Top 10 Albums*
- Abbey Road The Beatles
- Avalon Sunset Van Morrison
- The Best of... Earth, Wind & Fire**
- The Memphis Record Elvis Presley
- Tunnel of Love Bruce Springsteen
- The Miseducation of... Lauryn Hill
- Pleased to Meet Me The Replacements
- New Miserable Experience Gin Blossoms
- Music for the Morning After Pete Yorn
- The Vegetarians of Love Bob Geldof
*based more on my listening habits and taste than on any critical evaluation
**quite possibly the first album I ever bought; if not, it was 2nd after The Commodores Greatest Hits
January 29, 2009
"Outlaw Pete"
Listening to Springsteen's latest CD; not bad, not bad at all, with elements of each of his last two albums, so there's thoughtful seriousness and there's simple good times. There's also just plain silliness: "Surprise, Surprise" ?!?!?!? If he sings this crap at halftime I'm pulling Born to Run out of its frame and replacing it with Elephunk.
January 25, 2009
January 23, 2009
Ima gonna be a Teacher!
I start my student teaching in February, and, surprise surprise, feel the urge to share with my 2 friends and countless strangers via the internet my thoughts and pearls of wisdom on how I can save the entire field of education, one third grader at a time.
So please come over here and follow my adventures. Or lay down odds on how soon I'll get pegged with an eraser.
Ideas and suggestions, including a new title, always welcome!
update: changed the title, and accidentally on purpose changed the address too (sorry. probably lost both my loyal readers)...
So please come over here and follow my adventures. Or lay down odds on how soon I'll get pegged with an eraser.
Ideas and suggestions, including a new title, always welcome!
update: changed the title, and accidentally on purpose changed the address too (sorry. probably lost both my loyal readers)...
January 22, 2009
Do "FaceBook Anonymous" meetings have virtual donuts?
"Hello, my name is (your name here)*, and I am addicted to FaceBook."
Okay, so I'm not really addicted addicted, as in I cannot possibly stop. I could stop, any time I wanted. It's just that these multitudes of names, names of every person in my high school class, names of every person I worked with (oh wait, did I fire that guy?) and the names of every girl I ever had a crush on (hey, just thought of another one!), keep appearing in my head like a giant phone book being constantly flipped open to the various letters and scanned for any names I recognize.
I think at this point I'm just making up names, combining vague recollections of several people into one, and wondering why no one replies to my "Hey, remember me?" request for Friendship. I have found a couple of people I know, or knew, and want to keep our relationship in the past tense. And I have found a few ex-girlfriends that I don't want to bother, I want to let them try to move on with their lives, so I'll simply check their profile and stare at the screen for a few minutes... or so... every day. Twice. An hour. But that's not really "cyber-stalking" or whatever that latest FBI federal injunction paperwork said. Whatever. (just kidding, Stargirl)
Besides, I have other addictions, more real-world addictions, as evident by my ever-expanding pants size. And I have had other computer-related obsessions, so I know they all fade away eventually, and soon I can emerge from the stupor, shower and shave, re-introduce myself to the family, and move on with my life. Age of Empires (I can still hear the music in my head). Scrabbulous. Napster. LibraryThing (Yes, honey, I most certainly DO need every single book in the entire house stacked around my desk, by author, genre, ISBN number, and publication date!). Blogger.
Anyway, when you do get a "be my friend"beg request from me at 2:30 in the morning (I know, I know, you're checking on your stocks and only accidentally accessed your FB account) -- just ignore me.
*are we done with the anonymity, the faux cool or nonsensical user names? I kind of like the 1970's CB radio vibe from all the identity-masking screen names... Roger, RubberDuck34219, over and out!
Okay, so I'm not really addicted addicted, as in I cannot possibly stop. I could stop, any time I wanted. It's just that these multitudes of names, names of every person in my high school class, names of every person I worked with (oh wait, did I fire that guy?) and the names of every girl I ever had a crush on (hey, just thought of another one!), keep appearing in my head like a giant phone book being constantly flipped open to the various letters and scanned for any names I recognize.
I think at this point I'm just making up names, combining vague recollections of several people into one, and wondering why no one replies to my "Hey, remember me?" request for Friendship. I have found a couple of people I know, or knew, and want to keep our relationship in the past tense. And I have found a few ex-girlfriends that I don't want to bother, I want to let them try to move on with their lives, so I'll simply check their profile and stare at the screen for a few minutes... or so... every day. Twice. An hour. But that's not really "cyber-stalking" or whatever that latest FBI federal injunction paperwork said. Whatever. (just kidding, Stargirl)
Besides, I have other addictions, more real-world addictions, as evident by my ever-expanding pants size. And I have had other computer-related obsessions, so I know they all fade away eventually, and soon I can emerge from the stupor, shower and shave, re-introduce myself to the family, and move on with my life. Age of Empires (I can still hear the music in my head). Scrabbulous. Napster. LibraryThing (Yes, honey, I most certainly DO need every single book in the entire house stacked around my desk, by author, genre, ISBN number, and publication date!). Blogger.
Anyway, when you do get a "be my friend"
*are we done with the anonymity, the faux cool or nonsensical user names? I kind of like the 1970's CB radio vibe from all the identity-masking screen names... Roger, RubberDuck34219, over and out!
January 20, 2009
President Barack Obama invades my mind at 2am...
