Job$

I've been entertaining alternative employment--lookin' for another job--since our main source of income dried up last fall. Surprisingly enough, no matter how much we complain, educators are not that poorly paid for their services. The more I explore, the happier I am, where I am. As stated before, I would like working online from home more, to be with my family, but aside from that, I could not be much more happy.

Oh sure, I wish papers would grade themselves or that I had chosen to teach speech rather than composition. Sometimes I wish I did not elect to teach Comp II over some (easier?) haul like basic English. There are days I am not impressed with student performance or my own instruction, too. But on the whole, I am very satisfied (at the moment) in my career.

Now if I could only make more money at it.

As it stands, it looks very much like I will be downsizing everything (including my home, lifestyle, etc) to live on the cheap. Even then, I do not seem to find a way to get along. *sigh* I can remember moving to southern KS with nothing more than an El Camino load of "stuff" and the only bill overhead was my student loan. Those were the days. Should I have to make all the sacrifices I foresee in this downsizing, I would wager my very happiness is at stake. Though that likely reads a bit melodramatic, and though I know it is wrongheaded to tie one's state of mind to one's things...I would miss my farm and home so very much.

Alternative, additional lines of work under consideration:

• Trainer/speaker for corporate America
• Online overload teacher for large online universities
• Microfarmer (truck farming, dried flowers, greenhouse, etc)
• Personal historian (digital media biographer)
• Pole dancer (just checking if you're reading closely)
• Resume writer (and interviewer, overall marketability)
• Daycare provider (do what you love, right?)

Meanwhile, I will do the best I can at what I do and see what shakes out of our budget.

Falling...Head over Heels

Literally.
I used to find great amusement in the simplest of things, like the slapstick classic where a person slips on a banana peel. That always just cracked me up, and the more dignified the fall-ee, the better.

That is, of course, until it happened to me.

Last term, I had a similar incident, where I fell no less than three times when getting my car open (door freezes shut) and then the windshield cleared--but that I could understand and anticipate at least a bit, for I was engaged in wild gyrations on an obviously icy surface.

However, yesterday I was leaving my workplace and took a hard fall not ten steps outside the building--yesterday it was not even all-that iced over outside. It looked like a little drizzle, but it was treacherously slick! Upon getting up, I fell again in two steps, hard. I had to crawl part of the way to my vehicle.

What's so funny?
Makes me think (not about litigation, except when I move and it hurts). I guess it seemed funny before when people would fall for they were doing something out-of-the-ordinary, surprising (at least to the fall-ee). Maybe the humor was in the sudden loss of dignity, the pulling-the-rug out from under someone? I don't know much about the theory of humor, but I do know that sudden incongruity plays its part. I would bet my airborne antics were pretty funny, too, as physical humor goes. Now that I have been subject to such a fall, however, I don't know if I will find it so very funny when I next witness it. I do, however, find it highly amusing when someone trips on a crack, falls indecorously, then gets up to examine the crack in an exaggerated way to call attention to the crack, as if to say to all the world, "Ah-ha, that's the culprit, I am NOT a klutz." I suppose I will always find that face-saving silliness to be funny.

I am not bitter about it, and I'm not defending myself. After all, no one witnessed it but my wife and son. Admittedly, I was ignorant in this instance, totally blind-sided by the ice. I should have known better, I guess, somehow. I am not blaming the ice nor the workplace; it was my fault. For those who do not know me, I walk with an ostrich-like gait, bobbing, big/quick steps something like a pigeon, I'm told. That is an unwise walk on ice, let me tell you!

It brings up a question. Since it was funny until it happened to me, does that suggest that the more such things happen to me, the less I will find life to be funny?

Web 2.0 ... The Machine is Us/ing Us

The Machine is Us/ing Us

I find this inspirational and thought-provoking...

Not only does it provide some insight into Web 2.0, it also gives a good perspective to any Luddite who is not up to snuff on this stuff. I agree with the premise, that what is being created online is organic, alive. It is, indeed, learning with our every keystroke. What I like about this is that I can tap into it randomly and likewise learn at an exponential rate (compared to my good ol' hardcopy library roaming days).

We really are challenged to rethink everything!

Edison, at 1st

[admittedly a gushy parenthood entry]

Instead of a year in review, I offer you a year of Edison. He just turned one yesterday. We celebrated with a John Deere themed party (remarkable, but the party story did not have goods to match my antique Farmall tractor, which I intended to park outside the party as my contribution to decor). In true 1st year baby party tradition, Ed had a cake to himself and made a fine mess of things.

As my three sons' lives go...Eddie's has been smooth sailing so far. Jax has endured four moves, family career changes, deaths in the family, baby sitters and daycares, etc. He has traveled quite a bit for his age; he was in Washington, DC in a sports bar watching the Super Bowl when he was only two or three months old. Carson at least had one move to deal with. Edison, to date, has known no other home, no complicated life. I wonder which builds the better character, or if, even, any of that has to do with building character.

