Bright Lights, Big City

Why, again, does the rest of the world consider Americans excessive?

2012-02-12T10:52:00.000-08:00

Oh, that's why...

We build big loud trucks whose only purpose is to jump really high into the air and crush cars and make noise. I donned no sleeves on this frigid Friday in February (because you shouldn't wear sleeves to monster truck rallies, duh) and watched as trucks with names like "El Toro Loco," "Monster Mutt," "Superman," and "Grave Digger" revved their engines, jumped over cars and, in some cases wrecked themselves from jumping too high and landing on one wheel. The whole thing was totally ridiculous and is probably on the list of things that proves that our collective IQ is rapidly lowering (possibly from breathing in too many monster truck fumes). I know I killed a few brain cells that night, and it wasn't from alcohol.

The show consisted of a bunch of different events crammed together with no particular reasoning as far as we could tell. For instance, they started out by "racing" the monster trucks around the track with two jumps per lap, but I still am not sure exactly how the winner was chosen or why. It seemed to be which ever truck crossed the finish line first, but if I wanted to see things go fast, I would have gone to Nascar without my sleeves! I was rooting for the car that hit the jumps most recklessly! There were some ATV races mixed in there too which, after seeing the monster trucks race, looked like a bunch of Hot Wheels toys driving in circles. That was followed by a ten minute set up for what we found out was snow mobile jumping (the actual performance lasted about as long as the set up and ensuing take down of their ramp). Oh, did I mention that this did not take place on snow? Then, thinking that we couldn't get any more confused about what was happening, there was a 12 minute (at least) dub step laser light show. Still not sure why.

The end of the show was what we all came to see, the monster trucks ran all over the place, crushing cars and driving up the huge ramp in the middle. Two trucks broke something, which was AWESOME, and they all made a lot of noise and got into the air a few times. Still doesn't get the testosterone pumping like a fighter jet fly over, but it wasn't bad. AMERICA!

Ansel Adams

2012-01-07T15:40:00.000-08:00

I just got back from the Lake County Discovery Museum in Wauconda, Illinois where they were hosting an exhibit of Ansel Adams original prints. I have to say, I have been familiar with Adams' work since I took photography in high school, but I never really got much information about his innovations and techniques that he used to produce some of the most incredible photographic images ever made. The exhibit had a good deal more prints than I had expected being a small museum in Wauconda, and each one was very impressive. I have never seen an Ansel Adams print that was reproduced so well (these were actually the work of Adams himself), the ones I have seen are usually grainy or faded and do not show what I learned to be one of Adams' signature features of his prints: sharpness and depth of field.

As I read the information next to the prints, I learned that Adams used an extremely deep depth of field to capture as much of the detail of the landscapes he photographed. After reading this, I made sure to pay attention to the depth of field used in the prints and it was abundantly clear that the aperture was about as small as he could get it. The image was razor sharp from the pebbles in the foreground to the jagged mountains in the background and everything in between. He seemed to want to capture every detail he possibly could in his photographs. It was really interesting to go back and look at the photographs a little closer and see all the little grains of gravel and the textures of the snowdrifts and sand dunes. The pictures I grabbed above from the internet just don't do justice to the sharpness of the prints I saw in person.

Another interesting piece of information I picked up from reading along as I checked out the prints was that Adams' original plan was to be a musician. He wanted, if I recall correctly, to be a pianist, and never lost his interest in music as an art form even as he became a world renowned photographer. I read quotes from him describing how he would "hear" things in the images he captured. I'm not sure if it was the power of suggestion, but his images did seem to have some sort of aural spirit to them. I can't say I could hear music as I looked at them but they looked like music. The landscapes seemed to flow along, or stand rigidly still as a melody or accent moves and stops in a song. Dave told me not to apologize for getting too introspective when I write, so I won't (but it still feels a little funny). The images were truly inspiring and I will admit, I got some serious goose bumps as I looked at the staggering beauty of the places Adams photographed. He seemed to be able to capture them at their most wonderful, intense, and sometimes peaceful moments. I read that a lot of the shots were taken at sunrise or just after and that he would often wait for the shadow line to cut across the frame at just the right spot to get his contrast just right.

I haven't been seriously moved by an art exhibit in a long time, not sure if I ever have actually, but I was today. The last day to see the show is tomorrow, so you'll probably have missed it when you read this, but if you ever do get the chance to see these photographs, or better, the places that were Adams' subject matter, do not pass it up.

Checking Off the Bucket List

2011-12-28T13:41:00.000-08:00

Just a small accomplishment, but I'm hoping to solicit the help of anyone who might read this in order to more thoroughly achieve my goal.

It all started when I was sent downtown to Michigan Ave. to pick up some cornbread from a restaurant called Bandera. Doreen brought some of their cornbread the last time Mitch made chili (for Hannah's birthday, I believe) and it was delicious. I'm not sure what drove me to think this way, but I thought that making cornbread is something that I should be able to do well. I've always liked cornbread, and it never seemed like something that was too difficult or technical to bake (plus you bake it in a cast iron skillet, which is the most manly way to bake stuff), so I figured I would take it upon myself to learn to bake really good cornbread so that next time, we don't have to go all the way to Michigan Ave. to get it. So I added it to my "bucket list," figuring that it would be a pretty easy one to check off.

My first attempt was yesterday. I used some Target gift cards I received from families of kids I teach (thank you!) to get a skillet and the basic ingredients. It proved to be every bit as simple as I thought it would be to make the stuff, there's enough milk in the recipe I had that even mixing the batter was a cinch. I poured it in the skillet after warming it in the oven with bacon fat melting inside and cooked it for about half an hour. When I pulled it out and tasted it, I was surprised by how moist it was. I suppose there are different kinds of cornbread and this was definitely a more cake-like version. I'd like to tweak the recipe a bit and see if I can perfect it. My main obstacle, I'm sure, will be finding willing recipients for all my mediocre attempts in the meantime as I don't think my family is going to put away a ten inch cornbread as often as I'd like to practice making them.

So, if you have a really good cornbread recipe, or a secret ingredient you'd like to share with a novice (albeit one who can fake a pretty good southern accent if that helps), please do. I'd like to have this one taken care of well before we have Mitch's chili again (drool).

Fruits of Our Labor

2011-12-14T18:05:00.000-08:00

I've never been good at following up and, seeing as though this blog started with the idea of getting me doing the things I wasn't particularly good at - or at the very least, keeping me from regressing into a less articulate person, I figured it would be appropriate to follow up on a post I made earlier this year.

Back in the spring, I posted about the garden I planted (one of the many advantages to living with the "room mates" being that they have a yard that is capable of growing edible plants). The major goals of the garden were, as most gardens are around here, herbs and tomatoes. I planted a few different kinds of tomatoes, basil, garlic chives, parsley, rosemary, cilantro, and then also a few other things that I thought might be cool: squash, brussels sprouts, cayenne peppers, ancho chilies, and cauliflower. As is the case with nature, things didn't really work out the way I had planned. The tomato plants yielded a grand total of, I believe, two tomatoes. I think they were stricken with some sort of disease, infection, or infestation of some kind because their branches, after growing up and out with vigor, quickly shriveled and died leaving only a few green branches. The squash plant produced some small, but tasty looking gourds - apparently very tasty looking, especially to squirrels. The brussels sprouts grew strong and took over much more area than I had expected and produced a good number of small but flavorful sprouts. We roasted these up, after I cleaned off the entire colony of tiny bugs that had made their home in my sprouts plants, with some pecans and they turned out mighty delicious. Maybe it was the bugs adding that certain j'ne sais quoi... If anyone has a suggestion on what to do with the leaves of this plant, please let me know, because I felt a little bad tossing away that much of the plant and they actually look like they might cook up well somehow. The herbs did well, aside from the cilantro, which I have decided is a pipe dream of mine and just plain won't grow well here. Mom made a TON of pesto from the basil, which we have frozen for the winter.

Oh man! I forgot about the lettuce, we grew ourselves some real nice heads of lettuce that gave us thick leaves with purple edges on heads that were almost too big to hold in one hand. In the future, I'd like to see how those plants do if I just cut off a few leaves at a time instead of the whole thing at once. Will they continue to grow? I could have gone for more of those salads.

The real successes of the garden were, surprisingly, the cauliflower and the peppers. I harvested the cauliflower on a cool, wet night in the late fall and brought it in the house to further inspect it. I had never seen a cauliflower plant before and the thing is really quite impressive. It stands just under a foot tall or so with big, veiny leaves surrounding the white, waxy "meaty" part like petals. The moisture runs down the leaves toward the "meaty" part and its waxy coating causes it to bead up and stand on top of the white mass, giving it a shimmering quality that made it tough to chop off. When I brought the thing in, mom noticed a pink tint to the usually milky white flesh. It reminded me of the pink algae that grows in alpine snow banks in the summer time. I chopped the thing up, tossed it in a bowl with olive oil, mint, crushed red pepper, spread it all out on a cookie sheet, baked it up and added pine nuts and parmesan cheese (mom got the recipe from The Girl and The Goat). It was De-licious! We were all wishing there were more.

The peppers were a whole other story altogether. They grew late and produced a ton of fruit. I really didn't have a plan for these, figured I'd be putting them in omelets or something I guess, but then life intervened and I wasn't at home cooking omelets on the weekend (thank you ultimate). The peppers kept on coming. I think they made their way into a few dishes here and there, but for the most part, they cluttered the countertop and our fruit and veggie storage areas. I was able to cook up a couple of the anchos into something resembling chili rellenos (well a very loose interpretation of chili rellenos - am I butchering this spelling?) which, along with some leftover steak, became my lunch one day at work.

The reason I'm writing this, well what prompted me to write this tonight rather, was that I just put the last of the fruits of this year's garden in the food processor and added it to some pizza. I had hung the last of the cayennes on some thread between the cupboards in the kitchen window above our sink to dry, and dry they did. I took them down this evening and they were as brittle as old leaves. I easily cracked off the stems and broke them in two or three pieces with the same ease before dropping them in the food processor and chopping them up. I could smell them as soon as I removed the stems, a surprisingly sweet, but potently strong, spicy aroma that made me think twice about taking in too deep a sniff, lest my eyes should start to water, filled the space around my cutting board. Some of them were still dark green when they were strung up, but all were a bright red by now. I had Mom, Matt, and Dad smell the container of chopped up pepper bits and they all said, "Mmmm, fresh, crushed red pepper," which I thought was a little funny, as the peppers had been sitting above the sink for probably over a month.

All in all, I'd call the garden a success, certainly not in the way I had expected it, but a success none the less. Next year, more cauliflower, better tomatoes (please), smarter with the brussels sprouts, peppers, but not as many and maybe some different kinds, and definitely no cilantro this time, I know, it doesn't work, maybe some mint too to go along with the cauliflower. I welcome your suggestions, tips, and knowledge if you'd be so kind as to share.

Yelp!

2011-10-20T17:42:00.001-07:00

I was flipping through the news paper this morning before leaving for work and an article in the Dining section caught my eye. The article’s headline was Yelp’s power grates on wary restaurants. This is something I’ve often thought about since having a scalding review written about someone’s experience at Lush with me behind the counter. That particular situation was handled shortly after it happened and the review is no longer posted on yelp.com however, there are plenty more like it up there for restaurants all over the country. Today’s article covered the issues that arise when people are given the opportunity to make uniformed and unqualified critiques of businesses and other people use them to decide whether or not to patronize that business. I, personally, find Yelp to be a forum that is entirely uninteresting to me, but I can not deny the sway it has among “foodies” at least here in Chicago. The problem I have with Yelp is no fault of its own, it’s merely a side effect of the internet itself: it affords its users an unrestricted and unchecked opportunity to vent (or speak, rather) their personal feelings and have no concern for any recourse by the proprietor of the business (but also offer the proprietor no opportunity to change their opinion). When a restaurant is reviewed on Yelp, the person writing the review is never obligated to stand by their words or justify them in any way, and I think that is wrong. In fact, the article today had an example from the owners (husband and wife) of two restaurants here in Chicago in which the wife was at another restaurant waiting for her husband to arrive when she overheard a person at another table “trashing” their restaurants. When her husband arrived, he recalled the man’s face “go[ing] white” and, after the wife telling him “we own those restaurants,” the man “ran out of the place.” This makes me wonder if people really mean what they say on Yelp, or at least are prepared to stand by their words once they’ve written them. I think that if you are going to make a bold statement about someone’s work, you should first be qualified to make such a statement, and second, be comfortable with making it a dialogue, let the person defend them self before you go and publish it and let other people put stock in what you say. The internet is a wild place and I think that is good. Ideas can spread faster than ever and we can do and learn things any time we like but, like the Spiderman comics say, “with great power comes great responsibility.” In fact, the article states, a correlation has been shown between Yelp reviews and the level of business with regard to restaurants. The only person keeping you in check on the internet is you and there’s nothing wrong with that. We can be mature enough to handle that responsibility, it really doesn’t take that much foresight to realize that, when you say something publicly, it could potentially could be heard/read/whatever by the person it concerns. There’s really nothing wrong with that either, except when the criticism is cruel, personal, or just plain mistaken. In my experience, the people who own restaurants want people to have a good experience at their place and, given the opportunity, will do almost anything to make sure people do. When the review was written that involved me, it was hurtful and it included very few critiques of the store and really focused on insulting me and calling me names, frankly it was pretty juvenile. The person who wrote it took it down as soon as I wrote her about it which makes me wonder if she thought it was valid. I suppose that, in this realm of little or no regulation, we need to be ready to keep ourselves in check and take a step back and think about what would happen if what we wrote or said got back to the person it concerned before clicking “Send.”

