Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Ramblings for the Evening (01/03/06)

First day back. Why is the first day back after break always so hard.
I know, part of it is getting back into the swing of things (like going to bed before 1 am and getting up while it's still dark. Damn I can't wait for Spring.), and part of it is overcoming the inertia of the kids (that's the hardest part).
So I saw the three Weird Sisters, the Freshman who all jumped for joy when they saw me (why? I don't know.), and my fellow faculty (some of whom were happy, some of whom...not so much).
Typical first day back.
Damn I'm tired.
So, without further ado: BEBOP DE LOO...THONG SONG!
And When You Were Eight?:
I read
this article today. An eight-year-old has done everything (including the youngest to the top of Mount Rainer) but climb to the peak of Everest. What were you doing when you were eight? Yeah, I was playing with friends and doing all sorts of, well, kid stuff. Now, his parents are mountain climbers which leads me to wonder: Is this another one of those kid does it because parents make him or her.
I knew a gal in high school who was a dancer. She started dancing at the age of three. Ballet mostly. She was never really given the choice. Her mother wanted her to dance, and she did it. Every day. EVERY DAY, she danced. She was given Christmas Day and Thanksgiving day off. That's it. Now, she's a professional dancer, but throughout high school, she was unhappy. She couldn't hang out with friends after school, because she had dance. She missed her prom (She was dancing in Detroit). You know any girls in or have been in high school? Prom is huge. Especially Senior Prom, yet Nancy (not her real name) was never allowed to be with us. She even had to stop dating her boyfriend, because her mother felt it interfered with dance.
Too many kids are now shuffled into programs, because the parents don't know what to do, don't want the kid to have free time, or are unsure of what to do. I worry about some of the upcoming kids being wound up way too tight because of parental influence.
It's amazing to me, but people truly can be identified by their cars. More often than not, your car is the representation of your personality.
I was driving back from St. Paul and stopped to get gas. A car pulled up next to me with multiple bumper stickers:
"It's a child, not a choice."
"Warning: In case of rapture, this car will be unmanned."
and my personal favorite, Calvin kneeling before a cross.
It sounds crass, but I knew it was a shorter woman, and I knew she would appear meek or mousey.
I was right.
Looking around the gas station, I started looking at the cars. I know this sounds stereotypical, and it is, but I was mostly right.
Honda Accord with huge muffler and rear spoiler had to be driven by Asian-American teens. Check.
"Pickup truck with Calvin peeing on a Chevy logo." Owner would be in an Arctic Cat jacket. Check.
The one that threw me off? A gray car with a single "Ralph Nader in 2004" bumpersticker.
Who voted for Nader? Would it be a man? A woman? I know I was staring because when the owner returned, he mentioned to his buddy about, "The dude staring at the car."
He was a fat, hairy
Bruce Vilanch look-a-like. Couldn't have guessed that.
You tell me: Am I wrong? Can a car not tell us who the person inside is? If I drive a BMW, what does that say? A Pickup? A Subaru?
Maybe it's just me, but try it sometime. Instead of people-watching, watch cars and look at the drivers. The look and type of the car will usually match up with the driver.
That's it for tonight.
Tomorrow, I'll tell the fun story about how I almost married a gal to keep her in the country. Those were good times.

1 comment:

faith said...

I will have to try that. Sounds like you may be on to something!