Canadians Come to Minnesota...

...to get arrested. (Side note: kind of scary how much he looks like Taylor....)
Maybe you saw this story, maybe you didn't. It seems that NHL superstar Eric Staal, his brother Jordan, and 12 other men were all arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct while attending Eric Staal's bachelor party.
Now the party was held in Northeastern Minnesota at Lutsen Resort, which, according to some sources, is a hot spot for Canadians as it is great place to fish, golf, and even dog sled.

What I'm fascinated by, however, is not that these guys traveled two hours to a different country to party, but that a few them were underage drinkers who decided to drink here instead of Canada, where the legal limit is lower, and they don't really card....
Beyond that, the cops warned them to stop before citing them. Here is the official report:


On 07/21/07 at approximately 12:30 a.m. the Cook County Sheriff's Office received several complaints in the area of Lutsen Resort and Sea Villas. All complaints were similar in nature, and reporting the same incident; a group of approximately 20 people screaming, yelling, and playing loud music.

At approximately 12:50 a.m. Cook County Sheriff's Office deputies arrived at the Lutsen Resort and Sea Villas. The suspects were warned multiple times to be quiet or they may be removed from the property, issued citations, arrested, and/or deported from the country.

At approximately 3:00 a.m. staff at Lutsen Resort and Sea Villas ordered the group to leave the property, as they were not obeying the warnings they had been given. Cook County Sheriff Deputies, a Minnesota State Patrol Trooper, and a United States Border Patrol agent assisted with the removal of the suspects. After leaving the property, the group gathered on Highway 61 and began harassing passing motorists.

At approximately 4:00 a.m. the suspects were placed under arrest for disorderly conduct and obstructing the legal process. Some of the suspects fled in to the nearby woods.

It gets better. So they were warned, but didn't pay attention. Ok, but how do you explain that after leaving the property, with the help of a state trooper and a Border Patrol agent, they got in more trouble? What kind of agent says, "Oh, you're Canadian? Well...let's just move on back home, eh? You guys shouldn't give any trouble...."

I just want to know what "harassing passing motorists" means. Is it like the film Porky's, which is considered a Canadian classic, and these guys were streaking down the highway? Was it more like the film The Program and these guys lay on the center line of the highway? Or were they just like little kids and throwing beer cans and rocks at passing cars?

It almost makes you wish these guys had just gone to Windsor.
So, let's look at the score sheet for sports for the last two weeks:
NBA: Dealing with a referee who was in with the mob and bet on games
MLB: Steriods, plus the death of a coach at a game
NFL: Michael Vick...'nuff said
NHL: A superstar in the making and his pretty well known little brother are arrested for partying a little hard

Doesn't look too good for sports.

So remember: If you're Canadian and you're looking for a place to party, come on down to Minnesota, but when they give you a warning...pay attention to it.
Namaste.

Harry Potter and the Nation that Stopped Working

People are skipping out of work to read the new Harry Potter book? Really.
Look, we all know how it ends.

Here, let me spoil it for you.

Enjoy, and namaste.

Ramblings for the Morning (7/11/2007)

Haven't done this in a while, so I figured I should bring it back.
So, without further ado: OMICRON!
---------------------------------------------
Fred Rogers Ruined Your Life:
Ok, before we get started, go and watch this video. Done? Ok. Now I'm not going to get all angry and shout from the mountain tops, but there are two major issues I see here:

1. Morning News Shows: It's not just Fox and Friends. Most of the morning shows out there are way too long and have very little content. Yes, there should be a news show in the morning that gives information, because information is power. However, on average these shows are three hours long and have maybe 30 minutes of actual news. The result is a a weird amalgam that's hard to watch.

"...and so the final toll is 30 dead and 64 injured."
"Oh, that's so terrible...coming up next we'll look at common household items you can use to make a Halloween costume for your cat or dog." This is then followed by some horrible fake laugh.

It's nothing new. All morning shows are completely devoid of true intellectual content. They are designed for you to be able to listen to while doing other things. Truly deep thought would require concentration, and that's not what they want. Why? Because you might then question what they are saying.

The problem I have, however, is not really with these shows. The problem is....

2. Where the Blame Lies: It is not the fault of Fred Rogers, Big Bird, and Dr. Spock that kids and younger adults today have narcissism issues. That kind of thinking lets parents and society off the hook. Can you imagine how people will use this?
"Well, sir, Mr. Rogers said I was special no matter what, so it shouldn't matter that I bombed the presentation."
"You can't be mad at me, mom, Big Bird made learning entertaining, but Mr. Smith is boring, so that's why my grades are bad."
"Your honor, my client did rob the liquor store, but his parents listened to Dr. Spock, so Mr. Smith here was not disciplined like most children. Therefore, he cannot be considered guilty of this crime."

It is, for lack of a better term, rubbish.

If you watch the clip from Fox and Friends, you can see that they make fun of the survey at first, but after the break, they suddenly take it seriously. They even ask, later on in the broadcast, a doctor about her opinions. Instead of calling it rubbish, she says, "Well, it didn't hurt anyone really," and she pauses for a second and then rushes in, "But it didn't help either."
Sigh

Look, here are the biggest two factors to the problem:
1. Parents. Too many parents want to be friends with their kids instead of being their authority figures.
Look, people. Hang up your cell phones, stop dressing like your kids (for God's sake, you're in your forties and your kids are teenagers. Take off those clothes and dress like an adult), and start telling them, "No." I am so sick and tired of parents trying to rationalize a discussion about certain topics.
"Well, I didn't want her to stay out until 1, but we talked about it and she told me I was being unfair, so I let her stay out."
Just say, "No."
I mean the absolute worst I have ever heard was a parent wanting his child to think he was cool, so he got his own kid a fake ID so the kid could go buy alcohol. Of course the dad also said he enjoyed helping, because he had someone else to drink with at the bar.

If you don't show these kids that there are boundaries, then they will never stop.
Too many parents are afraid to take a stand because then Little Jimmy or Janet will say, "I hate you."
Again...get over it. Teach these kids what Copernicus knew: the world revolves around the sun...not you.
Be a parent. Yes, you must give up time from your life, but that's what happens when you're a parent. Deal with it.
However, you are not alone in your blame. The blame also falls on...

2. Society. I am guilty of this as well, but our modern technology is primarily self-centered. MySpace, blogs, Facebook, Twitter. They are all about the person writing. Look at what I am thinking today, look at what I am watching, etc. MySpace asks you to put all this information about yourself out there for people to see. It's all about, "ME."
Beyond that, however, look at our TV shows. If you're a sports fan, the number one show worldwide is ESPN's Sportscenter. What highlights do you usually get on this show? Is it a baseball player laying down a perfect bunt to move a player to third base? No. It's the guys hitting home runs, striking out batters, and making shoestring catches. The guys who do the fundamentals are forgotten.
How about pro football? Celebrate the Offensive Linemen? No, we get the touchdowns, the interceptions, and the big hits.
The worst, however, is basketball. It's all about dunks. That's why people who watch and want to play don't care about the jump shot anymore. They care about the dunk. It's totally a me-first attitude.
The final problem is that of the adults themselves. We are all guilty of not truly being adults. Too many people who are in their thirties and forties try to rationalize ways to act like teenagers. There is a very strange fear among people my age and slightly older about being called old. When we're young, we all want to get older faster, but once we do, we freak and want to be young again. Personally, I don't need to go get drunk every weekend. Do I own a video game system? Yes, do I play it everyday? No.
So, these kids and younger adults look to us, and we act like children, so why shouldn't they?