Jax is outspoken, always-speaking, and very creative. He warms up to people very quickly, makes 'friends' at every park or play place, and never forgets a house guest. He is a story teller (in part due to our nightly stories we have made up his entire life) and loves to be read to. He also loves watching movies, television, etc. His favorite playtime activity is having his action figures interact, fight, etc. Carson, on the other hand, is much more shy. His build is slight, his way is subtle, but he is a powerful little man emotionally. Though not as outspoken, what he does say matters. He seems to be a little more of a comedian though less of a showman. He has absolutely no interest in watching anything of any media, but he will allow you to read a book to him sometimes. His favorite activity at play is to cook or build.

Edison, at first, seemed a blob of flesh. He has grown remarkably fast into his own person already. He was the youngest of the three to walk. He, more than either brother, seems omnivorous and has an insatiable appetite. In my recollection, Eddie seems to be more interactive and engaged with others for his age. At about 6-8 months he was already playing cars, and now he can already do 'voices' when he's playing with characters (the words, of course, are not intelligible).

He is also the first to sleep on his own in a crib without fussing. He recognizes a handful of people and loves them, yet like Jax did before him, has separation anxiety (pitches a fit) when we leave him with family most of the time. Edison has never had a paid baby sitter, and he has never been to daycare. He has never travelled much, except a bit by car.

These vast differences are of great interest to me. I don't know how much environment has been at work and how much of it is just some mysterious stuff inside them. I don't know if I believe all that about birth order, but I am sure there is a good deal of peer influence and pressure at work between these three young men. My study of them will continue, but I will likely spare my readership most of it.

Happy birthday, Edison.

Hats-off, cuffs-on, bubble burst

For context, one should likely start with this in the Wichita Eagle and poke around the Eagle's archives for all-about Etheredge. I've mentioned a lament or two about his theme park closing before, but it seems a good topic for my new year of blogging.

I find I have an addictive personality. When I was a kid, I'd eat whole jars/cans of an item in one setting (green olives, Parmesan cheese, cool-whip, little smokies). In college, I was at one time addicted to a pin ball machine so entirely that I skipped classes and likely wasted my entire student loan on it. When video rental became affordable, I would binge on 007 or Star Trek movie marathons (and this has not gotten any better, though I resist the temptation, with television series now on DVD).

This addictive personality trait is coupled with a weakness for charisma. I have fallen in behind many movements and faiths. Curiously enough, I also have a knack at creating such a following.

Knowing all this (and confessing it here) is merely to acknowledge that I really should know better. I really should not be so smitten by a big guy in a ten gallon hat.

...but dagnabbit, I also have a soft spot for big dreamers, big sky salesmen, folk who don't know "no." If a man wants to plant a theme park here based on Betsy Boop or Jesus, I don't mind, so long as he really, really believes in it. It's a good thing I am not a man of means, or I would have most likely been on Etheredge's donor list. We did buy season passes.

And here's the thing. I met Thomas Etheredge the day we walked up to buy our season passes. He met my family on the boardwalk outside the gates, and he did not seem insincere. He had a bubbling passion for his park. He seemed, to me, like Walt Disney of the West (although, I admit, even Walt had issues). He was proud of the park, and he was happy to see us. He spoke with my boys and our family a little bit, and I was flattered, frankly, that a man with so much on his mind and so much money invested and so many other things to do--that He would pause for us.

The day the park opened, even though the weather was not so great, my family was there. This was the second time I was able to size up Etheredge. The crowd was small that he gathered around a wooden wagon/stage. There were prayers, speeches, even a song or two, I think. He spoke of dreams coming true, of his vision for children enjoying our western heritage. He praised dozens of other people, had many up to the stage to talk or take a bow. Finally, he led them in a ceremonial ribbon cutting (it was actually barbed wire, in keeping with the park's theme).

Throughout that schmaltzy presentation, I remember feeling like part of history in the making. I was proud of Etheredge's accomplishments, and I wished him the very best. I remarked that I wished more people were there, and that I was considering getting a part-time job there or something to further his cause. In other words, I really bought in, and I really believed Wild West World would someday incorporate the Hopalong Cassidy museum (now sold piecemeal at auction) and host/promote other treasures of the Cowboy era. I was glad such a national monument was in my backyard.

Alas, it did not come to pass.

The park was only open for about a month or so, and I only went that opening day. My family got a bit more use of the season passes, but not much. The park closed with the excuse of no money. That can be exhaustively reviewed in the news. Etheredge skipped town and plays hard to get, somewhere in Texas. That can be interpreted several ways, but none of them characterize the man I though was under that ten gallon hat.

Like so many other charismatic leaders, Thomas Etheredge seems to have fallen. People remind me of my previous scrapes with charisma. They tell me, over and over, about money being the root of all evil. They point to Etheredge's criminal record. Indeed, I have read the news and know the facts; however, I will always remember him as I saw him on opening day, regardless. I don't have a theme park or a dream to draw people toward, but I admire that enthusiasm, that zeal, that confidence he had that day. It really seemed as if his dreams were coming true, and I was happy for him and happy to be a part of making those dreams come true.