were formally introduced to the college. Most of the introductions, presented by the dean of the college, went something like this:
"Barbara Bidwell, a new Assistant Professor in the English Department, joins us from the University of Montana where she just finished her Ph.D. Her dissertation, Female Archetypes in the Contemporary Science Fiction Novel, investigates the way in which the written performance of the feminine offers a transformative vision of gender. Barbara will be teaching Introduction to English Literature, Composition, and Contemporary Science Fiction. Word has it that Barbara also has a passing interest in wildflower gardening and looks forward to cultivating local varieties in her back yard. She is joined by her partner, Jennifer, and their seven year old daughter, Emma."
Most of the introductions remained suitably formal. From all the feedback I received today (a six hour full college faculty meeting), my introduction stood out from the others. The Dean said something close to the following.
"Derek, our new Assistant Professor of Communication Studies, joins us from the University of Metropolis where he recently completed his Ph.D. His dissertation project, The Subcultural Self after Postmodernity, explores how individual and collective subjectivities are constituted, negotiated, and performed, both discursively and non-discursively, in the realm of everyday human interaction.
::Dean breaks from notes and addresses me directly:: I'm not responsible for this next part, Derek. Kim said it's totally appropriate and that you wouldn't mind ::turns back to audience::*
A self-avowed geek, Derek is an avid fan of Star Wars, The Green Lantern, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Smallville, and riot grrl punk. As a new member of our faculty he'll be teaching Public Address, Media and Society, and the Rhetoric of Everyday Life. His wife, STK, and their 9-week-old son, TLO, have also joined our community. Welcome to you all."
Apparently, Kim tracked down a description of myself that I posted as part of a test project for a portfolio community. I'd forgotten I participated in the experimental tech venture several years back. Regardless, I loved the introduction and it aroused the curiosity of almost everyone in attendance. My introduction, coupled with my alternative appearance, has made me the talk of SMC. Everyone seems to go out of their way to meet me. I'm continually amazed by the number of people who approach and say, "I've heard so much about you. I had to come introduce myself." Keep in mind that I spent a grand total of three days in this community before moving here. During that time, I probably met about a dozen people around campus. Word travels fast in SMC. Faculty, librarians, human resources folks, students . . . it doesn't matter, they all want to meet the new guy. Honestly, this is probably about as close to being a rock and roll star as I'll ever get. Three weeks into the semester, my novelty will wear off and I'll be just another prof. Until that time, I think I'll bask in the spotlight for couple weeks.
*Kim is my department Chair.
"Barbara Bidwell, a new Assistant Professor in the English Department, joins us from the University of Montana where she just finished her Ph.D. Her dissertation, Female Archetypes in the Contemporary Science Fiction Novel, investigates the way in which the written performance of the feminine offers a transformative vision of gender. Barbara will be teaching Introduction to English Literature, Composition, and Contemporary Science Fiction. Word has it that Barbara also has a passing interest in wildflower gardening and looks forward to cultivating local varieties in her back yard. She is joined by her partner, Jennifer, and their seven year old daughter, Emma."
Most of the introductions remained suitably formal. From all the feedback I received today (a six hour full college faculty meeting), my introduction stood out from the others. The Dean said something close to the following.
"Derek, our new Assistant Professor of Communication Studies, joins us from the University of Metropolis where he recently completed his Ph.D. His dissertation project, The Subcultural Self after Postmodernity, explores how individual and collective subjectivities are constituted, negotiated, and performed, both discursively and non-discursively, in the realm of everyday human interaction.
::Dean breaks from notes and addresses me directly:: I'm not responsible for this next part, Derek. Kim said it's totally appropriate and that you wouldn't mind ::turns back to audience::*
A self-avowed geek, Derek is an avid fan of Star Wars, The Green Lantern, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Smallville, and riot grrl punk. As a new member of our faculty he'll be teaching Public Address, Media and Society, and the Rhetoric of Everyday Life. His wife, STK, and their 9-week-old son, TLO, have also joined our community. Welcome to you all."
