For the past few days, I've been working on a test bank for a book entitled "Nation of Nations," an American history text. Some pretty interesting stuff. I have to say that the chapters pre- during- and post-Civil War, when talking about the South... describe attitudes and customs that are now FREAKISHLY familiar. Nothing has changed in the South except the costumes. Don't be fooled. This is just another remake, and not even a good one, at that.
But it's interesting. We talk about getting sick of the same old histories over and over again, but the truth is, Luther and I tend to be fascinated. If the boy is driven nuts by it all, well, that's all to the good. He needs to push himself onward and outward, and the best strategy I can come up is to do as we damn well please and see how that goes.
Take, for instance, the whole clock thing. The whole preoccupation with regimented time that took over the nation. People started to think in terms of time and work and play broken up into increments, and deadlines to be met at every turn. Interesting turning point in history.
Right now, I am downloading "2nd pass" (pre-production with artwork and page numbers) textbook chapters via FTP. I can't download the whole folder, so I have to do the chapters one-by-one. Each one takes long enough that I think about how I'm wasting my time, but each one is fast enough that I can't really get something else started in the time alotted. So in fact, at this moment I'm NOT downloading, because I've paused in order to blog.
The thing is... When did we start being frustrated that we couldn't do two things at once? I mean, when did it become such a habit that NOT being able to do two things at once - talk to a friend while driving, look at porn on the Internet while enjoying TV with the family in the livingroom (to give a few not-particularly-wholesome examples) - was such a damned PROBLEM?
Doing one thing at a time takes too long. I get bored. I want a snack and a backrub.
b
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
No racial divide
Been busy lately. Gotta work. My partner in crime is soon to be retired again, so I better try to make some money, eh?
Meanwhile, I've been following the Jena 6 story, and I wore all black yesterday in protest (although it must be admitted that wearing black is not exactly unusual for me in any case). You can Google or Google News "Jena 6" for background. This morning's news has this:
Why did the black students need permission to sit where white students normally congregated? Had the white students previously obtained permission?
And then the kid saying he was naïve about what the nooses meant: So, he would have hung nooses there if some more white students had sat under the tree?
Yeah. There’s no black-white divide. None whatsoever.
Meanwhile, I've been following the Jena 6 story, and I wore all black yesterday in protest (although it must be admitted that wearing black is not exactly unusual for me in any case). You can Google or Google News "Jena 6" for background. This morning's news has this:
Jena resident Terry Adams disagreed with any accusations that there might be a black-white divide in the area.Interesting.
"We are not a racial town. We get along with each other, we get along fine. This is something that got out of proportion. It really has."
Jena's racial tensions were aggravated in August 2006, when three white teens hung the nooses the day after a group of black students received permission from school administrators to sit under the tree -- a place where white students normally congregated.
The guilty students were briefly suspended from classes, despite the principal's recommendation they be expelled, according to Donald Washington, U.S. attorney for the Western District of Louisiana.
A member of the LaSalle Parish School Board -- which had a role in supporting suspension instead of expulsion -- insisted the board is not prejudiced.
The panel felt it took the appropriate action, Jonny Fryar said.
"I talked to one of the parents, who called me and said their son thought it was a prank and naive to the fact of what it meant and he was sorry," he said.
"I hate to see people label us as something we are not. Because we have black students and white students playing football together. They shake hands, get along. This is an unfortunate incident. We hope that the community can heal." Source
Why did the black students need permission to sit where white students normally congregated? Had the white students previously obtained permission?
And then the kid saying he was naïve about what the nooses meant: So, he would have hung nooses there if some more white students had sat under the tree?
Yeah. There’s no black-white divide. None whatsoever.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Work snippets 3
Working on Armesto, The World. Not a bad title. The World.
Item number 1:
They were anti-evolution. They didn't want to evolve. Their grandaddys never did it, they sure as HELL weren't going to do it either.
Item number 2:
15. The world’s first true democracies, offering women the same political rights as men, took shape in
a. Britain and the United States.
b. France and the United States.
c. Norway and New Zealand.
d. India and Sweden.
Interesting take on the word "true," isn't it? We still don't give everybody the same political rights. Here, at least, convicts can't vote. Children can't vote. Permanent residents can't vote. Only "citizens" vote, but hasn't that always, essentially, been the case? It's just that we're forever changing our definition of "citizen."
The actual text says this: "In politics, too, the new century opened with new departures. The world's first full democracies--full in the sense that women had equal political rights with men--took shape in Norway and New Zealand."
I'll edit the question to use "full." But it is still highly subjective. I would argue that if we distinguish the citizen from other types of residents, and if democracy is an activity by and for only the citizens, then a "full" democracy is one in which each citizen verifiably has a voice in the process, regardless of the non-citizens that have been left out altogether.
We don't have that now.
Meanwhile, I'm going to be inducted into an honors society. Don't hurt yourself as you fall out of your chair, laughing.
Item number 1:
They were anti-evolution. They didn't want to evolve. Their grandaddys never did it, they sure as HELL weren't going to do it either.
Item number 2:
15. The world’s first true democracies, offering women the same political rights as men, took shape in
a. Britain and the United States.
b. France and the United States.
c. Norway and New Zealand.
d. India and Sweden.
Interesting take on the word "true," isn't it? We still don't give everybody the same political rights. Here, at least, convicts can't vote. Children can't vote. Permanent residents can't vote. Only "citizens" vote, but hasn't that always, essentially, been the case? It's just that we're forever changing our definition of "citizen."
The actual text says this: "In politics, too, the new century opened with new departures. The world's first full democracies--full in the sense that women had equal political rights with men--took shape in Norway and New Zealand."
I'll edit the question to use "full." But it is still highly subjective. I would argue that if we distinguish the citizen from other types of residents, and if democracy is an activity by and for only the citizens, then a "full" democracy is one in which each citizen verifiably has a voice in the process, regardless of the non-citizens that have been left out altogether.
We don't have that now.
Meanwhile, I'm going to be inducted into an honors society. Don't hurt yourself as you fall out of your chair, laughing.
Friday, August 31, 2007
The Tops
Gotta make this quick so I can get to work, but... My friend over at fatbrain.ca already posted a nice blog entry on a little phenom we've observed on Facebook, and I wanted to add my own little notes.
With Facebook, you can belong to a couple of "networks" decided by your school (if you have a school email account), your region (whatever you select), and your workplace. I've selected SPSU as my school, and Tampa Bay as my region, since I'm in the countdown to moving there. Facebook has now helpfully posted "stats" on the networks, based on what individuals have posted in their profiles with regard to favorite movies, music, books, etc.
My SPSU network's Top Books holds no surprises. As Diane (she of the fat brain) succinctly pointed out, the list of nine books includes a religious text, a book written for children, movie tie-ins, and books one is forced to read in school. I enjoyed comparing my SPSU list to Diane's LA-region list, actually. Perhaps it is significant that the Bible is in first place at SPSU, but drops to second place in LA, behind (of course) Harry Potter.
The main thing is that these are not lists that suggest a group of real "readers." What's your favorite book? I am a devout Christian, so it has to be the Good Book. And I love, love, love me some Harry Potter. Hmm. What else have I read? (Look at DVD shelf with those few books next to the DVDs.) Oh yeah! The novelization of Star Wars! I LOVED that book! It was exactly like the movie, but with WORDS! Hmm... what else? What was that book I read five years ago in High School? What was it, what was it...
I'm exaggerating. And using far too many words, yet again. But still...