I don't know if it's the 6pm Rockstar or the 9am Coronation, but my mind is racing and I cannot sleep. It's after midnight and that muse with insomnia has inspired some thoughts. She did not guarantee coherence though, but when the sun comes up tomorrow a lot of editing will be due...
When was the last time you were excited about, much less arranged your schedule to watch, a Presidential Inauguration?
When was the last time you were excited about a President?
...you looked forward to a speech?
...we were ONE nation -- under God, under stress, under-achieving, yet understanding we are stronger and better when we are together.*
...a President was not just on 50 magazine covers on the shelves, but also t-shirts without rude puns, games and puzzles, children's picture books? Cereal aisle, make room for the best selling Wheaties box of all time...
When was the last time I used paper and pen to write more words than a grocery list?
Why do we deify the man (my bad: The Man) before he even gets to sit as his new desk? Our adoration and anticipation is unlike our usual pop culture driven manner, to raise someone high in order to sit back and watch the spectacularly crushing and devastating fall -- usually on YouTube. No, we really, really, want Barack Obama to stay on that pedestal. We want and need him to exceed our expectations, if that's even possible, for him to pin our hopes high and then hold us up so we can actually reach them. Americans thrive on confidence, on momentum that carries through a tough stretch in the schedule. Obama is going to need those People magazine-able basketball abs and broad shoulders, because he may age quicker and deeper than any President -- the weight on his heart, his brow, his carry-a-nation back will gray his hair and line his face before our hope-filled eyes.
Barack Obama has more hyperbole draped over him than bunting on the Capital, but how soon will it fade? We don't want him to fail. But we don't need him to be FDR + JFK = Lincoln with good looks and the black vote, we just need him to stay the (true) course, to maintain our national values, as insanely diverse and diametrically opposed as some of them they may seem. We need him to hold us to our "that's what makes America great" creed: work hard, move forward, look out for each other, take pride. We need him to uphold our ideas even if everything doesn't turn around overnight, from worst-to-first in a Cinderella story first 100 days. Our nation needs to be lead so it can stop focusing on our failures (don't just blame Bush: he was ours, so his are ours, and always will be) and prime our attention on present and future successes. We have always followed our leaders closely, in that when they looked back over their shoulders we were right there, breathing the same air.
Moses. The Saviour. The Change. The Dream Fulfilled. There have been more capital letters used in describing and defining Obama then when listing Michael's Jordan's MVPs,** which is appropriate, given the hoops, the Chicago, the age****, and the iconic smile connecting the two. In more ways than one Barack Obama can become our first Presidential "superstar" -- while Clinton played the pop star, bringing a sense of cool to the White House lacking since, and decidedly, generationally, different than, the Kennedy reign, Obama has the Jordan-esque swagger, the detached, confident cool that can lead his team not just through the tough times but through all opposition to the trophy presentation. But never forget, he is a politician. And adamn good great one, so far, to get where he is, when he is, causing the cynic in me to temper the blind faith. Please, Mr. President, no cigars. Or interns. Or attempts to save the world for Jesus and Oil Conglomerates by eliminating a tyrannical dictator and his democracy-threatening weapons.
Mr. Obama, the words to describe why I am scribbling at 2am***** and eagerly anticipating your Presidency can be read as trite, generic, even devoid of real meaning. But you and I can still use these words and lend them the weight they need to stand out in our bleak, strained world, the credence required to be heard above the din of all other words and be repeated by an exponentially increasing collection of voices: Hope. Change. Together.
*In 2001 of course: The country at its most shocked and grievous, President Bush at his most Presidential, all bonded in a singular, searing moment.
** Five. So 5 x 3, plus 6 in the Finals... why am I doing the math, it's a metaphor!***
*** Simile?
**** The President is only 2 years older than MJ. But is 2 years younger than expatriate ex-King of Pop MJ, who is 50!
***** ...and typing, not very well i'm sure, at 3:21. goodnight.
When was the last time you were excited about, much less arranged your schedule to watch, a Presidential Inauguration?
When was the last time you were excited about a President?
...you looked forward to a speech?
...we were ONE nation -- under God, under stress, under-achieving, yet understanding we are stronger and better when we are together.*
...a President was not just on 50 magazine covers on the shelves, but also t-shirts without rude puns, games and puzzles, children's picture books? Cereal aisle, make room for the best selling Wheaties box of all time...
When was the last time I used paper and pen to write more words than a grocery list?
Why do we deify the man (my bad: The Man) before he even gets to sit as his new desk? Our adoration and anticipation is unlike our usual pop culture driven manner, to raise someone high in order to sit back and watch the spectacularly crushing and devastating fall -- usually on YouTube. No, we really, really, want Barack Obama to stay on that pedestal. We want and need him to exceed our expectations, if that's even possible, for him to pin our hopes high and then hold us up so we can actually reach them. Americans thrive on confidence, on momentum that carries through a tough stretch in the schedule. Obama is going to need those People magazine-able basketball abs and broad shoulders, because he may age quicker and deeper than any President -- the weight on his heart, his brow, his carry-a-nation back will gray his hair and line his face before our hope-filled eyes.
