Although I was late on one day, and had an extra day tossed in, this is the final post of the Nablopomo. 30 days of posting in a row is quite the feat for me (and too many others), considering I haven't really posted much over the past 5 or so months. But I have to say, I did enjoy it.
I think I'll leave it there. For now, anyway. K and I have had a busy week, and I'm just beat. I got to teach a couple blocks of Foods today, so I've had a fun day. That, and a great dinner out on the town, and now that I've seen the Polar Express (for the first time), I'm content to roll into bed with my book and get to sleep early.
T
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
The 7 Weird Things Meme...
Okay, so I was tagged by sten because of the "clever foodiness" of my blog name. What comes below is a copy/paste/edit job from his blog.
Here's how it's done:
a. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
b. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
c. Tag 7 random people from NaBloPoMo at the end of the Blog entry by leaving a comment on their blog saying that they've been tagged in the 7 Weird Things meme, and include links to your blog in a comment.
I apologize in advance if any of this dives into the territory of TMI... too much information. There's a good chance I'll keep it G-rated, but we'll see.
So, here goes (in no particular order)...
1) I love the smell of rotting foliage. You know... the smell of leaves and dying brush and muck that comes about in late fall and the very first days of spring. It's lovely and comforting and makes me think of pumpkin pie and espresso.
2) I have approximately 12 hairs that grow on the top of my back, which I pluck with tweezers (because they're sparse, reachable, and for some reason VERY annoying).
3) I often sing the lyrics to random commercials from decades ago in my head and even out loud. I mentioned an HP sauce commercial and a Milk commercial the other day, and that's just one. Catchy jingles are my enemy, but my wife and I sometimes recite them to each other.
4) I love giving my wife nicknames that she initially hates and ultimately ends up embracing. She used to watch a tonne of Gilmour Girls, and there was a crazy woman in the show named Babette. So, as a joke, I started calling K by the name Babette (in the most affectionate voice possible). She despised it at first, and now loves it when I call her that. A very fond moment for me when I realized that she did, in fact, like it.
5) Every chance I get, I shorted people's first names to the brief form of said name. If their name is Matthew, it's simply Matt, or Michael and Mike (so on and so forth ad nauseum). However, I hate the sound of my own name shortened. I let K get away with it, and I have an old friend that I've known forever that has always called me that.... and I guess my mom and dad call me by a variation on the shortened version, but otherwise I think it sounds quite ridiculous. Ironically enough, I called a fellow teacher (one I know moderately well) by the common shorthand of her name, and she didn't hesitate to correct me (she liked the full, unadulterated version) and explain why. It happened about 7 hours ago.
6) I often feel like I'm living in a circus, and the people around me are performers or jesters of some sort. I've asked people if they ever feel this, and I'm almost always met with a strange look.
7) I like using random terminology in everyday conversation. Words like rubbish, extranneous, spectacular, chump, and other such words. I try to work them in, sometimes in a pun or just in an explanation of whatever it is I'm talking about. For this I also get weird looks.
I'm sure there are things that are more strange (and likely more disgusting, personal grime) about me, but I'll leave it at that. Now, I'll try to randomly select a few meme victims for this. I'm not going to use the Blogroll, though, because it takes a million years to load, so I Googled "Nablopomo" and these are some of the findings...
Big Fat Deal... about the portrayal of weight in society... I like the hook!
Sophie Junction... to be honest, I thought it would have to do with something philosophy related at first (because I'm an English geek and that's what I assumed at the site name), but she had some cool artwork up, so there ya go.
Adventures of a Bad Ass... since he's a college prof, we are both in the teaching profession. And I like the blog name "badassturtle".
Life: The Ongoing Education... another clever name, chosen at random. Also a cool looking space.
And Ciboulette... I couldn't bother to spend time looking for another one, so she's my last victim! Sorry L!
Now, to bed.
T
Here's how it's done:
a. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
b. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
c. Tag 7 random people from NaBloPoMo at the end of the Blog entry by leaving a comment on their blog saying that they've been tagged in the 7 Weird Things meme, and include links to your blog in a comment.
I apologize in advance if any of this dives into the territory of TMI... too much information. There's a good chance I'll keep it G-rated, but we'll see.
So, here goes (in no particular order)...
1) I love the smell of rotting foliage. You know... the smell of leaves and dying brush and muck that comes about in late fall and the very first days of spring. It's lovely and comforting and makes me think of pumpkin pie and espresso.
2) I have approximately 12 hairs that grow on the top of my back, which I pluck with tweezers (because they're sparse, reachable, and for some reason VERY annoying).
3) I often sing the lyrics to random commercials from decades ago in my head and even out loud. I mentioned an HP sauce commercial and a Milk commercial the other day, and that's just one. Catchy jingles are my enemy, but my wife and I sometimes recite them to each other.
4) I love giving my wife nicknames that she initially hates and ultimately ends up embracing. She used to watch a tonne of Gilmour Girls, and there was a crazy woman in the show named Babette. So, as a joke, I started calling K by the name Babette (in the most affectionate voice possible). She despised it at first, and now loves it when I call her that. A very fond moment for me when I realized that she did, in fact, like it.
5) Every chance I get, I shorted people's first names to the brief form of said name. If their name is Matthew, it's simply Matt, or Michael and Mike (so on and so forth ad nauseum). However, I hate the sound of my own name shortened. I let K get away with it, and I have an old friend that I've known forever that has always called me that.... and I guess my mom and dad call me by a variation on the shortened version, but otherwise I think it sounds quite ridiculous. Ironically enough, I called a fellow teacher (one I know moderately well) by the common shorthand of her name, and she didn't hesitate to correct me (she liked the full, unadulterated version) and explain why. It happened about 7 hours ago.
6) I often feel like I'm living in a circus, and the people around me are performers or jesters of some sort. I've asked people if they ever feel this, and I'm almost always met with a strange look.
7) I like using random terminology in everyday conversation. Words like rubbish, extranneous, spectacular, chump, and other such words. I try to work them in, sometimes in a pun or just in an explanation of whatever it is I'm talking about. For this I also get weird looks.
I'm sure there are things that are more strange (and likely more disgusting, personal grime) about me, but I'll leave it at that. Now, I'll try to randomly select a few meme victims for this. I'm not going to use the Blogroll, though, because it takes a million years to load, so I Googled "Nablopomo" and these are some of the findings...
Big Fat Deal... about the portrayal of weight in society... I like the hook!
Sophie Junction... to be honest, I thought it would have to do with something philosophy related at first (because I'm an English geek and that's what I assumed at the site name), but she had some cool artwork up, so there ya go.
Adventures of a Bad Ass... since he's a college prof, we are both in the teaching profession. And I like the blog name "badassturtle".
Life: The Ongoing Education... another clever name, chosen at random. Also a cool looking space.
And Ciboulette... I couldn't bother to spend time looking for another one, so she's my last victim! Sorry L!
Now, to bed.
T
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Almost done this NaBloPoMo thing...
Apparently I was tagged for a meme by some random guy, but for now, I'm going to delay posting.
I'm sitting in front of my computer in the dark. Typically, I have the warm glow of a lamp on, or maybe the less-warm glow of the room's very typical apartment light fixture. But the night sky is a wonderful, warm orange. Snow is falling quietly and gently, and the heavy, dense clouds are reflecting the city lights back down on the earth. It's peaceful, and few people are out. It's quite soothing. The Christmas countdown is still looming... the various TV stations have begun to show the standard Christmas shows, and everywhere you look there's a Starbucks cup with the tell-tale snowflakes on a background of red cardboard.
Today was quite productive... although I only worked a half-day, I attempted to sort out the busting volumes of notes and worksheets that I piled into my office closet at the close of my practicum in June. Since the job prospects look more and more promising, I feel the need to organize my life in case I do, in fact, land a job. Hopefully this ambition will prevent any panic come February. After organizing my teaching life, working for a half-day and playing a few hours of rec-league volleyball, I was able to enjoy a few beers in front of the TV before sitting in front of my trusty Dell to pen these last reflective notes of the evening. I have a full day booked for tomorrow, which will be one of those perfect days... marking and watching volleyball in the morning, and supervising/watching a movie in the afternoon. It is for this reason (and of course, many others), that I truly enjoy subbing. Particularly for friends.