It will get worse. People will become more and more self-centered, but it is not the fault of a man like Fred Rogers, who only wanted to help us learn, nor is it the fault of Big Bird or Dr. Spock. I learned how to count to 12 through the song that was on Sesame Street. The one with the pinball. I didn't even know I was learning.
We are guilty of hubris, but anyone who thinks that because we're told to think we're special is the reason we're so egotistical is trying to hide from the real reasons.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Short Lived Death:
The NAACP held a funeral the other day for the "N" word. While I think that this is a wonderful thing, as the word is derogatory, I believe it will not work and will be short lived. Why? Because the word has been assimilated into culture. Kanye West, Diddy, Denzel Washington, Little Kim, or Cedric the Entertainer could all come out and say, "Don't use the word," but it won't matter if even one popular artist uses it.

I was in downtown Minneapolis on Monday, and I was walking down Hennepin behind two African-American men who were discussing the funeral and its implications. After guy #1 talks about how wonderful it is, guy #2 turns to him and says (and I am direct quoting here, so not talk of me being racist now):
"Nigger please. It is about time."

I discussed this with a colleague of mine (who happens to be black), and he said that while a great symbolic gesture, he thinks it won't work either.
"The NAACP is assuming that kids and adults will actually pay attention to the news about this and take it seriously. Most won't."

Now I like getting rid of the word, but I have to ask: what happens to Huck Finn? Is he just "Jim" from now on?

I hope this sticks, but only time will tell.

And finally:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vermont is About to Make Some D'oh:
So Springfield, Vermont is going to be the home of The Simpsons. Good for them. It's a little strange (and I was sure that Massachusetts would win). Still, the contest video (which included a giant, pink donut rolling away) was funny.

The question is will this make money for the town? Will people come there solely to see the "home of Homer Simpson" and such?

Will Arlen, Texas embrace Hank Hill from King of the Hill? That could be interesting.

Anyway, congratulations Vermont. Use the money wisely.

Then again what do I know? I live in a state where no one really wants to shoot a movie. I could be wrong.

The Blog Gets Rated

Really?

All because of: Hell, hurt, murder, gun, and death?

Well, at least I have proof that I'm adult-only now.

Via.

Namaste.

Southern Comfort with a Side of In-Law

There is a small town, just after drivers cross the Iowa border into Missouri, called Eagleville. Right off of 35, you'll find a truck stop diner and a gas station. It's almost stereotypical Middle America. You walk into the place right into a bunch of hunting gear. The restaurant, which is to the right, has a bar which has the same three guys wearing vests and trucker hats.

It was here that my adventure to see my in-laws really got started.

My wife and I were in separate cars. My wife's grandfather bought my old SUV, so she was in the van with my son, and I was in the truck (as she really hates the SUV). About midway through Iowa, the heat shield for the muffler decided that eight years was enough and started to peel away from the car (rather, one side rusted off) and occasionally bounced off the street leaving some sweet sparks.

Thus we stopped in Eagleville to see if we could help the situation. From the second I walked into the place, I felt like I had a giant "NL" (Northern Liberal) on my chest. Everywhere I went, people stared at me. They ignored my wife, who is from Missouri, but they kept after me. When I bought my stuff, they checked my id. Even better, however, was the guy chewing his Skoal out front and watching my work on my car.

"What're you think you're doing?" he asked, then spit in his cup.

"I'm just fixing my heat shield so I can finish my drive and cut it off when I get to my in-laws' house.

"Why don't you just cut it off now, boy? What you're doing is just...stupid."

And this prepared me for my lovely time in Missouri.

There were two and a half important events while I was in Missouri:

1. My wife's friend's wedding (the reason we said we were going),

2. My son's first birthday party (the REAL reason we went), and

2.5. My wife's cousin leaving her baby daddy (more on that later).



Let me sum up as best as possible.



The Wedding: My wife's friend Aimee married a guy named Gary. From the moment I met Gary, I didn't like him. He's smarmy, a lush, and divorced with a rather...chummy ex-wife (that is to say that if the rumors are true, though they are divorced, they have a weekly tryst). Even worse...we look alike. During the rehearsal dinner (which was just a bonfire with some wings and watermelon), people kept confusing us. "You look like my dad from behind," Gary's daughter said to me. Then she handed me the dog which would be the ring bearer.

See, here are the other issues I have with Gary:

1. He's from West Virginia, which isn't a problem, but he fits the stereotype when he starts talking about shooting rabbits on his driveway to pass time. I'm not kidding.

2. Everyone in his family...and I do mean EVERYONE...is divorced at least once, but the average is twice.

3. His niece (from his older sister) is only 15 and pregnant, and they have narrowed the father to one of four guys. Gary's response to this? "At least it's not a black guy." Sigh.

You get the idea.

So why is this a problem? Because I love Aimee dearly. Of all of my wife's friends, she is the easiest one to get along with and usually makes wise decisions. My fear is that she will know divorce rather soon.

Anyway, the wedding itself was nice...sort of. While my wife was asked to man the guest book, I was handed the dog. My job (which I wasn't so much asked to do as had thrust upon me) was to hold the dog, the leash, which matched the bridesmaids' outfits, and the rings. Remember: the dog was the ring bearer. The dog didn't mind me, but the people running the show in the house where the ceremony was being held really hated the dog.

Now, the ceremony itself was outdoors in Missouri in June. That is to say it was sunny, hot, and humid. I was wearing a suit and in direct sunlight. I probably lost ten pounds (and my wife and mother think this may have led to my sickness). After a fast ceremony where the preacher told the groom, "if you ever mess up, I'll take you hunting...and not come back with a deer (insert uneasy laughter here)," the group moved inside into two rooms. Room 1 was the crowd who could have alcohol, while room 2 were the Mormons. I'm not kidding.

The positive here is that I had a fantastic and awe-inspiring conversation with Omar, the husband of one of my wife's old roommates. Omar is Muslim and wanted to talk to me about Christianity and Judaism (he heard from his wife that I had a mixed family). In turn, I wanted to learn more about the Muslim faith. So, in front of Mormons and others alike, Omar and I had a rather loud and animated discussion about religions. This disturbed everyone around us as we discussed why Islam and the Muslim faith don't really mix.

The rest of the wedding was uneventful except for the groom's mother attempting to grab my ass as I reminded her of her, "ex-husband, who was great in bed...and had a great ass."

The post wedding party was boring as hell for me. My wife and I joined others at an Irish pub where we were separated at the table and told to "be funny." She on one end, I on the other. That was it. We were entertainment. The difference, however, was that most of these people knew my wife really well. They knew nothing of me. After five hours of entertaining, I had to beg my wife to leave. "I don't want to tell anymore jokes, honey. Can we go?" I pleaded. We had also left my son with my in-laws all day, and I was convinced that he would be holding a gun and a deer when I got home.

The Birthday Party: There were balloons, cupcakes, and presents. A typical birthday party as it were. However, there would be over fifteen people attending my son's first birthday party, and all of them were my wife's family members. Cousins, aunts, uncles, great aunts, etc. I was barely able to hold my son during this party. Everytime I got him, a member of my wife's family would swoop in and take him.

"Well you get to have him all the time. I only see him once or twice a year....Fork him over."
Sigh.

This is where the "half" of the trip comes in. My wife's cousin, her baby daddy, and their child came to the party. Brayden (not misspelled) is three months younger than Poozer. He has a flat head, an expression of Autism (I can't think of another way to describe it) on his face, and he also showed up to the party with a big burn mark on his cheek. As my son was playing with everyone and pointing at my brother-in-law's stuffed leopard and shouting , "ITTY," my wife and I learned that Brayden's burn was the result of (and I put this in quotes as this is what they told us), "curiosity. He picked up my (the cousin's) cigarette and shoved it into his face. It was weird."

I think my jaw hit the floor, because my wife elbowed me really hard in the ribs. I literally bit my tongue.