By the way, I understand the irony of commenting on the website that allows people to comment, without restriction, on pretty much whatever they want. I hope I have been fair and just here and if not, please let me know.

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! Child Moment of the Day

2011-10-05T11:42:00.001-07:00

A sixth grade boy walks up to my office door and asks me, "Mr. Flynn, may I worship you?" I, of course respond, "Yeah, duh." He does a burpee and walks away.

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2011-06-27T16:37:00.000-07:00

A ten year old boy came up to me today during a game of "Freeze Dance" (you just dance until the music stops and you have to freeze in your dance motion), and informed me that he "didn't know any dance moves." And asked if he could therefore "just move to the music." I was preparing myself for the "you can dance, it's ok if you look silly" pep talk, but he seemed totally fine with his idea of "just moving to the music," which, of course as I informed him, was in fact dancing.

Farmer...Colyn?

2011-05-21T10:40:00.000-07:00

Not really. I don't think I'm quite able to grow enough food to call myself a "farmer." But let's just say I would like to add it to the things I'd like to know how to do, you know, in case of a zombie apocalypse. Wait, is rapture today? Why did I even bother planting? Anyway, I have adopted a similar attitude toward the stuff that grows in the yard to that of my choice in clothing - I don't care so much how it looks, what does it DO? Plants are pretty good looking any way you slice it, so I'm not as much into their aesthetics as I am their function. I guess that's why I want to grow some food. Besides, who doesn't want a few more tomatoes available any time you want them for the whole summer?! A couple of weekends back, I got the soil prepared, adding top soil, peat moss, and slicing off a few more feet of grass to allow for more crops this year. I'm not quite at the composting point yet so I didn't have any home made dirt to add, but we might be able to make that work soon. I like the idea of a self-sustaining garden, but I'm not too sure how best to accomplish it at this point (and pops isn't too keen on the idea of letting stuff rot somewhere in his yard - on that note, I got a pretty swift "no" when I brought up the idea of chickens as well). The challenge here is always keeping the squirrels off of the tomatoes, which we were pretty successful with last year maybe by shear luck or perhaps they ate one of those cayenne peppers I was growing and thought better of testing the fruits. We also planted marigolds which I have heard keep squirrels away. I'm really looking forward to this year's garden, I think we could get a pretty good yield if I can keep up with the watering, trimming, weeding, etc. For those who care, we are growing three, maybe four different kinds of tomatoes, swiss chard, purple lettuce, squash, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, cayenne peppers, hot chiles, basil, parsley, rosemary, cilantro, and perhaps some garlic chives if I didn't kill them by now. Sounds like a tasty meal, eh? I'm looking forward to it all. Come over any time for a sample!

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2011-04-26T16:04:00.000-07:00

A second grade girl came up to me and said, "Mr. Flynn, I had a dream you were a ballerina," and walked away.

Just Like the Good Old Days?

2011-03-16T18:30:00.001-07:00

I have been noticing a trend in the last few years that seems to be a multi-area movement to reexamine and reevaluate our perceptions on the “progress” made in several basic areas of human life specifically food and drink, reusables, and exercise. In each of these areas, I have observed a shift toward the styles of the past, and in some cases the distant past, in a very complete way. I do not discount the fact that I have been reading more and more lately, and that the media used to promote these ideas is almost exclusively print, or that these “trends” may simply be the effects of the liberal social realm in which I find myself. Either way, there is something going on and it seems to be catching on in more than just the liberal, leftist circles and I’d like to start looking at it from the perspective of beer.

I can’t say I’ve always liked beer, my first one that I can remember was a warm Busch Light at a party in high school which I couldn’t even force myself to choke down despite the social pressure, but now I like it a LOT. Even more, I prefer, most of the time, craft beer with unique, potent flavors, different textures, that challenges my brain to take a second look at what I’m drinking, but at the same time there’s always room for an ice cold American Lager when I’m in the mood. This preference was something I developed on my summer adventures in Seattle, where craft beer had already taken hold and people demanded tastier brews even in the divest of dive bars. I remember being disappointed when I would come home and try to find a solid pale ale or esb at the UIC college bars. However, in the years that followed, I began to see more and more craft brews spring up at bars that didn’t normally carry them (most of Chicago’s watering holes), and even more surprising, more and more craft breweries started opening up in the area. People I knew who I recalled having the “High Life Light is way better than Keystone Light” conversation with, suddenly were asking if I’d ever had the 3 Floyd’s Alpha King, and celebrations of Dark Lord Day began to include a wider population than the bearded, tatted, pierced beer geek gang. When I ask people (from behind the counter of the finest wine and spirits store in the galaxy) what the beer that did it for them was, what made them trade taste for quantity, what made them pay a little more per bottle they usually have a memory of a friend sharing something delicious or going to a brewery somewhere, but included in almost all their answers is that they feel like they are drinking real beer. Real beer? After the flashbacks of the scene in Hook where the lost boys feast on nothing subside, I think that maybe there’s something to this. Reality, in this case, is how well they are perceiving it. How much do I know about this beer? Where did it come from? What was it made with? Why was it made to taste/look/feel this way? Who made it? The more we know about this thing we are putting in our bodies, the more we believe in it and the more real it becomes to us. Surely this influences taste, but I think it tickles another fancy that more and more people are developing: a preference toward responsible and anthropological motives for what they do. This principle is directly opposing the commercial, big business, tell-you-what-you-want kind of philosophy that has dominated food production and distribution (and still does in most ways). I would like to think that this is due to a shift away from commercialism and consumerism, but I highly doubt that that is truly the case, instead it might be a more sustainable, responsible version of the same (the lessor of two evils).

I am including food (and wine) production as analogous to beer. I cannot speak for the rest of the nation, but in Chicago anyway, there are more and more community supported agriculture (CSA) options than ever before. I hear my friends and acquaintances talking about their Saturday rituals of heading to the farmers’ market(s) around town, of which there are more and more. I recently watched a documentary called The Truth About Farmer John which chronicled an Illinois farmer’s struggles with his personal demons and those that accompany any midwestern monoculturalist. His final solution to the problem of what to do with his farm and how not to lose it was to make it a CSA, a rather novel idea when you look at it through the eyes of a businessman. How do you say, “hey everybody, I have a farm that is totally organic, but small. The harvest is susceptible to all kinds of problems that could be solved with pesticides and chemicals but I’m not going to use those and therefore can’t guarantee you’ll get produce from me, but please give me a bunch of money in the spring and we’ll see what happens,” and think you’re going to make it in a world built around big-business, large-scale farming that produces all our foods from one or two raw ingredients and makes it taste extra good through all the things added to it? The only explanation I can think of is that people are starting to realize that, though it was the past, there were some things about agriculture we had right before the huge monoculture farms took over and the scientists made our food with chemicals. There is a way to be profitable and sustainable, you just have to have some faith and everyone has to work for it together.

Another idea that I have been exposed to recently through my friends who practice Crossfit is the Paleolithic diet. This diet is based simply on what our ancestors ate, the driving idea being that we evolved to eat this way and the agricultural revolution is too recent for our bodies to adapt, if we are going to at all. I have to say, it sounds like one of the most logical and complete diets I have come across to date. It doesn’t make any of the mistakes of the failed fad diets which demonize or omit a certain nutrient (think “carbs are evil” “fat is evil”), rather it embraces them all, they just say that there is a proper delivery method and proportion for each nutrient that can be approximated by how our distant ancestors ate. I’ll let you google it for the specifics, but I found it interesting that someone thought, “Hey, why don’t we look at diet from an anthropological perspective and see what we are made to eat rather than just keep breaking down chemicals to their lowest common denominator and build food without the natural complexity of its delivery system.” This diet assumes we do not know everything there is to know about how food interacts in our body, but we can try banking on two million years of evolution and see how that works.

Feel free to stop reading if you think I’m blatantly plagiarizing The Omnivore's Dilema and In Defense of Food, but I think the ideas go a little beyond what we put in our body. For instance, the idea of bringing your own bags to the grocery store, containers to restaurants, your own coffee mug to Starbucks! These are things that I was amazed I had never considered before they became popular. I mean, they benefit both parties and they prevent waste, duh! However, culturally, they were totally foreign and strange. I mean, if one had no concept of the supermarket and you told me about it, one might think that they would need some way of carrying the goods back home and one would not be crazy to think “Oh, I better grab a bag or a cart in which to bring the stuff home.” Something like this requires very little effort other than getting over the tradition of not doing it, which I have to say, I fail at over and over.

The next glaring example of the idea that maybe we don’t need all this extra stuff and we had it right before in many ways is the notion that our bodies are, for the most part, made correctly. Everyone can see the glaring examples of how people believe that the only way to achieve perfection of their body is to do something to it: wear something, put on makeup, shave, trim, clip, take supplements, eat special foods, etc. There is very little out there telling us, you are fine the way you are, just don’t lose it! That is an idea that I think goes along with this whole food, wine, beer, reusables, etc., in that it shows that people long ago (in this case pre-historic long ago) had some things right. More and more evidence, or at least idealists are coming out and saying “More equipment is not the answer. More complex supplements are not the answer. The answer is less external, more internal.” I watched a lecture by Christopher McDougall, the author of Born to Run (which I plan to read as soon as I finish my second round of The Fountainhead) in which he said plainly, (I’m paraphrasing here) “Humans are made to run very long distances, in our bare feet. We are not built for speed, we run long, relying on the large amount of springy connective tissue in our legs and we don’t need any special gear to do so.” He also contends that running barefoot will benefit posture, arches if you have flat feet, callused tissue on the foot, pretty much anything wrong with you mechanically. I can not testify to the effectiveness of running barefoot, but I can say that the thought of defending barefoot running against the standard form of shoes with thick padding and arch support seems backwards to me in the first place. Barefoot was first, should we not be defending shoes against that? I should add, to clarify, that McDougall does not necessarily mean literally barefoot, he runs in Vibram Five Fingers and is simply saying that we should run in something that is going to protect us from getting glass in your foot, but not something that is going to support us in some way we were not built to be supported.

I have to say, I really like this idea, it feels like the craft beer of exercising; it’s been around forever, but it had been almost forgotten in mainstream culture. It has always been the real way of doing things, but we thought we could dominate nature, perhaps we need to stop trying to dominate nature and rather learn to work with it better. Perhaps we have more to learn from our past and our ancestors than we have cared to think. Perhaps some of our “primitive” ways we not so primitive at all. Perhaps we oversimplified and in doing so lost something that nature’s complexity brings to us. Perhaps we lost what we had as children, that drive that lets us enjoy running for the sake of running, that which keeps the grin on our face after hours outside playing in the park and which might keep it there after mile fifty with fifty more to go. Whatever we did, I feel like there is some truth in the idea that we might have been missing something in how we have been doing things lately and that we may just be as smart as we think we are, just not in the way we have been thinking.

The Sun! It's so simple...

2011-01-28T10:01:00.000-08:00

I can't say that I've ever noticed how the short days of the winter months affect my mood as much as this year. At least three days a week I take the train(s) to work, which means that I leave the house at 6:30 am and get home close to 6:00 pm. In the winter, this means I leave when it's dark and I get home when it's dark. The shortest days of the year this winter seemed to last forever, and this week was especially dragging, what with the four or five days of consistent gray overcast that blocked out the sun and the fact that I spend most of my days at work in windowless rooms. I will admit, I hadn't felt like I really got over that virus I had after the new year fully until I walked out of the house this morning and saw that the sky was not it's usual, Chicago street light orange color, but the light blue of the first light of dawn. Very poetic, sorry for the nausea I just caused you... Anyway, I feel like a million bucks and I can't help but thinking that it's that morning sun. It could be that it's Friday and we have Buick practice tomorrow, and the kids have been pretty well behaved this week, etc. as well, but that sun this morning really energized me. Enough to post about it anyway!