Barack Obama has more hyperbole draped over him than bunting on the Capital, but how soon will it fade? We don't want him to fail. But we don't need him to be FDR + JFK = Lincoln with good looks and the black vote, we just need him to stay the (true) course, to maintain our national values, as insanely diverse and diametrically opposed as some of them they may seem. We need him to hold us to our "that's what makes America great" creed: work hard, move forward, look out for each other, take pride. We need him to uphold our ideas even if everything doesn't turn around overnight, from worst-to-first in a Cinderella story first 100 days. Our nation needs to be lead so it can stop focusing on our failures (don't just blame Bush: he was ours, so his are ours, and always will be) and prime our attention on present and future successes. We have always followed our leaders closely, in that when they looked back over their shoulders we were right there, breathing the same air.
Moses. The Saviour. The Change. The Dream Fulfilled. There have been more capital letters used in describing and defining Obama then when listing Michael's Jordan's MVPs,** which is appropriate, given the hoops, the Chicago, the age****, and the iconic smile connecting the two. In more ways than one Barack Obama can become our first Presidential "superstar" -- while Clinton played the pop star, bringing a sense of cool to the White House lacking since, and decidedly, generationally, different than, the Kennedy reign, Obama has the Jordan-esque swagger, the detached, confident cool that can lead his team not just through the tough times but through all opposition to the trophy presentation. But never forget, he is a politician. And a
Mr. Obama, the words to describe why I am scribbling at 2am***** and eagerly anticipating your Presidency can be read as trite, generic, even devoid of real meaning. But you and I can still use these words and lend them the weight they need to stand out in our bleak, strained world, the credence required to be heard above the din of all other words and be repeated by an exponentially increasing collection of voices: Hope. Change. Together.
*In 2001 of course: The country at its most shocked and grievous, President Bush at his most Presidential, all bonded in a singular, searing moment.
** Five. So 5 x 3, plus 6 in the Finals... why am I doing the math, it's a metaphor!***
*** Simile?
**** The President is only 2 years older than MJ. But is 2 years younger than expatriate ex-King of Pop MJ, who is 50!
***** ...and typing, not very well i'm sure, at 3:21. goodnight.
January 19, 2009
Jerry Seinfeld used to teach High School History?
Maybe I'll switch to being a History teacher -- looks easy!
ay yi yi... part of the blame as to why I'm so far behind on homework-- these books accidentally fell into the boys' backpack at the library. What's a responsible parent to do, but make sure my children are not exposed to inappropriate reading material?
Rock On is an account of a music-loving advertising dude getting to work for a major record label, and finding it's not all his rock 'n roll fantasy thought it would be... funny, great insights on business/corporate world, and the commercial aspect of music. Did I mention funny?
Michael Chabon (Kavelier & Clay, Wonder Boys) is one of my favorite authors. Maps and Legends is essays and commentaries, a bit autobiographical, touching on comic books, parents, marriage, Jewish-ness, and of course, gollems. Much recommended, and as with his Gentlemen on the Road I did read with one hand holding the book and one hand thumbing through the dictionary...
When You Are Engulfed in Flames is up to Sedaris' usual funny-ness, the part about being too sick to move getting me banished to the couch one night... He is no longer struggling to find himself or make it in the world, so these stories are more middle-aged, full of travel and domestic life; he does revisit childhood and his family, which is still a goldmine...
January 17, 2009
Dread, part 3
As I sit here typing this instead of my final case study (unstarted, due in 4 days) I do get that ol' familiar "sense of doom" -- but been there, done that, haven't gotten too much done in my life that wasn't put off 'til the last minute and up against a deadline.
So it's something different this time. It's something heavier, deeper, something that keeps getting turned away from. But just like that preposition at the end of the sentence, it's THERE; I can't ignore it, I can't move on. I've always taken pride in myself as a shallow person -- easy going, no drama, let it roll off my back and the sun'll come up tomorrow....
Maybe it's impending mortality. Maybe it's the other side of mortality. Maybe it's one of my mother's premonitions, the extra sense passed down and yet dormant all these years. I've had periods of my life filled with the fear of terrible things happening; everyone's wondered if an ex-spouse would die in a car crash, haven't they? No?
Hmmm.... Or this just a bit too much to share in cyberspace? Should I knock on wood or spectaclestesticleswallet&watch ? Have I doomed myself, or others, by confessing my sense of dread? Should I let sleeping dogs lie, or in this case, dieing dogs sleep?
should I learn how to spell "dieing"? that never looks right...
So it's something different this time. It's something heavier, deeper, something that keeps getting turned away from. But just like that preposition at the end of the sentence, it's THERE; I can't ignore it, I can't move on. I've always taken pride in myself as a shallow person -- easy going, no drama, let it roll off my back and the sun'll come up tomorrow....
Maybe it's impending mortality. Maybe it's the other side of mortality. Maybe it's one of my mother's premonitions, the extra sense passed down and yet dormant all these years. I've had periods of my life filled with the fear of terrible things happening; everyone's wondered if an ex-spouse would die in a car crash, haven't they? No?
Hmmm.... Or this just a bit too much to share in cyberspace? Should I knock on wood or spectaclestesticleswallet&watch ? Have I doomed myself, or others, by confessing my sense of dread? Should I let sleeping dogs lie, or in this case, dieing dogs sleep?
should I learn how to spell "dieing"? that never looks right...
If she goes, he goes...
Not that this is an admission of guilt, or anything close to premeditation, but if The Wife ever goes missing there will be one clear sign that points to me as the guilty party: if that damn cat is nowhere to be found, I did it.