Here's the part I found really interesting this morning, though: My Tampa Bay area network has ONLY SEVEN BOOKS in its Top Books list. The LA area and SPSU each have nine books listed.
At first I thought the Tampa people couldn't come up with more than seven choices. The odd thing about this is that their "Top Interests" has "reading" in the third spot.
And then it hit me: There were not enough agreements on Top Books to get true 8th and 9th place books in Tampa. There's um... something called... diversity of opinion! Their third-favorite interest (after music - apparently R&B ugh - and movies) is reading. READING EVEN COMES IN BEFORE FOOTBALL. And they're not all reading the same thing.
I am tentatively hopeful.
With Facebook, you can belong to a couple of "networks" decided by your school (if you have a school email account), your region (whatever you select), and your workplace. I've selected SPSU as my school, and Tampa Bay as my region, since I'm in the countdown to moving there. Facebook has now helpfully posted "stats" on the networks, based on what individuals have posted in their profiles with regard to favorite movies, music, books, etc.
My SPSU network's Top Books holds no surprises. As Diane (she of the fat brain) succinctly pointed out, the list of nine books includes a religious text, a book written for children, movie tie-ins, and books one is forced to read in school. I enjoyed comparing my SPSU list to Diane's LA-region list, actually. Perhaps it is significant that the Bible is in first place at SPSU, but drops to second place in LA, behind (of course) Harry Potter.
The main thing is that these are not lists that suggest a group of real "readers." What's your favorite book? I am a devout Christian, so it has to be the Good Book. And I love, love, love me some Harry Potter. Hmm. What else have I read? (Look at DVD shelf with those few books next to the DVDs.) Oh yeah! The novelization of Star Wars! I LOVED that book! It was exactly like the movie, but with WORDS! Hmm... what else? What was that book I read five years ago in High School? What was it, what was it...
I'm exaggerating. And using far too many words, yet again. But still...
Here's the part I found really interesting this morning, though: My Tampa Bay area network has ONLY SEVEN BOOKS in its Top Books list. The LA area and SPSU each have nine books listed.
At first I thought the Tampa people couldn't come up with more than seven choices. The odd thing about this is that their "Top Interests" has "reading" in the third spot.
And then it hit me: There were not enough agreements on Top Books to get true 8th and 9th place books in Tampa. There's um... something called... diversity of opinion! Their third-favorite interest (after music - apparently R&B ugh - and movies) is reading. READING EVEN COMES IN BEFORE FOOTBALL. And they're not all reading the same thing.
I am tentatively hopeful.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Fifteen for a moment
As you know, I have yet to figure out why I'm blogging. With less and less of a sense of purpose, the post frequency is dropping. Oddly, at the very same time I am close to paying for a couple of domain names and have already signed up for a new blog space on... one of those other blog sites. Don't ask me why. I don't know the answer.
For lack of anything better, here's a quick update on what's going on in my life:
1. School has started again. This is supposedly my last semester before I graduate, and it is certainly my last semester for at least a year.
For my Information Architecture class, Dr. Shauf is doing podcasts, and wants us to subscribe via iTunes. I already have iTunes, though I rarely use it. Naturally, the subscription process is not working - just for me - for some unknown reason. Troubleshooting has led to my listening to my very small collection of ridiculously pop songs. Let's see how long they keep repeating before I kill something.
2. For my other class, Applied Graphics 1, I finally purchased my very own legal copy of Photoshop, as part of Adobe's Creative Suite 3, Design Standard. I very excitedly went to install the package... and I did not have enough RAM! WTF? My giant machine is apparently a weakling. So now, in addition to messing with an unhelpful iTunes, I am waiting for my 2-GB, $160 purchase of new RAM to arrive from Dell.
It turns out the ability to track your packages online is a bad thing. Painful. My RAM has been in Macon since early Saturday. For some unknown reason, DHL still doesn't plan to deliver it to me, a half-hour drive away, until Wednesday.
3. There is a little dog running around the neighborhood. He's ADORABLE, apparently a young Jack Russel, though the size of his ears suggests he may be mixed with something even cuter. He lies in the grass, eagerly watching me mow the lawn. He has lost his tags and clearly lost his people, and Simplicity, our poor cat... is FREAKED OUT.
They're about the same size.
4. Work is going well. Actually, I feel like it is going badly, but everybody I meet says that one cannot possibly expect it to go smoothly the first year, and so I am somehow not supposed to worry that I'll get to the end of the year and discover I've only made something like $5000 instead of the $30,000 minimum we need. Right now, I am trying to balance tight deadlines against the lack of 2nd pass pages for page references... okay, nevermind.
Luther has been working for me, much more productively than I myself work. If we have our druthers, he will leave his part-time co-op job sometime this semester, and starting next year he will be doing the same work I've been doing, editing and writing and all that jazz, and we will both work from home and drive each other happily insane.
He keeps telling other people that we are also going to be doing web design and perhaps some film work. I hope he has a plan for our figuring out how to do that stuff.
5. In two weeks, we're going to Tarpon Springs again, to start scoping it out in earnest as our future home. Wil is going to come with us; he has not voiced an opinion of any kind on his own future plans, so I've given up waiting and am going to plan MY life on the assumption that he'll be moving with us. If he spontaneously decides he has his own ideas about his future, I may kill him.
Luckily, we are going to look at mini-apartment buildings - a duplex or triplex. I already have my eye on a little place that is probably a complete dump, but it has palm trees in the front and I KNOW there are little lizards in the yard, so I'm all set. Since I doubt Luther will ever forgive me for killing his son, I think it will be convenient that we can have our own apartments with the office in the apartment in the middle. Perhaps over time, if I pretty myself up a bit and start making some decent money, he'll find a way to overlook my murderous ways.
Love is love.
For lack of anything better, here's a quick update on what's going on in my life:
1. School has started again. This is supposedly my last semester before I graduate, and it is certainly my last semester for at least a year.
For my Information Architecture class, Dr. Shauf is doing podcasts, and wants us to subscribe via iTunes. I already have iTunes, though I rarely use it. Naturally, the subscription process is not working - just for me - for some unknown reason. Troubleshooting has led to my listening to my very small collection of ridiculously pop songs. Let's see how long they keep repeating before I kill something.
2. For my other class, Applied Graphics 1, I finally purchased my very own legal copy of Photoshop, as part of Adobe's Creative Suite 3, Design Standard. I very excitedly went to install the package... and I did not have enough RAM! WTF? My giant machine is apparently a weakling. So now, in addition to messing with an unhelpful iTunes, I am waiting for my 2-GB, $160 purchase of new RAM to arrive from Dell.
It turns out the ability to track your packages online is a bad thing. Painful. My RAM has been in Macon since early Saturday. For some unknown reason, DHL still doesn't plan to deliver it to me, a half-hour drive away, until Wednesday.
3. There is a little dog running around the neighborhood. He's ADORABLE, apparently a young Jack Russel, though the size of his ears suggests he may be mixed with something even cuter. He lies in the grass, eagerly watching me mow the lawn. He has lost his tags and clearly lost his people, and Simplicity, our poor cat... is FREAKED OUT.
They're about the same size.
4. Work is going well. Actually, I feel like it is going badly, but everybody I meet says that one cannot possibly expect it to go smoothly the first year, and so I am somehow not supposed to worry that I'll get to the end of the year and discover I've only made something like $5000 instead of the $30,000 minimum we need. Right now, I am trying to balance tight deadlines against the lack of 2nd pass pages for page references... okay, nevermind.