Apparently, Kim tracked down a description of myself that I posted as part of a test project for a portfolio community. I'd forgotten I participated in the experimental tech venture several years back. Regardless, I loved the introduction and it aroused the curiosity of almost everyone in attendance. My introduction, coupled with my alternative appearance, has made me the talk of SMC. Everyone seems to go out of their way to meet me. I'm continually amazed by the number of people who approach and say, "I've heard so much about you. I had to come introduce myself." Keep in mind that I spent a grand total of three days in this community before moving here. During that time, I probably met about a dozen people around campus. Word travels fast in SMC. Faculty, librarians, human resources folks, students . . . it doesn't matter, they all want to meet the new guy. Honestly, this is probably about as close to being a rock and roll star as I'll ever get. Three weeks into the semester, my novelty will wear off and I'll be just another prof. Until that time, I think I'll bask in the spotlight for couple weeks.
*Kim is my department Chair.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Episode IV: A New Home
With a new driver behind the wheel of the truck--me--we left Des Moines on Monday AM and started on the last leg of our journey. It's amazing how much better a truck will run when all the parts are in working order. That's not to say the drive went without incident. About 1.5 hours from our final destination, we stopped to fill up the truck one final time. As I pulled into the filling station, the "Change Oil" indicator lit up. After much cursing ("Not again! Frackin truck!"), a conference with our travelling mechanic (my father), and a quick dip of the dip stick (oil in the pan), we opted to press on. We'd let Penske deal with any problems at a later date.
About 2:30 P.M., we arrived at our new home. New problem: as J was forced to leave for his flight, I now had few options regarding unloading heavy items. A quick call to let my Department Chair know that we arrived safely solved the problem: her husband would drop by to help after he got off work.
And so we started the unloading process. A half hour into the process, one of my new colleagues stopped by to lend a hand. 15 minutes after that, another colleague offered her assistance. A half hour later, the Chair's husband arrived followed soon by the chair herself. With the help of most of my new colleagues, the other two were out of town, we had almost everything unloaded by 6:30 PM. If you want to make a good impression on me, bail me out of a difficult situation. We went from having no help to more than enough help. My faith in the universe was restored.
Two days later, the Penske company redeemed itself to some degree. When I returned the truck, they offered a 15% refund for our troubles, a refund I immediately refused. I hopped on the phone with the district manager, we discussed the issue for almost a half hour, and he finally agreed to a 30 percent ($300) refund. I drove home pleased with my negotiating abilities.
About 2:30 P.M., we arrived at our new home. New problem: as J was forced to leave for his flight, I now had few options regarding unloading heavy items. A quick call to let my Department Chair know that we arrived safely solved the problem: her husband would drop by to help after he got off work.
And so we started the unloading process. A half hour into the process, one of my new colleagues stopped by to lend a hand. 15 minutes after that, another colleague offered her assistance. A half hour later, the Chair's husband arrived followed soon by the chair herself. With the help of most of my new colleagues, the other two were out of town, we had almost everything unloaded by 6:30 PM. If you want to make a good impression on me, bail me out of a difficult situation. We went from having no help to more than enough help. My faith in the universe was restored.
Two days later, the Penske company redeemed itself to some degree. When I returned the truck, they offered a 15% refund for our troubles, a refund I immediately refused. I hopped on the phone with the district manager, we discussed the issue for almost a half hour, and he finally agreed to a 30 percent ($300) refund. I drove home pleased with my negotiating abilities.
Friday, August 19, 2005
STK Killer
Heard from STK a few moments ago:
"Everytime I see an article about the BTK Killer I think of STK. Thanks for that nickname. Thanks a lot."
My pleasure! Although, I should note that J originally tagged you with the nickname. I will admit to popularizing it, however.
"Everytime I see an article about the BTK Killer I think of STK. Thanks for that nickname. Thanks a lot."
My pleasure! Although, I should note that J originally tagged you with the nickname. I will admit to popularizing it, however.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Episode III: Revenge of Penske
With a few hours of sleep behind us, we faced Saturday morning with a grim determination. Still stinging from the lack of space, we found our spirits dampened but not extinguished. Worse things could happen, right? We crammed a few remaining items in the nooks and crannies of the truck,
hooked up the civic to a tow dolly,
hooked up with our trusty companion/truck driver J,
and said goodbye to Aurora, CO.
Our farewells to the Denver Metro area were bittersweet. STK and I loved living in Colorado. We liked our condo, even though it was getting a bit small for the family, loved our friends, enjoyed the proximity of our families, and even loved our jobs. With a great deal of sadness, mixed with the excitement of new jobs, new friends, and a new home, we watched the mountains fade in our rear view mirror.
