Quaerendo Invenietis

Arrrrrgh...... the blog pirate strikes again!

2006-06-12T19:35:00.000-04:00

Avast...Yo-ho...Pieces of Eight...Arrr...and other pirate-type interjections!

That's right mateys... I, Lilac-Beard, the infamous blog pirate have struck again! (One more comment about the color of my beard and ye'll walk the plank... grrr)

All yer links are now broken. I have plundered this blog and taken it away to dyscant.com where ye'll never see it again! Hahahaha.... I've taken all the posts and yer filthy comments too! (Except for that wily Hotel Gabacho.... he eluded my grasp, the knave.)

Ye shall see blog postings no more in these parts. And BEWARE for Lilac-Beard, the most conciliatory of all pirates, may strike yer own blog when you least expect!

Now heave-to ya scurvy scum, and never let me catch ya round these waters again...

Recovery through vices

2006-06-08T22:00:00.000-04:00

Surgery went fine on Monday.

Anesthesia sucks. I verbally abused and argued with the anesthetist when he brought me out. Apparently it is not uncommon for adult males to be aggressive when brought out of anesthesia. Some even swing fists; thankfully I didn't do that. When wheeled back to my room to sleep off what was left of the anesthesia, my good ol' insomnia did its thing. Instead of sleeping I lay there feeling very drugged for about 90 minutes. Again, this sucked.

[As a sidenote, I should mention that John Lawson took a half day off work to stay with me while I wore off the anesthesia and take me home from the hospital. He is a very good man.]

Also, I've discovered I'm not a big fan of opiates. The doc was gonna give me oxycontin for the pain after surgery, but I requested something lighter. He prescribed lortabs instead. Regardless, I felt foggy and out of sorts while I took those for two days. On Wednesday, I had had enough and felt much better that day for not taking the drugs. Better to ignore the pain than feel like I could barely tie my shoes.

So now I am gauging my recovery by rejoining my vices in a step by step program.

STEP ONE: Driving. Not much of a vice, but I do love to drive more than I imagine most environmentally-conscious social-liberals do. Drove to Blockbuster for some new movies today and enjoyed driving too fast (sorry mom) and getting out of the house.

STEP TWO: Overeating. Now we're getting somewhere. I cooked a big meal tonight of chicken with mole (no, not the varmint), blackeyed peas, and rice. Mmmmmmm.

STEP THREE: Coffee!! Haven't had a cup of black goodness since last Saturday. Nothing like a great pot of french pressed to make the day seem sunshine and roses.

STEP FOUR: Alcohol. Not yet; maybe tomorrow I'll have a beer.

STEP FIVE: Tobacco. Lauren (my sister the nurse) says nicotine inhibits healing, so I'm being a good soldier and giving the pipe a rest for now. Next week perhaps.

Sometime after that I'll start knocking off mailboxes or stealing hubcaps, just to make sure I'm feeling 100%

Make-up blogging, again.

2006-05-31T13:20:00.000-04:00

Yes... I haven't blogged in, like, for-EV-er. Significant events in the past two months:

I gave a very firm grade to a class of students who were choosing not to work in my class. Psychotic parent called me at 11:15 at night to insult and intimidate me. Several others visit the school. I stuck to my guns but took some flak for it.

Applied for the high school band job in KCSD (where I grew up). There were over forty applicants. I did two rounds of interviews and ended up being second choice for the job. :-/

Got a new car to replace the '85 Honda Accord which had been getting me through since my accident in January. The Accord was dying, notwithstanding the carburetor work Erik and I did to keep it running, and so I ended up buying a 2003 Pontiac Vibe which I love. I got it for an amazing price, which is a good story if ever you want to hear it. I've decided to name her Eva. She looks alot like this.

Tired and somewhat burnt-out, I finished up the school year. w00t!

Saw a surgeon to fix a hernia which I aquired this past February from the worst cold I have ever had. A ripping/tearing feeling when you cough is never a good thing. I go under the knife next week. Surgery doesn't scare me; being laid up while I heal sounds awful.

Went home for Memorial Day weekend to sift through some old pictures which belonged to my grandmother and great grandmother. Also spent time with some extended family who I rarely see. Of course, I also got to hang out with my brother, sister, and parents for the weekend, which is a great thing. And Lauren and I barely argued at all when we drove together north and then south again!

Planning on teaching general music in Greene County next school year for several reasons: (1) Other than KCSD, the band job opportunities which have come my way have not looked very appealing. (2) There is much work to be done where I am. These young people have never had a decent music education prior to me being here. Next year I plan to start a choir at each school. (3) Several students and parents have expressed their apreciation for the work I have done this year. Maybe my efforts have, in fact, paid off. (4) Commitment and stability are good things. (5) Moving sucks and I don't feel like doing it this summer.

Now with the summer before me I am trying to cram way too much activity in these short nine weeks. I may not be able to do it all with the surgery getting in the way this month.

Peace and love!

PS: I'll have a new blog coming as soon as I get it together at dyscant.com

WWMoDD?

2006-05-01T23:43:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about my parents a great deal lately. I've posted here several times about my father. Our ability to communicate with one another has improved much in the past year or so. Maybe that phase of teenage angst and antagonism has finally passed between father and son. Maybe the efforts we both have made in recent years to better understand one another are paying off. Maybe I'm just realizing that I act like my father more than I once would have cared to admit.

My mom has been notably lacking any attention in my blog (as she has kindly pointed out in a few comments here and there). Probably because Mom and I have always had an easy time conversing. On _many_ occasions this past year she has helped me through the challenges of being a first year teacher. When I feel like I can't take another day of class, having my greatest teaching mentor a phone call away should not be taken for granted.

Now I realize that many of my friends who read this blog have relationships with their own parents which range from deeply troubled to estranged. Perhaps those of you will find this post annoying, at best. Or maybe not. How would I feign to know your reading of parental relationships?

Notwithstanding the above disclaimer... as I try to play "grown-up" when I face unexpected circumstances, I find myself asking more and more often: What would Mom or Dad Do?

Incoherence

2006-04-22T00:02:00.000-04:00

Life is incoherent. Thoughts zapping through my brain which conflict and collide and make sparks and then fizzle leaving only the hazy clouds like fireworks on a clear night in July.

Okay, fine. I'll spare the melodrama.

I rather intentionally haven't blogged much in the past month or so because I have been wrestling with the possibilities of my job situation. Stay in the county schools where I teach 800 kids who have never had any decent music instruction at all? Stay where I can give these young people a means of expression they have never experienced before? But stay in a community where I feel like a foreigner, unwelcome, gaijin. Stay where I stand out because I don't own a TV and read books for fun? Maybe my eccentricities would make me an oddity anywhere, but being asked "You aren't from around here, are you?" on a regular basis has a gradual psychological impact.

Enter Michael Ottinger. He called me for my birthday a week early and invited me to see a play at ETSU in which he was performing. We converse afterward and discover that unbeknownst to one another we were living in the same town (he happened to grow up in Greeneville and is living there while he re-attempts the school thing). This conversation is also more than a little odd for both of us. It was like retracing the steps of years gone by and comparing yourself to who you once thought you were.