But for now, I must turn in... the calm, soothing sky is turning me into a pumpkin, so to bed I must retreat. More meme-related response tomorrow.
T
I'm sitting in front of my computer in the dark. Typically, I have the warm glow of a lamp on, or maybe the less-warm glow of the room's very typical apartment light fixture. But the night sky is a wonderful, warm orange. Snow is falling quietly and gently, and the heavy, dense clouds are reflecting the city lights back down on the earth. It's peaceful, and few people are out. It's quite soothing. The Christmas countdown is still looming... the various TV stations have begun to show the standard Christmas shows, and everywhere you look there's a Starbucks cup with the tell-tale snowflakes on a background of red cardboard.
Today was quite productive... although I only worked a half-day, I attempted to sort out the busting volumes of notes and worksheets that I piled into my office closet at the close of my practicum in June. Since the job prospects look more and more promising, I feel the need to organize my life in case I do, in fact, land a job. Hopefully this ambition will prevent any panic come February. After organizing my teaching life, working for a half-day and playing a few hours of rec-league volleyball, I was able to enjoy a few beers in front of the TV before sitting in front of my trusty Dell to pen these last reflective notes of the evening. I have a full day booked for tomorrow, which will be one of those perfect days... marking and watching volleyball in the morning, and supervising/watching a movie in the afternoon. It is for this reason (and of course, many others), that I truly enjoy subbing. Particularly for friends.
But for now, I must turn in... the calm, soothing sky is turning me into a pumpkin, so to bed I must retreat. More meme-related response tomorrow.
T
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Interesting articles on everyone's favourite church signs
I'm sure most of you have driven by a local church either in your neighbourhood or on the way to work, noticing the sometimes cheesy, sometimes funny, sometimes ridiculous phrases advertised on the marquee signs. After seeing plenty of them myself, I had a good laugh when I came across this article that discusses these signs and the general reactions they get. Being an English geek, I often laugh (or sigh) at the clever (and not-so-clever) punning that often takes place on these signs (i.e. "Happy Hour here every Sunday"). Of course, such signs are not limited to churches... there's a storage place near my house that has one with something generally funny on it all the time.
Now, I'm not really sure what it does for bringing new souls into a building... I've done little organized research (read: NONE) on the topic. But I like to think that I'm one of those people who is swayed little by advertising, so a sign would never move me to come into a church for a Sunday service. For others, though, I cannot speak.
Another fantastic blog that I've come across (as is often the case) from Ciboulette is a grammar geek's dream: The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. It's hilarious, and although the author does not judge the grammatical quality of the given signs to bring shame for the bearers' underdeveloped sense of proper punctuation, she does point out the vast variety of double-meanings that could be read when using quotation marks improperly. Sooo funny. Especially when on church signs, when they take on an inappropriate interpretation.
Although there was no work in today's forcast, I was quite productive and pleased with my level of achievement. And, there's only a trip to the gym, a cup of tea and some reading in my night's future, so it must be a good day, even though it's slushy and slippery outside and even though the bloody motor went dead in my winshield wipers!
Well, everything can't be perfect, can it? :)
T
Now, I'm not really sure what it does for bringing new souls into a building... I've done little organized research (read: NONE) on the topic. But I like to think that I'm one of those people who is swayed little by advertising, so a sign would never move me to come into a church for a Sunday service. For others, though, I cannot speak.
Another fantastic blog that I've come across (as is often the case) from Ciboulette is a grammar geek's dream: The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. It's hilarious, and although the author does not judge the grammatical quality of the given signs to bring shame for the bearers' underdeveloped sense of proper punctuation, she does point out the vast variety of double-meanings that could be read when using quotation marks improperly. Sooo funny. Especially when on church signs, when they take on an inappropriate interpretation.
Although there was no work in today's forcast, I was quite productive and pleased with my level of achievement. And, there's only a trip to the gym, a cup of tea and some reading in my night's future, so it must be a good day, even though it's slushy and slippery outside and even though the bloody motor went dead in my winshield wipers!
Well, everything can't be perfect, can it? :)
T
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Long Mondays
Today I returned to the same middle school that I was at last Thursday... yes, the day of the jinx.
I guess I'm just experiencing a strange role reversal, since Fridays are supposed to be the tough days and Mondays are supposed to be the days where kids are docile and manageable. The first block of the day was fine (and they were fine last week as well), and since it was 9am, I expected so much. The next two blocks featured the grade 8's that drained my energy last week. Both blocks were dedicated to a major poster project, which only about half of them worked moderately well on. But, not in a mood to constantly harass students into working, I let them be as long as they weren't disrupting others or wreaking havoc. Although quite fatigued at the end of these two grade 8 blocks, I smiled on the rest of the day... I was told to... watch a movie.
In all reality, if a TOC is feeling uncertain about the day or simply tired and lazy, a movie at the end of class is the perfect end to a day.
Could a group of grade 9's handle that?
In a word... no.
They were throwing paper airplanes, texting their friends, kicking each other's chairs, poking each other, prodding one another, yelling things out, talking over the movie, and pretty much every other annoying, juvenile thing you can imagine. I like to think I'm patient... I cut kids slack and won't worry about the first offense or two. However, a few of them simply persisted in doing everything possible to be a nuisance. You'd think that watching about 80 minutes of Kirsten Dunst would be a treat for most kids. Could they deal with just sitting and watching? Ummm... no.
I blame some of it on the fact that the regular teacher has been sick for more than a week and he always expects to be back for the next class (which is part of the issue... telling kids that their regular teacher is going to be back next class is pretty normal... but when he doesn't come back and another sub walks in, they immediately have their backs raised). Another was that they thought they could push me without suffering any consequences. After a 15 minute earful after everyone else had left the room, I think the main contributors to the chaos clued in that this was not, in fact, the case.
Okay, enough ranting about my mediocre school day.
After getting done at school, I felt a headache lingering in the back of my brain, and didn't feel like going to the gym. I knew Kerrie was going to likely have a mediocre work day as well, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. When she got home, this was exactly the case. Still, since we didn't go to the gym on the weekend and my Friday workout was hampered by a sore knee (too much volleyball last Wendesday, I think), I decided to go regardless. I needed to blow off some of that pent up TOC frustration.
I'm glad I did. I got to listen to one of my favourite Counting Crows songs (it's actually a cover of a song written by a friend of Adam Duritz) called "Wiseblood" on the way to the gym and enjoyed a good cardio workout with some John Mayer and Amy Winehouse in K's IPod.
Just as I walked out the door, I felt the cold whiteness of the year's first real snow in town fall on my bare legs. It was peaceful, and relatively quiet, and tremendously beautiful.
Like always, the joy of some days is just buried among our every day stresses... it just takes two open eyes to notice from time to time.
T
Lyrics to "Wiseblood", performed by Counting Crows, written by Kurt Stevens...
I'm an outcast that no one can save anymore,
And the days of my youth are all long gone by.
I was the kind of boy the devil would offer a smoke or a drink to,
Or a ride downtown to some God-forsaken land.
One Sunday morning at dawn, you know they baptized my soul
But they held me down so long, Christ, I almost drowned.
I was the kind of boy who never learned to smile so I kicked and I screamed
'Til I tore myself loose from all these great big hands, yeah.
Wiseblood knows how to walk away the wind blows
And wiseblood hears grace whisper right behind.
My mama, she turned around and said,
"Little boy you'd better wake up 'cause you're walking dead."
She was the kind of girl who never touched a smoke or a drink,
And she smouldered like an empty church left to burn in the wind.
I guess I'm just experiencing a strange role reversal, since Fridays are supposed to be the tough days and Mondays are supposed to be the days where kids are docile and manageable. The first block of the day was fine (and they were fine last week as well), and since it was 9am, I expected so much. The next two blocks featured the grade 8's that drained my energy last week. Both blocks were dedicated to a major poster project, which only about half of them worked moderately well on. But, not in a mood to constantly harass students into working, I let them be as long as they weren't disrupting others or wreaking havoc. Although quite fatigued at the end of these two grade 8 blocks, I smiled on the rest of the day... I was told to... watch a movie.
In all reality, if a TOC is feeling uncertain about the day or simply tired and lazy, a movie at the end of class is the perfect end to a day.
Could a group of grade 9's handle that?
In a word... no.