The beginning of the trip went without incident. We cruised across NE Colorado, stopping only for gas and the ocassional restroom break. Midway across Nebraska, our fortunes changed. We stopped in Kearney, NE for dinner and a brief rendezvous with STK's sister, brother-in-law, and niece. They moved to Kearney about a year ago and a dinner stop/visit made perfect sense. Saying yet another round of goodbyes, we pointed the truck toward our final destination for the day: Lincoln, NE.
As we started down the ramp to I-80, STK and I heard the rental behemoth sputtering and backfiring something fierce. J tried to limp the truck up to interstate speed but the truck failed to cooperate. We parked our respective vehicles and convened on the side of I-80. "I think we got some bad gas," mused J. "I'd bet almost anything that there's some condensation in the tank. Let's limp up to the next exit and get some dry gas engine treatment. That stuff will usually take care of water."
And limp along I-80 we did. Achieving a maximum speed of 45 mph, and usually cruising at speeds closer to 35, we chugged along to the next exit. With a couple cans of Heet in the truck's tank, we attempted the interstate once again. This time, the truck sputtered and backfired far less and managed to get up to a cruising speed of 65 mph. J called on the cell phone and reported that while the truck still wasn't running perfectly, it was performing much better. We all breathed a sigh of relief and completed the journey to Lincoln.
J got a big kick out of the fact that I picked a motel right next to an adult retail store. In fact, J accused me of picking the motel because of the sex shop. I'll never tell.
20 minutes after our arrival, I returned to the parking lot for more luggage only to see J emerge from Dr. John's adult emporium carrying a whip. "Check it out!" he exclaimed. "A whip from a sex shop in Lincoln, NE. I even had to show the people how to use the damn thing! Hahahahahaha!" There's never a dull moment when J is around.
We started the Sunday portion of our journey believing truck problems were behind us. Crossing the NE/IA border, we learned otherwise. The truck chugged up the bluffs of the Missouri river, slowing to speeds of 20 mph at the crest of a hill. Pulling off at an undeveloped rest area (no facilities, only parking), we realized our problems were probably greater than condensation. I hopped on the cell phone and called the Penske roadside assistance number. To their credit, they got right on the problem and arranged for help. The problem: we were in the middle of nowhere. It would take a mechanic at least an hour to reach us. I walked to the Element, talked quietly with STK, rested my head on door jam, and cried for a moment. I was beyond frustrated with the entire move and questioned whether we were doing the right thing. Realizing that nothing could be done but to finish the journey, I pulled myself together and started looking at alternatives.
With the temperature rising into the 90s, STK and my mother gathered our infant son and five pets and headed for the comfortable surroundings of my aunt's home in Des Moines. J, my father, and I settled in to wait for the mechanic. And we waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, a fellow from Doug's Diesel arrived and tried to replace the fuel filter. Only one problem--he had the wrong fuel filter. He informed us that procuring the correct part meant a trip to the automotive supply store a half hour away. So, the three of us settled in for another hour long wait. We waited, and waited, and waited. An hour and a half later, the guy returned with the correct fuel filter, replaced the part, and asked us to drive up to the next exit. We did. Nothing had changed. The truck still wasn't running properly.
Any other repairs would require a service shop. So we turned the truck around and drove west on I-80 toward Doug's Diesel. This leg of the journey, however, the truck moved at the ridiculous speed of 20 mph. On an interstate. Through a construction zone that curtailed traffic to one lane in either direction. You can imagine the frustration of the drivers who lined up behind our creeping truck. Oddly enough, about ten minutes into the 10 mile journey the truck suddenly experienced a surge of power and managed to approach 55 mph. When we arrived at Doug's Diesel, J jumped from the cab of the truck and shouted, "I've experienced the power of Jesus! I was holding up traffic and I could just hear all those people praying for me: 'Jesus Christ, get that god-damned truck moving!' Would you believe it worked! Hallelujah!"
Our stay at Doug's Diesel lasted a total of four hours. A mechanic who volunteered to give up his day off to work on our truck (keep in mind that this was a Sunday) quickly diagnosed the problem as a faulty fuel pump and dispatched someone on yet another parts run. We waited. And waited. And waited. Here's me waiting:
As one might imagine, my patience at this point in the journey had reached nil. J, and this is exactly why he's the amazing friend that he is, calmly reminded me that despite the problems with the move, everyone was safe. "Keep thinking about that new baby of yours," he suggested. "That's what really matters. Everything else just is."