And how is that 30 minute conversation related to the overall trajectory of my life? I dunno. Whoops....... there goes another thought zapping by. I'm going to go chase that one now.

What it means to be home

2006-04-14T04:47:00.000-04:00

The past two weeks have been the craziest ever for school. Between a 3rd grade program, a 5th/6th grade program, and the county-wide concert, I was feeling snowed over. But now it's Easter Break, and just 6 more weeks of school remain for the year. The little white dot of light far down the tunnel may be slowly growing.

I just arrived home in PA after another all-nighter drive; this time making the trip along with my sister to save on gas. (Although we both got a little grouchy with each other when it got late).

It's always nice to drive down familiar roads, come up the familiar steps, and smell the familiar pine logs of my parent's house. But when I go to the basement refrigerator, and find that my father has just purchased a case of my favorite beer (Yuengling) to have already chilled upon my arrival, THAT is when I know I am home.

How a nerd goes on spring break

2006-03-30T12:54:00.000-05:00

I went to hang out with Kevin for a few days, which meant meeting his friends in Durham and going to his classes at Duke Divinity School. This may be a far cry from the typical spring break ideal of sandy beaches and unmitigated debauchery, but it was exactly what I needed. I have not been able to hang out with a group of like-spirited young people in a long time. I miss conversations which seamlessly flow from theology to world events to how to mix the best margaritas.

Finally

2006-03-24T16:05:00.000-05:00

It is chilly and wet outside, with a chance of snow tonight.

Who cares... my spring break officially begins today! I've needed this for a while now. Maybe a little R&R will help alleviate the burnout.

And now for my next trick...

2006-03-18T15:25:00.000-05:00

I am a one man traveling music show. I go town to town, school to school, and room to room carrying countless instruments, stacks of sheet music, and my ipod in my pocket. I'm a pied piper with 800 children following behind. They sing, they jump, they work, they play. A cross between conductor and clown, I lead my students performing in the public eye. Almost all of them love me. Those who dislike me would rather I didn't challenge their limited world view. I put in 14 hour days. I arrange music, write scripts, create choreography, correct papers, assign grades, attend meetings. I don't sleep. I feel love and anger and sadness and joy. I am very very tired. I hide my weariness from my students, their parents, and my co-workers. And the music show travels on...

A broken heart

2006-03-06T21:04:00.000-05:00

Last Wednesday, there was a bomb threat at Greeneville City High School (which is not in my school system, Greene County Schools). The students were evacuated from the building and it made a great deal of press. I correctly predicted that there would be copycat incidents soon to follow at other schools, as is often the case.

Today, the alarm went off at one of the rural PreK-8 schools where I teach. A bomb threat was found in felt tip marker on a mirror in the boys' bathroom near the 7th and 8th grade classes. We evacuated. The sheriff's department was called.

It was an overcast and windy day, which made for somewhat chilly conditions outside. After waiting in the parking lot for 45 minutes, we were directed to move all students into the church across the street. 275 children, aged 3 to 14, in a sanctuary built to hold about 200 people comfortably. The students were loud, but thankfully, not too unruly.

As I am monitoring students, I occasionally leaf through the Methodist hymnal to find some respite in the music I hear on the page. This idle distraction does not go unnoticed. Teachers and a few students ask if I would lead some singing to quell the chaos of the moment. After some nervousness at the strangeness of the situation, I call for the school's attention, and belt out in my deep bass register "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot."

First, many of the students were surprised, probably because they have never heard me sing like that before; children's music doesn't often permit me to sing bass. Then they sang. The whole school. And the teachers. Because children enjoy spirituals, I next led them through "Soon and Very Soon." They clapped along with me.

Parents and busses were arriving. The chaos resumed once the music had to stop. But as we were dismissing the students, many of the other teachers marveled at how I was able to get a whole school to sing together.

But that's not why I'm blogging this.

There is an extremely rough crowd of boys at this particular school. Many of whom I have often thought will be in jail before they turn eighteen. As we were leaving the church, two of these boys were driven away in a sheriff's cruiser. They confessed when the officer talked about fingerprinting the marker, which they failed to dispose of. Those two boys will never even make it to high school.

And that's what breaks my heart.

I see children everyday who come from poor financial situations, abusive parents, and generally fucked-up homes. Most of these students can barely make it through a day without causing some sort of major problem in their classes. They have kicked over chairs, torn up music, walked out of the room, and insulted me multiple times through this school year. And yet, I know that I am one of their favorite teachers. I have loved these boys as hard as I can. I have worked to make them successful everyday I see them. And one of the boys in the sheriff's cruiser was actually starting to make some improvement. He wasn't being so violent in class. He was even singing along with the lessons. And then he goes and does some stupid shit like this and lands himself in juvenile detention for a federal crime.

In the end, does my effort even matter? How can I, or any teacher, remake these students better than the homes they are raised in? These young boys have NO CLUE how painful it is for me when I see them arrested for what was, in their minds, just a harmless prank.

Crickets!

2006-02-28T18:47:00.000-05:00

The sun went down today after 6:30. My front door is open because it is still above 60 degrees outside, even though it is dusk. And the music of crickets and peeper frogs in the fields behind my apartment is drifting into my living room.

w00t!

Let spring fever officially begin.

Disclaimer:
My apologies to those of you farther north if you are still feeling winter doldrums. I love northern winters with snow and bright brisk days. But Tennessee winters just suck. They're all cold rain and mud. I am never sad to see them leave.

How to debate

2006-02-25T21:14:00.000-05:00

I frequently don't get around to blogging thoughts as they come to me, so they bounce around inside my noggin until I finally write 'em out...

Last weekend, in the Sunday school class I've been attending at First Christian Church, the lesson was a sort of discussion about creationism, evolution, and intelligent design. One of the first questions raised by Scott, who leads the class, was "Is there a contradiction in being a Christian who believes in scripture and believing in evolution?" After a second of silence I said, and these are close to my exact words, "I will speak my mind right up front by saying that I believe there is no reason why a Christian cannot believe in the truth of scripture and in the science of evolution. I think the problem is that we largely read Genesis for the wrong reasons." While the discussion ensued, I said absolutely nothing else for the rest of the class. And not one other person expressed any views similar to my own.

As we filed out afterwards, one or two other members of class said to me that they thought it was a good debate and they enjoyed the discussion. Furthermore, my sister called me halfway though the week saying that she happened to meet Dagney, Scott's wife, at the hospital where my sister is a nurse and Dagney is a social worker. In the midst of their "small world" discussion, Dagney mentioned to Lauren that I was debating evolution in Sunday school class.

