tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-206268322024-03-23T10:45:23.534-07:00Musement Parkmuse: v.i. & t. 1, ponder; reflect. 2, gaze meditately. <br /> n. 1, a poet's inspiration or genius. 2, (cap.) a goddess presiding over one of the arts...Here be the place to get your muse on.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.comBlogger554125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-58625377454113983212014-08-10T12:30:00.000-07:002014-08-10T12:30:47.700-07:00I should join this support group!<br />
<br />
<div id="fb-root">
</div>
<script>(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "//connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#xfbml=1"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));</script><br />
<div class="fb-post" data-href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1494406124033598" data-width="466">
<div class="fb-xfbml-parse-ignore">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1494406124033598">Post</a> by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BuzzFeedVideo">BuzzFeed Video</a>.</div>
</div>
dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-1225253977732907822014-05-11T06:10:00.000-07:002014-05-11T06:11:47.665-07:00Insanity at my Window<img src="https://d11lsn3axbj16p.cloudfront.net/1399812683-de1949a9-6352.jpg" /><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I'm guilty of this on many counts,</span></b> but right now (actually for over 24 hours now) a red bird has been trying to get in my bedroom window. He keeps banging his head on the glass. He regroups on the tree branch not a yard away, shakes his head a bit, then charges back to the window pane. There must be some terrific homing instinct that drives him.<br />
<br />
So, I took off the screen and opened the window full. What do you suppose happened then?<br />
I think I"ll leave you hanging a little.<br />
<br />
What is it that makes us, humans who are not so driven by instinct, do this same thing? Why do we repeatedly do something we know will not work? I suppose sometimes it might be sheer force of will, that drive that makes us great beings. We just know that one more chip at the stone, one more attempt--and we will break through! That's noble. That's determination.<br />
<br />
I think, however, that more often we try and try again because we do not see the alternatives. We <i>just know</i> that this way is The Way, so it's the only one we put any effort or thought into. Other times we might stick with what we've always done (even if it failed) because we are not comfortable with the trying. We don't want to do something new and different because that is (on top of everything else) the Unknown.<br />
<br />
In my case, finish carpentry is a weakness. I usually just stick with pirate ship club house carpentry. Whenever I have done something inside the house, it's been mediocre, like that I put sheetrock in my closet but never did mud and tape it. Or that I did mud and tape the laundry room but never sanded it out and painted it. Or the shelves I made of MDF but never painted or trimmed...the list goes on. I just take it so far, typically to the point that it functions, and quit, saying to my self that this is all I can do. (In my case I know very well the initial point of failure for me, back in middle school shop where an overzealous shop teacher failed me repeatedly on a little jewelry box project, but that's another story.) So, in this carpentry instance, it's pure/simple fear of failure that keeps me in my rut.<br />
<br />
BUT NO MORE. We have a contractor who respects homeowner sweat equity. He's willing to coach me on laying the wood floor and finishing the stain on the woodwork, so I'm going to take him up on it. The way I see it, I'll be learning all this carpentry stuff while also getting my home made-over. A double win!!<br />
<br />
Back to the bird.<br />
<br />
If you guessed the bird would then shrug his wings and take off, you'd be wrong. He's kept at it for at least another 30 minutes now.<br />
<br />
The window bears some explanation. It's a pair of double hung windows. He's beating against the top glass of only one of the four choices. The lower 1/4 is the one that is wide open, but he never attempts it. Oh the headache he must have, for yes, he continues his same futile practice.<br />
<br />
I'm starting to think even instinct would guide the bird to try the open window. Maybe he's just insane.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-52820308617866361252014-05-01T12:38:00.003-07:002014-05-01T12:38:57.940-07:00Blow me away<a href="http://www.wylio.com/credits/flickr/4629178484" title="license: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/ - click to view more info about 'Changing winds' or find free 'wind' pictures via Wylio"><img alt="'Changing winds' photo (c) 2010, Kevin Dooley - license: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vN-lodCUL88/U2KilO6fdOI/AAAAAAAAD4Q/xirEn81d_z8/Flickr-4629178484.jpg" height="500" style="float: left; margin: 0 10px;" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
Winds this week have been typical--for western Kansas! Around these gentler parts, it's unusual to have had relentless wind for something like two weeks.<br />
<br />
It was so unusual for me this early morning to step outside to stillness! I have grown accustomed to fighting the storm door, the car door...to fighting the steering wheel like a ship's wheel in a gale. I was so surprised to find it so still--it actually reminded me of the "calm before the storm," so much so that I said as much aloud at that moment.<br />
<br />
There's not much more creepy than that humid stillness, when the sky goes green/gold and you can hear everything and yet nothing at all, for the wind is no more and the birds and bugs are hunkered down. Last time I recall, I could only hear the dripping of run off from the roof, measuring the infinite time before the really rough stuff hit us. (At least, where I was at that time, no tornado, per se.)<br />
<br />
