A few weeks ago I was lying in bed, in a light doze after a long day. I had just put down my copy of an Atwood novel and I was trying to get a decent night's sleep before I taught the next morning. About an hour after I had last looked at the alarm, I woke up to see a bright, dancing blue light on the wall of my hallway. Confused and a touch scared, I grabbed my glasses from the night table and took a closer look (I'm damn near blind without my specs). I quickly realized what the strange blue light was... the TV.
There was a problem, though. I distinctly remember turning off the TV, locking the door, and crawling into bed. However, the TV was somehow still on. With the only weapon-like thing nearby me (my keys on the end of a UVic neck-dangly-thing), I slowly crept into the living room, just in case a robber or rapist had crawled in through the patio door and decided to catch some John Stewart before he ravaged my wife and I.
But there was no one and nothing to be found. I looked all over the apartment (which took about 30 seconds), shut off the TV, rechecked the deadbolt, locked the patio door, checked the closets, and crawled back into bed. K was awake this whole time since I nearly gave her a heart attack when I got out of bed, but as I crawled in, she moved in close to me so I could feel her heart beating. We were both snoring in minutes.
So, last night before crawling into bed, I turn off the TV, lock the door, brush my teeth, and get my book out. After reading for about 20 minutes, I turned over to go to sleep.
But AGAIN, I am suddenly startled awake by a dancing blue light on the hallway wall... it was the TV again. So I'm creeped out yet again, this time grabbing my phone and a shoe while slowly making my way through the apartment with the lights on (again, this only took 30 seconds). The door still had the deadbolt on, the patio was still in its previous condition, and there were no rapist-goons hiding anywhere in the place. Remote in hand, I was just about to turn off the TV when I noticed that it was on a different channel than the one I was watching before shutting it off. I had it on Superstation (some mindless movie was helping me unwind), but the TV was on channel 5: CTV. Checking again for rapist-goons, I shook my head as I hit the power button on the remote, returned to bed, and attempted to calm K down before hitting the hay. Both of us found it extremely odd, but assuming it was just static, we decided to just roll over and ignore it.
About an hour later, I woke with a start. Grabbing K's arm out of an impulse, I sat up straight after hearing an extremely loud noise immediately outside my window. "Holy calamity," I thought, "what the hell was that?" K and I both listened carefully... I was trying to figure out if someone was trying to bust into our place. However, I soon realized I was wrong. K thought it was the fan (because the sound was bouncing off the wall into her other ear nearest our fan), but it was disregarded as simply some late-night sprinkler that went off below our window. Why it was going off, I have no idea. But in all reality, the night of restful sleep was ruined. I had to get up to lock the patio door and make sure there were no goons, but I finally got to bed after tossing and turning for, oh, an hour or two.
I don't know what this all means. I guess in my haste to brush off the supernatural in my day to day life, the karmic principle of payback is coming on strong. Why does my TV turn on in the middle of the night? That's anyone's guess. But for now, I guess I'll just have to listen more carefully to the ghosts that love to watch late-night TV.
- T
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Do you have 9 minutes?
This is a conspiracy theorist's wet dream. It's terrifying because the premise is factual, but the rest of it is fiction... so far, anyway. But just watch and think about it. Let me know what your response is.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=I_v15VV226s&mode=related&search=
- T
http://youtube.com/watch?v=I_v15VV226s&mode=related&search=
- T
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Losing my readership...
There's no doubt in my mind that it was sparse to begin with. Maybe even more than sparse. But to be honest, I've had little lately to talk about. Or write about.
Sure, I understand that if I was a serious and dedicated writer, there would be a plethora of opportunities to write something intriguing about the most banal of circumstances. It's like taking a photograph of some random flowers budding in spring, or of an abandoned, dilapidated gas station in a town that no longer exists. Of course there's inspiration everywhere, but just as with every transition season between school and work, I just lose the ambition to enlighten the world about my tragically intriguing life. Is that hyperbole? Or simple sarcasm?