Finally, about 7.5 hours after our breakdown, the fuel filter was replaced and we were back on the road. The truck ran perfectly and we rolled into Des Moines two hours later. Unfortunately, we had to part company with J almost immediately. His return flight to Denver was leaving the following morning and he wouldn't be able to complete the journey with us. We made arrangements for a relative of his to get him to the airport, thanked him profusely for all his help, and parted company.
We crashed into bed not daring to tempt the fates by hoping for an uneventful final leg of the journey.
hooked up the civic to a tow dolly,
hooked up with our trusty companion/truck driver J,
and said goodbye to Aurora, CO.
Our farewells to the Denver Metro area were bittersweet. STK and I loved living in Colorado. We liked our condo, even though it was getting a bit small for the family, loved our friends, enjoyed the proximity of our families, and even loved our jobs. With a great deal of sadness, mixed with the excitement of new jobs, new friends, and a new home, we watched the mountains fade in our rear view mirror.
The beginning of the trip went without incident. We cruised across NE Colorado, stopping only for gas and the ocassional restroom break. Midway across Nebraska, our fortunes changed. We stopped in Kearney, NE for dinner and a brief rendezvous with STK's sister, brother-in-law, and niece. They moved to Kearney about a year ago and a dinner stop/visit made perfect sense. Saying yet another round of goodbyes, we pointed the truck toward our final destination for the day: Lincoln, NE.
As we started down the ramp to I-80, STK and I heard the rental behemoth sputtering and backfiring something fierce. J tried to limp the truck up to interstate speed but the truck failed to cooperate. We parked our respective vehicles and convened on the side of I-80. "I think we got some bad gas," mused J. "I'd bet almost anything that there's some condensation in the tank. Let's limp up to the next exit and get some dry gas engine treatment. That stuff will usually take care of water."
And limp along I-80 we did. Achieving a maximum speed of 45 mph, and usually cruising at speeds closer to 35, we chugged along to the next exit. With a couple cans of Heet in the truck's tank, we attempted the interstate once again. This time, the truck sputtered and backfired far less and managed to get up to a cruising speed of 65 mph. J called on the cell phone and reported that while the truck still wasn't running perfectly, it was performing much better. We all breathed a sigh of relief and completed the journey to Lincoln.
J got a big kick out of the fact that I picked a motel right next to an adult retail store. In fact, J accused me of picking the motel because of the sex shop. I'll never tell.
20 minutes after our arrival, I returned to the parking lot for more luggage only to see J emerge from Dr. John's adult emporium carrying a whip. "Check it out!" he exclaimed. "A whip from a sex shop in Lincoln, NE. I even had to show the people how to use the damn thing! Hahahahahaha!" There's never a dull moment when J is around.
We started the Sunday portion of our journey believing truck problems were behind us. Crossing the NE/IA border, we learned otherwise. The truck chugged up the bluffs of the Missouri river, slowing to speeds of 20 mph at the crest of a hill. Pulling off at an undeveloped rest area (no facilities, only parking), we realized our problems were probably greater than condensation. I hopped on the cell phone and called the Penske roadside assistance number. To their credit, they got right on the problem and arranged for help. The problem: we were in the middle of nowhere. It would take a mechanic at least an hour to reach us. I walked to the Element, talked quietly with STK, rested my head on door jam, and cried for a moment. I was beyond frustrated with the entire move and questioned whether we were doing the right thing. Realizing that nothing could be done but to finish the journey, I pulled myself together and started looking at alternatives.
With the temperature rising into the 90s, STK and my mother gathered our infant son and five pets and headed for the comfortable surroundings of my aunt's home in Des Moines. J, my father, and I settled in to wait for the mechanic. And we waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, a fellow from Doug's Diesel arrived and tried to replace the fuel filter. Only one problem--he had the wrong fuel filter. He informed us that procuring the correct part meant a trip to the automotive supply store a half hour away. So, the three of us settled in for another hour long wait. We waited, and waited, and waited. An hour and a half later, the guy returned with the correct fuel filter, replaced the part, and asked us to drive up to the next exit. We did. Nothing had changed. The truck still wasn't running properly.
Any other repairs would require a service shop. So we turned the truck around and drove west on I-80 toward Doug's Diesel. This leg of the journey, however, the truck moved at the ridiculous speed of 20 mph. On an interstate. Through a construction zone that curtailed traffic to one lane in either direction. You can imagine the frustration of the drivers who lined up behind our creeping truck. Oddly enough, about ten minutes into the 10 mile journey the truck suddenly experienced a surge of power and managed to approach 55 mph. When we arrived at Doug's Diesel, J jumped from the cab of the truck and shouted, "I've experienced the power of Jesus! I was holding up traffic and I could just hear all those people praying for me: 'Jesus Christ, get that god-damned truck moving!' Would you believe it worked! Hallelujah!"