It's that way with much of life, too, this twisted pacific moment before it all goes wild.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-79766392590142584452014-04-15T12:59:00.000-07:002014-04-15T12:59:11.882-07:00Give me a Sign<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOchN2c4L7QaFJzeWGGadqwIwOgR0MU8GdNYiVOmBdyYNyxTmHw66TL_D23H7kU5IuAO1Fgf6g4oGdosmqyVElWqa4uUvxaVcULo6esWg3KNDVj0LcQZ6tXhu50vCaqeb39xC/s1600/Street+Sign+Collage.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOchN2c4L7QaFJzeWGGadqwIwOgR0MU8GdNYiVOmBdyYNyxTmHw66TL_D23H7kU5IuAO1Fgf6g4oGdosmqyVElWqa4uUvxaVcULo6esWg3KNDVj0LcQZ6tXhu50vCaqeb39xC/s1600/Street+Sign+Collage.png" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Sometimes I feel like I am without direction, like I'm just whiling away my time. Oh, I've had upstarts of enthusiasm for Getting Things Done, Franklin-Covey, you name it....but I always seem to fall back into the doldrums of mediocrity. I do not feel I'm progressing at anything. I feel like a quitter.<br />
<br />
I suppose 100-200 years ago people were too darn busy surviving to wring their hands and pout about not being self-actualized. It was "get with it or go hungry" just a couple of generations ago. Thus, the phenom is new-ish, so based on that alone, I should not take it too seriously.<br />
<br />
Still, I just feel I should be there by now. I talk to others who have achieved life goals and I'm just awestruck. Almost all my classmates have kids graduating/graduated. They are almost all grandparents.<br />
<br />
I still want to "make it big" but now I'm falling in with the likes of Colonel Sanders and Ronald Reagan. I liked it better when I could compare myself to Beethoven or Emilio Esteves who made it big when young.<br />
*sigh*dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-81858463412796812392014-04-14T14:16:00.001-07:002014-04-14T14:16:29.583-07:00Adult ThemesSo, last night we watched the film adaptation of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19063.The_Book_Thief">The Book Thief</a>. When I say "we," in this instance, I mean the entire family. Anyone who's seen the film and knows that I have kids as young as 4 likely thinks I'm a bad, bad man. The movie deals with brutality, prejudice, hatred, genocide, mass hysteria and murder, slaughter and mayhem--in short, the propaganda machine and the war it evoked in Germany. <br />
<br />
Truth is, it gave us a lot of opportunity to discuss those difficult topics. Though we talk constantly, we'd never explored the root causes of war, WWII, anti-antisemitism, etc. It was the first film in which my son ever became teary eyed.<br />
<br />
I realized I was in the deep end of the pool when my 6 yr old asked me, "Why would anyone be so mean to someone just because of what they believed in? is it bad to believe in things?" My 8 year old commented sagaciously at another time late in the film, "I hate death." Quoting the film, one of my kids asked, "What's it mean when that guy said he was reminding people of their own humanity?"<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
It was so challenging to convey all that information without being too judgmental, too pat, or too definitive in my responses. It would have been easy to just say, "Germans went mad and Nazi's were the embodiment of evil." Being mindful of all we still do not clearly know about that period, and realizing I was not there, that I do not know the full context--all that made my answers complicated, but I always tried to distill them down to something the kids could grasp without making them all abandon mankind.<br />
<br />
It was a teachable moment--well, more like 4 hours due to interruptions for clarification, etc--but it was a moment I'll likely not forget.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-6660753914529864002014-03-24T05:51:00.001-07:002014-03-24T05:55:14.023-07:00Darth DisneyMy brother recently took a trip to Thailand. It was a glamorous trip, something like I would have very much wanted to do in an earlier life, myself--before kids. Sunset beaches, great scenic wonders, age-old architecture and artifacts...It was by all counts a great trip, and I know he enjoyed it.<br />
<br />
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRuHcMJ-gxoMglKp4JAd7bNgaqvOi3koftHbE1SOei2Gfk5zZzGxvVTtSlIxJjcwr4_joace3APppH3YfK-QkjILxTI7U6Kt6T53vy9l3ZRhG8xjzS-JEOTmXnhZ8byzdKJxvT/s1600/tumblr_lqoachR3mU1qbzsfco1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRuHcMJ-gxoMglKp4JAd7bNgaqvOi3koftHbE1SOei2Gfk5zZzGxvVTtSlIxJjcwr4_joace3APppH3YfK-QkjILxTI7U6Kt6T53vy9l3ZRhG8xjzS-JEOTmXnhZ8byzdKJxvT/s320/tumblr_lqoachR3mU1qbzsfco1_1280.jpg" height="253" width="320" /></a>This winter, we took one of those once-in-a-lifetime vacations like my dad used to take us on when we were growing up. I will be writing about aspects of that vacation for a long, long time. For this post, I am going to address just one tiny facet of the Disneyland experience. Since I am a Star Wars fan, I was one who went into mourning when Disney bought the rights from Lucas. I did not see how any good could come of that. As we wandered around Disneyland, I noted that Disney has the rights to just about everything, and that list is growing. (I'll write on that again sometime when I feel more political.)</div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">When we did find the Star Wars presence at the park, the force was not strong with us. It was the third day in Disneyland, and it was raining. It rained so much, they canceled the Jedi Training Academy! Like Clark Griswold, I found such a closing intolerable, and I hunted down the nearest Jedi robe-wearing teenaged Disneyland employee to give her a piece of my mind. "Rain? Rain trumps Jedi?" I said. "Well, when it lets up, will there be another show?" To which, the Disney Jedi curled her lip and reprimanded me: "We don't do <u>shows</u>, sir. This is a training academy...but stick around, because some of us are already in costume so we're going to do pictures."<br />
<br />