R-E-A-D-A-B-O-O-K

2011-01-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

I'd like to make it clear that I have no intention of critiquing any works of literature on this blog, as I am woefully unqualified to do so, but I figured I'd write about a book I just read. It's a rather rare occurrence that I finish a book so I suppose it's worth marking the occasion with a few words.

I've been lucky enough to stumble upon a couple of really good reads in a bookstore in Oak Park called The Book Table while buying Ayn Rand books as gifts for people (and myself). Anyway, the first of the pair I stumbled upon was Miracle In The Andes by Nando Parrado who was one of the survivors of the plane crash in the 1970s that left a group of Uruguayan rugby players marooned high in the Andes for 72 days. The story is incredible to say the least. It was made into a movie starring Ethan Hawke that was based on the book Alive. I have not read that particular version of the story, and I'm sure that there are some discrepancies between that account and the one I read by Parrado. Either way, it is an extremely personal, moving, and intense account of what happens at the extremes of human experience. It certainly filled the void in my need for adventure left by finishing Chasing Che, another incredible book that has inspired in me an interest in Latin America, both geographically and socially. I digress. I recall feeling the full range of human emotion reading Miracle in the Andes, something I can't say I expected from any story. Reading a story like this makes me think if I have what it takes to survive something like these men did and make it clear that I hope to never have to find out.

After plowing through Miracle in the Andes, I went back to the Book Table one day mainly out of boredom, and to replace my copy of The Fountainhead, which I gave away. I walked around and felt lost. I felt like what I expect a lot of people feel coming into a wine store for the first time: completely lost. I didn't know what I wanted to read, I wasn't sure which section to look in. I didn't want to just pick a pretty cover. So I wandered around aimlessly looking for something to strike my eye. After grazing around the fiction section, I came across Cormac McCarthy's area in the fiction section. I'm not sure where I heard his name before, other than my cousin Jonny's middle name, but I picked up The Road and read the teaser on the back. It sounded good, adventure, danger, very personal, fiction.

The book is written in a very strange perspective, sort of a little third/first/first or something. Hard to explain, but it took a little getting used to. It's a post apocalyptic world where a father and son are traveling, more or less aimlessly, and just trying to survive. They scavenge and run, fight and evade. It reminded me of a zombie story except no real zombies, just cannibals. It was a fast read once I got used to McCarthy's writing style, but what really struck me was that, in spite of the very stripped down language (lots of abstract description and dialogue without explicit cues to who is speaking - "he said") I felt like I got to know the characters very well by the end of the book based only on their actions and words. I think it actually felt more real that way, like I was experiencing them for myself. I think that, if someone else were to read this book they might have a very different opinion of who the characters are.

Well, there you have it, some books I've read recently, yay I read stuff!

OXYGEN!!!

2010-12-30T12:13:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when I'm feeling pensive or in need of a little oxygen, I take the green line out to the Garfield Park Conservatory. This is one of my favorite places in Chicago, especially in the winter time. It's a huge, old greenhouse with room after room of incredible plants.

I was hoping to skip town for the new year, but it didn't work out and I was feeling the need for a little warmth and fresh air. Ironically, one of the only places to find fresh air in Chicago in the winter is indoors, here at the conservatory. They usually close at 5pm, but on Wednesdays they stay open until 8pm. It happened to be Wednesday yesterday and I decided to go and read amongst the plants. When I arrived, I was surprised to find that, though the conservatory was open, most of the lights had been turned off (or perhaps not turned on, as it is a big, glass building with plenty of natural light during the day). Reading in this situation proved a bit difficult, so I just walked around and enjoyed the smells and extra oxygen. Here are some pictures I managed to take with my camera propped against something to keep it steady. If you ever find yourself looking for a place to escape to in the city, I highly recommend going here, and calling me up.

Some HUGE palms in the main (palm) room.

They're Agave plant is flowering! This, apparently, is a rare event and the whole ordeal lasts up to a year or so. The flowers bloom on the tips of a stalk that shoots up from the middle of the leaves and grows up to thirty feet tall. The stalk, though I couldn't see it well in the dim light, is said to be reminiscent of asparagus (as the agave is related to asparagus).

Cool, green lights on the desert at night.

Chihuly, the famous blown glass artist, had an exhibit here a few years back in which he displayed his artwork along with the plants. I remember thinking it was very impressive, and I was surprised at how well Chihuly was able to integrate his man-made works into the natural beauty supplied by the plants. These are a few of the pieces he left for permanent display at the conservatory.

Outdoor Adventure Club Weekend at Kettle Moraine, Wisconsin

2010-12-20T11:00:00.000-08:00

The outdoor adventure club's latest escapade brought us to Kettle Moraine State Park, Wisconsin (Nov. 19-21). Kettle Moraine is a beautiful place with a landscape carved by glaciers over thousands of years. This was, aside from a very frigid ultimate tournament at UW Whitewater in college, my first attempt at cold weather camping. The temperature on Friday night was supposed to get down to the mid 20s and we faced a high of only mid 30s on Saturday. I figured that with all the money I've spent on camping gear, it was time to put up or shut up. There were six brave souls in the group and we all managed pretty well for the most part (aside from some pretty vicious blisters and poor planning/bad map reading by myself).

Cigars, Whiskey, and a fire with wet wood.

Oh yeah, and Spotted Cow

Farmer brought his HAM radio, but was unable to contact any extra-terrestrial life.

Did I mention it was the first weekend of deer (and apparently road sign) season?

Look, Matt's almost as tall as Sarah!

This is what I looked like when I found out Farmer brought Ginger snaps.

Matt Woodhead and I made chili for night two. I thought we would have had enough for lunch the next day as well, but we ate it all. I guess when you don't eat lunch and you hike 10 miles you get extra hungry.

We were out of water and the well near our shelter was closed due to contamination so we had to resort to Dark Lord. Thank you Matt!

5 or so miles into our hike out on Sunday, we made it to water. This tasted like liquid iron. But it was some of the best water I've tasted (which I think was influenced by the fact that I hadn't had any since the day before). We also met yet another extremely friendly Wisconsin resident at the water pump, which further proves our theory that everyone in Wisconsin is the nicest person ever.

Victory beers at the cars.

Did I mention it was 50 degrees and FOGGY all day on Sunday. Visibility was probably down to about 30 yards.

More victory beers and a pot luck at the Fifth Quarter. Yes, this bar was having a pot luck for the Packer's game. Sloppy Joes, string cheese dipped in cocktail sauce, taco-bean dip = Awesome.

Matt cheated on Sarah with some Packer fans and she got super jealous.

Outdoor Adventure Club Weekend at the Indiana Dunes

2010-10-19T13:23:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to make sure I am justifying all the money I spend on outdoor gear so I put together a little camping trip to the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore last weekend. I went there in September with my school (for the middle school retreat) and found it to be particularly beautiful and interesting. I also am incredibly fond of jumping down dunes. It's great to be able to get away to some pretty sweet natural setting without driving more than two hours, and considering that the National Park is located between a steel mill and two power plants, the whole place is truly incredible. They claim (I say it as if they aren't for real) that there are eight separate ecosystems within the park (dunes, oak savannas, swamps, bogs, marshes, prairies, rivers and forests). We were able to cover most of these in the two short days we spent there and each one was truly beautiful. I am hoping to get out again before the year is over for a weekend in Kettle Morraine, Wisconsin and possibly stay in a yurt or a teepee.

One of the power plants in the area, as viewed from Mt. Baldy

Falling off of Mt. Baldy

Trash we found on the beach

Dune burpees!!

This is how ladies walk through the oak savannah

S'mores with tortilla chips, giant marshmallows and dark chocolate = best idea ever

Coffee in bed.

Lake Burpees!

The water was beautiful in October!!

And of course, jumping down the dunes!!

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2010-09-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

This actually happened a few days ago, but is well worth sharing with those of you who might be reading my thoughts here...

I almost didn't post this because I didn't want my blog to turn into a collection of fart stories, but who cares! I'll offer you this disclaimer:
If you appreciate good old fart jokes, keep reading, if not... you're probably lying, everyone likes fart jokes.

So I'm proctoring the standardized testing that is done at my school (standardized tests are now done on the computer, and since I work in the tech lab, I have the pleasure of watching kids take tests for two weeks). Anyway, I was reading the instructions to the test, which I have to repeat for every class that takes a test, and upon finishing my speech, someone very close by rips a rather loud, and pretty powerful fart. Bear in mind the fact that this was the seventh and eight grade group and, for once in their lives, they were completely silent at that moment. I braced myself for the eminent laughter and teasing that was bound to ensue, but nothing happened! I did my best to hide my disgust (this was a juicy one after all) and my laughter and managed to sit down and bury my face in my computer. Just when I thought we had dodged a bullet and the kids were settling into their test, I hear another fart. This one was at least as loud and came with at least as much force as the first. Still no reaction from the crowd, amazing. To make a very long (and uncomfortable) story short, this seventh grade girl sitting no more than four feet away from me proceeded to thunderously pass gas in a room with no windows and limited ventilation, filled with her classmates who were to all to be stuck there for at least 45 minutes, upwards of nine times! I had the dean of students come over and pull her out after number nine or ten, and when asked if she was feeling ok, she replied, "Yes, why?" And when she was told why we suspected that her stomach was upset, she replied with, "Oh! Do you think I was being disruptive?" WTF?!!

She came back and finished the rest of her test without farting.

Somebody kept farting on the train...

2010-09-02T14:40:00.000-07:00

Ok, so everyone knows I'm not the best smelling dude in the world (I prefer to think of my scent as an acquired taste), but at least I try to be courteous to other people when we're in close quarters. Anyway, the story goes like this:

I was having a lovely time NOT driving home from work (riding the Metra train). I happened to take an earlier train than usual and it happened to be very full. I found a seat in the upper deck, as I call it, broke out a book and began reading. Not two pages into my read, I detected a very potent oder in the air. It was one of those seriously thick ones, you know, the ones you can't avoid because they pretty much have a TASTE in addition to a smell. I'm not sure if it was because of some seasonal allergies or not, but I swear my eyes started burning at the same time. It was bad. No big deal right? Sometimes you just have to let one go, I can understand that, I can't say I sympathize, but I understand. Well, wouldn't you know it, no sooner had the not so well vented train car dispelled the oder than I practically saw another cloud of noxious gas rising up from the seats below. Just when I thought the war was over, another salvo came rising up. At this point I started looking around for the culprit. No one was fessing up. No giggling, no sneering, no over innocent-looking people avoiding my stare. I did notice a few people doing the same subtle searching I was. I hoped they didn't think I looked guilty. I mean, not to say that I wasn't impressed, this took some serious talent, but it wasn't my brand, and it wouldn't be right to be credited for this.

I never figured out who dealt it, but I just want to see A. if anyone reads this anymore, and B. what your thoughts might be on public flatulence. When is it acceptable if ever? When is it taboo? Is it one of those "if no one finds out who did it, then it's ok" kind of things? What would have been the appropriate punishment for such a person? Or have they suffered enough with the pressure they had to deal with before their "release?"

Holy Freakin' Woolly Mammoth Batman!!

2010-03-12T11:08:00.000-08:00

And then there's one of me holding a tarantula. She was very soft and gentle!

Also, there was a baby Woolly Mammoth. No, not a fossilized skeleton, a perfectly preserved, baby freaking Mammoth from about 20,000 years ago!!!

She was incredible!

I've also always wanted to see someone riding one of these:

Thanks to Florida for hooking us up BIG TIME!! Even though I had to do some things I wasn't proud of with Morley to get a ticket over his girlfriend... But I'd say it was worth it in the end.

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2010-02-26T12:51:00.000-08:00

This may fall under "Things to do with 4 year olds on a Friday afternoon when you want to entertain both them and yourself," but either way, I GOT STICKERED!!!

It was in celebration of the 100th day of school, which was actually yesterday, but I wasn't available for stickering yesterday. Remember when 100 was THE BIGGEST NUMBER EVER?!! I do, and I was reminded today when the preschoolers, very gently to my surprise, attached 100 stickers to me as I sat in a chair and submitted to their cuteness. I'm sure I'll have a chuckle later on when I reach in the washing machine and pull out the fifty or so pieces of paper saying "Great Job!" "Shine!" (with image of smiling sun) "WOW!" "KEEP IT NEAT!" and "SUPER!"