They were throwing paper airplanes, texting their friends, kicking each other's chairs, poking each other, prodding one another, yelling things out, talking over the movie, and pretty much every other annoying, juvenile thing you can imagine. I like to think I'm patient... I cut kids slack and won't worry about the first offense or two. However, a few of them simply persisted in doing everything possible to be a nuisance. You'd think that watching about 80 minutes of Kirsten Dunst would be a treat for most kids. Could they deal with just sitting and watching? Ummm... no.
I blame some of it on the fact that the regular teacher has been sick for more than a week and he always expects to be back for the next class (which is part of the issue... telling kids that their regular teacher is going to be back next class is pretty normal... but when he doesn't come back and another sub walks in, they immediately have their backs raised). Another was that they thought they could push me without suffering any consequences. After a 15 minute earful after everyone else had left the room, I think the main contributors to the chaos clued in that this was not, in fact, the case.
Okay, enough ranting about my mediocre school day.
After getting done at school, I felt a headache lingering in the back of my brain, and didn't feel like going to the gym. I knew Kerrie was going to likely have a mediocre work day as well, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. When she got home, this was exactly the case. Still, since we didn't go to the gym on the weekend and my Friday workout was hampered by a sore knee (too much volleyball last Wendesday, I think), I decided to go regardless. I needed to blow off some of that pent up TOC frustration.
I'm glad I did. I got to listen to one of my favourite Counting Crows songs (it's actually a cover of a song written by a friend of Adam Duritz) called "Wiseblood" on the way to the gym and enjoyed a good cardio workout with some John Mayer and Amy Winehouse in K's IPod.
Just as I walked out the door, I felt the cold whiteness of the year's first real snow in town fall on my bare legs. It was peaceful, and relatively quiet, and tremendously beautiful.
Like always, the joy of some days is just buried among our every day stresses... it just takes two open eyes to notice from time to time.
T
Lyrics to "Wiseblood", performed by Counting Crows, written by Kurt Stevens...
I'm an outcast that no one can save anymore,
And the days of my youth are all long gone by.
I was the kind of boy the devil would offer a smoke or a drink to,
Or a ride downtown to some God-forsaken land.
One Sunday morning at dawn, you know they baptized my soul
But they held me down so long, Christ, I almost drowned.
I was the kind of boy who never learned to smile so I kicked and I screamed
'Til I tore myself loose from all these great big hands, yeah.
Wiseblood knows how to walk away the wind blows
And wiseblood hears grace whisper right behind.
My mama, she turned around and said,
"Little boy you'd better wake up 'cause you're walking dead."
She was the kind of girl who never touched a smoke or a drink,
And she smouldered like an empty church left to burn in the wind.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Touched by stories...
K and I are getting ready to sit down and watch one of my favourite movies: The Princess Bride. For the last hour, though, we've been watching a documentary called The Suicide Tourists, a production on CTV about people seeking doctor-assisted suicide through a group called Dignitas in Switzerland. Switzerland is the only place in Europe (and North America) that will allow doctor-assisted suicide for non-residents, which is why the group is able to perform services for people outside of Swiss borders. As a side note, Oregon is the only state in the U.S. (and place in North America, as far as I know) that allows doctor-assisted suicide.
The documentary is quite touching and covers the lives of a few different families who are considering and/or pursuing euthanasia through this group. The stories are extremely sad, as are the circumstances under which they are living. If you can track it down to watch it, I suggest you do... it's quite the show. I'll leave my more in-depth thoughts for another day.
T
The documentary is quite touching and covers the lives of a few different families who are considering and/or pursuing euthanasia through this group. The stories are extremely sad, as are the circumstances under which they are living. If you can track it down to watch it, I suggest you do... it's quite the show. I'll leave my more in-depth thoughts for another day.
T
Friday, November 23, 2007
Fridays
Generally, they are a TOC's waking nightmare. Rambunctious kids, a short fuse, and a whole building full of people who just want a weekend. Sometimes, you just don't mind getting a call.
Today, however, didn't live up to all the dreaded expectations.
It was a good day. Yes, even at a middle school on a Friday, it was a good day. Sure, the kids were a little wonky by the end of the day, but I was able to match their energy and keep the lid on things until the bell chimed at 3:12pm. I walked away feeling good about the day, and wondering what the weekend was going to look like. That's always a good sign... walking away from work and leaving it all behind.
On a separate note, I'm really enjoying this semester of subbing. Although there have been headaches, I generally enjoy going into most of the classrooms and dealing with the challenges of a whole new group of kids. It can be really fun, and it seems to be extremely rewarding... I don't think I've had as many compliments in the past few months as I've had in the past few years. I was even stopped in the Superstore tonight (while K and I were picking up some milk and hot chocolate mix) by a student I taught at one point recently (I couldn't even tell you what school he went to!) who came up to me in a grinning sprint... he stopped, smiled, and said, "Hey, you're the substitute teacher! How's it going?" I responded in an obviously surprised way by saying "hi" and "how's it going", and, still grinning, he simply said, "I'm good. Sorry to bug you! I just wanted to say hi"... [looking at K]... "He's a really good sub! See ya later!".
Random.
Speaking of random, I've had a number of random things pop into my head lately...
The lyrics from both an HP Sauce commercial and a Milk commerical, as well as one of the soundtrack songs from Cinderella.
I think I need help.
T
Today, however, didn't live up to all the dreaded expectations.
It was a good day. Yes, even at a middle school on a Friday, it was a good day. Sure, the kids were a little wonky by the end of the day, but I was able to match their energy and keep the lid on things until the bell chimed at 3:12pm. I walked away feeling good about the day, and wondering what the weekend was going to look like. That's always a good sign... walking away from work and leaving it all behind.
On a separate note, I'm really enjoying this semester of subbing. Although there have been headaches, I generally enjoy going into most of the classrooms and dealing with the challenges of a whole new group of kids. It can be really fun, and it seems to be extremely rewarding... I don't think I've had as many compliments in the past few months as I've had in the past few years. I was even stopped in the Superstore tonight (while K and I were picking up some milk and hot chocolate mix) by a student I taught at one point recently (I couldn't even tell you what school he went to!) who came up to me in a grinning sprint... he stopped, smiled, and said, "Hey, you're the substitute teacher! How's it going?" I responded in an obviously surprised way by saying "hi" and "how's it going", and, still grinning, he simply said, "I'm good. Sorry to bug you! I just wanted to say hi"... [looking at K]... "He's a really good sub! See ya later!".
Random.
Speaking of random, I've had a number of random things pop into my head lately...
The lyrics from both an HP Sauce commercial and a Milk commerical, as well as one of the soundtrack songs from Cinderella.
I think I need help.
T
Thursday, November 22, 2007
So, I jinxed it.
The lack of sleep finally caught up with me. Although I had a restful night, the debt stemming from the previous 6 nights finally took hold and deflated my sails. By the end of the day, I was ready for a big beer and a night in front of the TV. Reflecting on the day as I was writing my standard "TOC Notes for the Day" that I email to all the teachers I go in for, it didn't seem that bad.
But man, these middle schoolers can make me just plain exhausted.
I don't think I'm cut out for the 8th graders. Not long term (or without a serious increase in my coffee intake), anyway. Tomorrow's a new day, and for now, the pillow calls...
T
P.S. The scary omen staring me in the face is the fact that I'm at another middle school tomorrow (Fridays are generally the toughest), and it's going to be day #13 in a row. I expect Poe's raven will come tap-tap-tapping on my chamber door.
But man, these middle schoolers can make me just plain exhausted.
I don't think I'm cut out for the 8th graders. Not long term (or without a serious increase in my coffee intake), anyway. Tomorrow's a new day, and for now, the pillow calls...
T
P.S. The scary omen staring me in the face is the fact that I'm at another middle school tomorrow (Fridays are generally the toughest), and it's going to be day #13 in a row. I expect Poe's raven will come tap-tap-tapping on my chamber door.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Not to jinx things...
... but today was just a good day.
Even though I slept worse than I've slept in quite some time (it got bloody cold last night, which causes problems when you leave your bedroom window open a crack), I still had quite an enjoyable day.
I was dreading walking into a middle school today. The dread was even more severe on this particular day since I knew that the teacher I was in for had been sick all week, and had another sub the past two days. "Stranger Danger" was going to be extremely high on the kids' radar, so I was slightly worried.