We now have a good number of pictures of our kids with punk kid Jedi Knights, Storm Troopers and Darth Vader. Those are all keepsakes that made that day less drab. However the best picture of the whole day, perhaps the whole vacation, was the one below, however, for it documents my lovely daughter in her truest form, hissing and snarling at Darth Maul.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzMOXJZiwM7NqrcA4X3yca9UDs2RX2_RQ1tqjKFG0OKDEmjZrc2sIEJa-IvVT16dlzhdxhqHDUXsNIZ83g1X-rCVw9i97xu7DoaYw-9S6la8HON9izc78NtqKXqePkgmDkeGL/s1600/EllaNDarthMaul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzMOXJZiwM7NqrcA4X3yca9UDs2RX2_RQ1tqjKFG0OKDEmjZrc2sIEJa-IvVT16dlzhdxhqHDUXsNIZ83g1X-rCVw9i97xu7DoaYw-9S6la8HON9izc78NtqKXqePkgmDkeGL/s1600/EllaNDarthMaul.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br />
If one is unfamiliar, hissing and snarling are Ellison's way of repelling strangers. She does this subtly sometimes with just a hiss under her breath or a growl only the animal kingdom can hear. With Darth Vader and others, she gave her best Navi hiss, but when she encountered Darth Maul, it was a hiss/snarl-fest. (She was NOT at all afraid, which is what some people interpret from the picture. Maybe <u>he </u>was.)<br />
<br />
I can't wait to blow this up to poster size for her 18th birthday party!<br />
<br />
<br />
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-2UxNbl8dYxo%2FUzAkYoaQgaI%2FAAAAAAAADmw%2FmTAMToiQXnM%2Fs1600%2FEllaNDarthMaul.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzMOXJZiwM7NqrcA4X3yca9UDs2RX2_RQ1tqjKFG0OKDEmjZrc2sIEJa-IvVT16dlzhdxhqHDUXsNIZ83g1X-rCVw9i97xu7DoaYw-9S6la8HON9izc78NtqKXqePkgmDkeGL/s1600/EllaNDarthMaul.jpg" -->dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-14129650748003472802014-03-20T15:08:00.000-07:002014-03-18T15:09:04.230-07:00O' Cap'n, my Captain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsUAL_ShLl14SJOhDoqoHTBQNbd0rfULkRkNk_RRsS8aicEHXZ9Fp1-3c0PcHpqtnt4LSH0SH31AA0ZW5iadOFEReq2VMUuA2V7CcidSLwm0bgcPrwHB6ycqOJVVmqiJYs9Bt/s1600/NathanFillionBridgeEnterprise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsUAL_ShLl14SJOhDoqoHTBQNbd0rfULkRkNk_RRsS8aicEHXZ9Fp1-3c0PcHpqtnt4LSH0SH31AA0ZW5iadOFEReq2VMUuA2V7CcidSLwm0bgcPrwHB6ycqOJVVmqiJYs9Bt/s1600/NathanFillionBridgeEnterprise.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This picture is one of my favorites for it captures three big influences on my life. I've written elsewhere here as to how Shatner is my surrogate father. Stewart's got a great command of stage and screen--heck, even his voice overs are powerful.<br />
<br />
But Nathan Fillion--that man IS the captain of choice. Mal Reynolds. Part pirate, part captain, underneath it all a Sargent and sailor and in spite of himself, a swell guy. Throughout the series, Firefly, he says variously that he's a bad guy, a rascal, a mean old man, destined to a special hell...but in my books, he's the imperfect hero we all want to be.<br />
<br />
If the scene above were real, not photoshopped or a joke in a wax museum, I am certain both of the Star Trek captains could take direction from Mal. I know I do.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-3750618878255128922014-03-18T07:40:00.000-07:002014-03-16T08:01:17.566-07:00A TraditionNow, I'm not going to review my whole 500 posts to see if I've written on this, but I'm sure that I have, and I'd venture that I've done it more than once. Back then, I bet I whined about not having much in the way of traditions, but I'd like to revisit that.<br />
<br />
Last week I shared a <a href="http://itrackansas.com/" target="_blank">workshop at iTRAC</a> on digital autobiography, and in that setting, I shared a tradition my family had at Christmas: watching slideshows and 8mm home movies.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7UknkLSzauT_G3BwSpt9G8V1k8HalTxH0H_pt_GFx0BiR6gA-Ynarl8Qe7LxMa1LaDczthn9tuNn45LzRyQwczDjif3EaMFtrW-CP40VAewV1Hz3XQHIBS9mwD4PIL5eqRVd/s1600/Storytelling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7UknkLSzauT_G3BwSpt9G8V1k8HalTxH0H_pt_GFx0BiR6gA-Ynarl8Qe7LxMa1LaDczthn9tuNn45LzRyQwczDjif3EaMFtrW-CP40VAewV1Hz3XQHIBS9mwD4PIL5eqRVd/s1600/Storytelling.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It was a great tradition that I did not then appreciate, of course, being a kid. The added value was not the popcorn or the movie itself; it was instead the folklore, the family narrative, the voice-over provided by a chorale of familial voices laughing and chiming in on that time my cousin covered herself with talcum to be a ghost or how I once said "boobs" at a Thanksgiving gathering. Almost all those voices have been stilled now by mortality, and in that era none of us thought to record them. (I sure wish we would have!)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The tradition lives on, at least that of storytelling. Every night I am called upon to offer up a long short story. I've been doing this nightly for over ten years now. I'm unschooled in storytelling, but I've learned a lot on the job. What gets a laugh. What's memorable. What gives the kids bad dreams...and I'm wanting to up my game as they get older and read the works of "real" storytellers like Mark Twain. I hope to take several workshops on storytelling in the future.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Often our stories are collaborative efforts. My wife is amazed at how I build stories from ingredients. I will solicit the kids for one ingredient each, then I spin it into the story in a significant way. They might offer, for instance: pirate, chickens, uncle and underwear. I cannot get away with something like "Your uncle became a pirate and drew chickens on some underwear which he then flew as his flag." </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And, lesson learned from the 8mm days, sometimes I record the stories as they're told, or I "can" a story by recording it in advance, saving a few up for when I might be on the road or something. These are digitally recorded and stored up to someday give the kids' kids. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-41220858365327974852014-03-16T07:12:00.000-07:002014-03-16T07:12:19.042-07:00RebootWith what now do I amuseth myself these days?<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, too often it's work by day, home economics by night. In the years this blog went dormant, I gained some mastery of exercise, animal husbandry, and I'm well into writing my first young adult literature novel. I've gotten traction and a team of experts to help in the arduous task at work of faculty development.