Regardless, I'm finished coaching for the year (or so I think). My boys went to Nationals and played respectably... we finished tied for 5th in Div. 2 among 16 teams, so not a total loss. We should've medalled, however. My main starting setter was out with a sprained ankle in Game 2 of Day 1. Still, we were able to shuffle people around and we kept winning. The second day proved relatively successful as well, tying for 2nd in our power pool and moved to the Championship side of our division. However, on Sunday night, two of my players were goofing around after lights out and, making a long elaborate story short, one hit his head on the concrete floor, received a mild concussion, and spent the night in the hospital with one of the other coaches. I was going to go, but since I was driving back to the Okanagan from Calgary and the rest of the coaches were on the bus, the head of our club delegated the deed to another coach, and I spent a restless night at the hotel. Did I mention the concussion happened to our best hitter/captain? Probably not... I think that's what's called "building tension". Anyway, we only had 6 healthy players left and after some MAJOR reshuffling, they couldn't pull it together and we lost to a mediocre Alberta team from an even more mediocre Alberta town. But, 5th is still decent.
Otherwise, teaching is still going alright. I've been subbing/TOC'ing a fair amount, and I can't wait to blow all the money from my first paycheque. I need stuff, and in a bad way. Well, not that bad, but I want stuff. I'm greedy from time to time, and this is one of those times. Maybe some clothes. Actually, that's all I need. Easy to please... that's me.
Okay, no more rant. If you're still reading this, good for you. Drop me an email or leave a comment and maybe you can convince me to write a random stories about, I don't know, a coyote and a turtle or something like that. Hope all is well with the few remaining readers, whomever you may be.
- T
Sure, I understand that if I was a serious and dedicated writer, there would be a plethora of opportunities to write something intriguing about the most banal of circumstances. It's like taking a photograph of some random flowers budding in spring, or of an abandoned, dilapidated gas station in a town that no longer exists. Of course there's inspiration everywhere, but just as with every transition season between school and work, I just lose the ambition to enlighten the world about my tragically intriguing life. Is that hyperbole? Or simple sarcasm?
Regardless, I'm finished coaching for the year (or so I think). My boys went to Nationals and played respectably... we finished tied for 5th in Div. 2 among 16 teams, so not a total loss. We should've medalled, however. My main starting setter was out with a sprained ankle in Game 2 of Day 1. Still, we were able to shuffle people around and we kept winning. The second day proved relatively successful as well, tying for 2nd in our power pool and moved to the Championship side of our division. However, on Sunday night, two of my players were goofing around after lights out and, making a long elaborate story short, one hit his head on the concrete floor, received a mild concussion, and spent the night in the hospital with one of the other coaches. I was going to go, but since I was driving back to the Okanagan from Calgary and the rest of the coaches were on the bus, the head of our club delegated the deed to another coach, and I spent a restless night at the hotel. Did I mention the concussion happened to our best hitter/captain? Probably not... I think that's what's called "building tension". Anyway, we only had 6 healthy players left and after some MAJOR reshuffling, they couldn't pull it together and we lost to a mediocre Alberta team from an even more mediocre Alberta town. But, 5th is still decent.
Otherwise, teaching is still going alright. I've been subbing/TOC'ing a fair amount, and I can't wait to blow all the money from my first paycheque. I need stuff, and in a bad way. Well, not that bad, but I want stuff. I'm greedy from time to time, and this is one of those times. Maybe some clothes. Actually, that's all I need. Easy to please... that's me.
Okay, no more rant. If you're still reading this, good for you. Drop me an email or leave a comment and maybe you can convince me to write a random stories about, I don't know, a coyote and a turtle or something like that. Hope all is well with the few remaining readers, whomever you may be.
- T
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Making for a long week...
The halls around the school have returned to some semblance of normal. The tears have drifted away, to be replaced by smiles that come with the beautiful spring weather we've had this past week. I even burned my scalp while supervising a phys-ed class that was in the middle of softball. There's still a lingering sense of quiet in certain respects, but to a fresh pair of eyes, it would seem like business as usual.
Last week proved to be an extremely long 5 days. Friday finally came and went with sombre footsteps as the memorial for our young student was held in town. Many students attended, but few teachers were able to due to the lack of substitute teachers in the district. Still, a few of us were there, including my principal and two or three other teachers. It was sad, frustrating, and a number of other things piled into one. But it was still beautiful, and the students were wonderful. As I always seem to do, I forget that they're simply kids trying to navigate their way through this world.