However, at the end of it all, there was nothing to be worried about. After setting a pretty severe tone at the beginning of class number one and ultimately winning over a tough crowd with a few jokes and a tale from Norse Mythology, the rest of the day went quite well. Kids were behaved (even at the end of the day), the classes moved quite quickly, and before I knew it I had handed in my keys, chatted with a few of the school's teachers, and was stepping into the brisk chill of a gorgeous November day for my walk home. After cooking up some fried chicken and heading to two hours of volleyball (I play every Wednesday... recently I've been playing in both the high competitive and low competitive divisions), I came home to my beautiful wife, a delicious piece of carrot cake, and one of the best episodes of Criminal Minds I've ever seen (gotta love November sweeps).
Tomorrow's another day at a middle school. I can only hope that the kids are as good tomorrow as they were today. If that's the case, it'll be a good Thursday.
Until then, a funny quote from everyone's favourite Bard...
"When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married."
- Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing
T
Even though I slept worse than I've slept in quite some time (it got bloody cold last night, which causes problems when you leave your bedroom window open a crack), I still had quite an enjoyable day.
I was dreading walking into a middle school today. The dread was even more severe on this particular day since I knew that the teacher I was in for had been sick all week, and had another sub the past two days. "Stranger Danger" was going to be extremely high on the kids' radar, so I was slightly worried.
However, at the end of it all, there was nothing to be worried about. After setting a pretty severe tone at the beginning of class number one and ultimately winning over a tough crowd with a few jokes and a tale from Norse Mythology, the rest of the day went quite well. Kids were behaved (even at the end of the day), the classes moved quite quickly, and before I knew it I had handed in my keys, chatted with a few of the school's teachers, and was stepping into the brisk chill of a gorgeous November day for my walk home. After cooking up some fried chicken and heading to two hours of volleyball (I play every Wednesday... recently I've been playing in both the high competitive and low competitive divisions), I came home to my beautiful wife, a delicious piece of carrot cake, and one of the best episodes of Criminal Minds I've ever seen (gotta love November sweeps).
Tomorrow's another day at a middle school. I can only hope that the kids are as good tomorrow as they were today. If that's the case, it'll be a good Thursday.
Until then, a funny quote from everyone's favourite Bard...
"When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married."
- Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing
T
Tapping into my day
I know I already posted today, but upon perusing John Mayer's blog (I'm a bit of a fan), I came across a new song that he decided to release on his website. It was fully appropriate for the mood I've been in all day...
Go HERE for a listen...
T
Go HERE for a listen...
T
Looking out into the sunshine
I woke up at the usual time this morning. Although I felt that I had managed a restful sleep throughout the night, I could still feel the fatigue in my bones from a number of restless nights that have taken place over the last week. Changing weather... mind on work... pillow just not feeling right. Any of these things could have been responsible for my fatigue. But, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumbled into the shower to start getting ready for a new day of work.
It was dark and cool this morning... not nearly as cold as yesterday where mitts and a window scraper were necessities, but cool regardless. I was wondering if the sun would make an appearance... the weather's been finicky as of late, and I'm never sure if the gray is going to hang over us in the valley or if the sun will peek out. Driving to the school, I was thinking of sunshine.
After helping in the library and laughing at the power outage that took place midway through the first block, I did my best to take a glance out the windows... it was light enough in the library for students to keep working. Well, those who weren't working on internet research, anyway. I could hear the frustrated groans from members of a class who were in an attached computer lab where only three students had saved their work before the cosmos (or BC Hydro) pulled the plug on the wonderful technology that we rely so much upon.
As I approached the classroom I'd inhabit for the rest of the day, I could see clouds parting outside the windows. Even without power, the room was plenty bright for writing an essay. Today was obviously a day to be a warm body... no actual teaching involved. So while students mulled over "Dulce et Decorum Est" and All Quiet on the Western Front, I peered out the window, wondering if there were people filling up the creekside walkways... wondering if others may have chosen today as their day to walk to work... or maybe to just enjoy a cup of coffee in the window of a quiet cafe. I could see a young lady pondering a short story, or maybe trying to sort out the syntax of her introductory statement.
The power came back on, but it made little difference. The day outside was brilliant and we didn't need the harsh flourescence of the lights to bother us. Students checked in novels, handed in essays, and left at their typical signal. More came, more wrote, more left. One more class came, wrote, left. All the while, I was out walking by the creekside... strolling to work... drinking coffee in a cafe. My body still sat in front of the chalkboards, eyes vacantly looking out onto students who were scribbling out first and second person references or rewriting words that were formerly contractions to ensure the obeyance of formal writing expectations. But in all reality I was out the door, past the houses and stores and streets, in the valley hills, face to the sun, smiling.
My long shadow smiled too as both of us exhaled in the crisp fall air.
T
It was dark and cool this morning... not nearly as cold as yesterday where mitts and a window scraper were necessities, but cool regardless. I was wondering if the sun would make an appearance... the weather's been finicky as of late, and I'm never sure if the gray is going to hang over us in the valley or if the sun will peek out. Driving to the school, I was thinking of sunshine.
After helping in the library and laughing at the power outage that took place midway through the first block, I did my best to take a glance out the windows... it was light enough in the library for students to keep working. Well, those who weren't working on internet research, anyway. I could hear the frustrated groans from members of a class who were in an attached computer lab where only three students had saved their work before the cosmos (or BC Hydro) pulled the plug on the wonderful technology that we rely so much upon.
As I approached the classroom I'd inhabit for the rest of the day, I could see clouds parting outside the windows. Even without power, the room was plenty bright for writing an essay. Today was obviously a day to be a warm body... no actual teaching involved. So while students mulled over "Dulce et Decorum Est" and All Quiet on the Western Front, I peered out the window, wondering if there were people filling up the creekside walkways... wondering if others may have chosen today as their day to walk to work... or maybe to just enjoy a cup of coffee in the window of a quiet cafe. I could see a young lady pondering a short story, or maybe trying to sort out the syntax of her introductory statement.
The power came back on, but it made little difference. The day outside was brilliant and we didn't need the harsh flourescence of the lights to bother us. Students checked in novels, handed in essays, and left at their typical signal. More came, more wrote, more left. One more class came, wrote, left. All the while, I was out walking by the creekside... strolling to work... drinking coffee in a cafe. My body still sat in front of the chalkboards, eyes vacantly looking out onto students who were scribbling out first and second person references or rewriting words that were formerly contractions to ensure the obeyance of formal writing expectations. But in all reality I was out the door, past the houses and stores and streets, in the valley hills, face to the sun, smiling.
My long shadow smiled too as both of us exhaled in the crisp fall air.
T
Monday, November 19, 2007
Work related paranoia
Upon entering my education program more than a year ago, I heard that my location in BC for teaching would provide a plethora of opportunities in the job market. I was excited to hear this, since I was moving to a nice half-way point between the coast and my family back in the 4-0-3 area code, and I would likely find work really easily. This was supposedly even moreso the case, since I was in arguably the best education program in the province. People actually said the words, "If you complete the program and you have a pulse, you'll have a job next year".
The year came and went. I was up to my eyeballs in coaching and marking and prepping and kids, and I barely had time to breathe. However, in the back of my mind I believed that it was simply a short few months and I'd be on my way to secure employment. There would be no need to worry about money because I, being the excellent prize that I was (in the best location possible) would definitely have a job and K would stop worrying so much. And, the spring came and went. As did the summer. And September. Still, there was not a job to be had by yours truly. Truth be told, part of the reason was possibly my own inaction combined with an administrative error (said administration believed inaccurately that I was leaving the district for more distant shores), leading to a less-than-glorious spot on the TOC list.
Now, at the beginning of the year, I loathed this position. I was jealous of my colleagues who had secured positions at various locations around the province (and the world), and was worried that my education was all for naught. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this whole teaching thing. Maybe my practicum wasn't as good as I thought.
Maybe I was just paranoid. I'm not sure.
But as of late, I've been hearing a lot of talk about contracts around town. A few English teachers from one school actually approached me and told me they wanted me to take a maternity leave for a teacher there that I get along really well with which would begin after spring break... there may even be a few extra blocks to fill it out (since it would only be 1/2 time), so that's extremely exciting. I met with the principal last week to touch base and introduce myself, but in all likelihood, I won't hear anything for a while.