<br />
<br />
But home/free time amusement?
I like entertaining questions my kids raise, like the other day they were razzing me about bird seed. If you plant it, will it grow birds? If birds eat it, aren't they then cannibals? Even in asking this, they were giggling, all of us knowing how ludicrous it was, and at the same time knowing I would give the subject exhaustive coverage in over-the-top speculation.<br />
<br />
I comb over home improvement books like bridezilla does the latest issue of Bride's magazine.
I lay awake at night debating over cantaloupes or watermelon in the garden of the year. I imagine myself at the helm of a wicked cool roto-tiller that would make even Tim Taylor envious.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/0V9YZ7C88iU?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
And thanks to a friend who's not shy at calling me out to help me improve, I'm spending ample time circling the horsepower around the idea of going public. He suggested I have lots to share and that I'm doing a disservice to others by keeping it to myself. That may sound like a license to blather, but I hope to put it to better use.<br />
<br />
There's no way I can resist returning to my good ol' blog now, especially when coupled with <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2014/03/12/austin-kleon-show-your-work/">this article on Showing your Work</a>.
Here's to a fresh start!dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-86851988203036477842013-04-17T16:31:00.000-07:002014-03-16T07:34:16.569-07:00Mary Poppins?<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://swf.tubechop.com/tubechop.swf?vurl=U8VHc49ZdP4&start=0&end=9&cid=1118684"></param>
<embed src="http://swf.tubechop.com/tubechop.swf?vurl=U8VHc49ZdP4&start=0&end=9&cid=1118684" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
<br />
I slapped this into MusementParking almost a year ago as a placeholder, on 4/17/13 to be exact. Fortunately my powers of recollection have not failed me, and I can share with you now, dear readership, just WHY dear Mary Poppins has been the voice of my blog over my hiatus.<br />
<br />
I pulled this from a MOOC [massively open online course] lesson on reward in game theory. What? I have to realize that of the lot of you, several may not know what even a MOOC might be, let alone much about game theory....and even if you know all that, you might wonder what a good ol' English teacher is doing prattling around all that. Might as well take up spellcheck with an ouija board.<br />
<br />
And that, the paragraph above, is likely why all I did was paste Mary Poppins in to entertain you. I have a <b><i>shorter </i></b>answer as to her advice being my standing word here for a year....in my current role in faculty development, I've come to realize that customer service really comes down to her jingle. A spoonful of sugar really does make even the most jagged and bitter pill easier to swallow. I've had to share some very bad news with my colleagues, and I've given ear to even more unpalatable things than I could share here. It helps, so very much, to sing a little sugar into even the most badass message. Customer service, then, is about balancing good and bad news, good and bad vibes.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>You find the fun, and SNAP, the job's a game!</b></blockquote>
This is truly why Julie Andrews has been greeting my readers for a long time now. Though her actual song and dance are more memorable, this adage is the golden nugget (or golden ticket if you want to go all <i>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</i> on me)<br />
<br />
Long/short of it is that we need the juice in all our pursuits. We need the dopamine. We need the challenge, surprise, competition, reward--we need the stuff of games to thrive. To the extent that we can game life, we can enjoy life. I am finding this so very true.<br />
<br />
In the small ways here at first, I set a timer or make a goal, then knock it out of the park and rejoice. Example: I'm going to clear this inbox in ten minutes. When I have, then bippity-boppity-bacon! In my head I hear the jingle jangle tune of the Wheel of Fortune slot machine payout and I do the happy dance. (You might not even know all that was going on in my head if you were just to watch me at the computer. Then again, I might seem especially strange at that moment. I don't know.)<br />
<br />
Of course, this has more immediate connectivity to "the job" and in my case, gamifying faculty development, but I'll save that for my other blog presence over at <a href="http://bccfacultydevelopment.com/" target="_blank">BCC's Faculty Development site</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-49880657182455789822012-08-28T14:34:00.001-07:002012-08-28T14:34:34.562-07:00A pen not for him...Hilarious:<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/BIC-Cristal-1-0mm-Black-MSLP16-Blk/product-reviews/B004F9QBE6/ref=cm_cr_dp_see_all_btm?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1&sortBy=bySubmissionDateDescending" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/BIC-Cristal-1-0mm-Black-MSLP16-Blk/product-reviews/B004F9QBE6/ref=cm_cr_dp_see_all_btm?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1&sortBy=bySubmissionDateDescending</a>dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-91577839184163292832012-08-16T18:49:00.000-07:002012-08-16T18:49:11.553-07:00Failed success...Successful Failure...So I am pounding through a first month on a new job, and the ultimate test is this thing called in-service. I've toiled many hours on putting it together, taking up the very well coordinated leavings of the former director and the behind the scenes works of several people who dealt with room reservations and speakers and purchase orders and the like. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
No one was (physically) injured in the making of this in-service. Seemingly important things were conveyed. It's now almost over, and so then I had a hearty talk with my (second) worst critic. Here's an approximation of what was said:<br />
<br />
I didn't learn a single thing about teaching, about what goes on in the classroom. There was a lot of bureaucratic marching orders, but there was no music. The administration is going away self-satisfied, but they have just been quipping legislation, statistical forecasts, but not really anything meaningfully intellectually challenging. I was not stimulated. <br />
<br />
Why not stand traditional in-service on it's head, squash it flat and have it be unplugged from powerpoint. No more talking at teachers, but let the professors share powerful content. I refer you to the model offered by Terry Sader on the selfish gene, on the meme that claims there is no altruism. THAT was an educator offering up some food for thought.<br />