Luther has been working for me, much more productively than I myself work. If we have our druthers, he will leave his part-time co-op job sometime this semester, and starting next year he will be doing the same work I've been doing, editing and writing and all that jazz, and we will both work from home and drive each other happily insane.
He keeps telling other people that we are also going to be doing web design and perhaps some film work. I hope he has a plan for our figuring out how to do that stuff.
5. In two weeks, we're going to Tarpon Springs again, to start scoping it out in earnest as our future home. Wil is going to come with us; he has not voiced an opinion of any kind on his own future plans, so I've given up waiting and am going to plan MY life on the assumption that he'll be moving with us. If he spontaneously decides he has his own ideas about his future, I may kill him.
Luckily, we are going to look at mini-apartment buildings - a duplex or triplex. I already have my eye on a little place that is probably a complete dump, but it has palm trees in the front and I KNOW there are little lizards in the yard, so I'm all set. Since I doubt Luther will ever forgive me for killing his son, I think it will be convenient that we can have our own apartments with the office in the apartment in the middle. Perhaps over time, if I pretty myself up a bit and start making some decent money, he'll find a way to overlook my murderous ways.
Love is love.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Trust
Simplicity had her annual shots today. This makes her an estimated three years old this month - based on our guess of "about a year old" on her first appearance on our back patio. Now that I see how she looks as a "grown" cat, however, I think she is probably a good deal younger. Can she have been only 6 months and have had a litter of kittens, when we gave her that first taste of the heavenly sliced ham? She was so tiny, then. It wasn't just the starvation thing going on.
This time, I didn't want to take her to the vet's in that cardboard box from Petsmart, so I finally got around to trying out the harness and tether I'd got for her several months ago.
It went okay. She hated it, but I don't know that she hated it any more than the box. She explored, rather frantically. She found that she had just enough leash to get around the back of the driver's seat and halfway up the fabric wall to my shoulder - but not enough to then claw her way into my lap, which is really just as well. She looked out the window. She decided the view was too alarming, and sprawled on the middle row of seating. I did pat the passenger seat beside me and convince her to come forward and leap up - but no, that was clearly not for her! Back behind me she went. Too much window in the front, I think.
Here's the thing: She trusts me. She was scared, and she was crying, but I'd talk to her and she'd quiet down. When I could stop and look back at her, she was always looking right at me. I think she sits there and stares at the side of my head, and just waits to see my eyes so she knows we're okay.
At the vet's (LOVELY doctor, whose name I've forgotten again - Critter Fixers in Bonaire) it was much the same as the last time. She was fine as long as my hand was on her shoulders. Then they took her into the back (this time, for ear mite drops, ewww!), and when she came back out, she looked like a tasmanian devil, all legs, all claws, all flying fur and teeth... and then I put my hand on her shoulders, and she was fine again.
The look she gives me, completely direct gaze, almost a searching gaze as she seems to actually look into my eyes for something... I've seen it once before. Amber: the kitten Mom got for me and Sarah when we lived on Alcina. Amber wouldn't go have her kittens without me. I was sitting on the toilet, and she ran out of her bed and lay down on the bathroom floor and started to have her first kitten. I had to pick her AND the stupid halfway-kitten up and run back to the bed under the desk. Amber trusted me. Simplicity, for some unknown reason, trusts me.
She has her territory. She is not going to like moving to Florida. But the key landmarks of her territory... appear to be us. So she should be okay.
This time, I didn't want to take her to the vet's in that cardboard box from Petsmart, so I finally got around to trying out the harness and tether I'd got for her several months ago.
It went okay. She hated it, but I don't know that she hated it any more than the box. She explored, rather frantically. She found that she had just enough leash to get around the back of the driver's seat and halfway up the fabric wall to my shoulder - but not enough to then claw her way into my lap, which is really just as well. She looked out the window. She decided the view was too alarming, and sprawled on the middle row of seating. I did pat the passenger seat beside me and convince her to come forward and leap up - but no, that was clearly not for her! Back behind me she went. Too much window in the front, I think.
Here's the thing: She trusts me. She was scared, and she was crying, but I'd talk to her and she'd quiet down. When I could stop and look back at her, she was always looking right at me. I think she sits there and stares at the side of my head, and just waits to see my eyes so she knows we're okay.
At the vet's (LOVELY doctor, whose name I've forgotten again - Critter Fixers in Bonaire) it was much the same as the last time. She was fine as long as my hand was on her shoulders. Then they took her into the back (this time, for ear mite drops, ewww!), and when she came back out, she looked like a tasmanian devil, all legs, all claws, all flying fur and teeth... and then I put my hand on her shoulders, and she was fine again.
The look she gives me, completely direct gaze, almost a searching gaze as she seems to actually look into my eyes for something... I've seen it once before. Amber: the kitten Mom got for me and Sarah when we lived on Alcina. Amber wouldn't go have her kittens without me. I was sitting on the toilet, and she ran out of her bed and lay down on the bathroom floor and started to have her first kitten. I had to pick her AND the stupid halfway-kitten up and run back to the bed under the desk. Amber trusted me. Simplicity, for some unknown reason, trusts me.
She has her territory. She is not going to like moving to Florida. But the key landmarks of her territory... appear to be us. So she should be okay.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Uninvited guest
Apparently I cannot sleep after Luther leaves for work, at least without frightening dreams from which it is hard to wake up.
This morning, I got up and it was very quiet. I came through the office, and for some reason Luther had set up two cots, overlapping each other, neatly made with sheets and blankets and pillows all perfectly tucked and creaseless. I went downstairs, and there were lights on. There was food on the counter – refried beans and rice – right there on the counter, and as I looked around, the refried beans were kinda spattered everywhere, like someone had had a food fight. And there was a hole in the pile of rice, like someone had stuck a finger in it to make a hole for some reason. I realized the fridge was open, and I looked in the fridge, and there were egg shells – like someone had gone in there and eaten the raw eggs and left the shells. The place was really trashed.
It was still dark out, and the light on the patio went off, which made me look, and I went and tried to turn the light on, and it’d go on for a second and then flicker out again, so I couldn’t really see anything. I was kinda freaked out, because I’d thought maybe somebody was in the house. And then I thought, this has to be some kind of animal, but what animals around here can open refrigerators? So then I looked around, and as I got to the top of the stairs to the downstairs bedrooms, I looked down, and there was a really big skunk in front of the bathroom there, and I said, “oh no,” and I was really torn between fright and laughter, and I went upstairs and closed the doors, looking for my phone…
…and then I woke up, and I went downstairs, and the light in the kitchen was on…
This morning, I got up and it was very quiet. I came through the office, and for some reason Luther had set up two cots, overlapping each other, neatly made with sheets and blankets and pillows all perfectly tucked and creaseless. I went downstairs, and there were lights on. There was food on the counter – refried beans and rice – right there on the counter, and as I looked around, the refried beans were kinda spattered everywhere, like someone had had a food fight. And there was a hole in the pile of rice, like someone had stuck a finger in it to make a hole for some reason. I realized the fridge was open, and I looked in the fridge, and there were egg shells – like someone had gone in there and eaten the raw eggs and left the shells. The place was really trashed.
