Man’s surprising laugh
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I was led to this last summer, and I still call it up whenever I need a good "yuck yuck" (like after a long day of lecture or grading). Once in a while, I will encounter someone with a distinctive laugh like this, for I listen for odd laughs at movies, comedy clubs, etc. Enjoy!
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
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:
Meanwhile, I will do the best I can at what I do and see what shakes out of our budget.
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.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
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?
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?
Saturday, January 19, 2008
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!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Piracy and Plagiarism
I was elated to receive the film in the “Pirates of the Caribbean” series for Christmas. Though it’s silly to admit, I’ve bought into the pirate craze. I play pirates with my boys (we even dress up). I collect Jack Sparrow memorabilia. On September 19, “Talk Like a Pirate Day,” I ‘treated’ my classes to a day of pirate lore and language. Now, I’m educated enough to know that all this is myth and fancy, that pirates were swarthy at best and certainly not a people to celebrate. Nonetheless, I find myself, for lack of a better word…hooked.
However, as smitten as I may be in my mainmast, there’s a form of piracy I have no truck with: plagiarism. This is vastly different from robbing and pillaging fellow vessels at sea. Plagiarism is the theft of ideas, and the very idea of it shivers me timbers.
I am an instructor of English Composition II, and in that capacity, I teach responsible use of credible source material. I spend hours on finding and evaluating resources, and we spend even more time insuring that all material is adequately incorporated and documented—giving a nod to the original source and inspiration of the student’s research paper. We cover other material in that course, but I consider this my greatest contribution to a student’s academic future, for they will be writing papers throughout college and then engaging in professional writing all their lives. It is my greatest contribution and also my highest duty to equip people to find good support and use it correctly.
All that said, every semester I find students who operate quite contrary to everything I hold dear. These individuals, well-versed in attributing material to its source and very well-aware of the consequences of not doing so, still cheat. I am most amazed and perturbed with those who cut and paste entire web pages to word processor, then submit the work as their own (without the least bit of editing or attention to detail). In academia, this is roughly equivalent to those “stupid criminal” reports and Darwin awards. In my class room, it is absolutely unforgivable and results in a failure in the course.
As astonishing as this may seem, students are not especially disinclined toward cheating. A recent survey reported 78% of high school students had engaged in copying, submitting others’ work as their own, or resorting to some new-fangled, high tech form of cheating employing text messaging or mobile phone photography. 75% of students in traditional classes admit they have cheated (Rowe, Cheating in Online Student Assessment: Beyond Plagiarism, 2004). Schools nationwide are finally ramping up to cope with this epidemic by recasting policy and procedure. Never one to think legislation or regulation is the answer, I am fishing for what truly may be a good fix.
To me, it seems to be a cultural issue. Not too long ago, illegal file sharing was in the news, for millions of songs were being shared via download without any royalties (the rough equivalent of acknowledgement in general) returning to the artists or industry. Even after being bombarded on the news with cases of individuals being fined and imprisoned, the practice of pirating music and other files runs rampant. People shrug it off, saying it’s no big deal and the likelihood of getting caught is minimal. I know one individual who brags that he has ‘ripped’ over 300 feature films off the Internet. One of my relatives claims to have over a gigabyte of illegally downloaded music on his mp3 player.
Even at play, our culture seems to vilify cheating. Over the holiday, I played a new board game based on a popular television show. Built right into the game were two versions of cheating, namely copying and peeking. Of course, media has always glamorized the criminal element, (like, oh, say…pirates) but when this gets so very close to the class room, and therefore my line of work, I become very attentive.
If it is a cultural phenomena, like childhood obesity, road rage, and abuse of mobile phones, then I feel it should first and best be addressed in the home. It surely should not be something that is neglected until college. Students who ‘get away with’ these practices for 20 years should not suddenly be brought to task. That makes no more sense to me than legislating the drinking age.
Education on plagiarism should begin, in my opinion, with young children. It should likely start with property rights and ownership, then progress to the ownership of ideas. Somewhere there, it seems, we all just turn a blind eye. Anyone with a patent or copyright, however, will be quick to tell you that an idea is in some ways tangible and in every way something that can be owned (and therefore stolen).