Apparently, I was able to hold a debate by making one statement and then keeping my mouth shut for forty-five minutes. I even had people saying that they appreciated the discussion. I'm not entirely sure what to learn from this exercise. Maybe contrary ideas can dominate a conversation even if you don't intend it. Maybe less is more when trying to debate a point of view. Maybe people respect your own position more when you spend most of your time listening to them. Maybe I should just shut-up more often :-)

Fatherly love

2006-02-16T21:38:00.000-05:00

My father is a strange man. If you were to hear him talk privately about national politics, world events, his local community, even his interpersonal interactions you would pretty much think him a heartless bastard. The strange thing is, he really doesn't practice what he preaches - his practice is much better than his words. He is most often very kind, thoughtful, even sensitive to the people around him. I have often been baffled by this apparent contradiction. At times he would infuriate me with his bigoted talk and considerate actions. The older I get, however, the more this seems like an oddly charming quirk. It could be the other way around, y'know... kind words, heartless actions.

Anyways, that was but a prelude to speak about my father's eccentric ways of showing his love for his children (and more specifically, his sons). He does not seem comfortable with saying the words, "I love you" to his male offspring. I have tried saying these words to him, and in truth, it seems like an awkward gesture which communicates very little. However, we do grunt. Yes, grunt. What I'm talking about here is a bizarre amalgamation of Tim-the-toolman-Taylor, Klingon-battle-cry, and cave-dwelling-primitive guttural shouts. We even pound our chest when we do it. It is a sight to behold. I have no clue how long ago this ritual started, but it has become an essential form of communication between my father, brother, and myself. When I am at home, we grunt before bed. When I leave home, we grunt to say goodbye. We even grunt on the phone. We grunt no matter who is watching, and when guests see our display of manly affection, they usually take on a wide-eyed expression of shock, confusion, and bemusement. I think my father communicates more affection in those grunts than many men could say in a book full of "I love you"s.

And then there is one other way which my father says "I love you" loud and clear to his children. He sends Valentines. Children receive gifts from both their parents for Christmas, birthdays, and we even got small gifts for Easter when we were young. But my father gives us Valentines. A card and a small gift of chocolates, or more recently, gas cards for my next trip home. I think this is one of the most beautiful gestures that my father does, and even though he wouldn't say so, I think he takes it very seriously. He gives Valentines not because he has succomed to the pressures of holiday marketing, but because it is one day each year where saying "I love you" doesn't seem so strange.

Thanks Dad.

"Singing makes me feel free"

2006-02-15T23:04:00.000-05:00

On Tuesday night I had a Valentine's Day program with third and fourth grade at one of my schools. The program didn't go as well as I might have hoped for a variety of reasons, but afterward I was left cleaning up some of our instruments and one fourth grade girl volunteered to help me. Not at all smart or pretty, this girl is definitely one of the unpopular girls in her class. She is handing me instruments and she spoke first...

"Y'know I'm just not sure what I want to do when I grow up. I love music."
"Well what have you considered?"
"Well I could try to be a singer, but I dunno."
I smile because I'm not sure what to say to this. She goes on,
"Singing makes me feel free."
In many contexts, such a statement would be a saccharine platitude. But the sincerity in her voice makes me stop arranging hand chimes and look at her. I ask,
"Did your parents come tonight?"
"No."
"Are they coming to get you?"
"I guess."
She looks away. Again at a loss for words, I say something benign and pointless, like
"Well you did a good job in the program tonight."
The truth was I have almost never noticed this girl, who seems to spend most of her life going unnoticed. I fetch for anything positive to say,
"You've done a good job helping me pack these chimes up, would you help me carry the case to the storage room?"
"Sure."

Superbowl: the view from down under

2006-02-06T18:33:00.000-05:00

If you are even vaguely a football fan, you might find this as entertaining as I did.

One Aussie reporter's take on the U.S. Superbowl

A small slice of the blogosphere

2006-02-04T14:33:00.000-05:00

Getting my own blog has been a good thing. It's like a journal, but better, because people actually read it, thus you can't just fill it up with depressing meaningless drivel.

But an unexpected benefit has been this gathering circle of blogs by friends and mentors (no family yet, I'm working on that). Rather than posting a comment on every blog which appears to the right of my page, I'll just say it once here: I am challenged and humbled by reading your insights, confessions, questions, struggles, joys, and general words of wisdom.

I feel like I've actually become better friends with some of you through this medium. Is that weird? We didn't talk much when we were living in the same community, but now I feel like we have a meaningful understanding of one another.

And those of you who are reading this and do not have a blog of your own, you should make one. All the cool kids are doing it (read that to yourself in the most peer-pressuring tone of voice you can imagine). I have already twisted a few arms by just making one for the person and then giving them the password to start writing. I'm not above doing the same to you.

Love to all!

Make-up blogging

2006-02-04T01:38:00.000-05:00

Life has been chock-full-o' self evaluation the past several weeks. Life has also been busy putting in my 50-60 hours per week teaching, and prepping for teaching, and doing paper work for teaching, and making logistical arrangements for PTA musical programs, and composing and arranging music, etc. etc. And so I have not been blogging these many fleeting passions and ideas as they have appeared. In penance to the gods of all things blogging, I have posted a few of them below.

Under scrutiny

2006-02-04T01:22:00.000-05:00

Wednesday when one of my principals did an observation of my teaching, he said I had excellent classroom management, good lesson planning, and instructional skills that way exceeded my years, and he had no criticisms to offer about my performance. (If you are not in public school teaching, you would have a hard time appreciating how important it is to hear such things from your principal.)

...

Today the parents of a fourth grader came into the school irate because their son had told them I was abusive to him. While it is not an uncommon occurrence for students to lie to their parents in order to incriminate a teacher, this is the first time it has happened to me. When we had a meeting in the principal's office with the parents, the child, the principal, and myself (a different principal than the preceding paragraph) the falsehoods were clearly revealed in the boy's story. Thankfully, his parents were able to come to this conclusion on their own and didn't blindly assert that their little boy could do no wrong, as many parents of such children do.

Die Zauberflöte

2006-02-04T00:50:00.000-05:00

Last week was Mozart's 250th birthday. The man was an effing genius. It is hard to appreciate how revolutionary his music was with our jaded twenty-first century ears. Taking more than a few music theory courses with Dr. Runner at Milligan helps put such things in perspective.

Monday night, the Asheville Lyric Opera put on a performance of The Magic Flute in Seeger Chapel. It was... wonderful. The orchestra was top notch, the chorus was very good, and some of the soloists could be performing in NYC instead of Asheville. If you need any concrete examples of Mozart's musical daring, just listen to the enraged aria of the Queen of the Night commanding her daughter to murder Sarastro ("Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen", "The revenge of hell boils in my heart"). I was inspired. I need those kinds of musical experiences to keep me motivated to teach music everyday.

As a sidenote, I have decided to name the Honda "Papageno" (at my sister's suggestion). The way it put-puts when the carburetor is acting up, the name fits perfectly.

Carburetors put hair on your chest

2006-02-04T00:31:00.000-05:00

Erik sold me a 1985 Honda Accord for 600 dollars. That was basically the costs he had incurred getting the old thing running for himself to use last fall when he needed a car he could beat up while commuting from Elizabethton, TN to St. Paul, VA (a very long drive).