2-for-1 deal, buy 1-get 1 whacked at no extra charge -- whatever coupon I can find or deal offered on craig's list, if it includes disposing of a crap-droppin', couch-barfin', window-lickin', dandruff fur-sheddin' lazy fat ass of a cat, I'm reaching for the checkbook.
2-for-1 deal, buy 1-get 1 whacked at no extra charge -- whatever coupon I can find or deal offered on craig's list, if it includes disposing of a crap-droppin', couch-barfin', window-lickin', dandruff fur-sheddin' lazy fat ass of a cat, I'm reaching for the checkbook.
January 14, 2009
Dread, part 2
Maybe it's all the Unborn or Bloody Valentine ads that seem to be all over the TV lately, or the inverse relationship between the closer I get to looking for a job and the amount of imminent budget cuts, layoffs and school closings, or the weight of so many procrastinated assignments due next week...
But still...
But still...
January 12, 2009
Doom, Disaster, or just Misfortune?
Pittsburgh 35, Chargers 24
Ok, maybe that was it. I'm not an "end of the season, end of the world" kinda guy, so as far as unfortunate events that one is certainly survivable. Overcome-able. Shrug off-able.
But what if that wasn't "it"?
"It" being the sense of impending bad coming my way. Just an anticipation, like knowing the doorbell is about to ring right before it does, or heading for the kitchen right before the timer goes off. Don't know if it's a big bad or a little bad, a personal bad or global bad, but it's out there, waiting for me, getting ready for me....
Ok, maybe that was it. I'm not an "end of the season, end of the world" kinda guy, so as far as unfortunate events that one is certainly survivable. Overcome-able. Shrug off-able.
But what if that wasn't "it"?
"It" being the sense of impending bad coming my way. Just an anticipation, like knowing the doorbell is about to ring right before it does, or heading for the kitchen right before the timer goes off. Don't know if it's a big bad or a little bad, a personal bad or global bad, but it's out there, waiting for me, getting ready for me....
January 5, 2009
all-time top 10
Here's the one that needs a little editing... and yeah, the easy choice is kick Hall & Oates to the curb, but don't pretend you didn't groove to those sweet harmonies back in the day!
- "Ticket To Ride" The Beatles (1965)
- "The Letter" The Box Tops (1967)
- "Can't Find My Way Home" Blind Faith (1969)
- "She's Gone" Hall & Oates (1973)
- "Samba Pa' Ti" Santana (1974)
- "Jungleland" Bruce Springsteen (1975)
- "Telephone Line" ELO (1979)
- "Bad" U2 (1984)
- "Skyway" Replacements (1987)
- "It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over" Lenny Kravitz (2000)
- "The Middle" Jimmy Eat World (2001)
- "Maybe Tomorrow" Stereophonics (2003)
uh-oh... no Tom Petty? no Van Morrison? Angie Stone? Gonna have to work on this list...
January 4, 2009
my musical obsession
I tell the boys, more times than they care to hear I'm sure, If you're going to do something, do it right -- that's my justification for spending gazigllions of hours the past few weeks obsessing over my iTunes. My "problem" (as my iTherapist insists I call it) started when I began putting songs into decade playlists -- the 60's, 80's, etc. -- and noticing the years listed for many songs didn't match the original release date of the song/album, but were for the remastered re-issue, or the greatest hits album, or whatever. But that simply will not do, so I had to go through and change the dates, which involved a lot of research on that bastion of reliable knowledge, Wikipedia, and various other music-related sites to cross check and verify information. On the one hand I felt like I was wasting a ton of time and energy, on the other hand I convinced myself it was necessary for historical accuracy and good research practice for future educational endeavors...
And since it is the turn of the years and time for "best of" lists, I put together a few of my own Top 10 collections -- trouble is I can't count, and need to make some cuts to actually have 10 songs on my top 10 lists...
And since it is the turn of the years and time for "best of" lists, I put together a few of my own Top 10 collections -- trouble is I can't count, and need to make some cuts to actually have 10 songs on my top 10 lists...
Top 10 Songs of 2008 (really not in any particular order)
- "See These Bones" Nada Surf
- "Dig, Lazerus, Dig" Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
- "Troublemaker" Weezer
- "Gravedigger" Willie Nelson
- "Viva La Vida" Coldplay
- "Alligator" Foxboro Hot Tubs
- "Dirty City" Steve Winwood featuring Eric Clapton
- "I Will Possess Your Heart" Death Cab for Cutie
- "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" She & Him
- "27 Jennifers" Mike Doughty
some of those might be from '07, but I can be a little slow to pick up on things... any you like that I missed and need to give a listen to? Let me know...
Luddite.com?
I'm seriously considering chucking this hunk of plastic and wires off the roof -- computers, who needs 'em? I tried joining the Luddites, but couldn't find their website...
But no, I'm back, back in the saddle again -- got the new hard drive (see: "The Crash of '08"), stayed up into the wee hours replacing, organizing, refining all that was lost in the crash, starting with the top priorities of all priorities: iTunes!
Homework? Bills? Christmas shopping? Puh-leeze! gotta get those playlists and album cover art just perfect, or nothing else in this world matters much...
So of course after getting everything set up I download some vital HP update and the whole deal freezes and refuses to do anything except let me attempt to repair it the wrong way, resulting in a 100% resetting back to the beginning, as in when I first took this thing out of its box -- a nice message popped up "Congratulations on your new purchase!" So I started all over yet again...