Also, one of the preschoolers personally counted to 100 in front of me, showing that he could, in fact, complete the almost impossible task of counting that high.

Reading

2010-02-26T07:12:00.000-08:00

I am currently taking a course in "teaching reading" in grad school. Despite some shortcomings in my expectations from the teacher, I am finding the class interesting in that it is making me think back on how I've developed (or in some ways, not developed) my ability to read. I remember really disliking having to read books in school. Even the books who's stories I really enjoyed. Reading seems to be one of the only pleasures in life that I am able to really slow down and enjoy. Perhaps this is better said: reading is one of the only pleasures in life that I am not able to consume at an enormous rate. I remember enjoying being read to very much. I remember memorizing Dr. Seuss books and not letting my parents get one word wrong when they read them to me. I remember laughing, crying, blah, blah, blah. But I just HATE reading on a deadline, and it shows.

Right now, I think I have a book mark in four books, all of which I have been reading for much longer than I care to admit for how short they are. I'm always impressed with those people who can sit down and read for a whole day, just knocking our book after book. I am not one of those people. I'm not sure what it is, but when I am really enjoying a book. I like that I can get my satisfaction in and still know that there will be more the next time I pick it up. There's certainly also a part of me that can't sit still that long staring at a book, which is really too bad, because I don't seem to have that trouble when it comes to tv, even when there's nothing on. Either way, I know that when I get a really good book in my hands, I feel this sense of disappointment when it ends.

I've heard other people talk about how much they just want to get to the end of a book. They just power through and move on as soon as they can. It certainly doesn't work that way with me. I mean, everything else in life, I seem to have no problem taking in excess if it gives me some sort of pleasure. I'll be slurping down a delicious beer or glass of wine or inhaling a tasty (and often expensive) meal without pause, but when it comes to a good story, I (perhaps due to my lacking ability) seem to be able to steady the pace and "enjoy the journey" with ease. I often rate how much I like a book by how much I wish it wasn't over upon reading the last page.

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2010-02-05T14:50:00.000-08:00

This could be the greatest WTF moment yet. During an after school "Future Problem Solvers" session in the tech lab where the students were researching disaster recovery in third world countries, one of the seventh grade girls asked (I wrote this down so that I would get it right word for word), "Is there a shipping fee on orphans?"

Wow.

Too soon? Too soon?

adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2010-02-03T11:50:00.000-08:00

So this little boy (a first grader) comes up to me during lunch to inform me that some of the people sitting at his table at lunch just said that god is a made up concept and anyone who believes in god is stupid - yes, the lunchroom conversations at this school involve religion and philosophy mixed with the usual shit talking. He went on to say that they were certainly entitled to their opinion but that he "is a Christian" and found it offensive that they would say that kind of thing. He also mentioned that he knew that "they are Christians" and that they ought to be more respectful of their religion. Finishing his statement he asked me if I would go over there and tell them that what they were saying is wrong and that god does exist.

Sometimes I think these kids take on a little too much emotional baggage...

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2010-01-29T12:26:00.000-08:00

So a bunch of kindergartners are in the tech lab using the paint program (killing time while their teacher grades stuff) one of the girls wanted to tell me that she went to a Greek dinner/dance with her father. While she was explaining what they did and that her Greek last name was... she said some word with a thousand syllables that sounded pretty Greek... right after she said her last name, some other boy from across the room pipes in: "Eh, it's all Greek to me."

Not the world's greatest joke by any means, but this was a four year old! Also, the timing was incredible, he hit his cue right on the mark, no pause, no hesitation, and delivered the line without stumbling. Nice job, kid.

11 to 17

2010-01-20T11:26:00.000-08:00

That was the score of the first Student vs. Faculty basketball game held today, Wednesday, January 20th 2010 at the school where I work. It was a brilliant game and one truly deserving to be played on today, the 118th anniversary of the first game of basketball played in a YMCA training session in Springfield, Massachusetts. According to one of my colleagues, it was 118 years ago today that James Naismith, a Canadian originally, came up with the game based on an old game he played back up in Canada called "Duck on a Rock." Knowing nothing about Duck on a Rock I can only assume, using stereotypes and prejudices, that it involved shooting ducks while they roosted on rocks and then trying to toss their stiff, lifeless bodies into peach baskets while bouncing a hockey puck off of a curling stone at one's side, all the while singing "Oh Canada" in a booming voice.

However, I digress. This post is really about beating young children in sports in order to make us older people feel better about our selves and to teach these kids that losing's ok and that it will always be the outcome when they go up against us. I must hand it to the students though, they did go on a bit of a run including the only 3-point basket of the day and several second chances converted due to aggressive offensive rebounding. I'll also give a shout out to their ball handling skills, lord knows I couldn't dribble as well as they do when I was their age (and, in the case of some of these kids, I still can't).

Winter Super Adventure Club!

2010-01-12T13:18:00.000-08:00

Not to be confused with the South Park version, we actually go out into the frigid Chicago winter and seek out the meager outdoor adventures the midwest provides because we love to explore and be outside.

This was the first adventure I was a part of the activities and I look forward to continuing my involvement. We embarked early Sunday afternoon for Herrick Lake, a Dupage county forest preserve on a search for snow shoeing and cross country skiing. Farmer and I had never snow shoed before so we chose to give that a try while the rest of the group chose the much more high speed activity known as cross country skiing. What I learned from the experience is that snow shoeing, while cool and effective in deep powder, on the packed and groomed trails of Herrick Lake, they simply made walking more funny looking. All was not lost, however, Farmer and I did cut through the woods a bit where the powder was deeper.

Afterward we stopped at REI where I got a sweet new coffee/hot beverage mug.

Then we went over to DAMITZ!!!'s house for some delicious tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (which I ordered with mini weenies inside, pretty good call if you ask me). I was able to make it home just before my food coma completely set in, and felt wonderfully satisfied. Thanks to Ms. DAMITZ!!! for putting it together! Let's do it again soon!

Gnarly old oak

Juice is vicious from the ground

I've been doing some Crossfit, so now I can hold up trees.

Snow shoes make you jump really far, like those shoes from the Mario Bros. movie (I started this leap right next to Becky there).

Most likely singing.

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2010-01-06T12:58:00.000-08:00

Today, as one of the second grade girls was walking out of the room where her "indoor recess" had been held after lunch, she was singing "I like to move it, move it! I like to move it, move it!" While doing a dance that greatly resembled the running man...

Adorable/Awkward/Hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day

2009-12-15T20:43:00.000-08:00

Today, while in the second lunch period (I'm the lunch lady on Tuesdays) which is when the kindergartners come in, a whole table inquired if I had a girlfriend. Catching me at one of the rare times in my life when I actually have a real (real meaning not a famous movie star or singer who I claim wants to be my girlfriend) significant other, I proudly said, "Well yes I do, little girl." I actually didn't say "little girl," as that would be creepy, but I don't want to use her real name. The conversation that followed contained the typical kindergartner questions of if I was going to marry her, how old she was (their first guess was 37, because that was how old they guessed I was, which is funny considering I'm pretty sure we had a "guess Mr. Awesome's age" session last week at lunch during which they were aiming up in the 45 year old range- it must be the beard), etc. However, they quickly got bored with talking about me and decided to move on to the more interesting topic of talking about themselves and their relationships, which is awesome because, remember they are 5 years old (some are 4). One of the young ladies decided to tell me that, well she had two boyfriends. She then named them and pointed to them, as they were both sitting at the table across from her. I just want to point out that this girl, who is totally playing these two boys, just blatantly says it in front of them, like it's no big deal. Then one of the boys who she singled out as one of her two boyfriends replies, "Yeah, but it's not like we're going to get married or anything." Another boy jibes back, "yeah right, you're her fiance," which he pronounces adorably incorrectly. We then went on to chat, back and forth, about how it's cool that they're just playing the field and having a good time right now, and that, yeah, they're just not ready to get serious yet.

It's nice to hear that there are some people out there who are comfortable and open about where they're at in life. I found it refreshing to hear, even if it was from a group of five year olds.

P.S. After this delightful conversation ended, a girl from another table came over to tell me that she had two boyfriends and one girlfriend, who they were, and why she liked them. Awesome!

Bottle sabering 101

2009-12-14T07:12:00.000-08:00

In case you were wondering folks, this is a good example of how it is NOT supposed to work.

Or did it just work too well?

Today, I wore black.

2009-11-06T06:16:00.000-08:00

Every day, on my way to work, I pass by a make-shift memorial on the side of the road about half way through a curve. It is just south of Belmont on River Road and is set back a bit into the woods. There is an obvious gap in the forest there which leads me to believe some vehicle crashed through and tore open a hole in the forest. There are flowers and a statue of the Virgin Mary, and candles and a few other nick-nacks that I am, usually, driving be too fast to identify. My best guess is that there was a car accident there and that someone died in way that was tragic, possibly being hit by a drunk driver. From time to time, however, I have noticed that the flowers are sometimes fresh and that things that get moved or taken away are replaced, but I've never seen anyone there until today. This morning, as I drove by, I saw a car parked on the shoulder near the site and a woman kneeling with her head bowed at the foot of the small statue. I don't know why, but I felt very strongly when I saw that scene. Not sure what the emotion was, but I was moved.

I am also dressed for the occasion, I'm in all black today. We have a "Faculty Fun Night" this evening at work and my team for the activity is dressing in all black, we're badass like that (the attire goes along with our team theme, it's not like an emo look or anything so don't worry that I'm turning into an eighth grader or anything). Either way, the whole scene was somber, yet surprisingly uplifting in a way. Just the fact that this woman obviously visits this site regularly to remember the person who (I assume) she lost there, would mean a lot to me.

Anyway, Happy Friday.

"That's so Metal/Cute?" - Child Moment of the day

2009-11-05T08:45:00.000-08:00

Caleb (thanks for reading my blog and not stabbing me in the eyeballs, even if it makes you want to) replied to my previous post with:

Speaking of salty, the two later ended up playing a game (in which the older, louder one was constantly cheating) that involved trying to roll a "Knex" wheel past each other. As you may remember from your days as a young boy, the Knex wheels are just shy of a hockey puck in the way of weight and density. The game of course ended up with the younger child getting hit in the face with the wheel and crying. So I sat him down next to me and as we chatted and he calmed down he was licking the tears that were rolling down his face. I asked him why he was drinking his own tears; he said he liked the taste. That's so metal/cute.

Adorable/awkward/hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day...

2009-11-04T14:24:00.000-08:00

An argument just erupted between a boy with a serious speech impediment and a very sweet girl who was trying to convince him that her younger friend was very smart for his age. The argument, as is usually the case in situations like this, went quickly to what level of math they were in (only after a short stop in "well if you're so smart, kid, what is 3x/19 + 5 = 16" land). As it turns out this kid who is in 2nd grade is doing pre-algebra (I think I was doing this in maybe 6th grade). Anyway, little 2nd grade boy seems to have it, even though the older one is doing algebra. This is the kind of thing I see all the time. I remember getting into it with other kids over who was smarter, but it wasn't usually about who was doing more advanced math, it was more like who could do math.

Adorable/awkward/hilarious/WTF?! child moment of the day...

2009-10-28T08:25:00.000-07:00

A student, let's call him Saul, he's about 13 years old and just under six feet tall, showed up at the door of the computer lab today ready to take his make up, standardized reading test. I saw him pacing back and forth in front of the door out in the hallway. When I went over to let him in he had that "I'm-13-and-I'm-making-this-decision-into-a-big-deal-even-though-I-know-it-isn't-but-I-can't-help-it-what-do-I-do?!" look about him. He was holding a balled up grey... hair-ball looking thing and fiddling with it nervously. I asked him if he was ready to come in and start his test, to which he replied: "Yeah, but can I bring in my beard? I'm not supposed to wear it during school so I keep in in my pocket." I gave him a WTF look followed by an IDGAF (sorry couldn't resist) look and ushered him into the lab. He began stuffing the beard, which contained enough fake hair to cover most people's heads (I believe it was some sort of Socrates kind of style), into his pocket as he walked over to the computer I had set up for him. He is now sitting there with half a very large beard-wig sticking out of the pocket of his jeans which are too short for him.

P.S. I know of only perhaps two, count them, TWO, boys who attend this school who's pants are not at least two inches too short.