It was still dark out, and the light on the patio went off, which made me look, and I went and tried to turn the light on, and it’d go on for a second and then flicker out again, so I couldn’t really see anything. I was kinda freaked out, because I’d thought maybe somebody was in the house. And then I thought, this has to be some kind of animal, but what animals around here can open refrigerators? So then I looked around, and as I got to the top of the stairs to the downstairs bedrooms, I looked down, and there was a really big skunk in front of the bathroom there, and I said, “oh no,” and I was really torn between fright and laughter, and I went upstairs and closed the doors, looking for my phone…
…and then I woke up, and I went downstairs, and the light in the kitchen was on…
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Harvard boat yard
Had a bad dream between the time Luther left this morning and the time I got up. Still feel kinda weird, now. I went down the street to sign Luther up for his P.E. sailing class at Harvard. He was taking a grad course there, and we were living there. Streets looked like the age and relative style of some of the little Greek-area streets in Tarpon Springs (and some of Toronto), concrete retaining walls straining at the seems along the cracked and buckled sidewalk, little lawns, little houses, short chain-link fences – but the houses were bigger and there was a definite Northern Atlantic feeling about the place. Harvard had bought and was renovating a Victorian next to a ramshackle boat yard, and the office for the sailing club was supposed to be there. I got to the Victorian with a couple of others. We had to climb a metal ladder (a la monkey bars) to the second-story landing to get into the house. This is where it started to go weird. When I set my foot on the landing, the wood gave. It was quite soft. In fact, the whole house was apparently made of some kind of papier mache, and it was rotting a little, and I said as much to the guys, but they were being all no-nonsense and talking amongst themselves, and then the two of them left and said that I and the one other guy, young skinny black guy, would carry on with whatever it was. So he and I went inside, had to open a window and climb through, and everything we touched or stepped on was giving that little bit, like it would fall apart any moment. And then we went through a doorway and I saw the hornet. There was a hornet in the corner of the door-jam, and I realized there was a nest built in the wall, and I sorta just started to think about the possibility – that it was a giant nest that filled all the walls of this paper house… and then we climbed out again and the dream ended.
Then I got up and went downstairs, and the sound of the fan in the den was like… lots and lots and lots of insects.
Good morning.
Then I got up and went downstairs, and the sound of the fan in the den was like… lots and lots and lots of insects.
Good morning.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Adulthood
Don't ask me how it happens. Sometimes, "Welcome to the world of adulthood" means "I'll pay you five bucks for something that adults do because it has to be done."
I'm trying to figure it out. I'll let you know when I do.
I'm trying to figure it out. I'll let you know when I do.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
The three amigos
There was a time when I much preferred the Periplaneta americana over the Blattella germanica. I now no longer have a preference - they're equally disgusting.
Over the past few weeks, I'd wake up in the middle of the night, go downstairs for some water, and be confronted by the three amigos - three two-inch-long cockroaches on the kitchen counter. They'd stop what they were doing as soon as I showed up, of course. You could see them pause, consider their options, glance slyly at each other. And then they'd scram. Stupid things are huge but nimble - they can get away via the tiniest crack in just about anything.
And you just knew that they had a pre-arranged meeting time for the next night, an hour or so after the humans went to bed. Chattin' it up, climbing all over everything, pooping and laughing. You see, our cockroaches are as big as field mice. And they poop a lot like field mice. Everywhere.
Also, they can fly.
Luther did eventually get them, one by one, but they have cousins. Lots and lots of stupid cousins who yes, live outside, but insist upon venturing into indoor territory upon occasion, just to make trouble.
Last night, Luther got up for a bit and went to the den to play on his computer. I was pretty restless too, so I got myself a soda (aka pop) and sat down in the dark in the office, with just the glow of my computer screen. So I'm sitting there, with my hands on the keyboard, and in the blue light... I see movement to my left. Damn gigantic cockroach has come scurrying up beside my arm to the edge of my desk and is LOOKING AT ME. Hmm. Whatcha doin? Wanna play?
I jump up and turn on the overhead light - and he is gone. No sign of him.
A while later, I go and say goodnight to Luther, and I come back upstairs and go to the bedroom and lie down. I decide to leave my light on just a little. I put my head on my pillow. And the damn cockroach crests the hill of the little pile of clothing on my bedstands. And stops. And looks at me.
I jump up and throw a clothing item across the room. I turn on the overhead light. And the bastard is gone. No sign of him, at least not until he suddenly appears on the other side of the bed.
Half an hour later, all the overhead lights are on, all the bedclothes have been torn off, there're magazines and lamps and clothing and books strewn across the floor and down the hall, the clothes hamper has been tossed down the stairs, and I'm standing beside it in my underwear with a flyswatter in one hand and a pillow case in the other, roaring in rage because the damn thing refuses to be caught and killed.
Luther is a better hunter-killer than I. He got the thing. But that crazy fellow got the last laugh. This morning I sat down once again at my computer, and I started to type... AND THERE WERE POOPS ON MY KEYBOARD.
ARRRRGH!
Over the past few weeks, I'd wake up in the middle of the night, go downstairs for some water, and be confronted by the three amigos - three two-inch-long cockroaches on the kitchen counter. They'd stop what they were doing as soon as I showed up, of course. You could see them pause, consider their options, glance slyly at each other. And then they'd scram. Stupid things are huge but nimble - they can get away via the tiniest crack in just about anything.
And you just knew that they had a pre-arranged meeting time for the next night, an hour or so after the humans went to bed. Chattin' it up, climbing all over everything, pooping and laughing. You see, our cockroaches are as big as field mice. And they poop a lot like field mice. Everywhere.
Also, they can fly.
Luther did eventually get them, one by one, but they have cousins. Lots and lots of stupid cousins who yes, live outside, but insist upon venturing into indoor territory upon occasion, just to make trouble.
Last night, Luther got up for a bit and went to the den to play on his computer. I was pretty restless too, so I got myself a soda (aka pop) and sat down in the dark in the office, with just the glow of my computer screen. So I'm sitting there, with my hands on the keyboard, and in the blue light... I see movement to my left. Damn gigantic cockroach has come scurrying up beside my arm to the edge of my desk and is LOOKING AT ME. Hmm. Whatcha doin? Wanna play?
I jump up and turn on the overhead light - and he is gone. No sign of him.
A while later, I go and say goodnight to Luther, and I come back upstairs and go to the bedroom and lie down. I decide to leave my light on just a little. I put my head on my pillow. And the damn cockroach crests the hill of the little pile of clothing on my bedstands. And stops. And looks at me.
I jump up and throw a clothing item across the room. I turn on the overhead light. And the bastard is gone. No sign of him, at least not until he suddenly appears on the other side of the bed.
Half an hour later, all the overhead lights are on, all the bedclothes have been torn off, there're magazines and lamps and clothing and books strewn across the floor and down the hall, the clothes hamper has been tossed down the stairs, and I'm standing beside it in my underwear with a flyswatter in one hand and a pillow case in the other, roaring in rage because the damn thing refuses to be caught and killed.
Luther is a better hunter-killer than I. He got the thing. But that crazy fellow got the last laugh. This morning I sat down once again at my computer, and I started to type... AND THERE WERE POOPS ON MY KEYBOARD.
ARRRRGH!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Work snippets 2
From the forthcoming revised companion website content for Solomon, Introducing Philosophy, 9th edition, Oxford University Press:
I’m surprised I haven’t seen abortion pro-choice arguments that speak in these terms, in terms of the right to own private property and, ultimately, to own that which you cultivate. The argument tends to focus, instead, on other rights, such as the right to privacy. Are they connected? I suppose that they are.