I suppose I should begin by lecturing my kids while we watch Captain Jack Sparrow stealing ships from the British Navy. I should wag a finger and nag my boys on ownership and honesty.
Maybe I will, after I watch it a few more times for fun.
However, as smitten as I may be in my mainmast, there’s a form of piracy I have no truck with: plagiarism. This is vastly different from robbing and pillaging fellow vessels at sea. Plagiarism is the theft of ideas, and the very idea of it shivers me timbers.
I am an instructor of English Composition II, and in that capacity, I teach responsible use of credible source material. I spend hours on finding and evaluating resources, and we spend even more time insuring that all material is adequately incorporated and documented—giving a nod to the original source and inspiration of the student’s research paper. We cover other material in that course, but I consider this my greatest contribution to a student’s academic future, for they will be writing papers throughout college and then engaging in professional writing all their lives. It is my greatest contribution and also my highest duty to equip people to find good support and use it correctly.
All that said, every semester I find students who operate quite contrary to everything I hold dear. These individuals, well-versed in attributing material to its source and very well-aware of the consequences of not doing so, still cheat. I am most amazed and perturbed with those who cut and paste entire web pages to word processor, then submit the work as their own (without the least bit of editing or attention to detail). In academia, this is roughly equivalent to those “stupid criminal” reports and Darwin awards. In my class room, it is absolutely unforgivable and results in a failure in the course.
As astonishing as this may seem, students are not especially disinclined toward cheating. A recent survey reported 78% of high school students had engaged in copying, submitting others’ work as their own, or resorting to some new-fangled, high tech form of cheating employing text messaging or mobile phone photography. 75% of students in traditional classes admit they have cheated (Rowe, Cheating in Online Student Assessment: Beyond Plagiarism, 2004). Schools nationwide are finally ramping up to cope with this epidemic by recasting policy and procedure. Never one to think legislation or regulation is the answer, I am fishing for what truly may be a good fix.
To me, it seems to be a cultural issue. Not too long ago, illegal file sharing was in the news, for millions of songs were being shared via download without any royalties (the rough equivalent of acknowledgement in general) returning to the artists or industry. Even after being bombarded on the news with cases of individuals being fined and imprisoned, the practice of pirating music and other files runs rampant. People shrug it off, saying it’s no big deal and the likelihood of getting caught is minimal. I know one individual who brags that he has ‘ripped’ over 300 feature films off the Internet. One of my relatives claims to have over a gigabyte of illegally downloaded music on his mp3 player.
Even at play, our culture seems to vilify cheating. Over the holiday, I played a new board game based on a popular television show. Built right into the game were two versions of cheating, namely copying and peeking. Of course, media has always glamorized the criminal element, (like, oh, say…pirates) but when this gets so very close to the class room, and therefore my line of work, I become very attentive.
If it is a cultural phenomena, like childhood obesity, road rage, and abuse of mobile phones, then I feel it should first and best be addressed in the home. It surely should not be something that is neglected until college. Students who ‘get away with’ these practices for 20 years should not suddenly be brought to task. That makes no more sense to me than legislating the drinking age.
Education on plagiarism should begin, in my opinion, with young children. It should likely start with property rights and ownership, then progress to the ownership of ideas. Somewhere there, it seems, we all just turn a blind eye. Anyone with a patent or copyright, however, will be quick to tell you that an idea is in some ways tangible and in every way something that can be owned (and therefore stolen).
I suppose I should begin by lecturing my kids while we watch Captain Jack Sparrow stealing ships from the British Navy. I should wag a finger and nag my boys on ownership and honesty.
Maybe I will, after I watch it a few more times for fun.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Christmas Eve
WOW was the forecast whacked or what!? (See previous blog on weathermen and their "accuracy") We have had an estimated 6 inches of snow over the weekend. I was out in western Kansas driving literally through a blizzard. I had to take a back road to avoid a highway closing, and on that back road, two semi's and two cars were stranded...but by and by we made it to my mother's farm, and now we're all tucked in back at my farm north of Wichita.