In my opinion, the cousin has Munchausen Syndrome, where a parent will hurt his or her kid in order to get attention. The detective in me says that the cousin or the baby daddy got angry and shoved the cigarette into the kid's face. It was too big to just be him touching his face. Plus...anyone with kids knows that anything a kid grabs goes to the mouth first. Yet, his mouth had no burns.

It was also during this party, as my son was dancing to music on the TV (the entire family was watching a Nascar race while my wife, my son, and I were opening gifts. We were shushed at one point as Jeff Gordon made a pass. Several members needed to hear the commentary on the pass.
Sigh.
Anyway, as my son was dancing, the cousin announced to most of us (with the baby daddy out of the room) that she would be moving home with the baby...sans father. It seems that for two months, she was cheating on the baby daddy with some guy she met at a concert. The baby daddy didn't know about this guy and had actually been working two jobs to support his new family. Now, he doesn't know how often he'll get to see the child as the cousin doesn't want him around the kid at all. I sense a horrible life for young Brayden.

As the party went on, my son was able to open the last of his gifts, but the family wanted my wife to hold him and Brayden together. This did not go well. They were ok for a few seconds, then Brayden started pushing my son. So my son pushed back. So Brayden attempted to shove my son off my wife's lap, so my son went to bite him. Of course, Brayden's mother freaked out and tried to yell at my son. I was not having it. I calmly told her to take her kid, sit down, and be quiet. Everyone looked at me as though I had screamed the N-word in a room full of African-Americans. You see, ever since she had her kid, no one gets in the cousin's way.

My wife and son had a great time. They saw family, were centers of attention, and more. I spent my son's party defending my discussion with Omar about the Muslim faith with people who feel that most Muslims are terrorists.
Sigh.

My wife wants to move closer to her family. I think a four hour drive is close enough (that would be St. Louis).

This is the stereotypical issue of our marriage. We get along with our in-laws very well, but neither one of us wants to be close to them. The problem is that my wife holds a trump card. I moved us to Minnesota, so if we move again, she can make the decision. The only rules are that we can't live in the same town as a family member, and we can't live where my son will have a problem (like Texas).

I hate feeling this way. I don't believe that I'm better than anyone, but as I left Eagleville, MO, I had the distinct feeling that I was smarter and in a better place than most of the people in that diner. Maybe I'm just crazy that way.

Then again what do I know? I feel that Nascar is just 200-500 left turns. I could be wrong.
Namaste.

Fourth Down

I am alive. I actually just had to deal with a rumor at my high school that I was dead. Finally, I've overcome whatever I had (though it left me with a hematoma in my right eye, so it looks like I was stabbed in that eye), and I feel better.
Today was the Fourth of July, or Independence Day for those of your who need titles. So why didn't I feel like celebrating? Why didn't I care? It's true I'm not the most patriotic person, but I really couldn't have cared less.
Both my wife and I were off work, and my son's daycare was closed, so the three of us spent the day together, which was nice...except for dealing with drunk boaters at the lake near our house.
You see, there's a small beach and playground near where I live, and as it was a nice day, we figured we'd take Little Leab out and let him frolic a little. Maybe he could cool off with a nice swim.
The little lake (a part of Twin Lake) was packed. Families, boats, and people galore were almost on top of each other. Now, I didn't have a swimsuit on, but my wife did, so she took Poozer into the water.
He hated it. Flat out screaming hated it. He was clutching on to his mother for dear life. When she sat with him in the water, he was fine, but when he stood on his own...forget it.
Of course it didn't help that there was a group of college and high school kids creating huge waves using a boat. They would point and laugh as kids or adults fell. Then they came in close and started yelling at people to get out of their way and their sight. My wife and I were not targets, though one wave did almost knock her over. Still, it angered me to watch these kids act as though they had some sort of privilege they really didn't.
The Fourth didn't get much better from there.
In the end, the only really enjoyable part was watching the Boston Pops fireworks special with my wife. Why? Well, outside of the fact that we didn't have to go anywhere (raising a kid is tiring...and he couldn't go out, he needed to sleep after his big day), there was a moment when the cameras cut from the fireworks to the crowd, and the old couple who were dancing moved away and instead the home audience got to watch to kids making out and getting ready to round second and head to third. You could hear the director thinking, "Wow...this is awesome...and there are kids watching. Shit! There goes my job...change the camera."
Still, while I am proud of the 231 years of this country, I am mortified with where we are now. I think that's why I'm not super celebratory on this day.
Just look at the news right now. Here are some fascinating items:
1. An American is celebrated at Coney Island because he can stuff more hot dogs down his gullet than a Japanese man. Yes, Kobayashi was able to win the title six years in a row, and I'm not going to go into a rant about how eating is not a sport, but this is ridiculous. ESPN carried the whole event and even interviewed the people participating.
ESPN Schmuck: "So...when was the last time you ate?"
Random Participant: "I had a hot dog and some water for breakfast. Got to have the stomach limber."
Seriously? We celebrate this? We cheer for the fact that an American (a blue collar construction worker no less) won the event. We marvel at the footage of the former champion having to eat his own vomit to stay in the competition. Let me say that again: He had to EAT his own VOMIT to stay in the running for the title, and the news & sports stations showed it over and over again...even in slow-mo. So, we have all of this literature and media out there telling us that obesity is a major problem in this country...and yet we celebrate this "competitive eating." Never mind that another problem occurs after the contest is over. Many of the contestants have admitted to not keeping the food down. Essentially they binge and purge. Great, they're sorority girls.
Still congratulations, America, you have an eating champion.
The other story of the day that just sucked out the love was the woman in Kansas who was stabbed and received no help. Beyond that, she was passed over by five people, including one person with a cell phone who just took her picture and moved on to finish shopping. What?! Seriously? Have we become so self-absorbed in our lives that we now don't care or notice when a person is seriously hurt? What I'm more amazed at is the woman getting her picture taken on a cell phone while she was down. What is the rationale? What was the person thinking who took the photo?
Look, I could rail on and on about how we are losing ourselves as people. My wife, for example, noticed that people are excited about Sony's new online server called "Home" in which you can design an apartment (a home as it were) and invite people over to hang out. This is all online. "Why not do this in real life?" she asked naively. "Can't people come over to play?"
"You assume," I replied, "people have the ability to interact outside the game world."
Back to the point: we no longer care about anything outside our own little world. When was the last time you did a good deed where you weren't pushed into doing it? I don't mean calling a loved one before they call you. I mean donating cash to a battered women's shelter for the heck of it. I mean seeing your fellow man short of change and giving them the change they need.
I don't see this happening anytime soon, which depresses me. More people care about Paris Hilton and her jail time than all the problems we have as human beings. This is why I don't feel patriotic right now.
And no, this doesn't mean that I don't support the troops and all that b.s. This means that I'm frustrated with humanity (or the lack of it) I am seeing from people around me.
Then again what the hell do I know? I made some guy feel bad about himself for almost stepping on my son. I could be wrong.
Namaste...and happy Fourth of July.

Anger Trumps Coma

I was in a coma Sunday. This is what I'm calling it for lack of a better term.

You'll recall (unless you're a new reader), that I cannot stand the medical side of life. I'm convinced that the medical world is out to get me in some way. Be it embarrass me or extend my sickness. Let's sum this up quickly:

*Five days of fever. Never higher than 103, but never lower than 101.

*Aches all over the place, but the worst were in my neck. Imagine feeling like your neck is severely out of place, but you can't pop it back in because the muscles around it are swollen.

*Throat pain, where you're always dry, but when you drink, it feels like sand.

*Fatigue and dizzy spells.