<br />
As it is, we are studying fingers and toes, but do not ask or know how it feels to be one. We do not celebrate the absolute beauty of the ear's architecture; instead we know of it from the road. We don't hear the symphony through the vessel, just measure amplitude and retention, etc. In the same way, we may look at statistics and talk about engagement, but we are not engaged, not engaging one another in meaningful discourse.<br />
<br />
Too much talk about turn it in and plagiarism and documentation and attendance versus participation...we're laying out and painting all these lines that constrict us to the point we cannot function at our best. (Lots of what I call "education-ese" seems to dominate in-service sessions, always, invariably dished up with powerpoint slides and bad puns.)</blockquote>
<br />
In short, I think the claim is that we're busy being busy and not perhaps having any thing move us intellectually. He said, "I'm an intellectual, and I thrive on intellectual stimulation. If I did not long for that, I should otherwise be a [window washer]." He said we were talking about and around education but not ever making reference to primary sources, never quoting Shakespeare or waxing eloquent on the rhythms of Longfellow.<br />
<br />
I offered that maybe we need an enrichment track. Maybe faculty needed open space to testify how they were successful in the classroom. He turned back to modeling (I think) intellectual dialogue and discourse by having, I think, guest lectures.<br />
<br />
Then he shared a tableau / skit that was the most engaging and enjoyable moment of 20 in-services he's sat through. It was a skit in which Susan Bradley was a student and Kim someone was an advisor, etc. The situation was modeling a student's first encounter at college and the many questions they had and problems they encountered....I wish I knew more about this, since it meant so very much to him.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
SECOND ENCOUNTER was with a completely different breed, a staffer who was once a person in my role. She emphasized that all the nuts/bolts could be handed out on paper, then get to the heart of what made Butler a truly great place: the people, being a person, making that connection with students, building rapport....and modeling that with FT and PT faculty at all these trainings. She veered away from talking down to people, too, again disparaging powerpoint, instead emphasizing the hug and handshake. Eye contact. Remembering detail. Following up. </blockquote>
<br />
There you have it. I don't know what to do with it all. dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-46527489467224521512012-06-12T10:31:00.000-07:002012-06-12T10:31:03.374-07:00Bookmarks and Barbells<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I pay membership at the Y.<br />
<br />
I recently have been bookmarking some great tools for fitness, like <a href="http://www.myfitnesspal.com/welcome/learn_more" target="_blank">myfitnesspal </a>and <a href="http://nanoworkout.com/" target="_blank">nanoworkout</a>.</blockquote>
<br />
The trouble is, as always, that good intentions do not a chiseled body make. In fact, good intentions don't even change my diet.<br />
<br />
Kids do help a parent burn some calories, 'tis true. Summer encourages me to lose 10 pounds due to sweat and labor outside. I also tend to eat more salad, eat less in general, drink lots of water, etc. If only it were always summer, blissful eternal summer....but that's another blog post.<br />
<br />
I am writing here simply to guilt myself (though I don't always read my own blog and thus may never encounter this again, so what am I doing?) into getting into fitness.<br />
<br />
I know the drill:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>You only have one body.</li>
<li>Your body is a temple.</li>
<li>You need a body to lug around that head of yours.</li>
<li>People are counting on you to put them through college and beyond.</li>
</ul>
<br />
I also know the claims of fitness that have (to date) not held true to me:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Exercise makes one feel so much better (even quitting smoking had no affect on me).</li>
<li>Exercise gives you energy--I always just want to puke.</li>
<li>Exercise will cheer you up--I'm always so intimidated by the prospect I just wig out.</li>
<li>Fitness will enhance longevity (my dad died at the peak of his fitness).</li>
</ul>
<br />
Regardless, I here again pledge to get with the program, get fit.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">It seems such an easy goal. What's stopping me? </span></b><br />
<br />dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-42965371955160202142012-05-25T05:14:00.002-07:002012-05-25T05:15:00.046-07:00Satori goes Solo<iframe width="300" height="410" style="position: relative; display: block; width: 300px; height: 410px;" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/v=2/album=1293212013/size=grande3/bgcol=f8dcaa/linkcol=4285BB/" allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0"><a href="http://dirwire.bandcamp.com/album/dirtwire">DIRTWIRE by Dirtwire</a></iframe>dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-89516275729797332802012-05-07T14:54:00.001-07:002012-05-07T15:00:17.492-07:00Dead? OpossumOpossums are not the most attractive animal. They look like a caricature of a rat, only with a crazy tail and wicked teeth. I think they must be some ancient ancestor of the rat and all other rodents, and perhaps that they crawled out of the maw of hell--well, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but they would make a great feature at a haunted house.
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxK1whZi1Dumu18Lcb-1a7Ik9_H2unoGbk1OMpnip3vyfDawf4Rgxh5j4jysI2DNQ2taP9wPmAQqIuiv5jPLpTg-oa7fwaqi5M94KIwhYaj5ZmqbfY82mzD4Ehw_EBjlas4p4/s1600/opossum-removal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxK1whZi1Dumu18Lcb-1a7Ik9_H2unoGbk1OMpnip3vyfDawf4Rgxh5j4jysI2DNQ2taP9wPmAQqIuiv5jPLpTg-oa7fwaqi5M94KIwhYaj5ZmqbfY82mzD4Ehw_EBjlas4p4/s400/opossum-removal.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
I know they are unclean, that they are unsavory in every way. The <a href="http://www.mn-wildlifecontrol.com/opossums.html">Minnesota Nuisance Wildlife Contro</a>l website continues, stating they <br />
<blockquote>
"carry diseases such as leptospirosis, tuberculosis, relapsing fever, tularemia, spotted fever, toxoplasmosis, coccidiosis, trichomoniasis, and Chagas disease. They may also be infested with fleas, ticks, mites, and lice. Opossum are hosts for cat and dog fleas, especially in urban environments."</blockquote>
ALL THAT SAID...