My mom used to collect what she called, 'Twas poems. Maybe I should write one for her. That used to really make her happy. (It's these strange little things that seem to matter.) She smoked like a chimney in the pickup on the way here, 5 hours on the road. If anyone is unfamiliar, I quit smoking again just last May, so it was something like wagging a raw steak in front of a dog all day long. Added to my frustration, my poor two year old had to gasp for air now and again. (It's not all that bad, she did crack the window...and I grew up with a cabin full of smoke always, everywhere we travelled...but I don't like exposing my boys to such things in such concentrations.) My mom has to smoke outside, in the 6 inches of snow, when she visits my place.
I have a picture of the family all sitting smoking on the couch at some holiday. All of them are dead now, save my mother.
I don't have anything against smoking. It's anyone's right to do things to their bodies as they please. I sometimes have issue with those who have issue with public smoking, all the second hand smoke scare. My argument used to be a wave of the hand and some statement about how it's gone on for generations...however, sometimes I wonder what concentrations of chemicals, what alien substances, etc. are in modern day cigs. If everyone grew and rolled their own, I would still have little issue with it.
But, back to this holiday. . . a personal perspective from my family. I was once married to a 'serious Christian' who's family more-fully appreciated and celebrated a faith-based Christmas, a Christ mass. That was a very different experience than the commercialized one I grew up with and that is being perpetuated for my boys. I'm none-too-sure I'm sold on either way of celebrating, but I'm all about having a celebration. If nothing else, it's family time and I'm not grading papers!
It was a good time to get together, but as the matriarchs pass on, it seems families are doing more insular, more immediate holidays. I miss the celebrations featuring 40 people. I miss a lot of things, but then, I'm getting older.
This is the most random post I've made here, much more in the style of my lesser-site posts at xanga, etc. Sorry.
My mom used to collect what she called, 'Twas poems. Maybe I should write one for her. That used to really make her happy. (It's these strange little things that seem to matter.) She smoked like a chimney in the pickup on the way here, 5 hours on the road. If anyone is unfamiliar, I quit smoking again just last May, so it was something like wagging a raw steak in front of a dog all day long. Added to my frustration, my poor two year old had to gasp for air now and again. (It's not all that bad, she did crack the window...and I grew up with a cabin full of smoke always, everywhere we travelled...but I don't like exposing my boys to such things in such concentrations.) My mom has to smoke outside, in the 6 inches of snow, when she visits my place.
I have a picture of the family all sitting smoking on the couch at some holiday. All of them are dead now, save my mother.
I don't have anything against smoking. It's anyone's right to do things to their bodies as they please. I sometimes have issue with those who have issue with public smoking, all the second hand smoke scare. My argument used to be a wave of the hand and some statement about how it's gone on for generations...however, sometimes I wonder what concentrations of chemicals, what alien substances, etc. are in modern day cigs. If everyone grew and rolled their own, I would still have little issue with it.
But, back to this holiday. . . a personal perspective from my family. I was once married to a 'serious Christian' who's family more-fully appreciated and celebrated a faith-based Christmas, a Christ mass. That was a very different experience than the commercialized one I grew up with and that is being perpetuated for my boys. I'm none-too-sure I'm sold on either way of celebrating, but I'm all about having a celebration. If nothing else, it's family time and I'm not grading papers!
It was a good time to get together, but as the matriarchs pass on, it seems families are doing more insular, more immediate holidays. I miss the celebrations featuring 40 people. I miss a lot of things, but then, I'm getting older.
This is the most random post I've made here, much more in the style of my lesser-site posts at xanga, etc. Sorry.
Monday, December 17, 2007
My modem's so slow...
How slow is it?
It's so slow, my coffee went cold while IE opened.
It's so slow, I watched a spider form a web while IE found Blogger.
It's so slow, I had time to think of all this and do a load of laundry while Blogger logged me in.
It's so slow, I grew a beard while it downloaded a file.
It's so slow, we conceived and birthed a baby before my online course opened.
(Give me a break, I'm normally pretty creative at this hour, but I've been mired in grading, complicated by non-compliant software, computers, etc.)
But seriously folks, I am on a satellite modem, not dial up. The company claims to be 30X faster than dial up. If that is true, I pity anyone on dial up. I spend hours a day on this, teaching online, and my beloved plans to become a virtual assistant. We'd better rethink such things if we cannot get better Internet access. DSL and cable have yet to thread their way to the hinterlands. Maybe HughesNet or one of the other providers of satellite access might be better? Maybe I need to have a test conducted on ours to see if there's a glitch? (Maybe I just need to quit complaining and be patient?)