Our stay at Doug's Diesel lasted a total of four hours. A mechanic who volunteered to give up his day off to work on our truck (keep in mind that this was a Sunday) quickly diagnosed the problem as a faulty fuel pump and dispatched someone on yet another parts run. We waited. And waited. And waited. Here's me waiting:
As one might imagine, my patience at this point in the journey had reached nil. J, and this is exactly why he's the amazing friend that he is, calmly reminded me that despite the problems with the move, everyone was safe. "Keep thinking about that new baby of yours," he suggested. "That's what really matters. Everything else just is."
Finally, about 7.5 hours after our breakdown, the fuel filter was replaced and we were back on the road. The truck ran perfectly and we rolled into Des Moines two hours later. Unfortunately, we had to part company with J almost immediately. His return flight to Denver was leaving the following morning and he wouldn't be able to complete the journey with us. We made arrangements for a relative of his to get him to the airport, thanked him profusely for all his help, and parted company.
We crashed into bed not daring to tempt the fates by hoping for an uneventful final leg of the journey.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Forget Anger
Forget anger toward all who have offended you,
For from anger springs a multitude of wrongs.
The face's smile and the heart's joy are slain by anger.
Does there exist a greater enemy than one's own anger?
-Tirukkural 31: 303-304
Excellent advice. Years ago, particularly when I was still drinking, I'd get angry at someone or something and remain angry for years. Hold a grudge much? In AA we call these long term grudges resentments. Put simply, resentments lead to drinking. Today, I still get angry but I let that anger go; I let it pass by. Anger is a poison that, not unlike drinking and drugging, I must do without.
For from anger springs a multitude of wrongs.
The face's smile and the heart's joy are slain by anger.
Does there exist a greater enemy than one's own anger?
-Tirukkural 31: 303-304
Excellent advice. Years ago, particularly when I was still drinking, I'd get angry at someone or something and remain angry for years. Hold a grudge much? In AA we call these long term grudges resentments. Put simply, resentments lead to drinking. Today, I still get angry but I let that anger go; I let it pass by. Anger is a poison that, not unlike drinking and drugging, I must do without.
Episode II: Attack of the Poor Planning . . . and Packing
When we last left our intrepid adventurers, Derek had just escaped the jaws of electronic death. With a refreshing night of sleep behind them, they awoke to face a full day of truck packing . . .
I wish I could blame what transpired on our second day of packing on someone else, but that would be denying the real source of the problem: we are among the overstuffed. Despite our continued desire to live a less material life, we still possess too much crap.
The day before the big move proved hectic as they always do. We ran last minute errands, took Baby G for his 2 month doctor's appointment/innoculations, and arrived back at home to meet our friends and family for a full afternoon/evening of packing. As the evening wore on, patience disappeared and tempers flared. By 9:00 PM, as we finished loading most of the furniture, it became painfully apparent that we weren't going to fit some of our posessions on the truck. As one might imagine, I launched into a tirade of f-bombs that would make even the most foul-mouthed of individuals blanch. Needless to say, my in-laws now know the full extent of my foul-mouthed fury. Even STK, usually the most even-tempered person I know, let loose with a few expletives. By 10:30, STK and I resigned ourselves to leaving our desk chairs, rocking chair, artwork (we have a considerable amount), and several boxes of cleaning supplies behind. Our moving budget trashed (unexpected airline ticket + another truck rental + more gas = slight consternation), I stormed around the condo in an absolutely foul temper.
Before going to sleep around 1 AM, however, we encountered yet another surprise. In all the hectic packing, someone stashed the AC adapter to our remaining phone, as well as our dog leashes, in an unknown location. As our cell phone was still in service, the phone issue proved a minor inconvenience. The dog leashes were another matter. About to embark on a 940 mile journey with pets, we needed the damn dog leashes. We spent what seemed like an eternity digging through boxes only to discover that someone placed the leashes in Baby G's bouncy seat. WTF?
In the end, we realized that most of the packing mishaps resulted from our poor planning. The dog leashes, and anything else we didn't want packed, should have been placed in boxes and stored in a designated "No Packing Zone." We also needed to purge some of our stuff before the move. Do we really need three televisions when we only watch one? Why do I keep hauling around an entire box of MA thesis drafts and notes?* What about those two sets of pots and pans?** Does STK need 53 pairs of shoes? Do I need dozens of black comic book and band t-shirts? How about the dozen our so boxes of comic books?*** A serious purging was needed before the move. Alas, we blew it and tried to bring everything.