Then I was at another high school that I've been to frequently this year, and I was approached by the VP who began asking me various questions about my teaching areas, background, etc. So, I talked about English and Socials and my coaching experience and the fact that I'm a big bookworm (he thought that was funny), and later that day, he popped into a senior English class I was teaching and sat down to observe for about 15 minutes. I was nervous, but some of the students said I was doing a great job, so in my happy ignorance, I'm going to believe them. I just found out today that an English/SS teacher is retiring in January and they haven't filled the position. In other words, I'm kinda scared... this is it. Real contract territory. And I don't know what to do.
Actually, that's not true. Particularly since my options are limited to: working as much as possible (as per usual) and doing my best to keep up my rapport and connections around town. But it's scary... it's the real world, knocking on the door, wondering if I'm ready to come out and play.
At some points, I think I'm sure.
During other, more weak and pitiful moments, I want to crawl into my closet and hide.
T
The year came and went. I was up to my eyeballs in coaching and marking and prepping and kids, and I barely had time to breathe. However, in the back of my mind I believed that it was simply a short few months and I'd be on my way to secure employment. There would be no need to worry about money because I, being the excellent prize that I was (in the best location possible) would definitely have a job and K would stop worrying so much. And, the spring came and went. As did the summer. And September. Still, there was not a job to be had by yours truly. Truth be told, part of the reason was possibly my own inaction combined with an administrative error (said administration believed inaccurately that I was leaving the district for more distant shores), leading to a less-than-glorious spot on the TOC list.
Now, at the beginning of the year, I loathed this position. I was jealous of my colleagues who had secured positions at various locations around the province (and the world), and was worried that my education was all for naught. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this whole teaching thing. Maybe my practicum wasn't as good as I thought.
Maybe I was just paranoid. I'm not sure.
But as of late, I've been hearing a lot of talk about contracts around town. A few English teachers from one school actually approached me and told me they wanted me to take a maternity leave for a teacher there that I get along really well with which would begin after spring break... there may even be a few extra blocks to fill it out (since it would only be 1/2 time), so that's extremely exciting. I met with the principal last week to touch base and introduce myself, but in all likelihood, I won't hear anything for a while.
Then I was at another high school that I've been to frequently this year, and I was approached by the VP who began asking me various questions about my teaching areas, background, etc. So, I talked about English and Socials and my coaching experience and the fact that I'm a big bookworm (he thought that was funny), and later that day, he popped into a senior English class I was teaching and sat down to observe for about 15 minutes. I was nervous, but some of the students said I was doing a great job, so in my happy ignorance, I'm going to believe them. I just found out today that an English/SS teacher is retiring in January and they haven't filled the position. In other words, I'm kinda scared... this is it. Real contract territory. And I don't know what to do.
Actually, that's not true. Particularly since my options are limited to: working as much as possible (as per usual) and doing my best to keep up my rapport and connections around town. But it's scary... it's the real world, knocking on the door, wondering if I'm ready to come out and play.
At some points, I think I'm sure.
During other, more weak and pitiful moments, I want to crawl into my closet and hide.
T
Sunday, November 18, 2007
An exercise in reflection
Since my day to day life is limited in exciting content, I find myself reflecting and wondering exactly what I could put on here... the stories I could add, the things I could talk about, etc. And I find that it's been quite the exercise in retrospective indulgence. So again, here's another recollection of memories related to my family. I think these are specifically present due to the holidays creeping up ever so quickly.
When we were kids, my parents would trade holidays with each set of grandparents... one year out in Picture Butte, and the next in Calgary with my mom's family. We'd spend Christmas at my grandparents house in the Northwest of Calgary. The drive was pretty familiar... normally, my brother and/or sister and I would be fighting over something ridiculous, or I'd have my head in an Archie comic, or I'd be staring out the windows onto the bald Alberta prairie. The drive was just over two hours to get from doorstep to doorstep, and the first hour and fifty minutes was surrounded by that very prairie. I'd often look out on the landscape, watching for hawks circling the skies. I've always loved watching birds circle high in the mountains or over the fields, looking for food or simply searching for the next updraft to take them somewhere different. Sometimes you'd see a hawk sitting on a fencepost, looking at the silly contraptions driving between cities.
Upon arriving, we could sometimes smell the salty deliciousness of a Christmas ham baking in the house. We could also smell the smell of the old Varisty house. I can never put my finger on what the smell actually was, but it was comforting nonetheless. My brother and I would haul the bags down to the basement and put them in the bedroom, and then climb the stairs up to the kitchen to get mauled by hugs and kisses from gran and a hug and handshake from gramps. We'd spend our time chatting around the table, playing endless games of blackjack and crib, and watching sports on the little TV that sat on the shelf in the dining room. When we were smaller, we'd also rummage through the corner cubby that hid all the toys in that same room and make a big racket, either zooming cars over the linoleum or bickering over who had which toy. Sometimes I'd just take over my grandpa's rocker and read the copies of Reader's Digest strewn around the coffee tables. Before he died, Chemo (my grandparents' husky) would scamper around, scared of the noise and all the excitement.
My brother and sister and I would lay awake late into Christmas eve, listening to our parents arrange the tree and the presents for the next morning. We'd fake sleep if we heard the door handle turning, or make excuses to get up and use the bathroom. We'd always get an earful for this, but we'd do it anyways. We were just so eager to get out and rip apart bows and ribbon and wrapping paper.
Between 5am and 6am, my brother and I would wake up (as would my sister), and we'd be asking to go check out what Santa left. My parents would be exhausted and tell us to go back to sleep (they had probably rolled into bed about 1 or 2 in the morning, but we weren't so concerned about that). But, after tossing and turning and talking under the covers, my parents would finally let us out into the living room to check out our stockings and nothing else... the other presents had to wait for gran and gramps to come down with cameras in tow and breakfast (particularly the coffee) would need to be started.
I'd do my best to grab my sock and dive into Grandpa's old, brown Lazy Boy, my favorite chair in the house (which now resides in my own living room... seen below!).
When we were kids, my parents would trade holidays with each set of grandparents... one year out in Picture Butte, and the next in Calgary with my mom's family. We'd spend Christmas at my grandparents house in the Northwest of Calgary. The drive was pretty familiar... normally, my brother and/or sister and I would be fighting over something ridiculous, or I'd have my head in an Archie comic, or I'd be staring out the windows onto the bald Alberta prairie. The drive was just over two hours to get from doorstep to doorstep, and the first hour and fifty minutes was surrounded by that very prairie. I'd often look out on the landscape, watching for hawks circling the skies. I've always loved watching birds circle high in the mountains or over the fields, looking for food or simply searching for the next updraft to take them somewhere different. Sometimes you'd see a hawk sitting on a fencepost, looking at the silly contraptions driving between cities.
Upon arriving, we could sometimes smell the salty deliciousness of a Christmas ham baking in the house. We could also smell the smell of the old Varisty house. I can never put my finger on what the smell actually was, but it was comforting nonetheless. My brother and I would haul the bags down to the basement and put them in the bedroom, and then climb the stairs up to the kitchen to get mauled by hugs and kisses from gran and a hug and handshake from gramps. We'd spend our time chatting around the table, playing endless games of blackjack and crib, and watching sports on the little TV that sat on the shelf in the dining room. When we were smaller, we'd also rummage through the corner cubby that hid all the toys in that same room and make a big racket, either zooming cars over the linoleum or bickering over who had which toy. Sometimes I'd just take over my grandpa's rocker and read the copies of Reader's Digest strewn around the coffee tables. Before he died, Chemo (my grandparents' husky) would scamper around, scared of the noise and all the excitement.
My brother and sister and I would lay awake late into Christmas eve, listening to our parents arrange the tree and the presents for the next morning. We'd fake sleep if we heard the door handle turning, or make excuses to get up and use the bathroom. We'd always get an earful for this, but we'd do it anyways. We were just so eager to get out and rip apart bows and ribbon and wrapping paper.
Between 5am and 6am, my brother and I would wake up (as would my sister), and we'd be asking to go check out what Santa left. My parents would be exhausted and tell us to go back to sleep (they had probably rolled into bed about 1 or 2 in the morning, but we weren't so concerned about that). But, after tossing and turning and talking under the covers, my parents would finally let us out into the living room to check out our stockings and nothing else... the other presents had to wait for gran and gramps to come down with cameras in tow and breakfast (particularly the coffee) would need to be started.