Gifted Education

2009-10-27T07:47:00.000-07:00

I had an interesting conversation with some of the neighbors while at Hannah's (Mitch and Doreen's dog) birthday celebration this weekend. Now, I had just inhaled two bowls of what was quite possibly the best chili Mitch has ever made which, as you might know, means the best chili I've ever had. I had been asked how my new job was going, if I liked it, etc., and after answering "well" and "yes," respectively and rather enthusiastically, I began explaining why my experience was also quite fascinating to me.

The school I work it could not be more different from the schools I have attended in the past. It is a small, very small, private school in the north west suburbs of Chicago. That in and of itself would be enough to make it starkly different than my educational experience. It also happens to be a school for "gifted" children. Now, there are all kinds of implications with the word "gifted," some good, some bad (actually when I first told Dave that I would be working at a school for gifted kids, he asked if it was Professor Xavier's school- think X-Men), but I feel I've been able to keep an open mind about the whole idea.

Initially, thoughts like "these kids are going to be smarter than me," crossed my mind. The teachers that I met before school began repeated over and over how "different" the kids were, and that I was sure to have the same feeling. I have to say, however, that had I not been set up to look for the signs of "giftedness" (I have a problem with the use of this word in this context, but I'll save that for later) I probably would have thought nothing of all the quirkiness walking around the halls. I have to admit though, I may have noticed a rather high incidence of nerdy/geeky/awkward-ness even if I wasn't told about it outright. When the kids skip recess for chess class, or when the Diablo and Devilsticks are the games of choice on the playground instead of kickball and football, one begins to wonder. Not to say that it's wrong or strange by any means, it's just not what I have observed elsewhere and certainly would lead me to believe there is something different about this school.

Now I have been developing my own impression of the overall (meaning this includes academic, social, behavioral, emotional, financial, etc.) cost/benefit breakdown of the idea of "gifted" schooling since I had my interview and I have to admit I have changed my mind a few times. This is where the conversation went over the course of my second bowl of chili. I was asked what I thought of the whole thing, was it worth paying for? Was it worth missing out on all the social growth one could gain by learning how to navigate in a diverse social setting like a public school? Did I think it was all about the parents? I knew that the parties asking the questions already had an opinion on the matter, and I also had a pretty good idea what that opinion was. So I began my answer with the skepticism that I felt before I began working here (some of which has not been lost). First of all, and I was not the one to say this, but I think it's worth noting; every parent thinks or wants to think that their kid is gifted. Why wouldn't you? Having a child is the crowning achievement in many people's lives. Therefore, when we start separating the "gifted" from those who then get labeled by default as "not gifted," we cultivate feelings of anger, disappointment, and jealousy for the parents and in some cases, the kids themselves. There is also the argument that because these kids are told they are "gifted" (which in so many movies, comics, stories, etc. is how super heroes are described) they get a swollen head and, without the jocks and bullies of public (or not gifted) schools around to cut them down every once in a while they can not handle criticism later in life. There is also the general question of whether homogeny is really good for students of any kind (more or less because of all the questions raised in the previous statements).

I have to say, I can not disagree with any of those arguments, nor can I say that I don't worry about some of the kids at my school for those reasons or other similar ones. However, I have warmed up to the idea that "gifted" ("gifted" does not necessarily mean "homogenous") schools can be beneficial on several levels. One thing I want to say right away is that, though the students here tend toward the nerdy/geeky side of the social spectrum, this is still a school and the same social structure does develop itself here as any other. There are still cliques, social hierarchy, inclusions and exclusions, fights (though they are usually rather pathetic), disagreements, and diversity of all kinds throughout the school (and just like every other group of kids, they cannot agree upon the rules of Four Square if their lives depended on it). Just because the kids here have been "separated" into a single group does not make them all completely the same by any means. This being the case, I believe that they are, in fact, getting the social education they need to navigate life beyond the walls of this school. They may still be in for a bit of a shock when they move on the another school. Perhaps they were a big shot here and will be right at the bottom of the pecking order at their next school, but does that not happen everywhere? In fact, spending some time at the top is not really a bad thing for the nerds and geeks of the world, it is certainly an opportunity that is not afforded to them in most other schools. The way I see it, these kids are being prepared sufficiently to handle the next step in their lives both academically and socially. Is there more that could be done? Yes. Are they missing out on some social interactions that might prepare them for the world? Yes, but so are kids in most schools (they are just missing out on different things). I guess I can not say I do or do not support "gifted" academic schools like the one where I work. They are what they are, and they do what they do. Are they worth the price of tuition when other schools are free? Again, it depends very much on the child's disposition (more so than his or her "gifted-ness," I believe), how much the price of tuition affects the family's financial situation and what the alternatives are in the area in which they live.

On the lighter side of things I want to say that I have really enjoyed getting to know the students and the faculty here. There are some fantastic people here that I am proud to call my colleagues/mentors/friends all of whom do excellent work for the children they teach.

Quick follow up...

2009-09-24T07:20:00.000-07:00

I lost a hub cap today on the way to work, not sure where. It makes my car look even more creepy. Although I already had four different hub caps anyway.

Too many keys, not enough brain cells

2009-09-14T17:49:00.000-07:00

I had a bit of a "senior" moment today at work, nothing big, just got sidetracked by a teacher with an email problem and forgot to do what I had been heading down that hallway for in the first place, but it set the tone for the following two and a half hours.

For those of you who don't know, I recently purchased a vehicle: a lovely 1992 Plymouth Voyager SE.

This isn't actually my car, but if you just picture this beautiful piece of American engineering with a bunch of rust, a sweet roof rack, some duck tape here and there, and not majestically perched on top of a mountain, you've got my hot new ride (oh and I've got the Grand Voyager version with the extended back end). Also, it looks like the hub caps on this one match, that is not the case on my car. I have to say, however that I am extremely happy with my new ride. It has low milage (for its age of 17 years), and it has a tap which makes it very easy to hook my ipod up to the stereo. Matt has already named the car "Silver-back," more than appropriate I'd say not only due to its size and color, but when it's on the road, you know who's in charge... I bought the car for a song from our the Franklins (thanks you guys!!!) across the street, where it spent the last few years delivering Jonathan's paintings. They bought it new in '92 and they still think it's weird to see it parked in front of someone else's house.

Anyway, I digress. The key piece of info you need about my car really is that, though I've had it about a month now, Jon keeps finding more keys for it and giving them to me. Unfortunately some of these keys work for the doors and some for the ignition, and some, as I found out today, for neither.

So, after a lovely Monday at work, which is about an hour commute in rush hour, and my little senior moment toward the end (which the teacher I was helping diagnosed as "brain overload" - to which I replied "I hope you're right and it's not an underload of brain"), I headed out to my car, reached for the set of keys in my pocket and tried to unlock the door. FAIL! Neither of the two keys on the ring were successful at unlocking the door. Apparently, when I entered the car in the morning (this was all coming back to me now) I had used another set of keys to unlock the door, found out that they would not start the car, and used the set in my hand to turn it on. At this time I also recalled how I had, instead of doing the smart thing and putting the first set of keys in my bag and kept them with me all day, left them in the car. Long story short, Matt was nice enough to come and deliver another set of keys to me all the way from home (thank you Brother!!). But my episode of dementia was not over.

As I was driving home on Roosevelt Road, I remembered that I needed some deodorant and soap. I stopped at the Walgreens a couple of blocks from our house and as I walked up to the soap isle I had one of those (prepare yourself for an inside joke) "Al you dingleberry!!" moments. I had, once again, locked myself out of my car. Once again I was standing outside of my car with a set of keys that would turn the car on, but not unlock the doors.

I'll spare you the rest of the details, but rest assured, I will be turning off my brain for several hours this evening.

----------------------------------------------------

Originally I wanted to write a few things about CHC this weekend, but I felt that the "tale of too many keys and not enough brain cells" was worth telling. So here they are in brief.

Frisbee is fun, driving to and from frisbee is not fun (no sense of direction in this case - went very far in the wrong direction both to and from the tournament on Sunday).

I had a frustrating weekend. Haymaker is a very good team, but I feel that there is just not enough young blood to compete with other teams who can run hard all day without injury, who don't have weddings to attend (I am just as guilty as anyone for not showing up to tournaments/practices by the way), or other engagements, etc.

I got a wake up call with my fitness. I really believed I could run with anyone, the way I've been training and the speed I've gained, I feel like I'm the fastest I've been in a long time, possibly ever as far as top speed goes, but some of these guys we played against can just keep it up longer than I can. Or, perhaps, they just care less about breathing than I do. Even Edward mentioned that I looked faster, which I take as a great compliment, but I still need to develop the killer instinct that gives you that little bit extra.

As a team, we only came up with one win on the weekend. There were, however, several impressive showings against very talented teams, but we were not able to close them out, which is tough to deal with.

I completely lost my voice and got terribly sunburned on my face and neck. I need a hat and a bullhorn.

There were some points where I felt... exultant (ten dollar word of the day): scores we needed badly and got easily, plays where I felt no one could touch me (chest pounding, shit talking, all that stuff you don't see me doing too often).

There were some points where I felt I was out gunned, got ran circles around, had my mark broken, made a weak play to the disc, etc. (no chest pounding here).

I seem to be checking my g-chat list much more often these days...

First Weekend

2009-08-23T21:38:00.000-07:00

Had my first real weekend since I was in high school. That is to say, I worked five days in a row and then had two days off (both Saturday and Sunday). It was nice having a little time to wind down and not have to worry about the next day. My weekend did feel pretty busy though, had Haymaker practice Saturday morning after working at Lush Friday night, then had friends over Saturday evening for a fire and dinner - made some, if I may toot my own horn, delicious fish tacos with mango salsa and fruit, and Sunday I slept in and went to the Chicago Fire game with the frisbee people (yes, that's what I call you guys when my parents ask for the names of all the people I'm hanging out with and I don't want to list the whole group). Kevin came along which was nice, I feel like I never see the Rhombergs anymore, what's up with that? It was great having people over here the past couple of weekends, not that hanging out with the "roomates" isn't fun, but I feel better when I do some organizing of my own, it makes me feel like I have a social life...

Mom hitched a ride to Niagara Falls this weekend and went to see Rusted Root with the Savvy Joes, man I wish I could have gone!! I sent some cd's of Ruthie Foster to Joanie via mom, I've been meaning to get them to her for a while. I can't wait to get out there and catch up with everyone, I always feel extra good after a visit with the Sauvageaus.

Yosemite!!!

2009-08-07T14:46:00.000-07:00

I feel a little nuts for not visiting more of our national parks sooner. After Edward and I visited, for not nearly enough time, Yellowstone, I got the idea I was missing out on something incredibly beautiful. That in mind, I can't believe I almost passed on the opportunity to spend five days in Yosemite National Park with five other friends (well now they're friends-I had not met two of them before). Initially I was a little worried about my finaces, but looking back, I spent very little money compared to other vacations I've had, and the majority of what I needed for the trip I had already purchased.

Our plan was to fly into Reno, Nevada on Thursday, drive to the park where our trail reservation provided for a campground site the night before and after we are on the trail, camp one night, backpack for three nights, camp one more and drive back to Reno and fly home (we found out later, via Phoenix). The reality was...different, but you might say it enhanced our trip in more ways than it detracted from it.

Our plane from Chicago left over two hours late due to what the pilot described as the equivalent of the plane's hard drive crashing. Any time you hear the pilot of your airplane start an announcement out with "don't hate me, but..." be prepared to seriously alter your plans for the day. The whole ordeal caused us to miss our connecting flight to Reno from Las Vegas, fly to Salt Lake City and connect to Reno. However, after leaving Reno with a belly full of In and Out Burger (animal style!!!!) in our fifteen passenger van and accidentally getting off the highway at the wrong place, we ended up driving up to a beautiful beach in Lake Tahoe just as the sun was setting over the mountains behind the lake.

Seeing the beach and feeling more than ready to take a dip, I asked the guys if they felt the same. I was not surprised by their enthusiasm toward taking a break from traveling and get our first taste of nature. We were excited to say the least.

After watching the sun set from atop a pile of large rocks donning a sign that said "No Climbing On Rocks," we dried off and hit the road. I drove the van through the mountain passes leading up to Yosemite. It was a little hairy at times being my first time driving a vehicle that size and the end of a very long day, but we made it safe to the park, eventually. I think it was about 1am or later local time (which as you probably recall is two hours earlier than the time zone we left from that morning). Obviously when we entered the park, there were no rangers posted at the gates or campground so we were on our own for figuring out our campsite and bear storage for the night. Apparently this was a busy night for the backpacker's campground (where we were guaranteed a spot one night before and after our trail reservations) because there was not a free spot in the whole place, nor was there an available bear box to store our food (it is illegal to store food in anything but a bear box or can, not even the car). We snooped around and decided to check out the car camping area as well and stumbled upon a free site with an empty bear box. Due to the late hour and the fact that taking this spot was more or less squatting, we decided to hastily get all the food and toiletries into the box and just sleep in the van, get up early, and get out before a ranger could see that we weren't supposed to be there.