1985 was the last year Honda put carburetors on their vehicles. Being over 20 years old and having nearly 250000 miles, this carburetor isn't exactly in factory condition. The engine has cut out on me twice while trying to drive to school because the choke wasn't working properly and the engine couldn't breathe. Furthermore, one of the breaks was out of calibration and was always exerting a tiny amount of pressure on that wheel, and the fuel filters were in need of replacement.

So I brought the car back to Erik, and we put it up on the lift in his uncle's garage, and went to work. We replaced the fuel filters, calibrated the break, and cleaned the choke. We got greasy and covered in gas and had great conversation. Erik is a good man. It's not everybody who will sell you a car and be your personal mechanic for no additional charge.

The Honda still isn't perfect; I have to start it about 15 minutes before I leave on cold mornings to prevent the choke from sticking again. But I've been able to learn a few new auto-mechanical tricks and reconnect with a very good old friend in the process of owning it. I think that makes it a good car.

Brought to my attention

2006-02-03T23:59:00.000-05:00

At some point it occurred to me that my head injury in my accident was the most serious damage I've ever sustained to my body. This brought several things to my attention.

One: I am not invincible, life is short, and I could conceivably die at any time. I actually believed those statements for about five minutes. But I have since returned to my senses, and no longer subscribe to such rubbish as my own mortality.

Two: I like my abilities to reason, make decisions, sustain attention, and control my emotions. It scared me that none of those things were really working right for about three days.

Three: My life is really amazingly easy. How can I be so upset over a little head bump? I have never been in any situations which have truly threatened my life. No one shoots at me, plants bombs near me, or even attempts to beat me up. This makes me different from many (most?) people in the world.

Just do it?

2006-01-23T01:24:00.000-05:00

Watching the Steelers/Broncos game today (Pittsburgh: next stop, Super Bowl!) I saw a Nike commercial with athletes of all kinds getting into their workout. Pretty standard for an athletic shoe advertisement. It occurred to me that I haven't gotten much in the way of exercise recently. I haven't done much of anything recently just to get the ol' endorphins flowing. This certainly isn't helping my depression. I decided I needed to "just do" something.

So after the game, I picked up my sax, then my flute, then my clarinet. I hadn't played any of these instruments for a very long time. It felt good.

Then I did a whole pile of other fun things that I have been putting off. I assembled a bedroom mirror which I had gotten for Christmas, I hung posters, I hung a painting, I restrung my guitar. I was putting off all these things because I had been telling myself I needed to get certain other not-as-fun tasks done first. But damnit, life is short.

It would be overly optimistic to say that I'll wake up tomorrow and feel as though everything is coming up roses. But I had an enjoyable evening.

Pressing on

2006-01-21T23:22:00.000-05:00

It's strange, but my accident 3 days ago seems to have left me in quite a funk. Maybe it's some kind of post-traumatic depression thingy, maybe it's a reminder of my mortality, maybe I just miss my car.

The kind gentleman at the towing company also tried to screw me again by doubling my storage fee and hoping I wouldn't notice. I wasn't very pleasant with him on the phone. Sigh.

But friends and family have been really great to me: Calls, emails, and IMs to see how I'm doing; lending me a car; selling me a car. As I am frequently reminded in life, the most precious thing people can have is one other.

I went to the Kingsport symphony tonight. It was nice to escape life for a little while with Verdi, Mozart, and Mendelssohn. At least my spirits were lifted for a short time.

A day which started like any other day

2006-01-18T23:09:00.000-05:00

The weather was rough last night. 30mph wind gusts, driving rain, and dropping temperatures. In the morning, all of the school districts surrounding my own were on a 2 hour delay. My school system was not, but when I looked at my car in the parking lot, there was not even any frost on the windshield, and the lot was dry. Nothing to worry about; just Tennsseeians freaking out about sub 32-degree mornings.

Was running a little behind getting to school - the farthest drive of the three I teach at - but things were okay. I got off the interstate onto the winding two-lane which would take me to West Pines Elementary/Middle School. I was still slightly concerned about icy roads given the rain last night, so coming up on a hairpin turn, I slowed down more than usual, and found nothing but bone-dry pavement. See? Nothing to worry about. I speeded up a little to make up for my somewhat late start. I cruised up a rather large hill with a blind crest, but since I have done this same drive all school year, I knew that there was a pretty good curve going back down the other side. As I crested the hill and went down the other side I applied my breaks for the upcoming turn. I didn't slow down. My car spun sideways.

That's it. I don't remember anything after that. But time always passes, with or without you.

...

I came to my senses in a car I didn't recognize, with a woman I didn't know, who was talking on the phone. She was talking about someone being hurt. I looked at my car through the windshield. Slammed up against the side of a guardrail at the bottom of a hill. Well I must've been in an accident. But how? I couldn't remember anything of my drive since I got on the interstate near my apartment. I must've fallen asleep at the wheel! How else would I have a 30 minunte gap in my memory? But if I fell asleep, how did I get within a half-mile of the school before having an accident? I tried to speak to the woman. Wait, my voice didn't sound right. Slurred, babbling, meaningless.

I somehow convey that I'm a teacher at West Pines. She is the mother of a student. Do I have any family? No. Do you mean that you have no family close by? Oh wait, yes, my sister is in east Tennessee. I slur out her phone number. In and out of reality, I hear a conversation about icy roads and my car and other cars who came sliding by and almost hit mine and me being pulled out of my car even though I was sitting in the drivers seat trying to put it in gear and drive away. To drive to school. My sister is talking to me on the phone now. I'm fine, I slur. But she's crying. Geez, my sister never believes me when I say that I'm fine. Better call the school and tell them I'll be a little late, I slur....

Next I'm in a sherrif dept. cruiser. He asks me what my name is, what day of the week it is, how old am I. I answer all questions correctly. But my voice is still not my usual articulated speech. I have an AAA membership I say, handing him the card. He calls for a wrecker. (This next part I didn't recall until this afternoon, but when I did it obviously made me a little angry) A TennDOT pickup truck drives by and rolls down his window to talk to the officer. D'ya think we oughta treat them roads there? He asked this question at nine-o-fucking-clock in the morning! School started over an hour ago.

The officer says he'll take me home. My father calls my cell on the way. Mike, if you aren't remmebering things correctly, you need to go to the ER. Alright dad, my voice still slurs. I guess father knows best. Could you take me to the hospital instead? Sure which one?

On the drive to the hospital, reality starts making an appearance. I become conversational with the officer, just to show that I'm in control of the situation. I play it well, because by the time we arrive at the ER, he seems convinced I'm just fine.

Hospital admission. Wait. Vitals. Wait. CAT scan. Wait. Wait. Wait a minute!! Like the dawn comes an epiphany sitting there on that ER gurney: what the hell happened to me this morning?? My car? My head? School? My family?