Yesterday my son and I were trying to track down the origin of the death-stink that was wafting around our farm. He's only 6, but my son has seen dead cats, dogs, chickens, snakes, mice, and other creatures. He's very matter-of-fact about it. When we found the dead opossum, it looked to have been deceased some time, as purification/decomposition was well-underway. The corpse was almost flat, fur was detaching and blowing around the area, the skull was bare, the body cavity was torn open as was the back end and the neck. The eyes, of course the first to go, were just holes that creepy death-eating bugs frequently were wriggling in/out of. The mouth was open but the tongue was gone, only those horror movie sharp teeth were still there. Get it? Gross dead animal, and that does not even begin to describe the smell!
<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>There's a peculiar thing about dead animals and me</b>...since I was a kid, I've been fascinated with them. Maybe it's as close as we typically get to death/dying in our culture these days....maybe it's because I always look at life and biology as complicated wetware, cool and gooey machines we are!
There is a moment, however, that seems to strike me down to my spinal chord, something so primeval that I don't quite know how to describe it. Here goes: when I'm coming up on such grotesque death, gagging at the smell of it, I am fine until I see those damn carrion bugs, of which there are many types, that root and rummage around in the most disgusting way, completely degrading death of any modicum of decorum. Those bugs are hideous and rude, but then, they do a vital job (that I'd bet no one else in the food chain is begging for). Sometimes they are so careless and gruff in their feeding and deconstruction of a corpse that they actually animate it, making it jostle, making the hide ripple and move. More than once I've thought I've seen a zombie critter, coming back to life.<br />
<br />
That leads me back to this incident yesterday. The same wobbling around was happening I've seen (and been at the very core of my being repulsed by) before. I did what my son was thinking of doing, himself--though I cannot explain it--I poked it with a stick. Then we looked closer, and we were amazed to find...something inside was hobbling around like a wee little Muppet. I thought it was just another creepy bug or beast disrespecting the dead, but when I leaned in and looked closely I discovered it was in fact...a baby opossum.<br />
<br />
Opossums have litters of up to 16, yet this was the sole survivor. It did not yet have eyes open (or maybe the bugs already ate 'em) and it did not have fur on its over-sized ears. It did have the characteristic curl to its pink, bald tail already. Overall, the little bugger was no bigger than a small field mouse, or roughly the size of my thumb.
We debated a good long while. I got a shovel. I was going to bury the whole scene, wholesale...but the boy talked me into trying to rescue the baby. I don't think it's alive today, but I'll not be too surprised if it is, I guess, since it lived through whatever killed it's mom, then the ravages of storm, a 90 degree day or two, and the pokings and nippings of chickens, dogs, and insects. It was still kicking yesterday, so we tried to honor its survival by putting it a cat carrier and feeding it some egg. We'll see.<br />
<br />
The point of this long long post is to marvel at the opossum and to simply document this encounter with death and life and all that comes between and goes beyond. Even though I was repulsed, that whole tableau taught me some valuable lessons I will keep with me much longer than that stench that won't seem to leave my nostrils.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-17184610787919432712012-04-19T11:45:00.002-07:002012-04-19T11:54:13.378-07:00The new phone book's are here!I'm SOMEBODY NOW!<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ahuPW6_t-z0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /><br />I share Navin's enthusiasm with you here because after 6 years I am now in my school's phone system. No longer will the caller ID in house report me to be Jennifer someone. <br /><br />(We are getting a whole new phone system at my work place, and these phones are snazzy. It even has my name on it. )dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-63562179960243352782012-04-17T10:17:00.002-07:002012-04-17T10:42:54.329-07:00The End is NearI was going to write this (as I always do) about the end of the semester, but between the title and this writing, I had a student come in and two phone calls--so I'm regrouping around this:<br /><br />My kids and the doomsayers of 2012...<br /><br />First of all, I grew up in the shadow of The Bomb. I am a child of the Cold War. My dad was a card-carrying Survivalist fully anticipating some post-apocalyptic disaster world and equipping our home for just such a nightmare. Thus, my childhood was not spared a fair share of dooms daying.<br /><br />However, so much media has been spouting out doom and gloom about December of 2012 that even my younger kids are aware of the predictions. One asked me if I was going to have their pirate ship playground done before the end of the world this year. Another asked me if I had completed my bucket list, and if not, was I planning to before December. The oldest of these kids is only 9.<br /><br />While most reasonable adults can sort the hubbub from the bub, I don't know that little kids can. They may not even be too sure about how SpongeBob can blow bubbles underwater, let alone be too clear on global catastrophe and the ensuing mayhem. None of them were alive to feel the anxiety or hear the doomsayers at the turn of the millennium. <br /><br />I have noticed behavior among my kids that's not too dissimilar to adult sentiment/behavior regarding the end of the game:<br />lamenting not getting to grow up and have a family<br />abandoning all ritual and rule since it's all to be over soon<br />acting out plans and contingencies to survive the impending peril<br />rebelling against the prediction, denying the potential of it all<br /><br />I wish I had some wise counsel on all this, something they'd be at peace with. They just don't trust their dear ol' dad, though, compared to the news and entertainment outlets that spew this stuff.<br /><br />I guess in January 2013 I'll just get to say, "Told'ya so." They always like that so much.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-67950422669323685462012-04-04T09:23:00.002-07:002012-04-04T09:27:02.072-07:00Phone HomeWell, I've gotten with the times and entered the era of the mobile phone.<br /><br />I intend to use it as a teaching tool, to help the young'uns stay on top of the potentials of technology. Already I've taught a couple students some good apps, and I've picked up one from everyone I've asked.