I can well imagine some extreme conservatives arguing that to “cultivate” a woman’s body is to plant seed in it and bring that seed to fruition. But I think in the modern world where our babies are not ensuring our survival in the same sense as they once were, we ought to be able to recognize a woman’s body may cultivate other things – a woman may cultivate ideas, arts, sciences, knowledge, creations with her hands and her mind, rather than purely with her womb. But really it comes down to who we consider “real citizens” in our world. If each citizen has the right to own and cultivate property, and if one’s own body is considered “private property,” and if a woman is a citizen... then no matter who may plant the seed, a woman's body is her property to choose to do with as she wishes.
The ONLY problem worth discussion is the relative value to the society versus the value to the individual, where we withdraw individual rights for the greater good. I must consider these actions as viable, since there are many individual rights - such as the right to gun-ownership - that I do not embrace, in favor of concerns for the health of a wider society. Is there value to the wider society in denying a woman's right to her most private property, such that this value is greater than the value to the individual, or, in fact, greater than the value of the individual?
Fundamentalists are, I suppose, arguing for what they perceive is the greater good. The trouble is that they seem unable to prove, outside purely religious justifications ("God said so"), that denying women the right to decide what happens with their own bodies is "for the greater good." My suspicion is that the society they desire to protect is a society in which women are subservient. Women cannot be truly subservient if they own their own private property and cannot be forced to use it to their masters’ benefit. So if the "greater good" is a society in which women "know their place" and the value of individual freedom stops at the nursery door... then abortion cannot be allowed.
If, on the other hand, we actually believe in and intend to protect freedom and equality, the answer must be otherwise.
One of the most important basic rights is the presumed right to own private property. John Locke listed three basic rights that would become the main ingredients of both the American Declaration of Independence and a political philosophy called liberalism: “life, liberty, and the right to own private property.” For Locke, private property is the bulwark of freedom and the basis of other human rights. One’s own body is private property in the most basic sense; no one else has the authority to violate it or use it without permission. But then Locke adds that the right to own property that one has helped cultivate with his or her body is also basic to freedom and human dignity."One's own body is private property ... no one else has the authority to violate it or use it without permission."
I’m surprised I haven’t seen abortion pro-choice arguments that speak in these terms, in terms of the right to own private property and, ultimately, to own that which you cultivate. The argument tends to focus, instead, on other rights, such as the right to privacy. Are they connected? I suppose that they are.
I can well imagine some extreme conservatives arguing that to “cultivate” a woman’s body is to plant seed in it and bring that seed to fruition. But I think in the modern world where our babies are not ensuring our survival in the same sense as they once were, we ought to be able to recognize a woman’s body may cultivate other things – a woman may cultivate ideas, arts, sciences, knowledge, creations with her hands and her mind, rather than purely with her womb. But really it comes down to who we consider “real citizens” in our world. If each citizen has the right to own and cultivate property, and if one’s own body is considered “private property,” and if a woman is a citizen... then no matter who may plant the seed, a woman's body is her property to choose to do with as she wishes.
The ONLY problem worth discussion is the relative value to the society versus the value to the individual, where we withdraw individual rights for the greater good. I must consider these actions as viable, since there are many individual rights - such as the right to gun-ownership - that I do not embrace, in favor of concerns for the health of a wider society. Is there value to the wider society in denying a woman's right to her most private property, such that this value is greater than the value to the individual, or, in fact, greater than the value of the individual?
Fundamentalists are, I suppose, arguing for what they perceive is the greater good. The trouble is that they seem unable to prove, outside purely religious justifications ("God said so"), that denying women the right to decide what happens with their own bodies is "for the greater good." My suspicion is that the society they desire to protect is a society in which women are subservient. Women cannot be truly subservient if they own their own private property and cannot be forced to use it to their masters’ benefit. So if the "greater good" is a society in which women "know their place" and the value of individual freedom stops at the nursery door... then abortion cannot be allowed.
If, on the other hand, we actually believe in and intend to protect freedom and equality, the answer must be otherwise.
Friday, July 27, 2007
A lesson in physics
If the watched pot does not appear to be boiling, you have to ask yourself:
Is the stove lit?
Does the pot feel the fire?
Is the stove lit?
Does the pot feel the fire?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Work snippets 1
28. When Aristotle wrote about the soul, he was referring to
a. the unconscious mind.
b. the form of the body.
c. the spirit within the body.
d. the bottom of the feet.
a. the unconscious mind.
b. the form of the body.
c. the spirit within the body.
d. the bottom of the feet.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Breaking the spell
My Mom and Paul used to be pretty negative about some of my interests when I was a teenager. They didn't think much of science fiction and fantasy. I should really spend time on activities of better quality.
Somehow through my travels and college and all my friends as an adult, my world did expand. I still treasure some of the books, but they represent one of a million possible interests. Now, a book has to be really good. It's not enough that it's "the kind of stuff I love."
And now, I live with Wil. Wil likes fantasy and video games and Japanese-animated TV shows to pretty much the exclusion of anything else. I think fantasy is still amusing in small doses, but the "I am a devout follower" attitude Wil sometimes displays is... icky. We were at Target the other day, and he fairly snapped to attention when an ad for Harry Potter came on the TVs for sale. Good God, you don't have to swear your undying devotion. It's not like you hadn't heard Harry Potter was coming out.
Luther seems to pretty much hate it, too. From saying Japanimation "sucks" to Wil's face, to outright dismissing the fantasy and the games, he's pretty clear: "Real" things are better, and "fantasy" is not "real." If Wil had many interests, I think it would be fine. But the be-all-and-end-all thing is unacceptable.
The other night, Luther's channel-surfing landed us on C-Span, for a speech Garrison Keillor was giving to a library association. It was a really good speech. Garrison was talking about the magic refuge of a library in the face of all the horrors of his youth, and that magic extended to all kinds of books, and I thought about how great it would be if Wil developed a passion for something like reading in a library. Normally I can't stand how Garrison Keillor talks, but this particular speech was so good, it was casting a kind of spell. It wasn't just me; Wil made some responsive noises. He was actually listening.
Then I made a big mistake. I got up to see if I could coax the cat inside. When I came back in, Wil was putting his shoes on to go try to get the cat. He'd stopped watching. I'd broken the spell. I insisted we stay on C-Span, hoping Wil would sit back down. But after he came back inside, he went and got his laptop computer.
Right now, as I write this, I am sitting in front of the TV. But I'm beginning to think laptops should be banned in front of the TV. Do one thing or the other. You cannot do both, and there is something... rude about pretending. It's like the old headphone thing. I don't know you can hear me, and I assume you're not listening to me or don't find me interesting enough to put the headphones down. It's rude. And I'm just as guilty of this, with the computer and the TV.
In Wil's case, he is patently not watching TV. With shows he actually likes and used to watch constantly... he turns them on, but he's not looking at the TV, and he's not listening to the TV sound. And the other night, he was no longer listening to Garrison Keillor's speech. He was playing a game or looking at his favorite web sites.
And I'm torn. (If nothing else, one must consider the irony of being frustrated that a kid is not watching the TV.)
I know that I learned a lot from my interest in sci-fi as a teenager. I met a lot of people, and I gradually broke out of my shell while leaning on the safety of limited challenges. "Limited challenges" says it all. You didn't have to try hard to be accepted among - I'm sorry, but sci-fi and fantasy fandom isn't exactly brain surgery. It didn't take long for me to figure out that I could do better, but it was easy. It was safe.
So I say to myself, "it can't be bad that Wil has interests. Encourage him to pursue them, and he'll meet people, make friends, and learn. And then he'll move on, just like I did."