My sister calls. Oh yeah, that's right, she's been calling every hour all morning. This time when I speak it sounds quite different than any conversation I have had all day. Much more... me.

Slowly, gradually, thoughout the afternoon, memory comes back. Except the impact. That part is lost for good.

Call Scott, a local youth minister with whom I have had lunch a few times, to pick me up. We get lunch. He takes me to my car. Tony's wrecking service doesn't take checks and charges 5% extra on all credit cards. Scott takes me to the bank for cash. When I get back Tony doesn't have any change. (I swear the crook could tell I was still addled and was trying to take advantage of me.) Funny, when I raise my voice a little, he recalls that there might be some cash out in the truck. Bastard.

Get my things from my car. She looks bad. Real bad. I fume because I'm too masculine to show the emotion of sadness at losing a car which I truly loved. Scott drops me off at home.

Naps interrupted by a steady strem of phone calls. Lauren, the West Pines school secretary, my mother.

Call Erik for car advice. Erik offers to come look at my car and assess the damage since I can't trust the guys at the towing service or the garage he called (they also tried to pull some fast ones when I talked on the phone). Erik has a car he'll sell me for $600 if I need it.

Call my parents to talk. Lauren brings her car to lend me for a few days. She and Steven (who drove the vehicle to get them back to JC) and I talk for an hour or so. About the boy on the tennis team at Milligan who dropped dead this afternoon after running a mile in the field house. Just like that. No breath, no pulse. Dead. This only makes the day stranger.

Pack for school tomorrow. Set the alarm. Blog. Brush my teeth. Go to bed.

A girl gave me her number today

2006-01-11T22:12:00.000-05:00

Today a girl scribbled her phone number down on a scrap of paper and said she wanted me to have it. This was rather exciting, as my dating life has been pretty uneventful lately. Except, well, she was 5 years old, and had only just memorized her phone number. She insisted it was correct despite having only six digits.

Several days after the winter solstice

2006-01-01T02:37:00.000-05:00

I don't have anything specific in mind to share with the world. It's after 2am on the first day of the year, as usual I can't sleep, and so I feel the need to blog. I've also had serveral glasses of wine, which, more than any other drink, always makes me feel a little maudlin. (WARNING: this will probably be a series of loosely connected thoughts which may or may not be worth reading.)

My father tonight said that he really enjoyed the holidays this year. He was a little tipsy off the wine, spumante, whisky, and beer we had tonight, but I'd have to say I agree. I love to come home and connect with my family and home town. My brother and sister and I talked, played games, fought, helped each other get intoxicated, helped each other sober up, and generally continued to grow in friendship with one another. On Christmas morning my parents, brother, sister and I led worship at church, singing hymns in 4-part harmony (we sounded great). Christmas day with our extended family was as wild as ever. Eleven people, two dogs, and a cat all gathered under my parents' roof. We ate a huge meal and opened presents until I thought I'd seen enough wrapping to make a paper moon. We took a family trip to New York; my Dad was awestruck by Times Square, and my Mom got teary-eyed in St. Patrick's Cathedral. I caught up with wonderful old friends. I went to a Blanchard Church Christmas party, talked with more friends and answered dozens of questions about how life was going in TN. And New Year... well here we are.

I want to say something poetic about how life always takes unexpected twists and turns. Something about how no matter where those twists and turns take you, it still feels good to come home. Something about how lonely life can feel when you are out on your own trying to leave a mark on the world. Something about how I love my family and friends. Hell... I've never been good at articulating such sentiments anyways. Maybe I'll just go listen to some of my favorite music, have another drink, and slowly (always very slowly) fade off to sleep.

Happy 2006.

Before the dawn of the winter solstice

2005-12-21T05:39:00.000-05:00

Well I have just arrived, as in 45 minutes ago, home in PA after visiting Kevin for a few days in NC. I drove through the night, which is one of my favorite things to do for three reasons. (A)Traffic is much lighter and easier to negotiate, especially in D.C. (B)I'm an insomniac and so I don't get tired anyways. (C)I like the dark.

Tonight was a stunningly beautiful night for driving. By the time I was north of D.C., there was an icy coating of old snow on the ground from previous snowfalls. The sunny days and winter winds had polished the surface so it shone like a mirror in the night. It felt like my car was hovering between the bright moon in the clear sky above and it's frigid reflection in the empty farm fields below.

I am now enjoying a breakfast of Yuengling while waiting for the sun to rise on this solstice morning so I can greet my parents before they head off to work today. (My Mom's last day of teaching before her break finally starts; I've been making fun of her since my last day of teaching was Thursday of last week.)

Weren't there all kinds of pagan celebrations that went along with the solstice? Maybe I'll dance naked or some other obscene ritual today... ;-)

Rising to expectations

2005-12-18T19:41:00.000-05:00

I went to a "Children's Cantata" tonight at a very small church in a small town. In short, it consisted of five youth aged 12-14 singing moderately corny arrangements of Christmas songs along with accompaniment tracks. There was an apparent lack of enthusiasm on many of the young people's faces, which was partially due to the music they were singing being very easy. But more than that, I think it had to do with the low expectations placed on the youth for how they would perform in the program. Young people are intensely aware of what expectations are placed on them.

Over the course of the past month I taught my kindergarten through second graders (at three different schools) a Christmas program, which they performed over the past two weeks. They did wonderfully; many parents and teachers told me that it was the best program they've ever seen at their schools. I had extremely high expectations for what those children would accomplish, and they rose to the occasion.

I believe in the power of young people to accomplish anything. You only have to show them what they are capable of, and expect it of them.

Feeling small 3 (or maybe it should be "feeling small to the third power")

2005-12-16T20:51:00.000-05:00

Another entry for the nuggets of knowledge that can make me feel very small and insignificant (which, for me anyways, is a good thing).

If you were to cut a piece of paper in half, restack the pieces, cut the stack in half again, restack, and repeat this 100 times, how high would the stack be?

Think about that, then click here.

Laughter

2005-12-08T19:52:00.000-05:00

Since once again I have found myself in a trend of blog posts that are various degrees of depressing (it's just sooo easy with a blog, why is that?), I have felt the need to post something positive to reassert my claim that I am a generally optimistic person. (run-on sentences are also way too easy when blogging)

Today a girl laughed in my music class. First you need to understand her: borderline ADD, not a high academic achiever, prone to impulsive statements, talks way too loudly, but also a very affable girl. At the beginning of class when I was leading discussion about the not-so-finer points of reading music, she looked very perturbed and announced in her usual friendly but overly loud way that she didn't get any of it. We moved on to singing some Christmas songs and eventually added hand chimes so the students could play the chords of the song. It was a very nice effect. Suddenly, just as we finished playing the song, this girl let out a peal of embarrassingly loud laughter. I almost jumped. She was quite literally so overcome with joy at how successfully she had played the song and how wonderful it sounded with all the chimes playing together, that she could not contain herself.