Not so many years ago I sat in front of a monochromatic display of text only, teasing out articles and information from the Internet before it was so user friendly. Back then I did not mind a 10 minute lag; it gave me hang time. Maybe I should just pace myself around this primitive modem speed. Slow down and enjoy life a little.
*sigh*
That didn't help. I have grades due. The LMS for the online courses I teach shuts off at noon today, even though we have until tomorrow to submit grades! Nuts. I'd better get back to work.
It's so slow, my coffee went cold while IE opened.
It's so slow, I watched a spider form a web while IE found Blogger.
It's so slow, I had time to think of all this and do a load of laundry while Blogger logged me in.
It's so slow, I grew a beard while it downloaded a file.
It's so slow, we conceived and birthed a baby before my online course opened.
(Give me a break, I'm normally pretty creative at this hour, but I've been mired in grading, complicated by non-compliant software, computers, etc.)
But seriously folks, I am on a satellite modem, not dial up. The company claims to be 30X faster than dial up. If that is true, I pity anyone on dial up. I spend hours a day on this, teaching online, and my beloved plans to become a virtual assistant. We'd better rethink such things if we cannot get better Internet access. DSL and cable have yet to thread their way to the hinterlands. Maybe HughesNet or one of the other providers of satellite access might be better? Maybe I need to have a test conducted on ours to see if there's a glitch? (Maybe I just need to quit complaining and be patient?)
Not so many years ago I sat in front of a monochromatic display of text only, teasing out articles and information from the Internet before it was so user friendly. Back then I did not mind a 10 minute lag; it gave me hang time. Maybe I should just pace myself around this primitive modem speed. Slow down and enjoy life a little.
*sigh*
That didn't help. I have grades due. The LMS for the online courses I teach shuts off at noon today, even though we have until tomorrow to submit grades! Nuts. I'd better get back to work.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Snow Envy
WELL!
I guess I'll just have to start ignoring the weather reports. Earlier this week they forecast an inch of ice, which did not happen here. Then last night they were sure we'd get 7 inches of snow, and we barely have 3.
I can't say I envy those poor souls in Hutchinson who were layered with ice and now 7 or more inches of snow. I am glad I have my electricity and my tree limbs, too...
However, I surely do envy my buddy in Hays, KS, where they are reporting 13 inches of snow. All my remaining work for the college is at my side or online, so I say, let it snow! (I do, I suppose, have a fickle internet sat. receiver, and I might have to climb the roof with a broom if it snowed much...hmmm...)
My father used to report some impressive snowfall from his youth. He said it snowed over the cars so deeply one could only find them by the antenna...which, now that you mention it, would be a problem for many models these days w/the windshield-imbedded antenna. He claimed there were drifts so high one could sled right off the roof of the house, down a drift to the ground. Now that's some snow I could deal with.
This powderpuff stuff is just an annoyance, especially since it's virtually been promised by weathermen that it will all be gone well-before Christmas. (Which, given their track record, should mean we'll have a white Christmas!)
Back to grading. I want to get it all done so I can build snowforts with the boys in a couple days.
I guess I'll just have to start ignoring the weather reports. Earlier this week they forecast an inch of ice, which did not happen here. Then last night they were sure we'd get 7 inches of snow, and we barely have 3.
I can't say I envy those poor souls in Hutchinson who were layered with ice and now 7 or more inches of snow. I am glad I have my electricity and my tree limbs, too...
However, I surely do envy my buddy in Hays, KS, where they are reporting 13 inches of snow. All my remaining work for the college is at my side or online, so I say, let it snow! (I do, I suppose, have a fickle internet sat. receiver, and I might have to climb the roof with a broom if it snowed much...hmmm...)
My father used to report some impressive snowfall from his youth. He said it snowed over the cars so deeply one could only find them by the antenna...which, now that you mention it, would be a problem for many models these days w/the windshield-imbedded antenna. He claimed there were drifts so high one could sled right off the roof of the house, down a drift to the ground. Now that's some snow I could deal with.
This powderpuff stuff is just an annoyance, especially since it's virtually been promised by weathermen that it will all be gone well-before Christmas. (Which, given their track record, should mean we'll have a white Christmas!)