But it's so frustrating. It turns out, when you live with a young person, you want to share things that you think have value. And the blank stare, the dutiful "okay," and the completely false "I'm going to go to bed now" [I'm going downstairs to watch shows I like and play games that interest me] are all so disappointing.
And now I'm faced with a new problem. I'm only just turning 40, and I am honestly beginning to dislike "all these newfangled gizmos and technologies."
The laptop in front of the TV is a prime example. Wil doesn't ever have to really pay attention to anything that isn't in his interest area. We can watch a TV show, and he can "be with us" but enjoy his own interests. Now if he reads the news at all, he accesses it by using his Wii video game - and the stories are so obviously already filtered for what a Wii audience will likely find of interest. In the past few days, I've been pleased to discover that Wil is playing one of his video games while on the phone with a friend. I was thrilled that he actually was socializing. And this evening, I heard the name of his friend - and unless I completely misunderstood, it's his cousin in North Carolina.
The cell phone makes it possible for him to have a playmate without going out and making new friends. He doesn't even have to use the internet and make computer friends! He can just use the old friends that were given to him by family.
These technologies were supposed to bring us together. They were supposed to make things easier. And they are, they are! But... they also make it increasingly easy for a kid to completely surround himself with his safe zone.
So... I'm not sorry I had the fun I had, when I was younger. And I know that I learned some wonderful things and read some great books that Mom and Paul would still never consider reading. And maybe if Wil comes with us to Florida, where there are nutty things like sci-fi and fantasy conventions that he could go to, he'll stretch a little and see a bit of the world. But I have to say, I have a newfound understanding of the challenge this stuff represents.
I broke one spell the other night, clumsily. The Garrison Keillor speech was cool, and I broke it. But Garrison was also talking about running away to a safe zone. Hiding among the books. I'd like to see the larger spell broken, now.
Thank goodness it's Luther's problem and not mine, eh?
Somehow through my travels and college and all my friends as an adult, my world did expand. I still treasure some of the books, but they represent one of a million possible interests. Now, a book has to be really good. It's not enough that it's "the kind of stuff I love."
And now, I live with Wil. Wil likes fantasy and video games and Japanese-animated TV shows to pretty much the exclusion of anything else. I think fantasy is still amusing in small doses, but the "I am a devout follower" attitude Wil sometimes displays is... icky. We were at Target the other day, and he fairly snapped to attention when an ad for Harry Potter came on the TVs for sale. Good God, you don't have to swear your undying devotion. It's not like you hadn't heard Harry Potter was coming out.
Luther seems to pretty much hate it, too. From saying Japanimation "sucks" to Wil's face, to outright dismissing the fantasy and the games, he's pretty clear: "Real" things are better, and "fantasy" is not "real." If Wil had many interests, I think it would be fine. But the be-all-and-end-all thing is unacceptable.
The other night, Luther's channel-surfing landed us on C-Span, for a speech Garrison Keillor was giving to a library association. It was a really good speech. Garrison was talking about the magic refuge of a library in the face of all the horrors of his youth, and that magic extended to all kinds of books, and I thought about how great it would be if Wil developed a passion for something like reading in a library. Normally I can't stand how Garrison Keillor talks, but this particular speech was so good, it was casting a kind of spell. It wasn't just me; Wil made some responsive noises. He was actually listening.
Then I made a big mistake. I got up to see if I could coax the cat inside. When I came back in, Wil was putting his shoes on to go try to get the cat. He'd stopped watching. I'd broken the spell. I insisted we stay on C-Span, hoping Wil would sit back down. But after he came back inside, he went and got his laptop computer.
Right now, as I write this, I am sitting in front of the TV. But I'm beginning to think laptops should be banned in front of the TV. Do one thing or the other. You cannot do both, and there is something... rude about pretending. It's like the old headphone thing. I don't know you can hear me, and I assume you're not listening to me or don't find me interesting enough to put the headphones down. It's rude. And I'm just as guilty of this, with the computer and the TV.
In Wil's case, he is patently not watching TV. With shows he actually likes and used to watch constantly... he turns them on, but he's not looking at the TV, and he's not listening to the TV sound. And the other night, he was no longer listening to Garrison Keillor's speech. He was playing a game or looking at his favorite web sites.
And I'm torn. (If nothing else, one must consider the irony of being frustrated that a kid is not watching the TV.)
I know that I learned a lot from my interest in sci-fi as a teenager. I met a lot of people, and I gradually broke out of my shell while leaning on the safety of limited challenges. "Limited challenges" says it all. You didn't have to try hard to be accepted among - I'm sorry, but sci-fi and fantasy fandom isn't exactly brain surgery. It didn't take long for me to figure out that I could do better, but it was easy. It was safe.
So I say to myself, "it can't be bad that Wil has interests. Encourage him to pursue them, and he'll meet people, make friends, and learn. And then he'll move on, just like I did."
But it's so frustrating. It turns out, when you live with a young person, you want to share things that you think have value. And the blank stare, the dutiful "okay," and the completely false "I'm going to go to bed now" [I'm going downstairs to watch shows I like and play games that interest me] are all so disappointing.
And now I'm faced with a new problem. I'm only just turning 40, and I am honestly beginning to dislike "all these newfangled gizmos and technologies."
The laptop in front of the TV is a prime example. Wil doesn't ever have to really pay attention to anything that isn't in his interest area. We can watch a TV show, and he can "be with us" but enjoy his own interests. Now if he reads the news at all, he accesses it by using his Wii video game - and the stories are so obviously already filtered for what a Wii audience will likely find of interest. In the past few days, I've been pleased to discover that Wil is playing one of his video games while on the phone with a friend. I was thrilled that he actually was socializing. And this evening, I heard the name of his friend - and unless I completely misunderstood, it's his cousin in North Carolina.
The cell phone makes it possible for him to have a playmate without going out and making new friends. He doesn't even have to use the internet and make computer friends! He can just use the old friends that were given to him by family.
These technologies were supposed to bring us together. They were supposed to make things easier. And they are, they are! But... they also make it increasingly easy for a kid to completely surround himself with his safe zone.
So... I'm not sorry I had the fun I had, when I was younger. And I know that I learned some wonderful things and read some great books that Mom and Paul would still never consider reading. And maybe if Wil comes with us to Florida, where there are nutty things like sci-fi and fantasy conventions that he could go to, he'll stretch a little and see a bit of the world. But I have to say, I have a newfound understanding of the challenge this stuff represents.
I broke one spell the other night, clumsily. The Garrison Keillor speech was cool, and I broke it. But Garrison was also talking about running away to a safe zone. Hiding among the books. I'd like to see the larger spell broken, now.
Thank goodness it's Luther's problem and not mine, eh?
Survey about childhood
I haven't filled out many of these surveys lately, but it's that kind of Monday and I need a little break. So here we go:
1. Are you a child of the 70s, 80s, or 90s?
60s and 70s
2. Where were you born?
St. Joseph's Hospital, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
3. What city did you grow up in?
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
4. Did you have a good childhood?
Yes. (So far this is a pretty boring survey, I must say.)
5. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A famous author or an astronaut. A hero.
6. What do you want to be now?
Rich. It would be nice if I could get to that point by being a famous screenwriter, an actor, or an astronaut.