On a related note, many of my older students (grades 6-8) have realized that I am not always capable of maintaining the stoic impassivity of a seasoned teacher. When I mentioned Christmas songs today, one troublesome eighth grade boy got a mischievous grin on his face and started crooning "Jingle Bells Batman Smells". I couldn't help it, I cracked up.

Moments like those are why I teach.

Honor killings

2005-12-07T23:24:00.000-05:00

This NPR story about the tradition of "honor killings" (murdering your own sister/daughter because she has been raped) confronts me with how great the gulf is between my own culture and some cultures of the middle east. What reaction should one have to such an outright horrific cultural norm? . . . .

Perhaps a similar reaction as one should have to the familiar cultural norm of invading another country, unprovoked? . . . .

I just find myself more and more mystified with what goes on in that part of the world.

Ensemble

2005-12-04T20:43:00.000-05:00

Today I went to the Johnson City Symphony Orchestra's Christmas concert. In the past I have avoided going to their performances because I had quite a distaste for their former conductor/director Lew Dalvut. But since Dalvut was shown the door about a year ago, they have had several excellent musicians from the region filling in as guest conductors. Today Tom Stites was on the podium, who is the director of the Science Hill High School band, a brilliant musician and educator, and an important mentor to me.

All that is background to say that I sat in that audience feeling extremely envious of the people on stage. Making music with other people in an ensemble is one of the most thrilling experiences in the world, an experience which has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and an experience which has been absent from my life (except for a few circumstances where I have been asked to conduct a church choir or suchlike) for nearly a year.

The most important, mysterious, and wonderful thing about music is the way it binds people together for a brief span of time. Musicians in an ensemble are part of something much larger than themselves, and when they music together (music is a verb as well as a noun), they are of one soul and mind, focused on creating one work of art.

It feels very lonely to pick up my guitar or sax or flute or clarinet or keyboard and play in my apartment by myself. Sometimes I will sing the bass part of one of my favorite songs I have performed with a choir, and I can hear all the other voices in my mind's ear, but I alone cannot sing eight part harmony. I am not much of a soloist; I miss musicking with other people.

Once in a while, my students and I will truly make music together. But it only happens when every single person is focused completely on the music, and is in tune with everyone else in the room (literally and metaphorically). This only happens with my best classes on their best days. In other words, rarely.

I would love to find and be a part of a band or choir that is making music together. At times that seems awfully difficult to come by in rural Tennessee. The church choir at the Greeneville Christian Church, which I have attended sporadically, doesn't quite get there for me. Maybe I just have an aversion to singing with performance track tapes. I have entertained driving all the way out to Milligan every week just to rejoin the jazz band or something. Is it worth all the gas and driving time? It might be.

Why I am not a creationist

2005-11-18T23:43:00.000-05:00

Amidst the political three-ring circus of debate over Intelligent Design versus Evolution in education, one voice that is almost completely unheard is that of Christians who believe that the entire theology behind "Creationism" as it is expressed in most evangelical churches is at least somewhat misguided, or may even cloud a Biblical understanding of YHWH. I happen to be one such Christian, but given that I am a theological lightweight, I lack the education (or perhaps the flair) to express it as well as this former Old Testament professor at Milligan, who is currently teaching at Pepperdine. This is an excellent read from his blog.

Why I Am Not A Creationist by Christopher Heard

Revised 11/22/2005: Edited the places where my wording was overstated. I also realize that I have made no distinction between "Intelligent Design" and "Creationism." This is because I have yet to hear such a distinction made clear to me by a proponent of either/both ideas.

Struck by the mundane

2005-11-14T18:55:00.000-05:00

It is odd to me that events which often seem mundane take on renewed interest at unexpected times. Like when I look up at the clouds, which are there most days when I look up, and I am suddenly struck by their peculiar swirliness. Or when I read some pithy aphorism on a website's "quote of the day" which seems to relevantly apply to my own life experience. Or when I hear in the news everyday about people killing and being killed in Iraq, Somalia, Jordan, France, Pennsylvania or Tennessee, and oddly enough, it hits me with the force of "Holy shit, people actually do that. People kill other people because they think they should. My God."

And then I settle down. Life returns to its normal hazy dance. And nothing shocks me.

Just for the hail of it...

2005-11-08T18:03:00.000-05:00

I was talking with second grade about winter weather in today's music class, and I mentioned snow, sleet, and hail. Upon hearing this last one, several second graders got that "Uh-oh... he said a cuss word" look on their face. At first I was slightly confused, until I realized that I am teaching in the heart of the rural south, where words like "hail" and "hell" are phonologically indistinguishable. Once I stopped laughing, we had a little spelling lesson on the board.

Braving Sunday mornings

2005-11-06T00:27:00.000-05:00

I've been kinda weird about going to church on Sunday mornings this fall. Since I've moved into a new community, I don't exactly have a Christian fellowship to call home, like I did in the blessed little church where I grew up, or in the taken-for-granted blessed fellowship of Milligan. And so I've done some church shopping, and I've even found things I genuinely like about a few churches in Greeneville.

But some Sunday mornings, when my alarm goes off, I can't make myself get out of bed to face whatever is out there on Sunday mornings in America. This is an over-generalization (and maybe just an excuse) but being outside a real fellowship of faith can sure make things look bleak when you think about what is going on in most sanctuaries that morning. Why do I feel like going to any church is merely an exercise in testing my patience? This feeling is surely rooted in a great deal of both cynicism and egotism, but it is depressing.

Well off to bed, to rise with the sun tomorrow morning. And then out my door, looking for even just a little grace where people are gathered.

Feeling small 2

2005-10-29T23:33:00.000-04:00

Tonight, Mars is the closest it will be to Earth for the next 13 years. And since the moon happens to be a waning crescent, it won't be up until nearly dawn. So right now I am going for a drive to a nice dark open spot, taking a warm coat and a pair of binoculars, to enjoy the view of the sky.

Incremental improvement

2005-10-26T00:24:00.000-04:00

Time management never was one of my strengths, from the time was I in middle school up through college. I could give a few excuses why, but they really are just excuses, so I won't bother.

Starting a little over a year ago, when I did my student teaching, I decided I wanted to work at improving this particular character fault. In the process, I began to discover a weird compulsive perfectionist quirk that lurked within my psyche: I don't like to leave things unfinished. In fact, if I know I won't be able to finish a task once I start it, I'd rather not start it at all. This leads to procrastination like you wouldn't believe! I would actually think to myself, "well if I won't be able to get the whole paper/project/responsibility done, why start it?" (Some of you who knew me in college are well aware of how many all-nighters I did.) I'm not sure why I feel this way, it certainly isn't logical, but I guess it wouldn't be a compulsion if it made perfect sense.

As a result of this self-revelation, the past year has been an exercise in teaching myself to accept incremental improvements. So I don't have time to clean my whole apartment, it will at least look a little better if I vacuum. So I don't have time to read a whole book in one weekend, reading a few chapters at a time is still fun. So I don't have time to write all of my lessons for next week, at least write one or two and finish the rest later. And so forth.