So I went to Urgent Care as it was in the same building as my son's doctor's appointment (he turned one recently, which means more shots). After a short hour long wait, I was weighed ("Eh...you're around 200...good enough. Let's go!"), and the nurse and I then moved into a room, where blood was taken. Then I was left alone for a period of time. I can't be certain how long, because my watch stopped. Tired of being looked at so much, and unable to file a sexual assault complaint for being looked at so much, the watch committed suicide. Thus, I sat there for an unknown time.

In the end, the doctor came in, looked at the chart, looked at me, and said, "Well...it's not Strep, it's not Mono, so...well...here's some Amoxicillin and if that doesn't cure it, then come back."

I wish I was kidding.

Because of this, I was in a coma until last night. I couldn't work. I went from freezing cold to unbearably hot in moments. It sucked.

Now my wife wanted to give me comfort (and some white noise) so she turned on the TV in our bedroom. I listened to The Simpsons for a few minutes, and then passed out. When I next woke up, my coma abruptly ended as I heard that one of my students died over the weekend. I sat up when I saw her picture. Samantha was in my English her Freshman year. She was bright, but sometimes withdrawn (it was a morning class, and she sometimes had a strained personal life). Still, she came to me even after the class was over, and, even this past year, we talked once or twice a month. Samantha would often come to my advisory (like most of the kids who want to talk to me), and we would chat about school, or her life, or whatever. She was happier now, or so she told me.
This was why I was upset. A student who was too young and still so full of potential was killed in a meaningless event all because someone couldn't contain his or her anger. That woke me up.

Still, I was sick, so it was time to go back to sleep. However, the clothes I was wearing were soaked through (sweat does that). So I got up to change (much to wife's chagrin, which was announced to me through a loud, "What the Hell are you doing?!" from downstairs). No problem, it seemed. The world was ready to let me go back to the sleep...then the announcer said, "Paris Hilton and Larry King. The first interview!" It was presented in such a manner as to say, "She's free, and now you can learn about her ordeal." I could see the carnival barker screaming, "Come one, come all. See how the blonde socialite who cried for her mommy has suddenly changed. Find the heart, see the lack of Coke on her nose, and learn to love your inner-Paris! Come one, come all!" This led to more waves of anger. Sickness, on top of a student I really cared for dying, on top of Paris Hilton being treated as though this was a HUGE ordeal. This is not world news. If she had been stabbed and died...then it's news. It's the same with this whole Chris Benoit deal. If steroids caused him to murder his family, then that's news. No 'roids...no need to keep showing him and his son together.

So I was angry and that brought me out of my coma. It hurt like hell, but so what? The world will do that to you.

Here's another picture of my adorable son. One of the current reasons why I don't just explode. He was also the reason I was able to go back to sleep that night.

Namaste.

No Longer A "Baby."

My son turned one on the 2oth. He's officially a Toddler now, as his doctor told us. Time to move away from bottles. It's all about milk now (whole milk at that) instead of formula. Table foods (well, he's been doing that for a while) are on the menu.

It's so strange looking at him now versus the day he was born. See for yourself:









The picture on the left was his second day alive, the one on the right was taken by a gal at daycare on his birthday. Yes, the hat is cheesy. We bought is for him, because the women at daycare refer to him as, "Prince William." This is because he is:
A. one of the only boys in the room,
B. the only really cute AND nice boy,
C. "William" and there was a "Harry" in the room once upon a time. (Get it? English Princes?)

And yet, it's still odd to me that I am a parent. Don't get me wrong, I love my son. I still feel that I am not worthy to be a parent. That somehow I'll screw up and cause irreversible damage to him. But I also know that my sister and my parents and their parents all felt the same way. At night, when the darkness creeps in and the brain burns off the excess images stored in it, we have horrible dreams about children falling or getting hurt. Even worse, is when something happens. On Saturday, my wife went out to garden and took Little Leab with her. He was playing on the patio, and then fell off into the wild roses. He was lucky. No thorns got stuck, nothing in his eyes, but he did get scratches on his face and hands. In fact, as my dorky self would point out last night during bath time, "It looks like the Harry Potter lightning scar." And it does...but that's not what you're supposed to think about. Of course it also looks like the cats went to town on him.

Parenthood is tough, but it's fun. Strange but true. It's fun.

Of course what do I know? I'm still waiting for my nineteen-year-old self to show up at my door and beat me senseless. I could be wrong.

Namaste.

And Happy Birthday, Little Leab. I'm glad you were born.

Summertime...

and the living is not so easy.
So school's been out since the 13th, but I haven't posted. "Why?" you all ask. Ok, the one reader left asks....whatever.
As soon as school ended, my wife and I took off for Kansas City. Yup, went to see my in-laws. That, in itself, was a whole different story (which will be the next post).
Other reasons for not posting? Well, in the course of the last week, I got my first case of Pink-Eye (never had it before...to my knowledge), had a fever of 102, and started a class to finish my second license (Theatre). Here's the fun part. While having Pink-Eye and that temperature, I still tried to go to class. My wife feels I'm...what's the word...an idiot. On Monday, I couldn't keep my eyes open while trying to explain technical theatre lessons. Then yesterday, I could barely stand up and could feel my brain burning as I tried to explain more lessons. You see, I'm the only technical theatre person in the class. I'm also the only person not doing professional theatre right now, so I'm at a disadvantage. Even worse is the segregation. Yes, the dreaded "S" word. As I am a techie, I sit by myself on the other side of the table. No one wants to sit with me. Yes, it could be the sickness being easily seen, but predominantly it's the techie label.
As a side note, I hate being sick. Who doesn't? Still the fact that I have Pink-Eye is funny to me, because it makes me think of South Park. If you're a fan of the show, you'll recall there was an episode where zombies attacked the town, but everyone thought it was Pink-Eye. I found myself wandering around St. Thomas wanting to say, "Piiiinnnnk-Eyyyyyye."
The end of the school year? It went well, I guess. It was anti-climatic, and I'm not thrilled with how my students did overall. I also enjoyed the things they wrote on my final evaluations. They were quite funny, and some were even original.
That's all I got right now. I'm going to go pass out now.
Namaste.

Travel Plans Change

My wife, son, and I were recently visiting my parents on the East Coast. For the first time since he was born, my son was on an airplane. It is amazing to me, now that I am a parent, to see how people will react to a baby. I admit that in my younger days I, too, was not thrilled about flying near small children, but I also realized that the parents would do whatever they could to make the flight as smooth as possible.
The flight out found the Leab family dealing with annoying, college-aged kids. "I swear to God," the guy across the aisle from me says to his friend behind me," If that baby cries, I'll kill his mom...even if she is good-looking." The friend responded, "I HATE flying behind kids. There should just be a separate section for them."My son, however, decided to sleep for the two and a half hours. Nary a squak.
On the way back, it was a different story. Little Leab didn't want to sleep. He did, but only after some reading and some playing. The issue on this flight, however, was the child of the same age across the aisle. Yes, another set of parents was on the plane, and their child was not as good-natured as mine. Throughout most of the flight, this child, who was the same age as Little Leab, screamed and hollered. At one point, the people behind my wife and I whispered to my wife, "Thank God your child is so good." That brought about a nice feeling of pride...I admit it.
Still, now that I am a parent, travel is completely different. Three years ago, I stepped on a plane to fly to New York with next to nothing. I believe the bag I was carrying had six pieces in it, a combination of clothes and books. For this past trip, I had to check a bag. I had another bag that was dedicated to only my son. Books, clothes, his favorite stugged monkey, and more. Again...weird.
My father is the perfect example of what I am getting at. He boards a plane, heads to the back, and stretches out and is left alone. He travels with nothing. This was not always true, however. When he and I used to fly together, he would always have this little, gray suitcase, This was what he used to take me to the next destination.
This also goes for car trips. six years ago, I surprised my wife by showing up for Thanksgiving at her house instead of working on a show. I packed up that morning (two changes of clothes...that 's it) and drove the seven hours. With my son now, It takes time for me to just take him to daycare. Is his stuff in the car? Is he buckled in right? Etc, etc, etc.
Maybe the one college kid is right. Maybe we do need a whole separate section of the plane for just kids and parents. Movie theaters now run "Mommy and Me" shows which are just for parents, so why not allow a place where a woman can breastfeed without people freaking out? Wouldn't that make the people on the plane happier to not have to deal with the crying children? Should we stop there? What about restaurants? Separate kids' sections. It might work, but it reeks of segregation.
I don't know, dear reader, you tell me.
Namaste.