7. Name the first memorable vacation you took as a kid.
Vacations were all memorable - they were VACATIONS. Feeding squirrels and chipmunks in my lap in a campsite at Silver Lake definitely ranks right up there, though. Any trip by myself by bus to Ottawa was cool. England and France and Scotland with Mom and my sister when I was 10. Easter egg hunt on Easter weekend in a posh apartment hotel in New York City. That kind of thing was always great.
8. What was your first best friend’s name?
I'm not sure. I guess maybe Dina, though we weren't friends for long. There were the kids on my street, but we were just thrown together by geography and ageism.
9. Are they still your friend?
Not a chance. My oldest friend is Liz Bischof, from grade 6.
10. Can you name all the schools you ever attended?
Nope. I don't have a clue what the name of the Montessori school might have been [edit: Dad wrote to tell me it was York Montessori School]. And I went to a couple of different High Schools for summer and evening classes, but I only remember West Toronto for sure. Other than that, let's see...
Alpha, Toronto, Canada (free school)
Dewson Public School, Toronto, Canada (elementary)
Hillcrest Public School, Toronto, Canada (elementary)
Lord Landsdowne Public School, Toronto, Canada (intermediate)
Harbord Collegiate Institute, Toronto, Canada (secondary)
Subway Academy II, Toronto, Canada (alternative secondary)
West Toronto Collegiate Institute, Toronto, Canada (secondary summer school)
Central Technical School, Toronto, Canada (secondary)
Ryerson University, Toronto, Canada (post-secondary, undergraduate)
Southern Polytechnic State University, Marietta, Georgia (graduate school)
11. Were you closer to your mom or dad as a kid?
I really think it was about the same. We each had things that we shared independently.
12. What was the first record, tape or CD you remember buying?
The first I remember... probably Star Wars, on vinyl.
13. How old were you when you first heard of Chuck Norris?
No idea. Twenties? I am not a fan.
14. Are you scared of anything?
Yes. Every time Luther is working with the saw or a big knife, I am completely unreasonably afraid. I'm terrified of the unseen under-the-surface environment of water, especially murky, muddy, weedy water. I'm scared of a lot of things, actually.
15. How old were you when you wanted to get your ears pierced for the 2nd time?
A couple of weeks ago I thought about it. I was 39.
16. Did you buy school lunch or bring your own?
There was no such thing as school lunch, until the cafeteria at Harbord. I brought my own, or bought a sandwich or pizza slice at the store, or went home for lunch. Sometimes at Lord Landsdowne I would buy a sandwich (bologna on a fresh, crusty kaiser roll with mustard, yum) and trade it in the schoolyard, usually for fried rice.
17. Broken any bones or had any freaky accidents as a kid?
I fell off a swing once and went to the hospital. I'd hit my head pretty badly. I was very little...
18. Were you a mean kid?
No, I was a sucker. I didn't even want to be mean. I wanted to save everybody.
19. Favorite board game of all of all time?
Pictionary.
20. Did you play house or pretend to be a super hero?
We put on plays in the back yard, and we pretended to be in the Lord of the Rings. Long before the movies, I might add.
21. What was your favorite class in elementary school?
Ancient History. Although I liked math quite a bit. Actually, I think I liked all my classes. Except maybe gym.
22. Seriously, are you still just a kid at heart?
No. Yes. Uh... yes. I still think I'm a little kid and everybody else knows more than I do and is more confident than I am.
23. Did you ever come close to dying?
I thought so at the time. I had pneumonia. In the emergency room, I tried to give messages to my Mom to give to my friends when I was gone.
1. Are you a child of the 70s, 80s, or 90s?
60s and 70s
2. Where were you born?
St. Joseph's Hospital, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
3. What city did you grow up in?
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
4. Did you have a good childhood?
Yes. (So far this is a pretty boring survey, I must say.)
5. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A famous author or an astronaut. A hero.
6. What do you want to be now?
Rich. It would be nice if I could get to that point by being a famous screenwriter, an actor, or an astronaut.
7. Name the first memorable vacation you took as a kid.
Vacations were all memorable - they were VACATIONS. Feeding squirrels and chipmunks in my lap in a campsite at Silver Lake definitely ranks right up there, though. Any trip by myself by bus to Ottawa was cool. England and France and Scotland with Mom and my sister when I was 10. Easter egg hunt on Easter weekend in a posh apartment hotel in New York City. That kind of thing was always great.
8. What was your first best friend’s name?
I'm not sure. I guess maybe Dina, though we weren't friends for long. There were the kids on my street, but we were just thrown together by geography and ageism.
9. Are they still your friend?
Not a chance. My oldest friend is Liz Bischof, from grade 6.
10. Can you name all the schools you ever attended?
Nope. I don't have a clue what the name of the Montessori school might have been [edit: Dad wrote to tell me it was York Montessori School]. And I went to a couple of different High Schools for summer and evening classes, but I only remember West Toronto for sure. Other than that, let's see...
Alpha, Toronto, Canada (free school)
Dewson Public School, Toronto, Canada (elementary)
Hillcrest Public School, Toronto, Canada (elementary)
Lord Landsdowne Public School, Toronto, Canada (intermediate)
Harbord Collegiate Institute, Toronto, Canada (secondary)
Subway Academy II, Toronto, Canada (alternative secondary)
West Toronto Collegiate Institute, Toronto, Canada (secondary summer school)
Central Technical School, Toronto, Canada (secondary)
Ryerson University, Toronto, Canada (post-secondary, undergraduate)
Southern Polytechnic State University, Marietta, Georgia (graduate school)
11. Were you closer to your mom or dad as a kid?
I really think it was about the same. We each had things that we shared independently.
12. What was the first record, tape or CD you remember buying?
The first I remember... probably Star Wars, on vinyl.
13. How old were you when you first heard of Chuck Norris?
No idea. Twenties? I am not a fan.
14. Are you scared of anything?
Yes. Every time Luther is working with the saw or a big knife, I am completely unreasonably afraid. I'm terrified of the unseen under-the-surface environment of water, especially murky, muddy, weedy water. I'm scared of a lot of things, actually.
15. How old were you when you wanted to get your ears pierced for the 2nd time?
A couple of weeks ago I thought about it. I was 39.
16. Did you buy school lunch or bring your own?
There was no such thing as school lunch, until the cafeteria at Harbord. I brought my own, or bought a sandwich or pizza slice at the store, or went home for lunch. Sometimes at Lord Landsdowne I would buy a sandwich (bologna on a fresh, crusty kaiser roll with mustard, yum) and trade it in the schoolyard, usually for fried rice.
17. Broken any bones or had any freaky accidents as a kid?
I fell off a swing once and went to the hospital. I'd hit my head pretty badly. I was very little...
18. Were you a mean kid?
No, I was a sucker. I didn't even want to be mean. I wanted to save everybody.
19. Favorite board game of all of all time?
Pictionary.
20. Did you play house or pretend to be a super hero?
We put on plays in the back yard, and we pretended to be in the Lord of the Rings. Long before the movies, I might add.
21. What was your favorite class in elementary school?
Ancient History. Although I liked math quite a bit. Actually, I think I liked all my classes. Except maybe gym.
22. Seriously, are you still just a kid at heart?
No. Yes. Uh... yes. I still think I'm a little kid and everybody else knows more than I do and is more confident than I am.
23. Did you ever come close to dying?
I thought so at the time. I had pneumonia. In the emergency room, I tried to give messages to my Mom to give to my friends when I was gone.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
A recovering book-a-holic
In 30 seconds flat, Diane Wright got me hooked on Library Thing, and the funny part is, I don't read.