But no, I'm back, back in the saddle again -- got the new hard drive (see: "The Crash of '08"), stayed up into the wee hours replacing, organizing, refining all that was lost in the crash, starting with the top priorities of all priorities: iTunes!
Homework? Bills? Christmas shopping? Puh-leeze! gotta get those playlists and album cover art just perfect, or nothing else in this world matters much...
So of course after getting everything set up I download some vital HP update and the whole deal freezes and refuses to do anything except let me attempt to repair it the wrong way, resulting in a 100% resetting back to the beginning, as in when I first took this thing out of its box -- a nice message popped up "Congratulations on your new purchase!" So I started all over yet again...
December 3, 2008
"Mi no save"
"I don't understand" in 250 languages...
I guess "Do you have to pee?" would be another important one to print out...
I guess "Do you have to pee?" would be another important one to print out...
Appraising Teachers
A gracious and wise woman recently said "teaching is as much of an art as a science, and how do you measure art?"
Well, I suppose we could follow the lead of the art world* and hold auctions, sending teachers off to work for the highest bidder. Schools and communities that value specific traits in their educators would concentrate their money on building a collection, for example a staff of disciplinarians drilling facts and dates, or motivational gurus pumping up test-taking abilities, or grandmotherly types praising Mikey's creative side while he licks glue off his hand...
Ah, but we're going nation-wide here with NCLB and all that, so no one is able to agree not only on what makes a good teacher** but what schools are for in the first place.
Teaching is an art. Great teachers are artists. But that doesn't preclude teachers from the quality performance rubric, they still must be evaluated and deemed worthy of caring for and shaping and helping to build our children into adults. We use "artist" as one of the highest compliments; one can elevate a skill or talent in any field to an art -- an auto mechanic, the weekend barbecue-er, wide receivers and batting champions, even some scientist cultivating genomes in a lab somewhere has heard from a colleague "Man, the way you handle those beakers, you are a true artist!"
Great teaching is an art, and great teachers need to be paid commensurate with their talents and value to society, which is almost immeasurable -- how many children did Terrell Owens*** have a life-long effect on today? Good teachers working hard to become great deserved the support and time and money to hone their craft...
oops, gotta go! to be cont'd...?
*I could have used livestock auctions as an example, but the metaphor breaks down when we get into the whole animal husbandry aspect, doesn't it...
**2nd un-used simile of the post: good teaching is like pornography, I know it when I see it? Didn't a Supreme Justice say that once?
***link does NOT go to anything T.O. related, but to an amazing student-athlete -- can you say 1st round draft choice neurosurgeon?
Well, I suppose we could follow the lead of the art world* and hold auctions, sending teachers off to work for the highest bidder. Schools and communities that value specific traits in their educators would concentrate their money on building a collection, for example a staff of disciplinarians drilling facts and dates, or motivational gurus pumping up test-taking abilities, or grandmotherly types praising Mikey's creative side while he licks glue off his hand...
Ah, but we're going nation-wide here with NCLB and all that, so no one is able to agree not only on what makes a good teacher** but what schools are for in the first place.
Teaching is an art. Great teachers are artists. But that doesn't preclude teachers from the quality performance rubric, they still must be evaluated and deemed worthy of caring for and shaping and helping to build our children into adults. We use "artist" as one of the highest compliments; one can elevate a skill or talent in any field to an art -- an auto mechanic, the weekend barbecue-er, wide receivers and batting champions, even some scientist cultivating genomes in a lab somewhere has heard from a colleague "Man, the way you handle those beakers, you are a true artist!"
Great teaching is an art, and great teachers need to be paid commensurate with their talents and value to society, which is almost immeasurable -- how many children did Terrell Owens*** have a life-long effect on today? Good teachers working hard to become great deserved the support and time and money to hone their craft...
oops, gotta go! to be cont'd...?
*I could have used livestock auctions as an example, but the metaphor breaks down when we get into the whole animal husbandry aspect, doesn't it...
**2nd un-used simile of the post: good teaching is like pornography, I know it when I see it? Didn't a Supreme Justice say that once?
***link does NOT go to anything T.O. related, but to an amazing student-athlete -- can you say 1st round draft choice neurosurgeon?
December 1, 2008
Wordle
Ok, very cool... found this courtesy of Bonnie -- just put in your text and it gets all creative on ya...
It's called Wordle , and you can click on my picture then on my pseudonym and see what I did instead of homework for several hours tonight...
I don't recommend jumping their homepage with small children, or large immature ones either, since nimrods like to play with bad words...
It's called Wordle , and you can click on my picture then on my pseudonym and see what I did instead of homework for several hours tonight...
I don't recommend jumping their homepage with small children, or large immature ones either, since nimrods like to play with bad words...
November 30, 2008
Rhee Rocks!
Accountability? Being responsible for one's actions?
Being good, not just being there, gets a pay raise?
I have a new hero, and she's kickin' ass without wasting time to take names in Washington DC schools!
This week's TIME magazine has an article on Michelle Rhee* firing bad teachers and offering huge pay increases to eliminate tenure -- tenure?!? -- who else has a job that's extremely safe, no matter how bad you are or how little you care to put into it, solely based on the fact that you survived the first few years? We don't even let our Presidents hang around warm and secure just because they've received a paycheck for a specific amount of time...