Sweeping Away the Cobwebs

Wow...I've been gone a month. A whole month.
A great deal has happened too.
Work is work. Much like Michele, I have been counting down to the end of the year. My seniors are done. They have nine school days left, and they are letting it be known. My freshmen, however, are also done...at least spiritually, though they have another two weeks after the seniors are done. It's hard to discuss poetry with kids who would rather be out in the sunshine. In their defense, however, it's hard to prepare poetry lessons when you would rather be out in the sunshine.
So what's been going on the last month?

Jerry Falwell died...and Hell welcomed him with open arms.
Ok, ok. I became middle aged. How? My wife and I bought...sigh...a minivan. A nice, silver Nissan Quest with all the bells and whistles. Still...it's a minivan. Again, somewhere my 19 year old self is preparing to show up and beat me up and ask, "Where the hell has your life gone?!"
On the other hand, I won a Nintendo Wii. No, not from Vita.MN, but from a contest at a comic book store. I stopped in to buy my sister a copy of the new Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic (where she is, the closest comic book store is easily an hour away), saw the contest, and thought, "Hey...what the hell." I ended up winning a Wii, Extra remotes, and 2000 Wii Points. My wife thinks my lucky streak is coming back.
Way back when, I used to win contests all the time. Not in the same way my grandmother won. See, she and my grandfather went to Las Vegas a long time ago, and the guys running the hotel recognized my grandfather as a big-wig at GM. So they asked him, "Sir...how much do you want the little lady to win?" That would never happen nowadays. Back to the point. I was lucky. I won a giant pearl by picking the right clam. I won toys, comics, money, and more. The absolute shining moment was when I won a car. I was six years old, and my mother bought me a coke. I opened the cap, and won a Ford. Unfortunately, my mother and I made the mistake of having me turn in the cap as a prize. The dealership we chose was able to say, "Oops...the kid won, not the mom, so we don't need to give out the prize." It was sad, but that taught us both a lesson: Always have a good game plan, and always know how they can screw you.
What else? My son is rapidly moving toward his first birthday (only 32 days away). It's strange watching him change. He couldn't move without help not too long ago. Now, he can almost feed himself.

With work, and personal life, and everything else, I think Tom hit the nail on the head when he changed his link to me (which by now is probably gone) to become "The Invisible Man." I thought about Ellison at first, but that was not the intention. He meant Griffin from Wells' The Invisible Man. And it's interesting, because most people don't really look beyond the Sci-Fi aspects of the story to see that the character is in fact tragic. A brilliant man, Griffin discovers how to become invisible, only to lose his humanity in the change. In some ways it reminds of Doctor Faustus, the Christopher Marlowe story. Both characters have brilliance and can change the world...but both use their gifts for personal gain. Faustus ignores salvation because of its simplicity, and Griffin loses his humanity (and his brilliance) because of his need to gain power and other human wants.

Am I saying that I have become mad and power hungry? No. However Griffin keeps attempting to rationalize what's happened to him. Even as he can no longer do the basic human elements (such as sleep, for he sees through his eyelids), he attempts to use logic. That's how I have been feeling. I haven't been writing...but that because of how busy I am. If I am no longer busy, however, what then will I write about? This is the logical paradox I am in currently. It's also that, my like the title's character, I have not been able to write lately. This is really the first time I have sat down and had the time to try and write in a month. I thought about it during the last parent/teacher conferences, but I was really busy. We had a first come, first serve setup, and we had SO MANY parents come. For me it was parents worried about their kids not graduating. It's good to see that they care.

So here is my promise, dear reader. If you are willing to stay with me, the pieces will flow in again as Summer begins. That I can promise. There will be tales of things that have happened, interesting observations, and questions cheerfully answered.

Namaste.

Ramblings for the Evening (4/17/2007)

Sigh.
Blogger is killing me. I'm leaning toward just creating a website. Yes, I ended up having to move Blogger because something went all kerfuffly, and I couldn't sign in to old Blogger.
No sir...I don't like it.
So, without further ado: MAY DAY!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Technical Difficulty:
Yes, I understand the severity of what happened at Virgina Tech. My issue here is not about what happened. That's been covered by so many other people. No, my issue is with the students who were interviewed on the major stations (NBC, CNN, etc.):
Kids, if Brian Williams, or Soledad O'Brien, or whoever is talking to you, you need to take the gum out of your mouth while talking to the nice news person.
There is nothing more frustrating then having to listen to the snapping of your gum and the chewing sounds you make as you attempt to move the gum around your mouth.
Take the gum out. It's a few minutes of your life. I think you can go Trident-less to discuss the atrocities you saw. Nothing says stupid kid like:
"So I heard the shots," popping sounds, "And we ducked in the building, "chewing sounds, "And we were scared." More chewing sounds.
Sigh.
You'd think someone from the network would prep these kids.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Playoff Hockey:
I love playoff hockey. Yes, the Wild, up until tonight, were getting manhandled. However, I think it's telling when the newspapers in New York are making mention of the fact that the officiating of the Minnesota Wild/ Anaheim Ducks matchup has been "poor...at best."
During tonight's game, a Wild player was sucker-punched, another Wild player was locked in a fight...when another player (from the Ducks) jumped in to fight. Beyond that, many sports pundits have pointed out that the referees have been one-sided toward the Ducks. Goals have been taken away, penalties have been ignored, and goons have been liberally used.
Tonight, Kim Johnsson gets sucker-punched by Brad May. If the NHL doesn't suspend May, then the system is broken and all the pundits are right.
Yes, there needs to be passion. This is when guys have dislocated fingers popped back in so they can keep playing. This is when guys tell the trainers to sew up a cut so they can get back out there. It's also a time when coaches put out their goons as a message (and it says something that the end of the game featured the Wild's bruiser, [he's no goon] in the form of Boogaard).
All I ask is this: Don't let the games be decided by the refs. Mr. Bettman, you asked for referees who are by the book. This seems to be why Kerry Fraser is not working the playoffs. You want by the book? Then they need to make the calls. If a goaltender is pushed down as a shot is about to be unleashed...that's a penalty. Get the refs on the ball (or puck as the case may be).
And finally:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
File It, Dammit!:
Remember...you only have one hour left to get in those taxes.
Namaste.

Ramblings for the Evening (4/4/2007)

Tonight's post will be in the form of mini-letters. Read on, Macduff.
So, without further ado: CONTACT!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Joe Nathan:
Sorry Bat Girl, but this needs to be said.