Back to grading. I want to get it all done so I can build snowforts with the boys in a couple days.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Advent Conspiracy: Spend less, Worship more
Regardless of your faith, you may find this engaging...I'd like to strip the holiday of consumerism!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Snow Day
I dread the dawn, and yet I cannot wait…literally, I can not wait—I went out a while ago with a flashlight to look at the ice sculptures. I’ve been amazed at tornado devastation and I’ve been belittled by sweltering heat waves. Living in Kansas, I’ve experienced most of weather’s wonders. None, however, are as marvelocious as the results of an ice storm. At once both beautiful and (for trees and travelers) deadly, these ice storms we’ve had at about 3 year intervals are quite the phenomena. I have hundreds of photos of ice art, and yet I’ve logged hundreds of hours picking up downed branches and helping people displaced by power outages. There’s little else in life so simultaneously malawesome, vileutiful, and grimorgeous. (Wordsmiths help me, I cannot quite peg this. There must be a word, or we must make one, that can embrace these extremes.)
I brace for how many branches will break.
Snow days are like February 29th or that mysteriously precious hour somewhere between springing forward and falling back. I am at once grateful, yet also adrift as if the atomic clock stopped tomming. The stark white reality of a whole day off, unexpected and uncharted, pinpricks my pupils—I squint at the awe of it. Like the blank page, it is yet unwritten, unspoken, un-done…in some ways overwhelming and yet there’s a just-rightness to it, too.
A day of grace. I am the condemned man, set to smolder in the electric chair, sated from my last hearty meal, smiling when the power goes out. I am the terminally ill patient who sloughs off my bedclothes for one more dance. I am the teacher who now can sleep, for I don’t have to make deadline to return 40 essays at dawn. (Whew)
I brace for how many branches will break.
Snow days are like February 29th or that mysteriously precious hour somewhere between springing forward and falling back. I am at once grateful, yet also adrift as if the atomic clock stopped tomming. The stark white reality of a whole day off, unexpected and uncharted, pinpricks my pupils—I squint at the awe of it. Like the blank page, it is yet unwritten, unspoken, un-done…in some ways overwhelming and yet there’s a just-rightness to it, too.
A day of grace. I am the condemned man, set to smolder in the electric chair, sated from my last hearty meal, smiling when the power goes out. I am the terminally ill patient who sloughs off my bedclothes for one more dance. I am the teacher who now can sleep, for I don’t have to make deadline to return 40 essays at dawn. (Whew)
100
Who would have thunk it?
Have I really had 100 moments to blog?
I think quitting smoking has given me more time for such things; then again, I am 7 postings behind from last year's count (still have a couple weeks to address that).
When I cruise over my entries, I am not impressed, but neither am I embarrassed, which was what I expected to feel when I first took up public blogging...then again, I have a very limited readership, so it's not so public...
As I have now managed 100 posts, I am going to now pledge to be a better blogger, a better member of the blogosphere. In that aim, I'm going to, say, write back. I'm going to post more comments. I'm going to be more engaged. Maybe I'll even get nervy enough to try a carnival or two.
If I'm going to put myself out here, I had just as well quit lurking and shirking. It's time to embrace cyberspace.
Have I really had 100 moments to blog?
I think quitting smoking has given me more time for such things; then again, I am 7 postings behind from last year's count (still have a couple weeks to address that).
When I cruise over my entries, I am not impressed, but neither am I embarrassed, which was what I expected to feel when I first took up public blogging...then again, I have a very limited readership, so it's not so public...
As I have now managed 100 posts, I am going to now pledge to be a better blogger, a better member of the blogosphere. In that aim, I'm going to, say, write back. I'm going to post more comments. I'm going to be more engaged. Maybe I'll even get nervy enough to try a carnival or two.
If I'm going to put myself out here, I had just as well quit lurking and shirking. It's time to embrace cyberspace.
"Negligible senescence"
I failed a Gullibility Test over at the Museum of Hoaxes this morning...one of the stumpers was related to Turtles...the question (# 5) was simply: Do turtles die of old age? The answer is, no, they do not! Their feedback to my mistaken answer included the following insights, which I have fact-checked with my biologist office mate (and he has a PhD!).