<br /><br />Previously, I've been packing:<br /><ol><li>digital recorder</li><li>mp3 player (ipod)</li><li>video camera (flip video)</li><li>usb thumb drive</li></ol><br />However, now my phone can (and for the most part, already IS) serving all the functions of those separate tools.<br /><br />I am also going to synch it with google docs, which will give me full presentation potential once we get in-class projectors that are wi-fi compatible. Then I can run my entire lecture, even capture the lecture, all from my "phone."<br /><br />The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-85603100145847476032012-03-21T04:50:00.002-07:002012-03-21T04:57:37.868-07:00Spring BreakSpring break...It ends up being time that's slowed down to reveal all the many things I've not been tending to due to the harried pace of the rest of life. I like these breaks (hey, they <span style="font-style: italic;">are </span>breaks) for they give cause to pause and reflect. I do not know how I would ever regroup or improve without them.<br /><br />Not all my life's breaks have had this behind them, but I'd say they have over the last ten years....so at least twenty reflective breaks or so....without the life/schedule I lead, I guess I would be much worse off than I am. Then again, reflection is not action. Neither is intention action. I have reams of well-wishing, good goal tending, all that fell fallow. I guess....at least I was that mindful, even some twenty-five years ago, that I wanted to get better, do better, do more, be more...whether I've really applied myself or reached much of all that--at least I did take aim once in a while.<br /><br />I wonder if its like muscle memory. Had I not taken aim, never gotten in the mode of it all, would I utterly lack ambition. I seem to see a lot of people who have absolutely none. Is that what happened to them? Did they never pause to reflect, aim to improve?<br /><br />All this aiming seems too often to come to so very little (see recent posts) but at least, I guess, I try.dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-47054410650607645402012-03-10T08:48:00.003-08:002012-03-10T08:54:46.403-08:00Wait, wait! Don't tell me!What a great radio show.<br /><br />Right now, baby pj's that will issue a text message to your mobile device that tells you why your baby's crying, an "App for crap."<br /><br />This morning has turned out quite surprisingly well. I slept in until 6. I did not clock in until 7. Then, about 8 I realized I did not bring all my gear, and was bummed. The phone rang, my wife needed the pickup, and I drove home, then went with the family to our favorite donut shop. It was tons of fun.<br /><br />Then I drove 10 miles back toward the house before I realized I did not have my office keys, so I returned to Newton to find the family (all this w/o mobile phones, mind you) and secure my keys. Then 30 minutes later, I'm back at work.<br /><br />All through the venture, I've been accompanied by NPR shows, first Car Talk, now Wait! Wait! (I seldom get to hear these because of kids and work.)<br /><br />Listening to these shows, driving, eating donuts, seeing family--all better than the typical morning of grading papers. It felt like summer. It felt like...leisure. It was really quite nice.<br /><br />Now, back to grading. *sigh* (Only 6 days to spring break, only 64 days to my summer vaca!)dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-82014807261802572762012-03-07T13:35:00.002-08:002012-03-07T13:45:57.352-08:00Busted[whine alert]<br /><br />Hand to mouth. Paycheck to paycheck. I looked back through at least six months of this blog, and it's been at least that long since I vented on this subject here. I do recall someone back when who jumped me about such whining, claiming I likely made twice what they did, that I should have no reason to carry on so...<br /><br />But I do. I venture that I've had good genes, good education, good opportunity, yet here I sit in a job that's got no room for advancement. There's no external, monetary incentive here to do great work. There's no merit pay or even much evaluation of performance. (My peers are up in arms about the prospect of such things, claiming that education cannot be parsed out and calculated like the processing of so many widgets.)<br /><br />So why don't I just clock out, punch out, go home, shrug off the albatross or noose and just play with the kids more? I guess I just want to do my dead level best. My wife thinks I try too hard. I tell her that if I didn't, then students would see through me and mutiny ("<span style="font-style: italic;">What's he know</span>? He's a farm kid from Ulysses, for cryin' outloud.")<br /><br />I wouldn't be so moved by money if it were not that we are in dire straights. Nine people live in our house. It's a two bedroom house with a converted garage. Six of us sleep on air mattresses in the basement. We don't even own a car; instead we borrow and mooch vehicles from family. We cannot even pay all our own bills, depending on the fixed income and limited resources of our housemates and family to help round out the utilities and groceries. I feel ill if I pay $10 for a bunch of socks. Most all my wardrobe is from Goodwill. My kids think hand-me-downs and thrift store clothes are just the norm. I don't even own a lap top or mobile device at all. The closest I have is a 5 year old iPod that was given to me by the college for training and deployment.<br /><br />There's just too much I want to do for my kids to be living like this. I want to give them a good life. I want them to never be embarrassed by our situation. I want them to see the coast, to go on vacations, to be able to afford new shoes sometime.<br /><br />Just writing all this makes me furious and depressed. GROWL. *sigh*dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-28440405969719239792012-03-06T15:54:00.003-08:002012-03-06T16:05:37.744-08:00Out of ControlI have not ever thought of myself as anything of a control freak. I've never considered myself one of those people to shun change or otherwise cling to the safe and known. (Thus spake the born/raised/permanent Kansan?!)<br /><br />I am finding, however, a particularly sticky wicket in parenting: control. I knew it was coming. I knew it even when my wife was first pregnant. I figured it would spiral out of control the more I was away from the house, the farther the children strayed from the bosom.<br /><br />I was right. I am still in the early pains of it and I know there is much more to come. That does NOT make it any easier or more palatable.<br /><br />What's so out of control in my home and fortress? TELEVISION and COMPUTER TIME.