Dear Joe Nathan,
There are reports that your wife is to give birth tonight. That's amazing. I have been through this wonderful process, and it is awe-inspiring. However, what troubles me is that you have made yourself available for tonight's game.
Did you really agree to come in to the game if your wife was either nowhere near or totally done birthing your child? Really? You're going to monitor the game during the whole process? Really? You've had two nice saves this week already, and I get that you want as many as possible (and the Baltimore Orioles will give you chances). Still, what if you leave...and then miss the birth of Riley? It's not like you can shove her back up in there and watch it again. And recording it isn't the same.
Look Joe, or Mr. Nathan, or Natty...whatever you go by, don't do it. Stay with your wife. It's the third game of the season. This game will not decide the WHOLE season for the Twins. If it does, then there are serious problems with the team. If it were September or October, then it would be different, but it's not, and this is not.
Stay with your wife. You can make up this save later. Lord knows that you're good enough.
And no, I am not an Orioles fan trying to help the Twins. I'm a Mets fan, so I don't really care about the Twins. I just don't want to see you miss an amazing and important event that you will regret if you miss it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Minnesota Rednecks:
Wow. I had heard that you existed, but I really didn't want to believe it. Now, I have seen the proof, and it saddens me.
What is it with the old "Stars and Bars" that you all seem to love so much? You're in the North. Almost as North as you can go, and yet you have a Confederate flag on you in some way. Sure, there was the guy I met at Alleygator's with the Confed tattoo. Now I'm seeing people put the flag in the form of a Dodge symbol on the back of pick-up trucks, t-shirts declaring how the wearer is "proud to be a 'true' American", and even hearing a guy ask the painting consultant at Home Depot, "I want to paint a Confederate Flag. What colors do I need?"
Maybe I'm stupid, but I think you just need blue and red. Regardless, what is the fascination with this flag?
It's not just the flag, however. It's also what you're wearing. I'm not talking about cowboy boots with shorts (though that is odd). No, I'm talking about shirts with arrows pointed to your biceps asking me if I have my tickets to the "Gun Show" yet. It's about the Arctic Cat jacket that smells of stale beer and cigarettes (hey, this almost sounds like a country song) that you wear even when it's 60 degrees out.
It's about treating everyone around you like crap, because you think you deserve to be able to do that.
I don't approve of the flag, but that's me. I don't care about what you wear, though it does help point you out (unless you're in high school...or being ironic, which most of you really are not). This is about you acting like the stereotype. Just because Britney Spears turned into an idiot doesn't mean you should.
Here's what I suggest: Learn proper ettiquette. Don't walk down the aisle at a place like Home Depot, fart as loud as you can, and then yell, "That was me, y'all...enjoy it." We won't. We'll look at you and realize that you'll probably breed and then weep at the future of mankind.
And learn to drive your damn truck. It's called a turn signal...try it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Hollywood:
Dear Hollywood,
I have stood by you over the last few years as the quality of your films has dipped. I have defended you, even in the face of films like the Psycho remake, the Godzilla remake, and more. However, the films that you have coming or have out right now, are really pushing it.
Yes, 300 was entertaining, but only if you shut your brain off.
We have another Will Ferrell comedy where he is the lovable underdog. We've seen this at least once a year now.
My current issue, however, is the pushing of this film Disturbia. From the moment I saw the trailer, I became quite angry. Why? Because I am a film enthusiast, and I love Hitchcock. You have taken a beloved Hitchcock film (Rear Window), and, unlike The Simpsons, you are not paying homage, but directly ripping off and attempting to set it in modern times. Let's see:

Rear Window: Man trappped in a wheelchair thinks he may have witnessed a murder committed by his neighbor. With the help of a spunky love interest, he investigates.

Disturbia: A rebellious teen trapped in his house by house arrest thinks he may have witnessed a murder committed by his neighbor. With the help of a spunky love interest, he investigates.

Wow. Looks very similar.
My faith is wavering, Hollywood. We have 80's cartoons being remade, we have remakes of classic films that have been "tweaked" to bring in the teen audience, and the only films that seems to be any good now have to have a Brit in them (and I mean an someone from England, not a girl named Brit).
Transformers will probably make money. Everyone my age or slightly older will say, "Dude, I need to see how they do it!"
The many, many sequels due out this Summer will make money (Fantastic Four 2, Shrek 3, Die Hard 4 (Really? We need a 4?)
And what's the deal with the choices on remakes? Escape from New York is a classic. Don't you dare remake it. Make it the third one: Escape from Planet Earth. We have the film on DVD. The modern public doesn't need a remake.
What's happened? Maybe I'm a film snob, but there really aren't many films making me want to get to the movie theatre. I have a good setup at home, I'll wait, and I'll rent. Even the action flicks.
Fix it, Hollywood, before you lose a lifer. There's a reason why many of us talk about Kurosawa, Hitchcock, Fellini, and Spielberg (before he lost his mind...come on...War of the Worlds?) and are wistful.
Make this right, or I can't defend you any longer. Critics better pan Disturbia, and the film better bomb.
Then again what do I know? I like the film M AND Carpenter's remake of The Thing. I could be wrong.
Namaste.

Betraying America

You'll recall Marvel Comics' Civil War that I mentioned in a previous post.
The war is over, and one side has definitely won.
Quick recap:
The United States Government decided, after massive deaths at a school in Stamford, Connecticut, that all superheroes would register with the government. This meant every hero would:
1. Reveal his or her secret identity to the authorities,
2. Accept training from the proper authorities, and
3. Hunt down heroes who don't register as enemies of America.
The heroes of the universe split into two groups. One group, led by Tony Stark, better known as Iron Man, agrees to join the government. The other group, however, is led my Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, which surprised...well...everyone. Captain America is supposed to represent America, but in this case, he makes himself a traitor to the country he loves (he did it once before where he resigned and became "The Captain") because he truly believes that what the government is asking is violating civil rights. Remember: Steve Rogers is about representing the ideals of America, not its government.
The two groups battle each other over the course of a few weeks.
Spider-Man reveals his true identity to the world...then changes sides when he sees the plan the government has for the heroes who don't change: Prison 42 (think Gitmo, but in a different dimension).
The heroes on the Registration side clone Thor (the Norse God), and, due to faulty wiring, he kills one of the heroes.
Villains are recruited to help the government capture heroes who have decided not to register.
In the end, the heroes have a huge fight that ends when Captain America surrenders. He realizes the damage the heroes are causing, so he orders his side to give up...and they do.
There are even farther reaching reprecussions as well.
Spider-Man's family is attacked, Captain America is assassinated while walking from court, Tony Stark turns out to be a war profiteer, and now, to be a hero, everyone must reveal real names.
What I am fascinated by is not the war itself, but the message Marvel Comics seems to be sending with it. Let's look at the facts:
Captain America, the very essence of America given human form, is killed. Is Marvel saying that America is doomed?
The guy put in charge of the government office to oversee the heroes (and who led the winning side of the war) was able to make millions off the destruction of a city and the death of innocents. Iron Man even betrayed his friends to do so. So, the people in charge of the war are, in fact, evil in a way. Is this a commentary on our current political setup?
The Registration Act itself is a thinly-veiled take on the Patriot Act (with the reasoning for the act an allegory for 9/11).
The other issue is how Marvel maintained that both sides were equally right, but neglected to look at the heroes on both sides.
The most popular heroes in the Marvel Universe were on the side of those against registration.
This included Captain America, Daredevil, Spider-Man (once he realized why it was wrong), Wolverine, and the Punisher.
The heroes on the other side, outside of Iron Man and Mr. Fantastic, were not the most popular. Is this saying that while some heroes disagree, the ones we like the most will always be on the side we (meaning the general public) like?
I also find it fascinating that the Punisher, who many consider a ruthless killer, may take up the mantle of Captain America as seen here. Is this saying that to defend America, we need to be ruthless in our aggression?
Should these comics be considered treasonous? They make the representatives of America (Captain America, above all) into criminals, and they attack this "beloved" act that protects our citizens, or so we have been told.
If you get a chance to pick them up, do so, and let me know what you think.
Then again, what do I know? Iron Man is at my front door, and I need to register or go to jail. I could be wrong.

