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.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
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.
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