I also had my district interview this past Monday, which seemed to go extremely well. I was relaxed and, other than saying "absolutely" about a quadrillion times, I made it out unscathed and I'm officially a Teacher-On-Call (TOC). Ultimately, this was expected the whole time, but it means that I'm finally making some money, I'm an employee of my school district now, and I'm no longer simply a student! It's wonderful, and moderately scary, and exciting all at the same time. Still, until that first paycheque comes (which I hope will keep getting bigger and bigger with more TOC days), I'm still broke. Well, K and I are broke together.
I like this feeling that we're finally going to launch ourselves into the middle class. It's been quite some time in the lower ranks of society as a student living off the borrowed money of the governement and various banks/pieces of plastic. And being a TOC is kinda cool too... this past week I covered a softball class, did some portfolio-style interviewing for the grade 12's as they graduate, and I covered a Science 9 class on Friday. Tuesday I'm in during the morning for a English 12 class, so that should be fun, and hopefully the school will find me some more work for the rest of the week so I can help pay the bills.
Okay, enough rambling for now. More to come later...
- T (a.k.a. Mr. M, TOC extraordinaire)
Last week proved to be an extremely long 5 days. Friday finally came and went with sombre footsteps as the memorial for our young student was held in town. Many students attended, but few teachers were able to due to the lack of substitute teachers in the district. Still, a few of us were there, including my principal and two or three other teachers. It was sad, frustrating, and a number of other things piled into one. But it was still beautiful, and the students were wonderful. As I always seem to do, I forget that they're simply kids trying to navigate their way through this world.
I also had my district interview this past Monday, which seemed to go extremely well. I was relaxed and, other than saying "absolutely" about a quadrillion times, I made it out unscathed and I'm officially a Teacher-On-Call (TOC). Ultimately, this was expected the whole time, but it means that I'm finally making some money, I'm an employee of my school district now, and I'm no longer simply a student! It's wonderful, and moderately scary, and exciting all at the same time. Still, until that first paycheque comes (which I hope will keep getting bigger and bigger with more TOC days), I'm still broke. Well, K and I are broke together.
I like this feeling that we're finally going to launch ourselves into the middle class. It's been quite some time in the lower ranks of society as a student living off the borrowed money of the governement and various banks/pieces of plastic. And being a TOC is kinda cool too... this past week I covered a softball class, did some portfolio-style interviewing for the grade 12's as they graduate, and I covered a Science 9 class on Friday. Tuesday I'm in during the morning for a English 12 class, so that should be fun, and hopefully the school will find me some more work for the rest of the week so I can help pay the bills.
Okay, enough rambling for now. More to come later...
- T (a.k.a. Mr. M, TOC extraordinaire)
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
May and the smell of rain
I walked out the side doors of our apartment this morning. The damp air greeted me pleasantly, heavy with the scent of cedars and shrubs that spot the turf beside the parking lot. Last night had felt similar; it was cool but not cold, and although the sky was dark with clouds, the air was still, waiting to shed the weight of water it carried over the valley.
I clicked my MP3 player to the next song, and the soulful voice of Corinne Bailey Rae filled my ears, slowly and fully, like the sound of running a warm bath. My walk resembled any other day, except that it seemed like I could smell every blade of grass in the park that ran parallel to the road I walked to the bus. I glanced up as I often do, checking to see if any mischievous birds had me in their eyesight. Luckily, there were no pigeons. Just a pair of sneakers tied in a knot by the shoelaces that had been tossed up to overhang the telephone and power wires and wrap one around the other. I've always loved pictures of sneakers on a telephone wire.
The rottweiler down the road was still sleeping in his yard, so rather than greeting me with a timid bark, he rolled over as if to ignore any rude intrusions into his dreams of chasing cats or running after postal workers. I was early today to my stop, so I caught an early bus and had to transfer at the university. Although the air was nearly wet with all it's moisture, the benches were dry, meaning I could sit without worrying that my pants were going to be striped with dew. The bus out to the school arrived shortly, and after bidding a congenial hello to the driver who I've seen and talked to numerous times, I sat down to enjoy the rest of my commute and the novel that I've been reading.