I am not a reader. But I used to be one. I could play one on TV, given half a chance and perhaps some plastic surgery.
When I was much younger, I shared a library with my Dad. People we knew, and people they knew, would come to our house, browse our collection, scrawl their names on a sheet of paper, and go away with artifacts from our bookshelves. Often, they returned them.
I learned to see books and bookshelves as reflections of myself. Other people might put photographs of their grandchildren up, or set out their fine collections of miniatures, or decorate their kitchens with cute cow-print items. For me, good bookcases full of books I decided I liked enough to keep offer an opportunity to say something about myself to visitors.
Alas, Luther and I do not do whatever it takes to have visitors, and my books and his are in cupboards and closets. And my book collection has shrunk, due to the pressures and necessities of moving. And, since I don't read, and since when I did read, I read almost exclusively science fiction... my book collection is not what you'd call "impressive" among the literary set.
Still, the books say something about who this Becky person is, or was before she became bekbek, certainly before Georgia. And when there's a newer edition in the mix... they say a lot about how much I loved them, when I was a reader. Enough to buy them again, even though I don't read them again, because they simply ought to be on my shelves.
I am not a reader. But I used to be one. I could play one on TV, given half a chance and perhaps some plastic surgery.
When I was much younger, I shared a library with my Dad. People we knew, and people they knew, would come to our house, browse our collection, scrawl their names on a sheet of paper, and go away with artifacts from our bookshelves. Often, they returned them.
I learned to see books and bookshelves as reflections of myself. Other people might put photographs of their grandchildren up, or set out their fine collections of miniatures, or decorate their kitchens with cute cow-print items. For me, good bookcases full of books I decided I liked enough to keep offer an opportunity to say something about myself to visitors.
Alas, Luther and I do not do whatever it takes to have visitors, and my books and his are in cupboards and closets. And my book collection has shrunk, due to the pressures and necessities of moving. And, since I don't read, and since when I did read, I read almost exclusively science fiction... my book collection is not what you'd call "impressive" among the literary set.
Still, the books say something about who this Becky person is, or was before she became bekbek, certainly before Georgia. And when there's a newer edition in the mix... they say a lot about how much I loved them, when I was a reader. Enough to buy them again, even though I don't read them again, because they simply ought to be on my shelves.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Now it is July Ninth
I am finished my summer semester. Luther has three or four weeks left to his summer semester. Wil has been on summer vacation for several weeks, and goes back to school in almost exactly a month. It is tempting to insert some dig about what he may have accomplished in that time, but whatever. Why shouldn't he look bitterly back upon his first 20 years and wonder why he wasted them just like the rest of us?
I still don't know about the blog thing. I am about ready to purchase a couple of domain names. I'm tempted to move to Wordpress because that's where all the cool templates reside. I still don't have a purpose for keeping a blog, and I don't "keep" it regularly in any case.
But I am a semester away from having my Master of Science in Bullshit*. So I figure it is time to celebrate.
Bring on the dancing monkies.
*I have had some questions about this statement, so allow me to explain: I am essentially getting my degree in rhetoric, which is not quite the same thing as bullshit. However, on most days I feel like I'm pulling a fast one, just tricking my way through it all, just like when I was a kid and discovered that as long as an exam required an essay answer, I was getting an "A" regardless of whether I ever read or studied the class materials. I do study, now. I do work hard. I have somewhere developed high standards for myself and for others. On the really good days, I remember this and am proud. Most other days... ~shrug~ Bullshit.
I still don't know about the blog thing. I am about ready to purchase a couple of domain names. I'm tempted to move to Wordpress because that's where all the cool templates reside. I still don't have a purpose for keeping a blog, and I don't "keep" it regularly in any case.
But I am a semester away from having my Master of Science in Bullshit*. So I figure it is time to celebrate.
Bring on the dancing monkies.
*I have had some questions about this statement, so allow me to explain: I am essentially getting my degree in rhetoric, which is not quite the same thing as bullshit. However, on most days I feel like I'm pulling a fast one, just tricking my way through it all, just like when I was a kid and discovered that as long as an exam required an essay answer, I was getting an "A" regardless of whether I ever read or studied the class materials. I do study, now. I do work hard. I have somewhere developed high standards for myself and for others. On the really good days, I remember this and am proud. Most other days... ~shrug~ Bullshit.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Sunday, July 01, 2007
An exceptional mind
Luther is doing some work for me, revising a supplement for a textbook on African-American History. Meanwhile, in my class on Medical Communication, one of the ongoing discussions over the past few weeks has been about race and children's learning materials, prompted by our analysis of an asthma management simulation prepared for black kids in Atlanta. This morning, once again, our activities crossed paths in a little discussion.
I was a bit fired up (I know, it's difficult to imagine, right?) about the whole idea that a kid wouldn't "see herself" in the simulation unless there were a kid of the same skin color in that simulation. Why wouldn't a kid identify with another person, regardless of skin color?
The whole thing brings to mind how often I heard, growing up, that "girls don't have any good role models." The idea was (and still is, no doubt) that a girl couldn't aspire to be an astronaut, school principal, mayor, or mob boss unless she saw women in those positions. THIS DROVE ME NUTS. When I saw an astronaut, I never thought, "wow, if only I was a man so I could do that." Kids don't limit themselves like that unless we tell them to, such as when that guidance counselor told me I was being ridiculous for choosing "fireman" on my careers survey, because that's a man's job.
Luther listened patiently. And then he said: "You also have to take into account that you have an exceptional mind."
I said: "But I really don't believe that!"
And he said: "Well, that's because you're stooopid."
Wise, wise words for a Sunday morning.
I was a bit fired up (I know, it's difficult to imagine, right?) about the whole idea that a kid wouldn't "see herself" in the simulation unless there were a kid of the same skin color in that simulation. Why wouldn't a kid identify with another person, regardless of skin color?
The whole thing brings to mind how often I heard, growing up, that "girls don't have any good role models." The idea was (and still is, no doubt) that a girl couldn't aspire to be an astronaut, school principal, mayor, or mob boss unless she saw women in those positions. THIS DROVE ME NUTS. When I saw an astronaut, I never thought, "wow, if only I was a man so I could do that." Kids don't limit themselves like that unless we tell them to, such as when that guidance counselor told me I was being ridiculous for choosing "fireman" on my careers survey, because that's a man's job.
Luther listened patiently. And then he said: "You also have to take into account that you have an exceptional mind."
I said: "But I really don't believe that!"
And he said: "Well, that's because you're stooopid."
Wise, wise words for a Sunday morning.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
New car
I fell in love with a new car the other day. Check it out:
It's actually way cuter in person than in pictures. "Adorable" is the word I kept repeating. At about $8500 used, with 60,000 miles on it, I'm sure not going to buy it, but wow. It gets 50 miles to the gallon. Hybrid gas-electric.
Truly adorable. Luther said, "but it has no back seat!" and I said, "That's how I like 'em!" (Okay, I didn't, but it was something to that effect.)
Anybody want? Come on down and visit. I'll take you over there.
It's actually way cuter in person than in pictures. "Adorable" is the word I kept repeating. At about $8500 used, with 60,000 miles on it, I'm sure not going to buy it, but wow. It gets 50 miles to the gallon. Hybrid gas-electric.
Truly adorable. Luther said, "but it has no back seat!" and I said, "That's how I like 'em!" (Okay, I didn't, but it was something to that effect.)
Anybody want? Come on down and visit. I'll take you over there.
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