Amazingly enough, almost anything can be improved, even if it isn't all at once. I've made progress (incrementally) in accepting this very fact, but naturally, there is still room for improvement.

flying...

2005-10-21T23:20:00.000-04:00

Being exhausted from teaching, I took a nap this afternoon. Sometimes I dream that I can fly, and I did again today. But in this dream, so could Lauren and Kyle, my brother and sister. And we flew together.

Fall has, uhm.... sprung

2005-10-17T20:59:00.000-04:00

I think bittersweet is the perfect word to describe fall: the time when the overripe summer at last gives way to the perfume of decay. The lazy days of August are quite past, strawberries and nectarines are no longer ripe to eat, swimming and suntans are over. But the air is heady and sweet, the breeze is cool on the face, and earth leaps into color as though each tree wants to upstage all her neighbors. I am reminded of countless autumns in growing up PA, raking leaves, competing in marching band, watching and playing football games, and archery hunting with my father. Yesterday I went for a hike into Cherokee National Forest, and found my way up to an old fire tower which overlooked five counties on a clear October day. Gorgeous. And this morning, I had the thinnest coating of frost on my windshield.

Okay, now that I've gotten that bit of schlock out of my system... back to school work :-p

The life and times of Greene County

2005-10-13T22:10:00.000-04:00

The Greene County/Greeneville area is feeling less and less like a foreign land I've dropped into seeking a job, and more like a place where I can feel at-home. I spent some time wandering around the downtown of Greeneville last weekend, which was a fruitful exercise. I discovered three new restaurants which were previously unknown to me (amazing what you find on foot which you cannot by car). One place for a $25-35 meal has live jazz every other Friday. Another cafe with amazing sandwiches occasionally brings in celtic musicians. And the third, well it's a greasy little hole in the wall which is open from 11pm to 2pm Monday to Saturday. It's nice to have late-night options :-) And Monday night, when I went searching for a place to watch the Steelers' game, I discovered a local bar I rather like. Projection screen for sports, good wings (supposedly, I'll have to get back to you with my own verdict), friendly bartenders, and live local bands most weekends.

Greeneville Christian Church has also been quite welcoming. While their worship service leaves quite a bit to be desired (think: two hymns, one verse each, way too slowly), they really seem to have a vibrant community going. Active youth group, very involved in community service, donated their youth house to Katrina victims, and so forth. One of the Sunday school classes even seems willing to ask some of the hard questions about faith (which, sadly, is all too rare) and I've enjoyed getting to know them.

And tonight I went to a middle school football game to watch some of my students play, cheer, or run around in the stands. There is something almost idyllic about watching a small town football game.

However, I have also experienced the frustrations of teaching in a conservative southern farm-and-factory region. On Tuesday night I attended a community meeting to discuss the topic of consolidating the 6-8th grades of the three schools I teach into a middle school system. (I'm currently teaching in K-8 schools). This area desperately needs the programming and academic opportunities a middle school system can offer, and a few parents can see this all too clearly. But I heard many more comments to the effect "Well I went to the K-8 school in this little town here, and by darn if it's good enough for me, it's good enough for my kids."

My classroom is sometimes a microcosm of this same attitude. In general, students love my class, but it is also quite clear which students have been told all their life by their parents (fathers) that music and art is for sissies, and should not be taken seriously.

No question about it, Greene County does feel like a backwater region oftentimes. But one thing I have discovered over and again in life, is that there is beauty to be found anywhere you go in this world. I believe I'm starting to see just a little of the beauty hidden right around me. And I expect I'll see much more in the days and months ahead.

Black walnut ice cream drizzled with Jack Daniels

2005-10-03T00:51:00.000-04:00

one of life's simple pleasures

Budget app

2005-10-02T22:31:00.000-04:00

Since I now have a real job which pays real money (though it ain't much), I went looking for something to help me manage my finances. My new Mac came with Quicken, but I didn't need a shotgun to kill the gnat of my personal finances.

I eventually found Budget (available for both Mac and windoze). This is a truly great little tool to plan my spending. It takes the time-tested envelope method (another description here) for organizing your finances, and translates it into an elegant little program.

Unfortunately, this is not freeware. You can download a nearly fully functional version for free, but you are limited to 250 transactions before you must purchase it. However, at less than $30, I found it to be worth the cost once I had tried it out.

Hope you find it helpful!

OK, so I came up a little short...

2005-10-01T23:56:00.000-04:00

I know I didn't write a new post every day this week like I said I would. But three out of five ain't bad, right? Read on below....

Creativity with a motive

2005-10-01T22:45:00.000-04:00

I like to think of myself as a musician. I love the sound of music, I love making music, and I love being critical about music. I also like to think of myself as a highly introspective and thoughtful person. From these two things, one might come to the conclusion that I would be a good songwriter. Such does not seem to be the case. Every bit of creativity I can squeeze out always sounds like tripe to me. My melodies are boring, my chord progressions are unsurprising, and my poetry is truly awful.

Unless, that is, I have some sort of external motivation. For a philosophy class in college I decided to write and record two pop songs in the styles I hear on top 40 radio. I was quite pleased with the result. In a little over a week they went from a notepad full of scribbled ideas, to songs recorded in the campus studios (with some friends as the performers, not myself, in order to have an added challenge). They weren't perfect, but the ideas came across very well.

Since that project, I haven't been able to write anything which pleases me, until now. I have started writing songs for my students to sing. I have made funny little tunes to set Shel Silverstein poems. I am currently working on a school song for each of my three schools to give them as a Christmas present (think of a "fight song" for elementary school). And I even enjoy coming up with little rhythmic motives and grooves for them to play on percussion instruments, or on recorders.

I have come to the conclusion that my personal life is way too uninteresting to write songs about it. So I've given up trying. Instead I'll pursue a motive that is much more fun, challenging, and rewarding: making music for children.

Contemplating stability

2005-09-27T19:48:00.000-04:00

Stability...

One of the three vows of a Benedictine monk (along with Obedience and Conversion of Life). It is the concept that one grows and matures best in the context of a stable environment. This may not necessarily mean a completely unchanging environment (as far as I understand it), but it certainly means a consistent environment, rooted in principles, habits, work, and devotion. For monks that usually means that they never leave the monastery unless they have extremely good reason to do so, and providing that they have the blessing and approval of every single one of their brothers.

This concept has almost completely vanished from the cultural sensibility of the West. As for me personally, I've always figured if I'm not on the move to the next thing, I must have become stagnant somehow.

Well now I'm being forced to reconsider these notions....

I graduated college hoping to become a band director. The job applications weren't panning out in PA (since I didn't have a license there), so late in the summer I started applying in TN. The first district that interviewed me ending up giving their band job to someone within their school system, but they offered me the consolation prize of this guy's previous job teaching K-8 general music.

The community here has never placed much importance on music education. It's an underfunded TN school district (which is a separate rant altogether), and I work in the poorest parts of town where many parents are more concerned with Nascar than their children's education. I teach 9 grades at 3 schools, about 800 students in all, and my budget this year from the school district came to a whopping total of $100. Apparently, each child is worth 12.5¢

Besides, I never really saw myself putting down roots in this area.