I'd do my best to grab my sock and dive into Grandpa's old, brown Lazy Boy, my favorite chair in the house (which now resides in my own living room... seen below!).
There would always be new socks (which is strangely one of my absolute favorite things on Christmas morning... the feeling of a brand new pair of socks!), new boxers, chocolates, sometimes ornaments, and other little things that fit inside. Once we could enjoy these little discoveries, my brother and I would either play our original Nintendo (if we brought it), or we'd go back to bed and keep warm. My sister always received similar things, but J and I were less interested in these... since he and I were only about 18 months apart, we hung out a lot and spent most of our holiday time together... A. would often get ignored. Once my parents were ready to make their entrance for the day, we'd all gather again in the living room, get out the cameras and do the big present opening. Pictures would be taken, hugs would be given out, and we'd all try to show off what we got. Then, it was upstairs to the dining room for the traditional Christmas day breakfast of Grandpa's omlettes, bacon, toast, juice, and slices of tomato. I'd likely drink about a gallon of orange juice at this time, and avoid the cheesy omlettes... I wasn't a fan of omlettes back then, and I would only eat them if they had about a litre of ketchup on 'em.
Once the present opening and breakfast were done, we'd start getting ready for the rest of the family to show up (if others were around). We'd play more crib, my dad and gramps would have the holiday beer and juice, and we'd watch videos of Garfield's Christmas and Charlie Brown's Christmas while the turkey was being prepared. More family would come, some more presents would arrive, and we'd spend the day eating, playing more cards, and making a lot of holiday noise. The kids would rummage through my grandparent's "storage" room (a.k.a. my uncle's old bedroom that was full of junk, but had a snooker table lying underneath, or we'd hit up the nintendo and play until we were ready for the big Christmas dinner. Gran would make sure that Kenny G's Christmas album was on the stereo, and later that night, we'd beg and plead to start up the Player Piano so we could sing carols around the wood-burning fireplace.
Now that I'm married and K and I are in BC, it's always harder to make time to see everyone. We also have to share Christmases with our own families, so it's always stressful/hectic to go home. But, I know that when I arrive, those Christmas socks and smells and feelings will come back... they may look much different now, but they still make me enjoy being home.
This is also the first time ever that none of the kids in my house will be waking up on Christmas morn at my parents' house... we've all flown the coop (albeit my brother and sister are only about 5 minutes away). I guess the only constant in life is change itself. Also, the older we get, the shorter our futures become and the longer are pasts are. Are we really growing backwards like Jeffrey Eugenides says? I think that he (and Cibi) might be right...
T
Random pictures from the camera (from the last month or two)
Periodically I change the quote the lies underneath my blog title, so in addition to the Shakespeare quote above, I'll add another favorite from The Bard:
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
- Macbeth
I always try to get the kids to understand how wonderful this line is. Yet, they often merely groan in response. It's okay though... I'm happy celebrating my love for it, audience or not.
Just over a month ago, my best friend from high school came out this way for a brief visit with his lady, and along with K, the four of us spent one night here in town and then headed south for a night of October camping on Skaha Lake. Here I am cooking up a mean batch of steaks on my mini-barbeque...
Here's another of S and I at the campsite...
Then, a cute one of me and K before going out for something... I can't exactly recall what...
Finally, I rearranged my bookshelves today, and thought, Hey! Why not take a really boring picture! So, here's my shelf dedicated to Timothy Findley, Barbara Kingsolver, Douglas Coupland, and a few selected others...
I won't promise anything more interesting tomorrow... the muse is fleeting these two days...
T
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
- Macbeth
I always try to get the kids to understand how wonderful this line is. Yet, they often merely groan in response. It's okay though... I'm happy celebrating my love for it, audience or not.
Just over a month ago, my best friend from high school came out this way for a brief visit with his lady, and along with K, the four of us spent one night here in town and then headed south for a night of October camping on Skaha Lake. Here I am cooking up a mean batch of steaks on my mini-barbeque...
Here's another of S and I at the campsite...Then, a cute one of me and K before going out for something... I can't exactly recall what...Finally, I rearranged my bookshelves today, and thought, Hey! Why not take a really boring picture! So, here's my shelf dedicated to Timothy Findley, Barbara Kingsolver, Douglas Coupland, and a few selected others...
I won't promise anything more interesting tomorrow... the muse is fleeting these two days...
T
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Second really brief post in a row
I thought I'd make more time to write today, but it simply wasn't meant to be. After getting a bit of a late start (as per usual on Saturdays), we had some breakkie and coffee and rolled out to the mall so K could exchange a dress for her upcoming work Christmas party. We had some grocery shopping to do, so we hit up Superstore and Costco, then headed home.
The afternoon consisted of more coffee (we're both overtired), and a whole bunch of cooking and cleaning. We're having 4 or 5 friends over for a potluck in about the next hour, so we cleaned from top to bottom, K baked up a delicious looking carrot cake, and I made a big pot of Spicy Chicken Stew... it smells delicious and I'm sure it's going to taste even better.
Off I go to make myself beautiful. It's a laborious process that I won't reveal here. More tomorrow related to work and having company and other such interesting things. Ciao for now...
T
The afternoon consisted of more coffee (we're both overtired), and a whole bunch of cooking and cleaning. We're having 4 or 5 friends over for a potluck in about the next hour, so we cleaned from top to bottom, K baked up a delicious looking carrot cake, and I made a big pot of Spicy Chicken Stew... it smells delicious and I'm sure it's going to taste even better.
Off I go to make myself beautiful. It's a laborious process that I won't reveal here. More tomorrow related to work and having company and other such interesting things. Ciao for now...
T
Two posts today (like many... to make up for yesterday)...
I'm just in quickly for now to put in a plug for an awesome website that a teaching acquaintance told me about.
It's called "Think Geek", and being the nerdy dude that I am, I thought this was hilarious. You can get something like this...
Yes, it's true folks... that's an Albert Einstein Action Figure! (I had another teacher friend who has a Shakespeare bobble head that I wish I could've stolen... it was awesome!).
There is also this shirt... definitely one of my favorites...
Yes, this is a shirt of the solar system that has the recently demoted dwarf-planet Pluto saying "weak." to the rest of it's solar system buddies. Awesome... simply awesome.
So, that's all for now. I'll hopefully be back later to get one more in!
T
Thursday, November 15, 2007
My beef with one of the world's richest ladies...
Okay, so I admitted it. I don't like Oprah. I used to watch her from time to time (only with my wife or mother, of course!) and liked the entertaining guests she would get on her show. However, this has changed. And never since I made the decision have I watched her show. Two events are responsible for this change, and here I will explain said events. My apologies if they're not chronologically accurate....
Event #1:
A number of people may remember the situation relating to James Frey. He wrote the memoir A Million Little Pieces and another book named My Friend Leonard. Both books received rave reviews, and when A Million Little Pieces came out, Oprah featured him on his show. She raved openly about how realistic and touching and moving his book was. She celebrated his honesty and put the book on her book club list (I'll get to this soon). It sold millions of copies and made him an instant celebrity.
One problem came of this: his book wasn't entirely accurate. He tried to get it published as fiction (since he made some of it up), but no publishers would take it. So, he changed the genre of the book to a "memoir" (ambiguous, no doubt) and ended up getting it published, which soon after launched him into the limelight. An even bigger problem? Oprah found out that it wasn't 100% true.
So Oprah decided to bring him back on the show and proceeded to slag him for being a liar, for betraying the public and making a fool out of her. She then went on to quote parts of the book, asking him how he could possibly think people would believe him (since it was obviously fabricated)! THE NERVE! SHE BELIEVED HIM! Not only that, but she didn't even read the whole book and made him a celebrity based on the words of her producers. She said she felt "betrayed", but it was her own damn fault for not going through the whole book herself! And she did her best to see that he would become a disgrace, embarassing him in front of millions.
Luckily for him, the controversy didn't make his next publication less popular (it may have made him more popular), and he's sold millions of copies of My Friend Leonard and still more copies of A Million Little Pieces. Good for you, James. Boo to you, Oprah... jerk!
Event #2:
First off, I do believe that Oprah has helped a number of really solid books sell well by putting her name behind it. But she's ARROGANT about it. Case in point: Faulkner.