Now I don't want to talk too much out of my place, not even being a rookie teacher yet (plus I should read the article again -- I may have missed a few key points amidst my "amens!" and "git 'em girl!" shout outs) but why do people have a problem with getting paid based on performance? If you are good at what you do, what are you worried about? And if you're a bad teacher, as a citizen and parent and colleague I don't have one single minute to waste by allowing you to continue working with my children. If you're a bad teacher, retail is always hiring....
*not to confused with Michelle Yeoh, Goddess of the Silver Screen
Being good, not just being there, gets a pay raise?
I have a new hero, and she's kickin' ass without wasting time to take names in Washington DC schools!
This week's TIME magazine has an article on Michelle Rhee* firing bad teachers and offering huge pay increases to eliminate tenure -- tenure?!? -- who else has a job that's extremely safe, no matter how bad you are or how little you care to put into it, solely based on the fact that you survived the first few years? We don't even let our Presidents hang around warm and secure just because they've received a paycheck for a specific amount of time...
Now I don't want to talk too much out of my place, not even being a rookie teacher yet (plus I should read the article again -- I may have missed a few key points amidst my "amens!" and "git 'em girl!" shout outs) but why do people have a problem with getting paid based on performance? If you are good at what you do, what are you worried about? And if you're a bad teacher, as a citizen and parent and colleague I don't have one single minute to waste by allowing you to continue working with my children. If you're a bad teacher, retail is always hiring....
*not to confused with Michelle Yeoh, Goddess of the Silver Screen
November 26, 2008
The Crash of '08
The hard drive, just like my chorizo burrito-addled heart will someday, came crashing to a grinding, screeching, obliterating stop.
So the bad, and expensive, news is it had to be replaced.
More bad news: I only backed up my photos and iTunes, so all else is gone, gone, gone...
Good news: reinstalled the iTunes, bad news: did it twice and now have doubled every single song...
good news: get to make all new playlists while deleting those doubled every single song...
ok, I knew I had Inka Dinka Do but what about...*
Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy) ?
Fly Trapped In A Jar ?
Bom Bom Bom ?
Sheep ?
The Cannonball Run Theme ?
Lunch Box/Odd Sox ?
She came in Through the Bathroom Window ?
I Love You, You Imbecile ?
*a free book from my shelves if you can sing 'em all...
So the bad, and expensive, news is it had to be replaced.
More bad news: I only backed up my photos and iTunes, so all else is gone, gone, gone...
Good news: reinstalled the iTunes, bad news: did it twice and now have doubled every single song...
good news: get to make all new playlists while deleting those doubled every single song...
ok, I knew I had Inka Dinka Do but what about...*
Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy) ?
Fly Trapped In A Jar ?
Bom Bom Bom ?
Sheep ?
The Cannonball Run Theme ?
Lunch Box/Odd Sox ?
She came in Through the Bathroom Window ?
I Love You, You Imbecile ?
*a free book from my shelves if you can sing 'em all...
November 16, 2008
Things I should stop doing soon so I don't regret not stopping sooner...
- eating so much -- despite still looking good, I've gotta be up over 220, and the kids are going to be curious about their Halloween candy bags any day now. Shoot, at the rate I'm going they'll soon be curious about the cat...
- saying "whatever you want, my love" -- she either hates it and we
arguemis-communicate in sarcastic tones or she says "ok" and we end up wandering through another *%#@$&in' mall... - watching Dexter -- when that evil entity called Netflix sends a season's worth of discs, do we have to watch them in one sitting? in the dark? until it's very late at night? and very dark? Confessions of a wimp (I prefer "more sophisticated and culturally evolved"): I avert my eyes when the cellophane comes out...
- random blogs -- 90% I can't read due to language difficulties, as in they ain't in English, 10% I shouldn't read, as in I can't hit the back button quick enough, and the other 10% never reply to my utterly witty comments...
- making lists -- letting my mind wander when I should be studying. Or eating. Or making sure that guy from Dexter isn't hiding behind the couch...
November 4, 2008
cool website (but dorky graphics) with tons of power points for lesson plans, or for using at home for homework help/making your kids do extra work to make 'em smarter...
if I didn't do the link right, this is it: http://www.pppst.com/
if I didn't do the link right, this is it: http://www.pppst.com/
November 3, 2008
Redemption vs. Election
Just had a nice couple on the doorstep, the type I usually brusquely remind about private property and trespassing laws. But since the she of the couple was mildly cute, I let her talk a minute and invite us to church. Alas, when opening the screen door to get her pamphlet, the daily cascade of voting placards* landed at their feet and I asked "did ya vote yet?" --
Awkward silence.
They stammered a bit and said no, they were more concerned with my eternal soul and the end of the world. They did want to see the right Propositions pass (no gay marriage being the big one), but always left it to God's will.
When they asked why we didn't go to our regular church anymore, I told them it was because no one there ever voted...
*thanks, Slim + meriam-webster.com
Awkward silence.
They stammered a bit and said no, they were more concerned with my eternal soul and the end of the world. They did want to see the right Propositions pass (no gay marriage being the big one), but always left it to God's will.
When they asked why we didn't go to our regular church anymore, I told them it was because no one there ever voted...
*thanks, Slim + meriam-webster.com
October 30, 2008
When the inevitable question was posed, Who's fixing dinner? instead of the usual spousal debate, all I had to say was:
"43 6th graders"
No, not all day, in the same room at the same time.