As I stepped down from the bus, I was again hit with the spring smell of blooming trees and rain that had not yet fallen. Some people say they hate the grey and rain of the coast, but in spring, it's one of the most enchanting smells on the planet. I was never really bothered by the cloud or rain, unless it was during a cold snap (which, for Victoria, was rare). It was like a blanket to me, old and familiar. I used to walk in the rain when I could, just to be a part of it.
I walked through the doors of the school, again, as usual. They didn't bear the weight that they did on Monday. So up the stairs I went to get back to work. As I was gathering materials for my upcoming poetry unit, I came across a poem called, "Did I Miss Anything", by Tom Wayman, which, after asking that question in the title, goes on to respond in the body of the poem, alternating between answers of "Nothing" and "Everything". It's sarcastic and a little bit harsh, but the last stanza was ironically touching. Given the situation, that is. It reads as follows:
"Everything. Contained in this classroom
is a microcosm of human existence
assembled for you to query and examine and ponder
This is not the only place such an opportunity has been gathered
but it was one place
And you weren't here"
I smiled, although there were tears in my eyes. Last night I had spent some time reading through the news reports of the accident from Sunday, and all the commentary provided by people in the community who were either sending their condolences or were friends of my young student, rallying against reports that he was a loner. I didn't every think that... quiet, yes, but not a loner. Still, he isn't here. The tears have faded to a certain extent, but the heaviness remains.
- T
I clicked my MP3 player to the next song, and the soulful voice of Corinne Bailey Rae filled my ears, slowly and fully, like the sound of running a warm bath. My walk resembled any other day, except that it seemed like I could smell every blade of grass in the park that ran parallel to the road I walked to the bus. I glanced up as I often do, checking to see if any mischievous birds had me in their eyesight. Luckily, there were no pigeons. Just a pair of sneakers tied in a knot by the shoelaces that had been tossed up to overhang the telephone and power wires and wrap one around the other. I've always loved pictures of sneakers on a telephone wire.
The rottweiler down the road was still sleeping in his yard, so rather than greeting me with a timid bark, he rolled over as if to ignore any rude intrusions into his dreams of chasing cats or running after postal workers. I was early today to my stop, so I caught an early bus and had to transfer at the university. Although the air was nearly wet with all it's moisture, the benches were dry, meaning I could sit without worrying that my pants were going to be striped with dew. The bus out to the school arrived shortly, and after bidding a congenial hello to the driver who I've seen and talked to numerous times, I sat down to enjoy the rest of my commute and the novel that I've been reading.
As I stepped down from the bus, I was again hit with the spring smell of blooming trees and rain that had not yet fallen. Some people say they hate the grey and rain of the coast, but in spring, it's one of the most enchanting smells on the planet. I was never really bothered by the cloud or rain, unless it was during a cold snap (which, for Victoria, was rare). It was like a blanket to me, old and familiar. I used to walk in the rain when I could, just to be a part of it.
I walked through the doors of the school, again, as usual. They didn't bear the weight that they did on Monday. So up the stairs I went to get back to work. As I was gathering materials for my upcoming poetry unit, I came across a poem called, "Did I Miss Anything", by Tom Wayman, which, after asking that question in the title, goes on to respond in the body of the poem, alternating between answers of "Nothing" and "Everything". It's sarcastic and a little bit harsh, but the last stanza was ironically touching. Given the situation, that is. It reads as follows:
"Everything. Contained in this classroom
is a microcosm of human existence
assembled for you to query and examine and ponder
This is not the only place such an opportunity has been gathered
but it was one place
And you weren't here"
I smiled, although there were tears in my eyes. Last night I had spent some time reading through the news reports of the accident from Sunday, and all the commentary provided by people in the community who were either sending their condolences or were friends of my young student, rallying against reports that he was a loner. I didn't every think that... quiet, yes, but not a loner. Still, he isn't here. The tears have faded to a certain extent, but the heaviness remains.
- T
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