Disconnected

Disconnected by Idlewild
But I'm connected to the places I don't feel connected from,
I'm connected to the place that I don't feel like I'm from.
This is the kind of town where everyone knows each other,
and everyone hates that they know each other,
and no one's getting any younger.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It really is amazing to me. With my wife out of town (she's now back, but leaving again very soon), I was a single parent. This meant I had very little free time.
However, as I sat with my son, or worked on grading finals, I realized something: I'm disconnected from this new world of technology, and I'm not sure that's a bad thing.
Oh, I have this blog, I know how to search the web and such, and I actually own some technology (I traded in my cup and string for a phone...crazy...I know), but I can't really go beyond that.
What do I mean?
Many people are now a part of Twitter. The only question to Twitter is, "What are you doing?" You're supposed to answer at random times of the day using your phone, IM, or the Web.
Here's a little known fact about Twitter: There's a bar by Northwestern University that projects the Twitter broadcast of NU students on the wall. That's right, people sit in the bar and write to each other in order to see their posts put up.
"Dude...that's me! All right." (And Geeky hi-fives all around.)
I understand why so many people love Twitter, but let's be honest: It's essentially Instant Messaging that also works on phones...but wait...you can do that already.
More connection? How about myspace and facebook? Many of my students and some of my colleagues and acquaintances have pages on these sites that they constantly update (almost by the hour as one student told me).
The authors of a few of the blogs I read (and link to on the right) have Twitter, myspace, or facebook pages. That's for them, and I salute them for it, but I cannot do it.
Why?
It feels like a leash. No matter where you go, unless there is no web or cell service (like where I went for my honeymoon), you'll feel the addiction pulling you. Stop posting, and people will start to worry.
I love this blog, but I don't necessarily feel I have to post all the time. Do I feel bad if I go so long that Tom has to yell at me? Sure, but I don't feel as though I HAVE to post everyday. I want what I say to be polished, not rushed.
The other reason I don't use those sites is that, as I have said before, I believe in face to face conversation. Sure, we cannot all be in the same state, but when you are, wouldn't it be easier to meet instead of just text?
Maybe it's just me.
However, my disconnection goes beyond just the web. As a single parent (that is when my wife is not here...which is happening alot more now thanks to her work), I find that I want to spend time with my son and ignore everything else.
You have to understand: when I was nineteen, I was sure that I would end up traveling the world as stage manager or technical director and not have time for a relationship. I was also sure that staying with just one person forever was going to be the death of me (this was after my Ex and I went through all of our crazy stuff). Now I'm a parent and watching my son discover the world is better than anything. I'm sure that if my nineteen year old self appeared and saw me now, he'd kick my ass (and he could...I was a lot more muscular back then). I just keep thinking about my son. For example, today he learned that if he wants the cat to continue to sleeping next to him, he can't bite the cat's tail. We, as adults, take that for granted, but imagine what's happening in his brain.
The disconnection also comes from my former life.
Go to a movie? Maybe this Summer.
Write in the ole blog? If I'm not too tired after putting my son to sleep and all my grading is done.
I will say that I find it fascinating that most of the bloggers around here know each other, and many of my readers...well...they've never met me. They would have no clue if I walked into them. It's not a bad thing, but it is fascinating to me.
This may not make sense to some of you. I know a few people who cannot go a day without talking to a friend or calling someone.
That's just not me.
I don't mind being alone. In some ways, solitude helps to clear the mind and allows reflection.
Too much can be bad, that's true, but I don't see it yet.
Disconnected isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it's just me.
Namaste.

Snow Day!!!

Yes, boys and girls, my school district has called tomorrow a snow day.
I don't know if I can explain how giddy I am.
I feel bad for my students, however.
Regardless of the lost day...finals start Monday.
If you need me, I'll be making snow angels.
Namaste.

In Between Winks

In so many ways.
Beatles - I'm So Tired

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink
No,no,no.

My insomnia feels like it's getting worse. If I wake up, that's it for me. I'm up. I think it's stress related, though it could also be medical. Part of it, I will admit, is my own pride. So many people, like Tom, tell me to take prescription drugs to sleep, but if I do that then I am admitting I cannot control my own body. Yes, Virginia, I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to myself. Funny story. When I had my wisdom teeth out, I just got local. I stayed awake the whole time, talked to the doctor occasionally, and watched the procedure in his safety glasses. I didn't want to be so loopy I'd lose the day. Hell, I went to work on Friday with a temperature of 101.
Is my mind on the blink? It feels like it at times. My brain has been slipping in classes and such. Have you ever been able to think so fast that your mouth can't keep up? That's where I'm at lately. It makes me sound drunk as I say things like, "Odyfeus," as I am trying to talk about Odysseus and Polyphemus (read The Odyssey, book 9, boys and girls).
I've been told that the best thing to do if you wake up is just try to make yourself go back to sleep, but that just makes me miserable. I'm in bed, but my mind is going so fast that I might as well do something (hence the writing...because if I grade like this, my kids will be destroyed). As for a drink...no thanks.

I'm so tired I don't know what to do
I'm so tired my mind is set on you
I wonder should I call you but I know what you'd do

Unlike The Beatles, my mind is not set on someone, but people. There's a hierarchy, but it's not hard to share some of them:
My wife, who I worry is unhappy (I know she doesn't like it here), and is getting stressed. I try so hard to keep her going, but is that damaging me? Is it bad if I think that?
My son, who I worry about because he's just starting. He is unaware of the evils of the world, and I feel this fight in me to both protect him from them but to also expose him to them so he isn't ignorant. What is the world going to be like for him? The world has burned and hurt many of my family members. I don't want him to have that happen to him.
My family, who I worry about for so many reasons. My parents' health and sanity. I see how they are now that they are orphans and I'm not sure I'm ready to be one. My sisters' different lives with different troubles. I want to protect them, but should I? Can I?
Some of my students, who have insane lives. I feel guilty for thinking of myself when they have such troubles to overcome.
Me. If I lose my mind, how will I know? At what point do I stop myself and say, "I can't help you anymore...I need to help myself first," instead of ignoring?

You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind

It's longer than three weeks, but the message is clear. My father doesn't sleep. That's not true, let me rephrase. He doesn't sleep like a normal person. If he misses a day...no problem, he moves on. He goes to bed around 4 or 5 AM and gets up at 9. He doesn't show the effects of this with other people. We see it in the family because we recognize what to look for, but he keeps going. I sleep around four hours a night, and I'm starting, almost two years later, to hurt. I can't catch up on sleep, and I hate that term. You cannot catch up on sleep. The sleep lost? It's gone.
It's starting to affect me at work. My patience is growing thin with the ignorance of some of my students. I have not yelled at my son or my wife because of this. Should I feel guilty that work is where I'm working it out?

I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset
Although I'm so tired I'll have another cigarette
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh
He was such a stupid git.