...
update 10/31:
Sorry for the incoherent grammar-deficient post*. In an effort to appease one of my 1/2 dozen readers is the following presentation of Who's Fixing Dinner II, The Clarification Edition:
When the inevitable, as in always, predictably due to being creatures of habit and in need of sustenance for our physical bodies, every night around 5-ish in the evening, sometimes earlier if we did the brunch thing or later if we had a late lunch down at the mall or if the boys, one or both or even all three, had practice that evening, question was posed, Who's fixing dinner?, or some variation of the query, including but not limited to What are you making, what's in the fridge, what do you have planned, where are you taking me, and sometimes, but rarely I have a little cash, instead of the usual spousal debate (transcript of actual debate, repeated countless times word for word, so help me God and ask my children if you don't believe me because they plan on having it engraved on our headstones:
...all I had to say was:
"43, as in more than double 20, which is more than plenty already, thank you very much, 6th graders, the kind of children between the ages of 10 - 11 with the beginnings of puberty's hormonal rushing chaos sprouting up somewhere deep inside, unbeknownst to most of them, unless their parents bought them a book or they are allowed to watch 2 1/2 Men"
No, lucky me, not all day, in one room because unfortunately I could not lock half of them outside the room, at the same time, as in at the same with me, otherwise I would not have been witness to this 7th level of hell.
....
Then again, there is Who's Fixing Dinner? The (censored) Uncensored Edition:
When the inevitable question was posed, What the %&$#%'s for dinner? Instead of the usual spousal debate all I had to say was:
"40 %$#$-3 %$#&^ 6th %&^$#@# graders in 1 %$&&# room!
"Oh yeah, "Mr &%$#@^ Mom" without a %$&*^ job for 2 &%$%^# years while I've worked my &%%$#@ off, get your %^%$# in the kitchen!"
....
(ed note: he would never talk to The Wife that way, nor she him. although she does give mighty powerful glares. and if he did ever talk to her that way, you'd all be on Travelocity right now comparing prices of flights out west, and dusting off your somber black outfit.
*after all, they were 6th graders. 43 of 'em
"43 6th graders"
No, not all day, in the same room at the same time.
...
update 10/31:
Sorry for the incoherent grammar-deficient post*. In an effort to appease one of my 1/2 dozen readers is the following presentation of Who's Fixing Dinner II, The Clarification Edition:
When the inevitable, as in always, predictably due to being creatures of habit and in need of sustenance for our physical bodies, every night around 5-ish in the evening, sometimes earlier if we did the brunch thing or later if we had a late lunch down at the mall or if the boys, one or both or even all three, had practice that evening, question was posed, Who's fixing dinner?, or some variation of the query, including but not limited to What are you making, what's in the fridge, what do you have planned, where are you taking me, and sometimes, but rarely I have a little cash, instead of the usual spousal debate (transcript of actual debate, repeated countless times word for word, so help me God and ask my children if you don't believe me because they plan on having it engraved on our headstones:
She: So, who's fixing dinner (or some variation, see above)?
Me: What would you like?
She: What do you want?
Me (sweetly, with nothing but the desire to make her happy shining in my eyes and dripping from my voice): Whatever you want, my love.
She: What do you want?
Me (with only the satisfaction of her desires in mind and heart): Whatever you want, my love.
She: What are my choices?
Me: What do you feel like having?
She: I dunno, what do you want?
Me (while looking desperately at my sons, hoping one of the boys does something even remotely wrong so I can thump him upside the head and with one thump conceivably accomplish two goals, the first of which is to take out my frustration on a kid who probably deserves a thump anyway, I just haven't found out what he's done yet, and secondly to disrupt the inane conversation long enough that She actually tells me what she wants for dinner, or looks away for long enough for me to escape): Aaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!
...all I had to say was:
"43, as in more than double 20, which is more than plenty already, thank you very much, 6th graders, the kind of children between the ages of 10 - 11 with the beginnings of puberty's hormonal rushing chaos sprouting up somewhere deep inside, unbeknownst to most of them, unless their parents bought them a book or they are allowed to watch 2 1/2 Men"
No, lucky me, not all day, in one room because unfortunately I could not lock half of them outside the room, at the same time, as in at the same with me, otherwise I would not have been witness to this 7th level of hell.
....
Then again, there is Who's Fixing Dinner? The (censored) Uncensored Edition:
When the inevitable question was posed, What the %&$#%'s for dinner? Instead of the usual spousal debate all I had to say was:
"40 %$#$-3 %$#&^ 6th %&^$#@# graders in 1 %$&&# room!
"Oh yeah, "Mr &%$#@^ Mom" without a %$&*^ job for 2 &%$%^# years while I've worked my &%%$#@ off, get your %^%$# in the kitchen!"
....
(ed note: he would never talk to The Wife that way, nor she him. although she does give mighty powerful glares. and if he did ever talk to her that way, you'd all be on Travelocity right now comparing prices of flights out west, and dusting off your somber black outfit.
*after all, they were 6th graders. 43 of 'em
October 24, 2008
Aaaahhhhh... (as in a sigh of relief)
as in, raise a few Heinekens to salute and commemorate my first (successful, if I do say so myself) substitute teaching assignment (or to use the preferred parlance: "guest teacher")...
No Child Left Behind? All I was worried about was no child left out on the playground, no child hiding under a desk, no child locked in the classroom for the weekend when I locked the door...