But there is such a need here. And there are a few parents here who are hungry for music in their schools. And at least one of my principals is a huge supporter of me. And there are some beautiful young people here whose eyes get brighter the moment they step into my class because they can't wait to make music. And I am an ambitious, talented teacher who could do a great deal to turn these schools into so much more than they are today.

Oh, wait. What about band directing?

Can I apply again for a band job? What if one opens up within this same school district (at a different, better funded school), as it very well may next summer? What if I'm simply offered a job as a band director? Can I in good conscience leave these 3 schools, dozens of co-working teachers, and 800 young people who desperately need what I can offer them?

How does stability figure into my life now? Should I keep moving toward my passion for high school band? Or should I stay and work (in the robust sense of that word) where I am?

I get by with a little help from my friends...

2005-09-26T23:46:00.000-04:00

Friends make life good. Great friends make life great. And I have some great friends.

I have friends from my Central PA years, from my Milligan years, from my own family (bro and sis), and from all the weird things in between. There are some amazing people in my life, and I am humbled to know them.

They've put up with, well let's be honest, a ton of shit from me over the years. And they still talk to me, keep in touch with me, are concerned about me, and generally show that they care. How stinking cool is that!

If you're a friend who is reading this (you know who you are) here's your official notice: Michael is here to put up with your shit! I owe you all. So feel free to unload anytime. I actually have a job now, so let me buy you dinner, take you out, something! If you're too many thousands of miles away for such pleasantness (as most of you are), at least give me a call if you're having a bad day. Or if you are having a great day, let me celebrate with you.

Shalom to all.

enough self-pitying blog tripe

2005-09-26T23:08:00.000-04:00

So I look back on the only two blog entries I've made in the month of September, and I realize I've put up nothing but the kind of self-pitying garbage you can find in every corner of the web. Kind of a waste of the internet. I guess it was a combination of wigging out over my first year of teaching (grades, lesson plans, problem students, differing viewpoints from administrators, etc.) and not getting enough sleep.

But the thing is, I have had a ton of fun and interesting thoughts floating betwixt my ears lately. So I'm gonna redouble my efforts to post something worth reading (if anyone out there is actually reading this thing).

One post a day this week. Good stuff only.... that's the plan anyways....

the life of an insomniac

2005-09-15T01:26:00.000-04:00

I am afraid to sleep. Yup, that's right. Afraid. It is that unpleasant of an experience for me every night, that my stomach turns at the thought of crawling into my bed.

So what do I do? I procrastinate my house work, my school work, my personal communications with friends, everything, until late in the evening. This way I am guaranteed to be up very very late, even though I get up at the butt-crack of dawn each day to teach.

Will I be tired tomorrow morning? You bet. Am I tired now? Yeah, I think so. But I simply cannot make myself find my bed.

"DAMNIT RONNIE!!"

2005-09-03T22:48:00.000-04:00

Strange as it may sound, there are times when I miss hearing those words so much, it hurts.

Kay Douty (193* - 2001)

Parasites that Brainwash

2005-09-03T20:32:00.000-04:00

This just amazed me. Here's an article about the hairworm, a parasite which lives in the brain of a grasshopper or cricket. When mature, it takes over the brain of the insect and makes it drown itself so the parasite can hatch out and find a mate. The article indicates that understanding of this brainwashing process might lead to further findings in human behavior. Creepy but cool.

One teen explores his aggression

2005-08-29T22:50:00.000-04:00

When I heard this on NPR today, I was riveted. This is an honest and gut wrenching depiction of the confused aggression which reigns among teenagers. And it is told by an urban teenage boy himself.

How am I caring for the students in my classroom who deal with this kind of aggression all day, every day? From their family, from their friends, or as in the case of this young man, from themselves...

I'm not sure how long the audio (realplayer) will be available online, but they usually post transcripts somewhere on the same page once the audio is taken down.

Exploring My Aggression

Feeling small 1

2005-08-28T15:00:00.000-04:00

One of the reasons I love the sciences of physics, astronomy and cosmology is their ability to make me feel very small every once in a while . It's hard to tell what will spark this reaction, it might be a picture of a remote planet, a recent discovery about the fundamental particles which compose all matter, or something like the following:

This is an animated gif of dust devils racing across the surface of Mars. These images have not been enhanced in any way; WYSIWYG. Granted, Mars isn't exactly remote in the celestial scheme of things. But somehow seeing "weather" on this foreign surface makes it seem so much more real than still pictures of red rocks. Maybe this vast desert world isn't so foreign after all.

Movie link

Article search from Google News

Elite connoisseurs?

2005-08-27T16:32:00.000-04:00

It is both interesting and frustrating to me the extent to which people enjoy seeing themselves as having the best taste in X topic. Myself for example: I fancy myself having excellent taste in music, food, beer, and technological trends. I fancy I have good taste in art, movies, wine, literature, and theology/philosophy. And I even take pride in having bad taste in a few things, like interior design. Sometimes these tastes serve to bring people together, but more often I find they divide. (i.e. my taste is superior to yours) I'm not talking about righteous indignation here. People simply belittle others because their likes or dislikes differ from their own. I can think of countless times I have been shamed for my preferences in music or literature. And I can think of even more times I have done the shaming. As I sit here and listen to some of my favorite music, drinking one of my favorite beers, I wonder what drives this keen sense of elitism. I wonder how often I make people feel small for the things they enjoy.

"Indy" Music

2005-08-24T20:53:00.000-04:00

I know this is gonna sound like a paid advertisement, but I just discovered a tiny little app today for seeking out new independent music that I must share. Slick interface, mind numbingly simple, and very fun. What it does is automatically download a few mp3s from independent artists, and you must rate each one as you hear it in order to hear the next one. It then sorts them according to your rating, and tries to download more tracks that match your musical tastes based upon your ratings. I've listened to a few songs and already and I'm hooked. I'll let the website do the rest of the talking.

http://indy.tv/

Reason #486 why I enjoy working with young people

2005-08-23T23:08:00.000-04:00

The humor of an event which happened today at school (where I teach elementary and middle school general music) suddenly dawned on me this evening: a particularly problematic eighth grader tried to cut out of school. In the middle of the day he simply walked out, hoping to be unnoticed. But what didn't occur to me when I was first informed of this event, was the fact that this kid has a broken leg, and is therefore on crutches. So even if he does get the riot act for what he did, one really has to admire his industriousness.

Hello Again

2005-08-23T21:52:00.000-04:00

Seeing how it's been over a year since I created this blog and I haven't done anything with it other than the first test post, I think it's time to turn over a new leaf. I'm sure it will take shape as I continue to add content, but my current idea is to post a series of quasi-autobiographical musings about my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. In other words, exactly like the vast majority of pointless blogs scattered across the aether. Well, here goes nothin...

1

2004-06-15T01:11:00.000-04:00

hello world