For those of you who've read William Faulkner, you likely know that he's an American literary giant, and his books are classics. They're taught in schools and Universities throughout North America as American classics. However, Oprah seemed to think that she was the first American to read Faulkner in her spare time (FYI: I read The Sound and the Fury two years before he appeared on her book list). She actually said to a guest, "I'm so impressed! You read Faulkner before it was even on my book club list!"
Her and Martha Stewart are probably good buddies. If you don't know how good Oprah is, just ask Oprah. She'll tell you.
Sure, it sounds as if I'm bitter about things that I shouldn't be bitter about. Maybe some people think I'm over-reacting. But every time I turn on her show, it seems like she's gloating about how wonderful she is. And I can't stand it. Millions of people have read books from your book club BEFORE you read them. Good for you for promoting reading, but you don't need to be an ass about it because you're popular and rich. Hmmm... why don't I put a book on my list like Anna Karenina and trick myself into blieving that I'm the reason why Tolstoy is popular. Sure thing boss.
Okay, that's enough for tonight. I'm working on the west side of town tomorrow and need my beauty rest... I'll turn into a pumpkin any minute. Again, my apologies if I hurt the feelings of any Oprah fans. It just had to be said. G'night.
T
Event #1:
A number of people may remember the situation relating to James Frey. He wrote the memoir A Million Little Pieces and another book named My Friend Leonard. Both books received rave reviews, and when A Million Little Pieces came out, Oprah featured him on his show. She raved openly about how realistic and touching and moving his book was. She celebrated his honesty and put the book on her book club list (I'll get to this soon). It sold millions of copies and made him an instant celebrity.
One problem came of this: his book wasn't entirely accurate. He tried to get it published as fiction (since he made some of it up), but no publishers would take it. So, he changed the genre of the book to a "memoir" (ambiguous, no doubt) and ended up getting it published, which soon after launched him into the limelight. An even bigger problem? Oprah found out that it wasn't 100% true.
So Oprah decided to bring him back on the show and proceeded to slag him for being a liar, for betraying the public and making a fool out of her. She then went on to quote parts of the book, asking him how he could possibly think people would believe him (since it was obviously fabricated)! THE NERVE! SHE BELIEVED HIM! Not only that, but she didn't even read the whole book and made him a celebrity based on the words of her producers. She said she felt "betrayed", but it was her own damn fault for not going through the whole book herself! And she did her best to see that he would become a disgrace, embarassing him in front of millions.
Luckily for him, the controversy didn't make his next publication less popular (it may have made him more popular), and he's sold millions of copies of My Friend Leonard and still more copies of A Million Little Pieces. Good for you, James. Boo to you, Oprah... jerk!
Event #2:
First off, I do believe that Oprah has helped a number of really solid books sell well by putting her name behind it. But she's ARROGANT about it. Case in point: Faulkner.
For those of you who've read William Faulkner, you likely know that he's an American literary giant, and his books are classics. They're taught in schools and Universities throughout North America as American classics. However, Oprah seemed to think that she was the first American to read Faulkner in her spare time (FYI: I read The Sound and the Fury two years before he appeared on her book list). She actually said to a guest, "I'm so impressed! You read Faulkner before it was even on my book club list!"
Her and Martha Stewart are probably good buddies. If you don't know how good Oprah is, just ask Oprah. She'll tell you.
Sure, it sounds as if I'm bitter about things that I shouldn't be bitter about. Maybe some people think I'm over-reacting. But every time I turn on her show, it seems like she's gloating about how wonderful she is. And I can't stand it. Millions of people have read books from your book club BEFORE you read them. Good for you for promoting reading, but you don't need to be an ass about it because you're popular and rich. Hmmm... why don't I put a book on my list like Anna Karenina and trick myself into blieving that I'm the reason why Tolstoy is popular. Sure thing boss.
Okay, that's enough for tonight. I'm working on the west side of town tomorrow and need my beauty rest... I'll turn into a pumpkin any minute. Again, my apologies if I hurt the feelings of any Oprah fans. It just had to be said. G'night.
T
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Disturbing state of affairs
First off, a disclaimer:
I'm not generally one to slag law enforcement (unless I recently received a speeding ticket). I know a lot of people involved with related occupations, and I think they're definitely upstanding guys and gals who sincerely try to make the world a better place. Don't get me wrong... I think that some people do it because of little-man syndrome or they may have general rage issues and simply love being the guy in charge. Some teachers are like this too... funny how these two personalities show up in completely different occupations. Nonetheless, I was absolutely appalled by what I saw on the news tonight.
About a month ago, a story came out that a man in Vancouver International Airport was killed in a taser incident with police. I didn't read much about it, since I was busy with work and wasn't paying very close attention to world affairs. I'm not gonna lie... I assumed he was a nutcase or threatened police or had a gun or something.
However...
Tonight I turned on my TV and a video of the tasering incident had been released to news agencies, and with the standard warning of intense content, they showed the video. Likewise, they also gave the background story of the incident.
Go here, if you have a few minutes... it's the whole story including the link to the video. And I really suggest you go.
Here's the event in brief (according to Global News and what I could get from CBC and the video):
A man is blocking off an area of the airport with chairs near a security wing. He doesn't speak English (not a single word), and some spectators believe he's speaking Russian. He is obviously upset, but has no way of communicating with anyone in the airport. At one point, he throws a computer because he's so frustrated. Security personnel come and block entrance to the secure area that the man is in... there is no one else in that section of the terminal with him (he's totally alone). Four police officers finally show up on the scene. They approach the agitated, sweating man and try to communicate with him with no luck. They know he doesn't speak English and there's talk of getting someone in who speaks Russian. They order him over to a wall, and although he doesn't totally understand, he makes his way over to the appointed wall. Within a few quick seconds, the police pull out a taser gun and fire, hitting the man in the chest. The man immediately starts convulsing, hitting the floor and rolling around in serious pain. The electric shock is surging through him. On the tape you can hear "Hit 'em again!" by one of the police officers, and they hit the trigger again, sending another shock of electricity to him. While he is still convulsing, the officers (4 in total) begin to pile on him and once he is done being shocked, he writhes in pain under the weight of 2, then 3, officers. The fourth jumps on after he is finished zapping the guy.
One officer places his knee on the back of the man's neck to restrain him while the other three officers proceed to hold the man down and handcuff him. Even when the man stops moving altogether, the one officer maintains his full weight of his body on the back of the neck of the man. Within a few seconds, the man is still limp and the audio picks up a message of "Code Red". Another man steps in to check the pulse of the pinned "criminal" and doesn't seem to get anything. Emergency personnel show up a few minutes later and pronounce that the man is dead.
Never did this man threaten police. Never did this man make any gestures for a weapon. It took the RCMP a total of 25 SECONDS to use their taser on this man from the time they came on the scene. He didn't speak a word of English and they knew that.
So my questions are: WHY? And HOW?
This man came to Canada to immigrate and live with his mother in Kamloops. Before leaving, she told him to get to the baggage terminal and stay there until she showed up. He was in the airport for over 8 hours in total. His mother arrived, looked for him extensively, asked for help from the airport with no results, and ended up heading back to Kamloops, hoping to hear something from the airport.
The man was tired, agitated, misunderstood, and couldn't communicate with anyone. For 8 HOURS! This too, after a likely 7-8 hour flight (or more!). And for this agitation, he's dead.
Watch the video for yourself. I like to think of myself as fairly forgiving and understanding, but watch it for yourself. Please. This simply shouldn't happen. He was looking for a better life with his mother, and because he was exhausted and angry and misunderstood, he died.
He should have lived to see another day. Period.
T
I'm not generally one to slag law enforcement (unless I recently received a speeding ticket). I know a lot of people involved with related occupations, and I think they're definitely upstanding guys and gals who sincerely try to make the world a better place. Don't get me wrong... I think that some people do it because of little-man syndrome or they may have general rage issues and simply love being the guy in charge. Some teachers are like this too... funny how these two personalities show up in completely different occupations. Nonetheless, I was absolutely appalled by what I saw on the news tonight.
About a month ago, a story came out that a man in Vancouver International Airport was killed in a taser incident with police. I didn't read much about it, since I was busy with work and wasn't paying very close attention to world affairs. I'm not gonna lie... I assumed he was a nutcase or threatened police or had a gun or something.
However...
Tonight I turned on my TV and a video of the tasering incident had been released to news agencies, and with the standard warning of intense content, they showed the video. Likewise, they also gave the background story of the incident.