I must have had the deer-in-the-headlights look, since the teacher explained the lesson step by step, slowly and with small words, and then covered the textbook, her desk, and my tie in friendly reminder post-it notes. When she started sticking notes to each kids' forehead, I had to reassure and boot her out the door...
oops, gotta Lego emergency* -- to be cont'd
so anyway... the day went well. I choked a little when she told me after the math lesson I was teaching Sign Language, but luckily that consisted of popping in a video (and yes, she went over the incredible complex operation of this new-fangled contraption called a dee-vee-dee player step... by step... by step...). I wasn't sure if I was supposed to turn all the lights out on a room full of 7 year olds, but they were quiet and I'd just started to relax when they all instantaneously burst into song with the deaf kids in the show-- good thing my "holy *%#@&!!" was drownded out by the squeaky voice choir. Next came the clean-up song, chairs up, and they were out the door!
*y'know, when you can't find that one little piece to complete the Temple of the Crystal Skull, or something like that, so a complete all-out full-scale end-of-the-world melt-down is in order until Dad finds the brick stuck to the back of your sweaty, grimey little leg? Yeah, that kind.
No Child Left Behind? All I was worried about was no child left out on the playground, no child hiding under a desk, no child locked in the classroom for the weekend when I locked the door...
I must have had the deer-in-the-headlights look, since the teacher explained the lesson step by step, slowly and with small words, and then covered the textbook, her desk, and my tie in friendly reminder post-it notes. When she started sticking notes to each kids' forehead, I had to reassure and boot her out the door...
oops, gotta Lego emergency* -- to be cont'd
so anyway... the day went well. I choked a little when she told me after the math lesson I was teaching Sign Language, but luckily that consisted of popping in a video (and yes, she went over the incredible complex operation of this new-fangled contraption called a dee-vee-dee player step... by step... by step...). I wasn't sure if I was supposed to turn all the lights out on a room full of 7 year olds, but they were quiet and I'd just started to relax when they all instantaneously burst into song with the deaf kids in the show-- good thing my "holy *%#@&!!" was drownded out by the squeaky voice choir. Next came the clean-up song, chairs up, and they were out the door!
*y'know, when you can't find that one little piece to complete the Temple of the Crystal Skull, or something like that, so a complete all-out full-scale end-of-the-world melt-down is in order until Dad finds the brick stuck to the back of your sweaty, grimey little leg? Yeah, that kind.
October 16, 2008
poor bambi...
This is funny and scary: President Sara Palin ...
some things you should click on more than once, i.e. the door, then double-check to make sure you're registered to Vote!
August 24, 2008
It's been a good summer -- nothing dramatic or exciting, no travel and no visitors... a time to recharge the batteries before the hustle and bustle of fall begins:
1 High Schooler (cell phones and social life + grades do count!), 1 Middle Schooler (dances and French girls + sex education!), and 1 2nd grader (still the baby, but when did he get so tall?!?)and Christmas is right around the corner...
Grad School, How to be a Teacher 101 (5 hours a night, twice a week?) and attempting to be a substitute teacher -- I know, I know, you're supposed to do the learning part efore trying it in the real world, but I (and numerous credit departments) am impatient -- and now all those catch-phrases I spouted off as Boss/Dad come back to haunt me ("learn by doing" "no whinin', keep tryin'" "what doesn't kill you...")
football practice, better known as how to drive yourself insane by teaching 6-yr olds a fake reverse (and keep their mouthpieces in their own mouths at the same time)
The Wife + the new TV season, as she attempts to maintain "our" time after all else is done and in bed (I can't even escape by checking the Padres' score upstairs, since it's a pretty safe bet their losing. again.)
June 9, 2008
Reading List
Legerdemain by James J. Heaphey (2008)
"Legerdemain" (not a word that rolls easily off the tongue...) means sleight of hand, a display of clever skill for deceitful purposes.
Cold War/Middle East military historical memoir... a recollection of espionage activity and political turmoil in post-WWII Morocco -- wasn't sure I would like this at first, not much of a modern history/warfare fan, but there was enough history (Nazis, Anwar Sadat) and it certainly relates well to the muddle of the Middle East (including Western involvement) today, and it's done in a fast-paced style that kept me involved. Some romance, some moral ambiguity, some violence, a little danger and drama, a good read.
A mark of a good book in my eyes is leaving me wanting to get more information about the subject and situation, and "Legerdemain" has piqued my curiosity in regards to Morocco, North Africa during WWII, and the more modern history of Egypt.
June 2, 2008
May 28, 2008
America America
America Americaby Ethan Canin
Small town New York boy becomes involved with a wealthy family (with 2 daughters!) and presidential politics (cover ups, Nixon!) and deals with his changing family and personal life...Some books I can pick up and read at anytime or anywhere, such as waiting for The Wife to run errands or in between switching loads of laundry -- in contrast, America America demanded and deserved my undivided attention, not for its complexity or density but because it is the type of story that draws the reader in and sweeps away the outside world as you read. It is a book for a quiet place, a chair and a drink, and the time to meet and learn about and be involved with the characters as their story, their life, unfolds. I found this a beautifully written story, with touching familial relationships, intriguing personalities -- some of which I wanted explored further, but I also appreciate the author's dedication to his primary storyline -- and an emotional twist that literally made me pause and look away from the page for a few minutes... It is also a book that leads to further reading (or recollecting, depending on your age) regarding the political landscape circa 1970-72.
Highly recommended.
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