Turtles exhibit what is known as 'negligible senescence.' In other words, unlike humans, they do not continue to age once their bodies reach maturity. (This, compared to many people, who reach maturity in their bodies, though their brains never do.) In theory, they might be able to live forever, though in practice this would never happen. Injury, predation, or disease eventually kill them. But turtles have been known to live beyond 150 years without exhibiting any signs of old age. Fish and amphibians also share this enviable characteristic.
I've been around nearly 1/2 a decade, and yet I've never known of this...that's what I get for nodding off in Biology. It reminds me of all the fantasy novels I've read, where some wizard or crone is 100's of years old--not so fanciful anymore, eh? I wonder if scientists have been trying to figure out a way to isolate/capture this trait, so that we might live longer/better lives? Surely so. I wonder if, as a side effect, one would smell fishy? Would it be worth it--to stink, be covered in scales, live in muck--if it meant 'eternal life' or at least a longer life? I've always shunned the healthy lifestyle crowd, since I've always been under the assumption that even the cleanest livin' can't twart old age.
If we can figure out what makes the turtle tick, however...
Turtles exhibit what is known as 'negligible senescence.' In other words, unlike humans, they do not continue to age once their bodies reach maturity. (This, compared to many people, who reach maturity in their bodies, though their brains never do.) In theory, they might be able to live forever, though in practice this would never happen. Injury, predation, or disease eventually kill them. But turtles have been known to live beyond 150 years without exhibiting any signs of old age. Fish and amphibians also share this enviable characteristic.
I've been around nearly 1/2 a decade, and yet I've never known of this...that's what I get for nodding off in Biology. It reminds me of all the fantasy novels I've read, where some wizard or crone is 100's of years old--not so fanciful anymore, eh? I wonder if scientists have been trying to figure out a way to isolate/capture this trait, so that we might live longer/better lives? Surely so. I wonder if, as a side effect, one would smell fishy? Would it be worth it--to stink, be covered in scales, live in muck--if it meant 'eternal life' or at least a longer life? I've always shunned the healthy lifestyle crowd, since I've always been under the assumption that even the cleanest livin' can't twart old age.
If we can figure out what makes the turtle tick, however...
Sunday, December 09, 2007
What is it with KINGS?
What could be more unsettling than being awakened (or rolling over to face) the Burger King? I find this whole presence disturbing. I know he's a pop icon, a marketing sensation, an unforgettable image...in fact, I have a bobble head of him at my desk, right now.
Nonetheless, I find him to be creepy. I found a mask of the King at Walgreens this fall, and I almost purchased it. What would I have done with it, you may ask? I don't really know...mount it on the wall? Wear it in bed to freak out my wife? Commit crimes in it to defame the character of the King? Parade around all day expecting to be worshipped? (Er...scratch that....that's every day.)
I missed my chance to blog on this around Halloween, when all-things-creepy are in vogue. I suppose it came back to mind since I am in grading mode, for this is a peculiar time of year when everything creepy seems to haunt me. I get a bit edgy, giddy, and some say grumpy about this time of the academic year.
Nonetheless, I find him to be creepy. I found a mask of the King at Walgreens this fall, and I almost purchased it. What would I have done with it, you may ask? I don't really know...mount it on the wall? Wear it in bed to freak out my wife? Commit crimes in it to defame the character of the King? Parade around all day expecting to be worshipped? (Er...scratch that....that's every day.)
I missed my chance to blog on this around Halloween, when all-things-creepy are in vogue. I suppose it came back to mind since I am in grading mode, for this is a peculiar time of year when everything creepy seems to haunt me. I get a bit edgy, giddy, and some say grumpy about this time of the academic year.Think of the other Kings we've been exposed to in marketing... wasn't there some cereal king? I remember King Vitamin, but was that a cereal or something else?
We shall close our day feeling royal.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Beat It, Just Beat It
I just watched a video on Drum Therapy which reminded me of all the ways I have benefitted from drumming. Though I may not have autism, dyslexia, or ADD, I do have my issues, and 'tis true: drumming seems to soothe the savage beast.
This time of year, for example, when money is tight, tensions are high, spirits are low, and grading is overwhelming--THIS is prime time for me to break out my drums and flail away. My boys love to pound on drums, sing, and dance, so I think I've made myself a resolution for this week...not only to blog daily (anyone noticed?) but also to drum daily. Maybe that will help me overcome some of what ails me this holiday.