We woke up with the sun, I say "woke up" but that would imply that we would have actually gone to sleep, which certainly didn't happen to any significant extent with me and, I'd say all of my companions as well. It was COLD when we got up, the sun had not come over the mountains yet and it was chilly!! We warmed up by hard boiling some eggs and making oat meal and coffee. We hastily ate, and broke "camp," getting out of there as soon as we could so as to avoid any suspicious rangers.

The line at the ranger station that morning was moving very slowly so Matt and I got to chat and listen to a few other people's plans for backpacking in the area before we got our trail pass and bear cans. By the time we packed up and set out on the trail it was late morning and the sun was high, our packs were heavy, and we'd had almost no sleep... Ready to rock!!

More to come later...

A Lot's Happened Since Then

2009-06-17T11:40:00.000-07:00

After going so long without posting here, I'm not sure what to write. It feels like I should have something really profound to say, or at least be super excited to post. I get that same feeling that I have when I save a nice bottle of wine or beer; the feeling that no occasion is good enough to open it the longer I save it. I guess a better way to approach it would be like getting back to the gym after a long time off and just take it easy and slow. Either way, I still think I post more than Morley...

For those of you who don't know, I started Grad school in January to pursue a Master's of Education. Things are going well, very slowly, but I think that's good because I have more time to get my work done. Grad school is kind of weird, probably more so for me because I am in a cohort program which seems to take all the weird little differences about graduate school and exaggerate them. For instance, I have class one night a week and take one class at a time. Also, I found it strange that, because the expectation in grad school is that you are self motivated and truly want to be there, you get A's as long as you do the work. Not that I think my work has not been quality, but I am not used to the concept that teachers create a grading scale in which the process is the important part and the teachers take responsibility for creating a curriculum
that, if completed, will reliably elicit learning and competence. I really enjoy this style and find that, with the pressure off, I do very good work. I even find myself wishing I had class more often.

In order to afford school without going into insane amounts of debt, I made the decision to move back in with my parents who have been more than gracious to me and very understanding with me as a roommate. We are on very different schedules, which I'm sure is a strain on them, but they have been wonderful and more than willing to help me out. Thanks Mom and Dad!!!

That being said, I have found myself regressing a little as far as my self-reliance and independence go. I could be a lot better about keeping my room clean and helping out around the house, and I will do my best to improve in this regard.

I have GOT to stop watching so much TV!!! What a waste of time!! Man movie channels are a killer, there's always something on!! Sadly enough it's never really anything worth watching. (I watched a terrible movie called "Hollywood Flies" that starred Vinnie Jones, and stayed up way too late-OOPS!)

No summer Ultimate program this year, which sucks, because that was a nice chunk of money and made for a great summer lifestyle last year. I was at Humboldt Park and could bike over to the beach everyday for some volleyball after work before I went to either work or frisbee, what a life I had!! Since the word came down about our program being cut I've been edgy and uncomfortable because I don't know what my summer will be like. But Lush has been able to pay the bills so far and I've been very happy working there this year.

As for what I have coming up this summer, I'm mostly sticking around town, playing Ultimate, working at Lush, and taking classes. I am excited to say that I will be heading to Yosemite in late July for some backpacking (something I really missed doing last summer). I've never really been anywhere in California other than L.A. and am looking forward to checking out what's up north.

Also on the radar in the distant future is a possible trip to Colombia over New Year's. My friend Jorge has family down there and we've been talking about how sweet it would be to get out of Chicago right about then. Plus, I assume because people are afraid to go there, flights are cheap. So if I can pull it off financially, I'm there!

In other news, I miss the Savvy Joes and the Seattle Flynns (as well as Seattle in general), and I hope I get to see you all very soon

Judgement Day

2008-12-18T21:59:00.000-08:00

Tonight I had a rather new, and definitely strange, experience. Those who know me probably understand that I have a talent for pissing people off, and then reeling them back in and creating a point where we can laugh about it and sometimes even be friends. I guess one could say I pride myself on being able to get along with most anyone and, often times our interaction, no matter how long it lasts, begins in this way. David Morley once told me that I get along with him because I can accept him and the things he does, especially when he (metaphorically) throws them in my face and basically says "deal with it." While I get along with Edward because I find common ground between the two of us and work to build upon those things we have in common. These are two very different approaches to getting along with people, but both are effective and both are necessary to build a relationship of any kind. The point I am, very poorly, trying to make is that I do my best to see what is unique and exceptional in the people I meet. This is a practice that has proved successful and has brought, perhaps in spite of itself (and myself), a lot of extraordinary people into my life and allowed me the pleasure of getting to know the best, and sometimes the worst (which never seems quite as profound to me), in them. Tonight, I was put in my place, so to speak.

The story goes like this...

Approaching the end of the shift at Lush, a couple of men (who happen to be black) came in the store and were looking to get educated on beer. I suggested that the best way to do that would be to drink a bunch of different styles of beer back to back and compare the differences. I also offered to talk them through the beers before they took them home to which they replied, "why don't we just have them here and we can talk about them as we go." I excepted their offer and we began tasting and discussing beer, which eventually turned into a very candid, frank, extremely humorous, and very informative conversation about culture, marriage, dating and how race plays a role in each of those. For me it was an enjoyable and entertaining way to end the night at work, which usually consists of me and my coworkers cleaning and closing the register, for the guys working their way from Pilsners to Stouts, it made the time in between my explanation of the development of India Pale Ales and the subtleties of Belgian Ales much more interesting. Take home message: the conversation was light hearted and profound at the same time, and I found it to be a unique experience that I could have only had while working at Lush.

After we closed the store, Erin and I headed down to the Skylark for a drink and met up with two separate groups of people. One group was with Erin's room mate celebrating her birthday (who probably thinks I'm very strange because I gave her a pomegranate as a birthday gift , the other was with Evan, Erin's boyfriend. I know Evan better so I pulled up a seat at the table with him and was introduced to his friends, one of whom I recognized from the Monday night Bike sprints at the Cobra Lounge who was sitting across from his girlfriend, who seemed quite pleasant when she introduced herself. Still giddy from my interesting conversation at the end of the shift at Lush, I found a break in the conversation where I probably used some awful transition to allow myself to bring up what I thought was a profound experience. So then, I harnessed all of my epically horrendous story-telling skills (my stories are really bad and usually go no where in case that wasn't clear enough, but often to the point of being comical-a redeeming quality) and blurted out something that ended in the group blinking in silence and me trailing off and shortly after apologizing for wasting their lives. That last part was an attempt to show that I understood that my retelling of the nights events made no sense and that the example I used to illustrate how strange, yet exciting the conversation was for me fell far from conveying that sense on to my audience. Long story short the conversation broke down and I may have, in my best awkwardly friendly way, have tried to restart it again, but to no success and the couple in front of me starts getting up to leave. This is where it gets good. As they say goodbye to Evan and his room mate, who is also at the table the girl, whose name I thought was Anne but turned out to be Lyric (wow! how did I make that leap? Although I don't feel that bad because Evan's room mate heard the same thing when she introduced herself to me), looked right at me and said, "you were really boring." I wasn't sure I heard her correctly and just kind of smiled dumbly until she said something to the effect of "screw your class loyalty" and "you offended me." To which I replied, "Wait, you're serious?" Duh! Anyway, I tried my best to graciously apologize and show that I wasn't the bigoted frat-boy douche they seemed to think I was, while also trying to explain that the examples I used from my, looking back on it now rather taboo, conversation at work were not my own views but were simply examples of how strange an interesting the conversation was. I don't think any of my last ditch efforts made a hill of beens difference in their perception of me, and I won't say I don't care. Now, I want to say that, in my own defense the rather objective parties of Evan and his room mate seemed to think that though my story royally sucked, I didn't say anything out of line (whether or not they said that to make me feel better I can't say, though I afforded them the opportunity to let me know).

I have always felt like I can get along with anyone and it was a shot to my obviously overgrown pride to have two people straight up dislike me. I don't want to sound pouty, and if I already do I'm sorry, I don't resent these people for not liking me and I am impressed with their blunt honesty about their perception of me from tonight. Had they not said anything I would not have taken a step back and looked what I said tonight and thought about how I can't just tell everyone everything because I am excited (more importantly you poor saps who read my blog and are obviously already bored would have even less to do). Tact is something I could stand to learn how to use more often. Still, I really don't think I was that out of line (I know I being vague about the details of the conversation I had at Lush, but in an effort to avoid effing up the story in some offensive way while also practicing a bit of my new tool, "tact." I will spare you the specifics).

Evan seemed to think that these two probably judged me based on a few things (my clothes, my flapping mouth which spat out pointless garbage, that goofy grin I was sporting the whole time, and perhaps a number of other things that I can't imagine) and pegged me as maybe a "little fratty." Here is what bothers me. These people get upset at me because of, what I can only imagine was something amounting to them confusing what I was quoting from my previous conversation to show how unique it was to me as my own views on gender and race, which are characteristics identifiable superficially, that also have cultural and social prejudices associated with them. Then, if Evan's suspicions are true, they attributed these views of mine, as they perceived them, to certain superficial characteristics that carry with them certain stereotypes. BAM! I just got judged, maybe.

I really don't know what happened tonight, and I may never know exactly what I did to offend these people. I am alright with them thinking of me as a complete jerk who they would care never to run into again, but I would like to take away from this experience a few lessons about myself. Learning to be tactful with new acquaintances is a big one, but another entirely is that some people are not ready to be thrown into being my friend and excepting me for who I am nor are they prepared to invest the time to find some common ground and build a friendship out of it. Some people just want to have a beer and have me shut the hell up.

What a Day

2008-12-03T06:06:00.000-08:00

Last Tuesday I enjoyed one of the best days I've had a long time. I began the day by getting up at 6:30 or so, which is a feat in it's own right for me these days, and headed out to LaGrange Park. I was "doing a favor" for my aunt Chris and hanging out with her youngest, Liam, who had the whole week of school off while his older siblings had to attend Monday and Tuesday. Chris had her clinical rotation all day and couldn't be home. When I arrived at their house around 8:30, Liam was still sleeping and Paul was getting ready to head out. Figuring that I had a little while before Liam was ready to get moving I sat down at the computer and wrote some emails, facebooked and read some blogs as I had a hot cup of coffee. After about half an hour I decided that Liam was not about to keep me waiting all day, and went to go and put into practice the waking up kids technique I have learned under the supreme master of waking up kids, uncle Tom. Now, Liam is a little like Matt in some ways, he's pretty big (I think it was in third grade when he toppled a sixth grader in the playground for picking on his, ironically very small, best friend Ricky), he has always loved showing off his body, as Edward learned first hand on the beach in Michigan (much like Mitch and Doreen learned the first time they met Matthew as a baby, walking down the street butt naked, having left a trail of clothes on the sidewalk), he can be a little slow in the morning, and they both have been arrested for underage drinking. Okay, I lied about the last one. All jokes aside, I used all the old tricks like, shaking, bouncing, jumping on him, tickling, nothing was moving this kid. So I decided to grab Sean's guitar and take a page out of the Vince Gogo book of waking up people and sing a horribly out of tune and obnoxious song until he couldn't stand it anymore. I really don't think that my singing was what actually got him up so much as he decided he was ready, but either way he finally got out of bed and, due to his rather pungent odor (another similarity to my brother), we decided it was best if he showered.

When he got out of the shower, I was ready to get moving, Chris had left her pass to the Brookfield Zoo, and I was on a mission to see some dolphins. I friggin' love dolphins, and apes, apes are sweet! Anyway, Liam had other plans. He and his friend, he explained, had invented a game which involved shooting a hockey puck at the garage door from different distances and the first to miss looses. After beating him a few times, informing him that I was vastly superior in the game of hockey and that his sad attempts to continue were futile, I suggested that we head out for some breakfast and... DOLPHINS!! He wasn't quite ready, and wanted to play again, we changed the rules up a little to make it more difficult and I let the game get a little closer in hopes that almost winning would be as satisfying as winning. After going to triple over time, I finished him of (evil chuckle) and we headed to the zoo. I cannot remember the last time I was at Brookfield Zoo, but the place hasn't changed much since then. The buildings look a little sad and run down, the animals still don't really do much of anything, except for the Gibbons (one of the lesser apes), who were teasing some sort of otter who had to share a habitat with them.