Physically and emotionally exhausted, we retired, knowing good fortune awaited us on the morn. What a laugh. The Trickster lurked in the shadows, waiting to teach us the true meaning of powerlessness.
*On arriving at our new home, I recycled 3/4 of those notes.
**One set is now marked for donation to a local charity.
***Okay, there's no way in hell I was parting with my comic books. STK gets to keep the shoes.
I wish I could blame what transpired on our second day of packing on someone else, but that would be denying the real source of the problem: we are among the overstuffed. Despite our continued desire to live a less material life, we still possess too much crap.
The day before the big move proved hectic as they always do. We ran last minute errands, took Baby G for his 2 month doctor's appointment/innoculations, and arrived back at home to meet our friends and family for a full afternoon/evening of packing. As the evening wore on, patience disappeared and tempers flared. By 9:00 PM, as we finished loading most of the furniture, it became painfully apparent that we weren't going to fit some of our posessions on the truck. As one might imagine, I launched into a tirade of f-bombs that would make even the most foul-mouthed of individuals blanch. Needless to say, my in-laws now know the full extent of my foul-mouthed fury. Even STK, usually the most even-tempered person I know, let loose with a few expletives. By 10:30, STK and I resigned ourselves to leaving our desk chairs, rocking chair, artwork (we have a considerable amount), and several boxes of cleaning supplies behind. Our moving budget trashed (unexpected airline ticket + another truck rental + more gas = slight consternation), I stormed around the condo in an absolutely foul temper.
Before going to sleep around 1 AM, however, we encountered yet another surprise. In all the hectic packing, someone stashed the AC adapter to our remaining phone, as well as our dog leashes, in an unknown location. As our cell phone was still in service, the phone issue proved a minor inconvenience. The dog leashes were another matter. About to embark on a 940 mile journey with pets, we needed the damn dog leashes. We spent what seemed like an eternity digging through boxes only to discover that someone placed the leashes in Baby G's bouncy seat. WTF?
In the end, we realized that most of the packing mishaps resulted from our poor planning. The dog leashes, and anything else we didn't want packed, should have been placed in boxes and stored in a designated "No Packing Zone." We also needed to purge some of our stuff before the move. Do we really need three televisions when we only watch one? Why do I keep hauling around an entire box of MA thesis drafts and notes?* What about those two sets of pots and pans?** Does STK need 53 pairs of shoes? Do I need dozens of black comic book and band t-shirts? How about the dozen our so boxes of comic books?*** A serious purging was needed before the move. Alas, we blew it and tried to bring everything.
Physically and emotionally exhausted, we retired, knowing good fortune awaited us on the morn. What a laugh. The Trickster lurked in the shadows, waiting to teach us the true meaning of powerlessness.
*On arriving at our new home, I recycled 3/4 of those notes.
**One set is now marked for donation to a local charity.
***Okay, there's no way in hell I was parting with my comic books. STK gets to keep the shoes.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, August 15, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, August 12, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
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 $$$ on toys for the next couple months seems kind of frivolous.
Tonight, we're headed north to see friends and family. My mother's birthday is tomorrow, so we're stopping by the 'rents tonight for a bit o' cake and celebrating. My sister and nephew will also be there. Oh, and I bet my parents make me take the boxes I've been storing in their basement for the last fifteen years. Can you say "comic books"?
Yesterday, in what is surely a sign of the end times, I went in search of assorted hardware and power tools. In what I see as a bit of consumer irony, I purchased a 50-foot extension cord and a cordless screwdriver. Today, I'm headed out to buy a 6' stepladder and a hand truck. Do these purchases mean I'm finally becoming a grown up? Make no mistake, I'd rather be buying something fun like a new laptop, a Star Wars maquette, or a new pair of Doc Martens. Still, spending $$$ 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"?
Friday, July 29, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
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.
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.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
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.
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.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
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.
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!
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!
Sunday, July 10, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
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!
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.
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.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
"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."
"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."
Saturday, June 25, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, June 24, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
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.
Friday, June 17, 2005
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.
I'm off for a quick nap and shower before returning to the hospital. More later.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
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?
*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?
Monday, June 13, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
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:
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 ;)
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 ;)
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