I'll report back on this, in January.
This time of year, for example, when money is tight, tensions are high, spirits are low, and grading is overwhelming--THIS is prime time for me to break out my drums and flail away. My boys love to pound on drums, sing, and dance, so I think I've made myself a resolution for this week...not only to blog daily (anyone noticed?) but also to drum daily. Maybe that will help me overcome some of what ails me this holiday.
I'll report back on this, in January.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Oceanfront property in Arizona...
I am seeking ways to capitalize on my property--that's right, I'm ready to whore out 11 acres to the most lucrative offer. This is, if you know me, contrary to my nature. I was always one to think that our most treasured possessions do not have a price. I valued my privacy, my space, my "land."
Well, I am ready to sunset such thoughts in favor of more profitable performance metrics. In other words, I've recently joined the fiscally challenged and now know I must survive.
I am eager to find any and every way to make a buck from some ground. I have 4 acres of untouched pasture, and I have another 4 acres of what seems to be ready-for-crop (like hay). I am mostly considering something like an orchard, but I know that takes eons for a return on investment.
If you are considering making a suggestion, realize that I do live in central Kansas, where the weather is unpredictable, the seasons moderate, and the soil is about average.
I told the wife it would be most profitable to raise some herb, or poppies maybe, but she just gave me that look.
I don't want to completely sell out, turning my acres into a trailer park or a puppy mill. I wish I could find some environmentally friendly and responsible ways to turn a buck. There's got to be some website with "ideas for your acres" but I've yet to find it.
Again, in the words of Stanley Johnson, "Somebody help me."
Well, I am ready to sunset such thoughts in favor of more profitable performance metrics. In other words, I've recently joined the fiscally challenged and now know I must survive.
I am eager to find any and every way to make a buck from some ground. I have 4 acres of untouched pasture, and I have another 4 acres of what seems to be ready-for-crop (like hay). I am mostly considering something like an orchard, but I know that takes eons for a return on investment.
If you are considering making a suggestion, realize that I do live in central Kansas, where the weather is unpredictable, the seasons moderate, and the soil is about average.
I told the wife it would be most profitable to raise some herb, or poppies maybe, but she just gave me that look.
I don't want to completely sell out, turning my acres into a trailer park or a puppy mill. I wish I could find some environmentally friendly and responsible ways to turn a buck. There's got to be some website with "ideas for your acres" but I've yet to find it.
Again, in the words of Stanley Johnson, "Somebody help me."
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Reality Checker
Sometimes I act more like an anthropologist than a parent.
I find the interaction between my kids and their environment to be amazing. It's equally marvelous watching them interact with one-another.
There are times, however, when I must intervene. One of them will be jumping up and down on the other's stomach, or they will be torturing the beagle, or they may get a little crazy with the Christmas lights...it's a daily challenge.
For me, the challenge is to step up and be the parent.
I really am torn on this. I notice how my 5 yr old is radically different than he was at 2 or 4, and I realize often that I've influenced his changes. He will sit quietly until a commercial now, when before he had no regard for television programming. He apologizes for farts, burps and other bodily functions that he used to revel in. He is introspective and self-loathing sometimes; other times he instructs his brothers in the ways of the world--ways I wish no one had to learn, like to beware of bullies in the play place or to question the department store Santa.
I wish I was not in the role of parent, for I often regret having enlightened my sons. I really do wish we could talk with animals or fly to the moon. I wish uncle would come play for unlimited hours and that we would not need to sleep--ever. I wish it was possible to live on a diet of pop and PBJ's.
Alas, I am all-too-often the voice of sensibility, the harbinger of hard times, bringing the reality check. "No, you can't eat the Play-dough; it might make you sick."
If I stop and think about it for too long, I can get VERY GLOOMY. To chronicle and catalog every instance of dampening their spirits--now that's depressing.
Of course, there seems no alternative. If I did not remind them to put on their shoes, they might catch cold outside. If I were to let them believe everyone on earth will love and befriend them, then sooner or later, they'll get their noses bloodied. It's my job to 'look out' for them and give them direction and advice.
It's the toughest job I've every had.
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