Liam, obviously, had been to the zoo more frequently because he had a plan the minute we walked through the gate. On his list was the 80 or so year old Cockatoo whose name I forgot, the "fragile kingdom" and the big cats. In about two hours or so we saw the entire zoo. Although I must admit I forced him to sit and watch the dolphins with me for at least thirty minutes. There were a few other moments, besides seeing the dolphins that is, that were worthy of mention, both of which came from the pachyderm house. Number one happened as we approached the first rhino and Liam informed me that I we need to be on the lookout for it turing around because his friend once got peed on by a rhino here. The way he explained the rhino peeing was one of those priceless kid moments that I can't possibly do justice to in writing and left my cracking up. Go figure, as soon as I walked up to the pen holding the huge specimen of African megafauna and was reading the sign which warned that Rhinos mark their territory by SPRAYING urine in ALL directions, the thing turned, faced the wall of the pen (thank god) and proceeded to pee, no sandblast, the wall behind it (I'm pretty sure I saw some paint flake off). We had a good laugh, which probably sounded like Beavis and Butthead, and moved on toward the other side of the building, which brings me to the other notable experience I had at the zoo. The Hippopotamus. That's it. The thing didn't really do anything except eat hay off the floor of its pen, but it was effing HUGE!!! Wow!! You could have stacked up five of me and it would not equal the girth of this enormous creature.

When we left the zoo, we were both starving. I wanted to get the car back to my mom in case she needed to run some errands for the upcoming trip to Niagara Falls for Thanksgiving. We arrived in Oak Park and mom suggested we go to the Depot for some lunch. Brilliant. I hadn't been there in way too long. Plus, it was right up Liam's alley. We sat at the bar and he ordered himself a tall glass of chocolate milk and a club sandwich and I, under the conviction to try something new, went for the meatloaf sandwich. Anna, the first lady of the Depot, took our order and chatted with us when she had a free second, and in between that Liam and I talked about hockey, Blackhawks snow shovel girls, school, work, you know, man stuff. We polished off our food in record time, scarfing down the deliciously seasoned fries, coleslaw, pickles, all that remained were Liam's tomatoes because he has convinced himself that he doesn't like them, so I ended up eating them for him. Afterward, he informed me that what he had just experienced was "the best club sandwich I've ever had," so I made him tell Anna, which he did not seem the least bit shy about.

By the time we left it was getting to be time for me to get down town to take the kids in our after school program to the UIC Physiology lab. I asked Liam if he wouldn't mind coming along, and, you know help me keep the high school kids in line. He was down with it and we got on the train toward the city.

The story from here on out gets pretty boring, we go to the lab, Liam plays it cool, doesn't really seem to mind hanging in the background and my parents come to pick him up and ship him back home for the night.

Chris and Paul, you guys have great kids, I hope that whatever eventually springs from my genes is as fun and interesting and talented as Sean, Samamfra, and Liam are. Seriously, any time you want to get rid of them for a while, send them my way. Well, at least until I move home, then you'll have to ask my roomates if it's okay.

Carl Weathersby at Buddy Guy's

2008-11-09T16:50:00.000-08:00

Last night, after a short nap and an amazing pasta dinner at my parents' house, I ventured to Buddy Guy's Legends with Matt, my cousin Luis, and Mike Risher for a night of blues. I figured it would be a great place to take Luis that would give him a heavy dose of Chicago. Matt, of course, suggested that going to Duffy's or McFadden's would be a better option and, in the hours leading up to us arriving at Buddy Guy's, mentioned to several people that his brother was dragging him to some blues club. Dad graciously gave us a ride and, after honking at some girls walking down Harrison street near UIC in their going out skirts ("going out" denotes sequins), dropped us off at the doorstep. After paying the $15 cover we headed toward the back bar of the already crowded club and parked ourselves near enough to poach seats at the bar and order drinks with relative ease. I started off the night with a delicious Bell's Amber compliments of Luis who had the same. The bartender was cute and nice so naturally my brother hit on her a little while she busily filled orders. The opening act was Joanna Connor who had a build like the trunchbull from Rold Dahl's Matilda, but without the scowl. She had some serious bluse chops, and could pull off sounds reminicent of anything from the Staple's Singers to the Allman Brothers. The boys were not overly impressed by Ms. Connor, and her tiny, male rhythm guitarist who could also play some serious blues but would have to work on his street cred. to make me believe he had the blues. All in all a decent opening act. Before her set was over, Damitz and her roomate came, and we were soon also joined by Magdonna. While the set was changing in preparation for Carl Weathersby, we switched to cheaper beer (cans of Schlitz or pitchers of PBR), the girls talked with the boys and we fell out of eighth grade dance formation.

Mr. Weathersby went on a little after eleven and the minute he played his first note after his rhythm guitarist warmed up the crowd with a few tasty licks on his hollow body Gibson, we knew why he was the main event. He cranked his two amps way up and played faster, bent strings higher, and sang harder than I've seen in a long time. Even Matt said "Dude, this guy rocks." The crowd would scream out and cheer in anticipation when he would turn down the volume and the band would strum quietly in the background until he would suddenly turn the knob back up and wail on the guitar again. This guy could really work the crowd, he would come down off the stage and play at the front row tables, he even channeled a little Hendrix here and there and played with his teeth.

We all had a great time and ended up staying until I could barely keep my eyes open. It's crazy that I don't go there more often, it is so close to my apartment and well worth the money. All in all the night was awesome, great dinner with great wine (Cechony '05 and '06), great music and even better company!

Magic Slim and the Teardrops are playing the New Year's Eve show there, perhaps I'll get a group together to ring in the new year with some blues.

President Barack Obama!

2008-11-04T20:07:00.000-08:00

Yes, we can.

Well done, America.

Time to buck up and get to fixing this country!

W. T. F. ?!

2008-10-16T10:08:00.000-07:00

Ok, now I understand that there are some pretty vast differences between Americans around the country. But there are a few things that, despite my best efforts, I just can't understand or even justify with any kind of rational reasoning. This morning, while I was doing some research for grad school, I heard John McCain speaking in rural Pennsylvania. His speech included the usual attacks on Obama's tax policy and how Joe the plumber will suffer after he buys a business (HA!). None of this bothers me to the point of anger, it's an economic strategy that he seems to truly believe in, even though I was under the impression that trickle down economics has been proven not to work over and over. None of what I heard in his stump speech frightened me or threw me for a loop, it was all pretty standard Republican doctrine that I certainly don't agree with, but hey, America has made it through decades of this doctrine and still managed to survive (managed to survive sometimes in spite of our own policies, but hey we're still here right?). What really got me was something I saw just behind Senator McCain, in the crowd.

There was someone in the crowd, just behind the podium, holding up a large sign that read "PA Residents for Guns & Religion." I think I've made it clear that I do not agree with what has become of organized religion. Spirituality, to me, is a very personal part of my life that does not require validation from an outside authority. I do, however, feel that I have a pretty good understanding of religion (at least Catholicism), I attended CCD, I have completed the holy sacraments up to Confirmation, let's just say I have put in my time as a practicing Catholic. No where in my Christian education was I taught that next to my rosary, I should have an H&K MP-5 . In fact, if I'm not mistaken, they have nothing to do with each other (except that guns are used to kill people in the name of religion as long as there have been guns).

All I can say in response to that sign is that it is a perfect example of the major problems I have with politics in America. Where elections are not won through offering solutions to real, pressing issues, rather they get over run with things like gun control, abortion, and what creed the candidate subscribes to. Which don't really matter when the economy, in today's case, the world economy, is going down the pipe. I don't care how important abortion law might seem to you, if you don't have a job and can't buy food, all of a sudden it's going to take a back seat to the economy.

I'd like to post a comment made by Bill Maher on Larry King Live. Perhaps it will stir some conversation. I'm not sure of the validity of the statement, but I certainly get the feeling that he's on to something when I think about the past presidential elections I've witnessed and some that I have only read about.

"Look, I think what's sad is that apparently in this country, the only way we can ever elect a Democrat is if there's an absolute and utter calamity that happens. And then people kind of get it through their heads, oh, you know what, maybe this time we don't elect a guy we want to have a beer with. Maybe we have to get serious. We might have to even, oh, heaven forbid, vote for the black guy."

Chicago Marathon

2008-10-14T19:33:00.000-07:00

I wanted to mention the Chicago Marathon on my blog because I always find it to be an experience that showcases the best things about our city and its people.

I woke up early Sunday morning, well earlier than I would have liked, after a night which was best summed up by my first beverage of the evening entitled "The Behemoth." Needless to say, I was... tired. I, slowly, made my way out of my apartment and down to Taylor street where the faster runners were just passing by. As I made my way down the block toward our neighborhood Starbucks for a nice, warm latte the flow of runners began to increase in density. I walked passed the water stop where high school cross country runners, their coaches and parents, and some committed members of the running community were busy bracing for the swarm of thirsty bodies that were bearing down on the Taylor Street oasis. I made it to Starbucks and, still not quite awake, stumbled awkwardly over my order, "medium, uhh grande? is it?, latte... ohh and uhhh no foam...please." I think that sentence took a good 45 seconds to choke out, at which time the, very patient, woman taking my order replied, "Grande latte, no foam?" I was able to get my act together enough to shut my mouth and start nodding my head. Due to the forty nine or so people working at Starbucks that day, I had my order in less time than it took me to place it.

Feeling slightly more awake after a few sips from my delicious latte, I stepped outside to see the four hour pacers running by. The sea of runners thickened a great deal since I entered the coffee shop and so had the crowds on the streets. I picked a spot just behind the bike lane line and next to a stroller, knowing that it would be something not likely to be moved and that I could see over. What I heard for the next hour or so was what makes me enjoy watching the marathon so much.

Nothing but smiles lined Taylor Street to greet the runners as they passed by the crowded side walks. Several people run the marathon with their names written on their clothes, and people along the way shout out their name and yell for them to keep going and that they are doing well. These are people who have never seen each other before and are unconditionally in support of each other on this one day of the year.

When Christmas time comes along we talk about "good will toward men," but the time of the year when this phrase is truly upheld is out in the streets during the marathon. So inspiring was the feeling among the runners and the crowds egging them on that every time I stand by them, I feel like joining them, sometimes I even think that it might be a good idea to train and run next year, even though I really have no interest in running a marathon.

When I was out there I heard my mother's voice in my head when I began to think "there is such a positive feeling in the air right now." I had to laugh at myself because the voice in my head that was speaking the thoughts I, myself, was having, was more of a version of my brother's impression of my mom's voice than her voice itself. After I had my own personal chuckle that I think I was able to hide behind the vail of my sunglasses and the smile I already had plastered on my face, I got back to watching the runners as they shuffled by along the street.

Besides the feeling of positive energy exuding from the crowd, my other favorite part of the marathon is watching all the beautiful bodies as they do what they have been training to do for the last several months, run (well sometimes shuffle, walk, stumble, and I know I saw a woman doing something that best resembled trying to walk with flippers on). But seriously, it's not often that one stumbles to Starbucks in the morning and is greeted by tens of thousands of happy and, for the most part, good looking people parading down the street, not to mention a hearty dose of good vibs!

2008-10-09T13:13:00.000-07:00

This week is turning out to be one best described by the old saying "it's time to put your money where your mouth is." It seems like it happened all at once. Mom called and informed me that, in the mail I received my acceptance letter from NIU to enroll as a Student at Large (which by the way is nothing to celebrate because it just means that I can now begin paying them money to take classes toward a degree I will have to apply and be accepted to later), my book of 501 Spanish verbs, and my GRE test prep book, and my own copy of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, which I have still not finished. On top of this I have finally received phone calls back from two schools that I have been trying to get in touch with for recruiting purposes for over a week now. It seems the magic number of phone calls, with messages, to get a response is twelve, plus one unannounced visit in person. More importantly, however, the most promising of them is UIC College Prep, a Noble Street Charter school affiliated with, you guessed it, UIC and focused on health sciences. So what this all means is that I have some real work to do in the next few weeks if I am going to hold to my goals I stated in an earlier post.

As a post script, I ordered all those books from thriftbooks.com and paid just under fifteen bucks with shipping. They are used, but it's a pretty sweet deal as I found a ton of books for, literally, one penny. Check it out.

"i've had a little too much to think tonight"

2008-09-18T21:50:00.000-07:00

"Boom boom boom boom, gonna shoot ya right down!"

John Lee Hooker's jamming softly in the background tonight.