Go here, if you have a few minutes... it's the whole story including the link to the video. And I really suggest you go.
Here's the event in brief (according to Global News and what I could get from CBC and the video):
A man is blocking off an area of the airport with chairs near a security wing. He doesn't speak English (not a single word), and some spectators believe he's speaking Russian. He is obviously upset, but has no way of communicating with anyone in the airport. At one point, he throws a computer because he's so frustrated. Security personnel come and block entrance to the secure area that the man is in... there is no one else in that section of the terminal with him (he's totally alone). Four police officers finally show up on the scene. They approach the agitated, sweating man and try to communicate with him with no luck. They know he doesn't speak English and there's talk of getting someone in who speaks Russian. They order him over to a wall, and although he doesn't totally understand, he makes his way over to the appointed wall. Within a few quick seconds, the police pull out a taser gun and fire, hitting the man in the chest. The man immediately starts convulsing, hitting the floor and rolling around in serious pain. The electric shock is surging through him. On the tape you can hear "Hit 'em again!" by one of the police officers, and they hit the trigger again, sending another shock of electricity to him. While he is still convulsing, the officers (4 in total) begin to pile on him and once he is done being shocked, he writhes in pain under the weight of 2, then 3, officers. The fourth jumps on after he is finished zapping the guy.
One officer places his knee on the back of the man's neck to restrain him while the other three officers proceed to hold the man down and handcuff him. Even when the man stops moving altogether, the one officer maintains his full weight of his body on the back of the neck of the man. Within a few seconds, the man is still limp and the audio picks up a message of "Code Red". Another man steps in to check the pulse of the pinned "criminal" and doesn't seem to get anything. Emergency personnel show up a few minutes later and pronounce that the man is dead.
Never did this man threaten police. Never did this man make any gestures for a weapon. It took the RCMP a total of 25 SECONDS to use their taser on this man from the time they came on the scene. He didn't speak a word of English and they knew that.
So my questions are: WHY? And HOW?
This man came to Canada to immigrate and live with his mother in Kamloops. Before leaving, she told him to get to the baggage terminal and stay there until she showed up. He was in the airport for over 8 hours in total. His mother arrived, looked for him extensively, asked for help from the airport with no results, and ended up heading back to Kamloops, hoping to hear something from the airport.
The man was tired, agitated, misunderstood, and couldn't communicate with anyone. For 8 HOURS! This too, after a likely 7-8 hour flight (or more!). And for this agitation, he's dead.
Watch the video for yourself. I like to think of myself as fairly forgiving and understanding, but watch it for yourself. Please. This simply shouldn't happen. He was looking for a better life with his mother, and because he was exhausted and angry and misunderstood, he died.
He should have lived to see another day. Period.
T
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Tidbits
First off, thanks to Cibi, K, and a number of other people who suggested reading The Kite Runner before diving into All Quiet on the Western Front (or any of the approximately 20 books that I have purchased but still have yet to read)... I'm only about four chapters in and I'm really enjoying it already.
At the same time as this, I am also still reading Atwood's book on writing that I've discussed previously (extremely quotable), as well as selections from The Best American Short Stories of the [20th] Century, edited by John Updike. I've read a few of the stories already, and have to shout out my love for William Faulker's story "That Evening Sun Go Down". I read The Sound and the Fury a few years ago and really loved it, but he's an author that I really have to dedicate some time to, since his prose is quite slow and dense, and his stories never hurry.
I've been wasting some time checking out the Blogroll for the NaBloPoMo, and I noticed a few things:
1) There are a lot of moms out there who blog.
2) I'd venture to guess that most blogs are written by women (why, you ask? I have my suspicions, but since I'd likely come out looking like a chauvinist twit, I'll keep them to myself).
3) Many of the blogs are even less interesting than my own (yes, this comment is seeping with a touch of egotism... but then again, isn't that the nature of these things?)
4) And just like with perusing the shelves at a local bookstore, I'm very selective as to the random books I pick up in order to learn what they're all about. Ugly type-set on the book? No thanks. Terrible graphics? Pass. Tacky or cheesy or downright brutal book title? Ummm... next. The same goes with blogs... I only really read the ones with clever names. I guess I may also check out some that may be about writers or maybe teachers or related things. Again, most of these are women.
A few blogs that seem well-written and intriguing have to be Awkwardly Social (clever and intriguing title, particularly since I can be both awkward and social), Brushes With Adulthood (since it speaks of the doom and gloom of getting to be something more than a university student), and Canuckifornia (simply a good title and decent writing). That being said, I've only made it into the start of the "D" section, and haven't mentioned others I read periodically that may or may not be participating. But Ciboulette (repesented by the L.G. link to the right) will continue to be a favorite, methinks... she's a friend of mine from the coast who is also a teacher-on-call, and although most of our friendship takes place on Facebook and through our blogs, I echo her thoughts and believe that we are, in fact, kindred spirits. Her pictures are much better than mine, she is a big fan of cooking, and she's an avid reader... is there much more to say?
In a kinda-sorta-not-totally-related note, I'm almost positive I have no chance at any prizes or anything for the NaBlo thing... Blogger has butchered my posting time labels that are supposed to pop up with every post, and even though I've written something every day (except the once where I missed my day by about 2 hours), it shows that my posting has been really erratic. But, I'm going to try to hang in there because I've enjoyed the trade off, from crappy TV to spending too much time on the internet. But, thems the breaks.
And to finish off with something completely random... I really DO NOT like Oprah. I'll talk more about this later, but I find her arrogant and self-righteous. Period. I'm sorry for any and all Oprah fans (Sorry mom! Sorry sis!)... but I had to say it.
T
At the same time as this, I am also still reading Atwood's book on writing that I've discussed previously (extremely quotable), as well as selections from The Best American Short Stories of the [20th] Century, edited by John Updike. I've read a few of the stories already, and have to shout out my love for William Faulker's story "That Evening Sun Go Down". I read The Sound and the Fury a few years ago and really loved it, but he's an author that I really have to dedicate some time to, since his prose is quite slow and dense, and his stories never hurry.
I've been wasting some time checking out the Blogroll for the NaBloPoMo, and I noticed a few things:
1) There are a lot of moms out there who blog.
2) I'd venture to guess that most blogs are written by women (why, you ask? I have my suspicions, but since I'd likely come out looking like a chauvinist twit, I'll keep them to myself).
3) Many of the blogs are even less interesting than my own (yes, this comment is seeping with a touch of egotism... but then again, isn't that the nature of these things?)
4) And just like with perusing the shelves at a local bookstore, I'm very selective as to the random books I pick up in order to learn what they're all about. Ugly type-set on the book? No thanks. Terrible graphics? Pass. Tacky or cheesy or downright brutal book title? Ummm... next. The same goes with blogs... I only really read the ones with clever names. I guess I may also check out some that may be about writers or maybe teachers or related things. Again, most of these are women.
A few blogs that seem well-written and intriguing have to be Awkwardly Social (clever and intriguing title, particularly since I can be both awkward and social), Brushes With Adulthood (since it speaks of the doom and gloom of getting to be something more than a university student), and Canuckifornia (simply a good title and decent writing). That being said, I've only made it into the start of the "D" section, and haven't mentioned others I read periodically that may or may not be participating. But Ciboulette (repesented by the L.G. link to the right) will continue to be a favorite, methinks... she's a friend of mine from the coast who is also a teacher-on-call, and although most of our friendship takes place on Facebook and through our blogs, I echo her thoughts and believe that we are, in fact, kindred spirits. Her pictures are much better than mine, she is a big fan of cooking, and she's an avid reader... is there much more to say?
In a kinda-sorta-not-totally-related note, I'm almost positive I have no chance at any prizes or anything for the NaBlo thing... Blogger has butchered my posting time labels that are supposed to pop up with every post, and even though I've written something every day (except the once where I missed my day by about 2 hours), it shows that my posting has been really erratic. But, I'm going to try to hang in there because I've enjoyed the trade off, from crappy TV to spending too much time on the internet. But, thems the breaks.
And to finish off with something completely random... I really DO NOT like Oprah. I'll talk more about this later, but I find her arrogant and self-righteous. Period. I'm sorry for any and all Oprah fans (Sorry mom! Sorry sis!)... but I had to say it.
T
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