Ok, I don't smoke anymore. I did in college. It was actually what I did when I couldn't sleep. Recall that I lived alone in a house. Next door, however were apartments. There was a girl (there always is) who I had a crush on at the time. Alissa. We actually went on a few dates, but it didn't work out (I freaked her out...but that's another story). I used to go out in my back yard and hit the hammock with a cigarette. Alissa's fire escape overlooked my yard, so she would come out and join me. Usually I'd go up to the third floor (where her apartment was) and we'd talk about the randomest things. It was calming.
Now one thing she also liked was that I brought free cigarettes. Yup, I never paid for them. You see the local tobaccoist owed me for helping him woo and marry his wife. He was so grateful, he gave me free cartons. Made me popular until I quit. I brought her cigs as an exchange for the good discussion. Not many people enjoy debating with me, so it was nice.
In all honesty, I hated smoking, but it allowed me to meet and talk with some people, so I didn't quit until long after I wanted to. There are still some times when I want one, but other than a cigarello in Germany in 2004, I haven't had a cigarette since 2000. (Yes, Virginia, I'm no fun. No drinking and no cigarettes.)
Incidentally, the mention of Sir Walter Raleigh is that he introduced Tobacco to England thus helping the Brits to smoke. Of course, I also think of Raleigh in that he was wrongfully imprisoned. That's how I feel with this insomnia.
At least I know that if I go to Hell, I already know my punishment.
That is...if there is a Hell. The Greeks may have been right: Perhaps living here on Earth and having the ability to contemplate the evil ways of everything and everyone around us is hell enough.
This is what happens when a mind starts to get too tired. Rambling.
Then again, what do I know? I'm a stupid git. I'm probably wrong.
Namaste.

Luigi Descending a Staircase

I make my feelings on modern art widely known. Most of it, to me, is utter crap. In fact, it's less about what the artist did and more about defending it. Seriously.
This also applies to magic. David Blaine...you are not a magician. I'm sorry. Being underwater for several days in a glass bubble is not magic. Magic is about illusion. There was no illusion there unless it was the disappearing money to whatever TV station and corporations gave you money for that stunt. However...I digress.
Modern art has gotten odd as of late. However, I found a collection that I really like, and I'm betting Margaret will too.
If you're a fan of video games, in particular Nintendo games, then enjoy i am 8-bit.
Need some good examples?
Ok. How about Donkey See, Donkey Do, Mario's Lament, and Frogger.
If you're an old school video game fan like myself, then enjoy the art. After all...this is art (at least in my opinion).

Ramblings For the Evening (2/24/2007)

The theme of tonight's Ramblings is people. Unexpected or otherwise.
Let's do it.
So, without further ado: DESTINY HAS CHEATED ME!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Getting Older:
My wife and I went to see Frank Caliendo last weekend (more on that later). With our neighbors watching our son, and with some time before the show, we decided to head to Solera to grab a drink. Now, I haven't been out to a bar since a few weeks before my son was born. It's not like riding a bike. From the moment we walked in, I felt uncomfortable. Why? I don't know.
Maybe it's because it's been so long since I've been at a bar.
Maybe it's because of the noise.
The more I think about it, however, I think it's because of the faces of the people. The place reeked of a desperation. Hmm...that's not right. It reeked of a need.
The place was packed, so my wife and I made our way to a corner of the bar. One stool was open. As we made our way, the young gentleman sitting next to it turned, saw us, turned back, and threw his jacket on the other stool.
"Are you saving this?" I asked already knowing the answer.
"Yes. It's for a friend who isn't here yet."
"No problem," I said.
My wife and I stepped next to him and ordered our drinks, then we moved to the corner.
It became obvious to me (and a lot faster than my wife) that this guy didn't have a friend coming. How did I know?
-Body Language: He was scoping the bar
-Drink: Certain drinks say, "I have a friend coming." His drink...didn't.
-Position: If you have friends coming, you try and get a position where many people can gather (near a corner or tables). He was in the dead center where he could oversee everything.
The noise was horrible. I used to frequent bars when I was in college. It's how I know I've become older: They don't appeal anymore.
I watched people attempt to pick up other people (oh, and FYI: the final way I know this guy's friend wasn't coming...he ordered a drink for another woman at the bar, who was sitting near my wife and I, and asked the bartender to ask her to join him. When she moved, the jacket went away. Smooth), I watched people use alcohol in order to talk to each other.
The highlight, however, was that my upbringing took over, and I invited an older couple with nowhere to go to join my wife and I at our table. They were nice people, a couple from Rochester taking only their third trip to Minneapolis. Turned out they used to be teachers, so we talked about that (mostly horror stories).
I found it odd. Am I just an old fogey now because I don't want to cram into a noisy bar for overpriced drinks? I can get better wine in my house. I can make better cocktails in my kitchen if you need it.
It's probably just me. After the drink, my wife and I headed over to the show.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lack of Sophistication:
I like comedy alot. Hell, I try to use it when I teach. Frank Caliendo is a very funny man...usually.
Beyond learning that I can no longer really do the bar scene (God help me if I'm ever single again), I also learned when a comedian has an off night, it makes them lose their magic.
In order to get to this show, my wife decided to buy tickets for a birthday present. By sheer luck, she managed to get us front row center. It made the anticipation almost unbearable.
First up was the opener Mike Lucas. The man was incredibly funny. He told a story about being seduced by your bed and hating your alarm clock.
Then it was Caliendo's turn. He's a very funny man, but he was, in all honesty, either drunk or sick this night. He just was off. At one point, he lay down and pretended to be a muppet (and showed off his gut and underwear). This was odd (and he mentioned how the audience should leave), but then it got stranger. He sat up and said, "I forgot the rest of my act. Seriously. I can't believe I forgot my act...." It was unfortunate.
My wife was almost mortified by the fact that Caliendo noticed my laugh and did two things:
1. He noticed it and said, "Some guy over here gets it."
2. He said, "I love this laugh. You're hired."
But the night was not all odd choices and laughs. The audience was not the best, and I was quite frustrated at times.
First, there was the couple who sat next to my wife. They arrived late. Very late. As in ten minutes into Caliendo's act, which means 40 minutes after the show started. The guy was a cheeseball who smelled of bad Stetson cologne and kept pawing his date. And boy was his date interesting. She was obviously a trophy, and had the boobs to prove it. Yup, she really enjoyed showing them off (and she kept tugging at them. How do I know? Because Caliendo made mention of it). The cheeseball also kept grabbing at them and told the security guy, "Best money I ever spent. They're my new best friends." Awesome.
Then there was the rest of the audience. There's heckling, and then there's a rudeness that makes you shake your head in shame. Caliendo did his Madden impression and mentioned Brett Favre. The crowd didn't laugh...they started booing. At one point people started shouting who they wanted the comedian to imitate.
"William Shatner!" one guy screamed.
"No," Caliendo said back.
"Jack Nicholson!" someone else screamed.
"I already did it."
"Yeah," the guy said back, "I was in the bathroom. Do it again."
"No."
The best, however, was some guy who was unhappy. As Caliendo was doing his schtick, this idiot yells, "Hey...HEY! Be funny, jackass."
Caliendo just laughed and said, "I think the rest of the crowd knows I have been."
Still, what the hell is wrong with us as a society? Can't we just enjoy what these people are doing without having to act like idiots?
Could you imagine someone going to the symphony and yelling, "Play better!" at the violin section?
It's like watching people go to the theatre in blue jeans. I understand that times change, but it's an event. You should be dressing up.
Maybe I'm too old-fashioned.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sliding Away:
I'm concerned about my students. They are sliding. Yes, the year is almost over (only about 15 weeks left now), but many of them think that they can just do the minimum and get by. It frustrates me as a teacher because many of them still have a junior high mentality. What do I mean?
Do nothing all trimester, and then come to me and BEG for help at getting the grade up. I can't do it. Responsibility means that you deal with the mistakes you made. It's time to grow up kids. Deal with the consequences of your actions.
And finally:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Single Parent Goodness:
My wife is leaving for a while for work. Instead of dealing with the snow and cold (like us), she's off to Ireland and Amsterdam for work. This means it's my son and I...and no one else. On the one hand, it'll suck. I'll have a harder time getting work done unless he's asleep. On the other hand, it'll be good for me to understand what some of my students have to go through on a daily basis. How do you balance school and a child? How do you balance the child with anything else? This will be an interesting test.
I look forward to it.
Then again, what do I know? I'm just a crazy dude trying to steal another man's mojo. I could be wrong.