I've been feeling pretty even lately, almost what one might call zen. Not that I'm claiming any new wisdom or anything, just been feeling very relaxed and even. Today I awoke without an alarm at 7:15 or so, something I've failed to do even with the assistance of my phone alarm for several days now. But when I work nights and stay up late "decompressing" (watching crap late night tv) after work, I guess that's just what I get. Today, however, I accomplished my goals for the day and then some, which is certainly motivating. None of this is either here nor there though, the real reason for this entry is some things I was pondering during an

d after my evening at a free screening of the new movie with Michael Cera, "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist."

This guy Michael Cera got his start, to my limited knowledge, in the Fox show "Arrested Development," and has, since then, starred in feature the feature films "Superbad" and "Juno." He's one of those guys that people kind of like to say, "oh I of knew him when..." or at least his last two movies, Juno and Nick and Norah..., have that kind of Indie vibe to them. This whole "Indie" kick I'm ranting on could just be stemming from the Indie/semi-original soundtracks that accent these films. Or it could be that Nick and Norah... is based on a night out in NYC that revolves around a bunch of, very quirky, high school kids' ill fated search for the unknown venue in which their favorite band, which most of them brag about knowing of before anyone else, is playing a show. The gimmick is that this band announces on the radio that they are playing, but won't release the location of their performance publicly, you have to find out through a series of vague clues. Reminds me of a song that I heard on Pandora while closing up at Lush- I promised myself I'd remember this song's name and artist and, of course have forgotten- about a band that was so grunge that they refused to play their songs, and became so popular that they were invited to come and not perform their songs at the grammys, but were eventually beat out by a band that wasn't even together. Side note (thanks Marincic) this song was written in the Folk style. Anyway, we now arrive at my point.

What is it that makes people dislike music once it gets "too popular" or "mainstrea

m"? Or any kind of public media for that matter. What made me think of this was while the credits of the movie were scribbled over the opening scene of the movie to the tune of some Shins-esque song, in the Juno-style crayon font, I thought to myself, how long until Michael Cera becomes his own genre? Or, thinking of my classifying the font of the credits as Juno-esque, has he done it already? How long until people stop bragging about knowing him when... while commending his ability to play that geeky, yet smartass-ie, nervous high school kid, and start sighing about how he always plays this geeky, yet smartass-ie, nervous high school kid?

Indie bands, well anything "Indie," have/has a shelf life. You're only cool or interesti

ng until people actually find out about you, and then your, uhhh so mainstream and you, uhhh, a

lways sound, act, look, the same. Which is funny because it seems like a person's taste, good or bad, is then removed from the equation. However, every person that is guilty of turning up his or her nose at some band whose "first album was great, but after that their sound was so mainstream," has a guilty pleasure. I would know, mine is Christina Aguilera, yeah she's pretty skanky, and has a tendency to over-sing everything, but I'm a sucker for girls who can sing low, and man she has got some serious pipes.

So here's the interactive part of blogging, I want to hear everyone's guilty pleasure artist. I mean you don't have to if you're... chicken, but if you've got the balls, or ovaries, to step to the plate and admit it to me (and the world because I'm totally going to to tell the whole school) add it to the

comments section.

As for me, I guess I've kind of been avoiding the whole topic altogether and listening to the Blues non stop. The Black Keys (oops kinda Indie) when I'm working out, John Lee Hooker when I'm drinking wine, Freddie King or Buddy Guy when I'm looking to rock out and of course a whole lot of live Otis Redding and Sam Cooke at any time at all.

"Pumpin' Up, Pumpin' Iron"

2008-09-15T10:09:00.000-07:00

Something that has sort of slipped through the cracks of pop culture in the last decade, mostly for good reason, is the "sport" of body building. Saturday night changed all that for me in one, ninety minute, tidal wave of borderline homoeroticism and polyester. If you have never been lucky enough to experience the testosterone fest that is the 1970's documentary "Pumping Iron" well, I pity you, I really do. Fear not, you poor, huddled masses, there is hope. Netflix carries the dvd, or for you who, like me, could not wait, youtube has the film broken into nine or so parts. For part one click here.

Before you begin your adventure into the land of body oil, bulging pecs, and fathers living vicariously through their sons (Lou Farrigno's dad), there are a few steps to take in preparation. First, purchase a bottle of Bourbon, I recommend, from experience, the George T. Stagg from Buffalo Trace Distillery. At just over 70% alcohol by volume, it has just enough kick to stand up to 27 year old Arnold Schwarzenegger's chiseled back. The whiskey will put you in the appropriate state of mind (which is best described by the theme song to Matt Stone and Trey Parker's film "Orgazmo" entitled "Now You're a Man") Once you have the proper potent potables, watch this sketch from Mad Tv. I know what you're thinking, Mad Tv sucks, and for the most part, I agree, but there are a few things they do very well including Opera and Arnold. Well done, now you have a good idea of Schwarzenegger in parody and you're ready to compare that with the real man.

Keep in mind that this documentary is not a joke, intentionally. The interviews are serious, the responses are serious, the cockiness is serious, the tears are serious, the shower scene is serious!

During the course of the film you will learn that Arnold has been Mr. Olympia for the last six years and is going for number seven. The competition this year is tough, including future Hulk Lou Ferrigno and Arnold's best friend Franco Columbo, who is shown picking up and moving a car out of a tight parking spot in his home town in Italy. In spite of the very worthy and well prepared competition Schwarzenegger shows no sign of ever questioning himself throughout the entire film. The filmmakers do a fantastic job of bringing his inflated ego to the forefront by cutting from clips of Ferrigno grunting and training in a basement gym in Brooklyn to Arnold on the beach in California or at a photo shoot with bikini-clad go-go dancer-looking girls groping him and giggling. Brilliant.

Something else to note is that this movie is shot in the "golden era" of body building, just before steroids, ok well some of the guys are juicing, but for the most part, this is the real deal. Knowing that fact made me feel a lot better about watching these guys, being a guy who doesn't even like to touch things like Muscle Milk, I have a lot of respect for people who have the discipline to simply use diet and exercise to achieve their fitness goals. Whether or not you like how these men look, you have to respect the work it takes to get there. Raise your glass of only slightly watered cask strength Bourbon (September is national Bourbon Heritage month by the way) and get ready to shock your mind and your gluts.

Goals...

2008-09-15T09:37:00.000-07:00

There are a few things I want to do, and for the next couple of months it looks like I'm going to have plenty of time on my hands so I figured I'd put them out there to help remind myself. They are as follows, in no particular order:

-Learn how to play the harmonica

-Apply to at least three grad schools

-Learn Spanish

-Frame my posters

-Finish The Incredible Lightness of Being

-Blog once a week

-Watch less TV

I'm sure there are a few more, but that's a good start. Ok off to scour the resale shops of the earth for frames that will fit my posters.

"It's crazy that as a society that we allow this to happen to our kids."

2008-09-02T17:46:00.000-07:00

Look, another one, not a day later. This girl, who should be attending her first day of 4th grade today, was shot dead on the street while kneeling down to tie her BLIND SISTER'S SHOELACE!!! This time they seem quite certain that it was crossfire from a gang battle.

What is it going to take for Chicago street gangs to show some honor? They preach brotherhood and protection, but maybe they should start with marksmanship because they keep accidentally picking off school children instead of popping off one of their own kind. It is, quite literally, a war zone in the neighborhoods of Chicago. How many kids need to be accidentally shot before the gangs say "Enough!!" What will it take to give them a wake up call? There's no batman to come to our rescue, there's no vigilante in the real world. Here in the real world people need to get together and force change by strength in numbers. I understand that everyone has their cause, and they all say "how can you just stand there while we are killing our planet," or the manatees, or the chimps, but this is obscene. If gang bangers want to go and shoot at each other and the outcome is a few less gang bangers in the world, fine, they made their choice, most of them. However, it seems that when gangs get into firefights, they seem to have a knack for taking out innocent children.

Again, I don't know what the solution is, but it is going to be dirty, and it is going to make people sick, but I don't like the road down which this kind of action is taking us.

Like a Ton of Bricks...

2008-09-01T11:41:00.000-07:00

I stayed at my folks house last night because I was too exhausted to make it home. When I got up and sat down to a bowl of Basic 4, one of my favorites, the Chicago Tribune was lying on the counter. I picked it up and, scanning the front page, noticed a small blurb in the bottome left corner showing a picture of a smiling girl. The text accompanying the photo read something to the account of "13 year old shot and is brain dead." Unbelievable, I thought, another kid in the hood dead from gang related gun violence. I flipped to the Metro section to see if my presumption was accurate. As I began reading, it wasn't the fact that some smiling little girl was dead that got to me as much as the realization that I actually knew her. Eternity Gaddy was one of the kids in the Summer program which I was taught at Humboldt park. I am not going to say that Eternity was my favorite student or anything, far from it, but I've always found it hard or insensitive, or at least unproductive to try to accuratly describe people who have died recently. So let's just say that I didn't know her well enough to give an accurate account of her character.

This is new territory for me. Death is something that I haven't dealt with very much in my life, but it seems that since my friend Hank died in a car accident, I've been faced with it more and more. Even more so, I see that these kids in the Humboldt Park neighborhood, and others in Chicago, who are seasoned veterans of dealing with death. Think about it, how many people do you know, personally, who have been shot and killed? I don't think I've ever known anyone up until now, and am not proud to say that now I do. If I had to guess how many of the kids I workded with this summer personally knew someone who was shot an killed, my guess is that the number would be more than fifty percent, but could certainly be much higher. Gun violence in Chicago's black neighborhoods is out of control. A quick internet search reveals numbers like 27 kids in the nine months so far of 2008, 196 Chicago school children in the last decade. According to a channel 7 news article, one demonstration occurred where participants painted signs with the number "32" repesenting the number of Chicago Public School children killed (in a certain amount of time that was not given) and by the end of the rally, the number was 33.

None of these statistics will keep me from working in the hood, nor will they keep me from bringing friends to those neighborhoods. I am not going to spend my time idly asking god to spare those kids. In fact I don't know how this will change what I do or think. I spoke with my dad about it and he pointed out that she was shot at five to two in the morning. He said that maybe if she hadn't been out past curfew, this would never have happened. His point seemed to be that if people would just obey the laws set in place for their protection, the would be protected. Obeying curfew may have saved Eternity's life this time, but is that the solution? Do we all need to be ordered around because we don't know what's good for us? I don't know, and I hope not.

When things like this happen, people come out of the wood work pointing fingers at whatever problem they think causes problems. I've heard them all, rap music, video games, MTV, lack of a good family, the list goes on. But what I see as the problem is more of a cultural thing.

I wrote about the summer Ultimate program on my family's blog and mentioned that the kids live in constant competition, unfortunetly they are competing to be cool, not smart, not better at sports, but who's cool. If you are less cool than the guy next to you, that is to say if you're wearing old jeans, shoes, jewelry, or have a less than par haircut, you get ripped on. If you can't fire back, well then you lose, and when you lose, that's it, you'll never hear the end of it. So why can't we have these kids compete to be smart and good at somthing productive? Why don't we harness that competitive spirit and put it to good use? We as a nation, glorify those who make it rich or are successful in spite of being ignorant or not being worth a damn (I was writing in response to my uncle ranting about Flava Flav and his reality show "The Flavor of Love). So, what might that have to do with the sudden increase in gun violence? It could be that these kids see the short term advantages of the life of gang bangers, it could be that they are stalked at school by gangs and are somehow coerced into joining (this was actually the case for a young man in Ed and Matt's program, although he had not given in and remained free from gang involvment). Whatever the case is, these kids have to work very hard to succeed at anything, even something as simple as staying out of trouble. Everything is harder in their lives.

I've been writing this entry while sitting at Lush and have been distracted and interrupted several times so I'm losing focus. I just thought that this was something I should write about.

Here is the link to the article:

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chi-girl-shot-both-01-sep01,0,652061.story?track=rss

I guess I've been needing this

2008-05-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

The last few weeks of my life have been a bit of a wake up call for me and to let them pass without making a few changes would be a mistake I have relsolved not to make. It's time to start figuring a few things out, namely what the next year of my life will hold for me. I'm feeling pretty stuck, and I hate that, I'm not good, I'm not bad, I'm BORED.

I'm so bored that I spent most of my day here at Lush Wine and Spirits reading other people's blogs. They all seem so much more elequent and able to organize their thoughts than I am. It occurred to me that that is most likely due to the fact that they are more elequent than I am and that they haven't let themselves slip into the level of brain atrophy that I have since I graduated college. Plus they have a blog and I don't. Thought I'd change that right here and now.