<br /><br />This is worse than losing the battle on pop, on bed time, on co-sleeping, on toys....because to me, these are stealing the very childhood right from under the kids. They are exposed to such horrors through television that I won't even write about them here (again). Computer time is now so charming it is winning them from the great outdoors, even from board games and 'rasslin' with daddy.<br /><br />I hate those two elements in my home. I think they should be regulated (not by the gov't!) very strictly, frankly even as cautiously as PORN. (Maybe even more rigorously, if you really want to know my opinion.)<br /><br />I know and believe in the educational powers of these media. One can make great gains with Mavis Beacon or the History Channel. I'm all for those. I'm just hating on everything ELSE.<br /><br />You know I'm miffed as much as I've used ALL CAPS in this post.<br /><br />(sorry for the rant)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">listening to Daft Punk "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger."</span>dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-28871019702299541842012-03-05T14:03:00.002-08:002012-03-05T14:08:22.614-08:00Ladle Rat Rotten HutAnguished English<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/Lh90razD6p4?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" width="640"></iframe><br /><br />This is a dynamic exercise for anyone, to use 'real' words to substitute for actual words of a fairy tale, poem, etc. They must sound similar. It's a great practice to stretch one's language skills to the extreme.<br /><br />I first encountered this when in Linguistics class.<br />I also was exposed to it when learning to teach others to read.<br /><br />I find it intriguing, and I like to commit passages of it to memory.<br /><br />Oil ketchup wetter letter!<br />(I'll catch up with you later)dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-19802654694042491232012-02-26T22:51:00.003-08:002012-02-26T23:14:03.814-08:00I see youSo, yes, I turned 50 this last week.<br /><br />The thing is (and everyone says something like this) I feel like a kid inside. I mean, at the risk of being too vulnerable, I have the same insecurities, the same marvels, even some of the same social constructs I had as a kid. This, of course, makes me wonder...<br /><br />Does that all important public leader still feel (like I do sometimes) that he is just fooling everyone, that he's not really all that important or empowered? This happens to me sometimes in every role from teacher to parent, from good citizen being wrongfully pulled over to man moving peers to be better servant-leaders. Underneath it all, I'm still wondering if they like my kewl shirt, man.<br /><br />Does that intimidating clerk, that authoritative banker, that omniscient doctor, that brilliant researcher--fret over whether people <span style="font-style: italic;">like </span>them? Do such people fuss with their smile in the mirror and get all anxious over a little zit? Do they try to hide farts? Do they fantasize they are Indiana Jones?<br /><br />Sometimes (just for a split second) I think I can see through the veneer, the mask, and identify the wee person inside who is just as sensitive as my pre-teen self. We are on opposite sides of a big desk, both of us suited in our meet-the-attorney fatigues, both of us frowning just-so at the paperwork between us...but <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >I catch a glimpse of a kid who loved Spaghetti-O's and comic books and racing a bicycle through puddles.</span> I see a wounded spirit<span style="font-style: italic;"> just wanting to be good pals</span>, if only we didn't have to work and pay bills and pretend to be all grown up. On the inside he's saying, "I think you're hair's cool." On the outside, tapping his pen on the foreclosure forms, raising a practiced eyebrow, he's saying, "The confluence of your amortization matrix suggests imminent capitulation of all fiscal holdings."<br /><br />I just want to say, "I see you. I have a frog in my pocket. I like girls because they taste like cotton candy."<br /><br />Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Cotton Candy!dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20626832.post-60260630941952917962012-02-26T03:47:00.002-08:002012-02-26T03:59:26.833-08:00What's in there?I seem to be bristling with pseudo-psychology and paranormal poop lately--must be a sign of old age. Then again, it could be my listening habits. This morning on early morning AM radio, I heard a person talking about Jungian psychology and a well-documented line of thinking I'd never entertained before. In that broadcast they were describing young children who accurately reported images and icons that they had never been exposed to. These kids had seen such things in their dreams, then analysts had recorded descriptions from the children (even sketches) of hieroglyphics, runes, petrographic phenomena, even mathematical symbology. The theory is that we have a collective conscious that spans generations. We are all subject to these thoughts-not-ours, but children are less likely to be blinded by limited thinking, thus making them more receptive and more likely to remember the stuff of dreams.<br /><br />I wonder, when my kids have tried to tell me things, what's happening in the old noggin. I think they are trying to find ways to connect with me, so they may be telling me more of what I respond to, less of what I never acknowledge in life (dust bunnies, for instance, are present, but never a major topic of discussion). I wonder what all they are seeing and remembering and picking up on in general that they have no schema to communicate. It's sad because all that may get left in the dust as their little brains are bombarded with commerce and otherwise as they scramble to be accepted into the 'norm.'<br /><br />I do a lot of outside thinking, and I am commonly struggling for the words or associations to communicate what I'm wanting to share. I've seen this a good deal in my kids, too, as they are searching for words or ways to express. I've marveled at it when they are at a peak of emotion (sadly, usually wrath) and I try to get them to articulate just what they are experiencing. Maybe this not-yet-words-for-it syndrome I see in my kids is partly due to a stream of content that is never finding traction in the western world we are residing in. They cannot tell me about their encounter with a sphinx because they do not have any way to articulate it. Hmmmmm.<br /><br />I wish we could get a mind tap that worked without cultural bias. Like portrayed in so many bad '70's movies, it would be a device that showed the imagery of dreams and deep sub-consciousness. I'd really like that!<br /><br />Maybe that's what poetry can do?dejavaboomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00188116228786800823noreply@blogger.com0