One day, I tried to write a short story, but it developed into a plot line from The Wonder Years. It was about a 12 year old android boy who was engineered with an advanced emotion processor catalyzing an evolution into something more than human. It ended with a log in the middle of the forest. A girl was sitting there alone weeping for her recently deceased father. Android boy makes an attempt to console her but instead stares straight forward in complete silence. After the sobs die out, he recants a joke that she told him long ago, and they get to be kids again even if for a moment. Anyways, that was the end of an early episode of The Wonder Years in which Winnie's brother dies in Vietnam. That show was written far beyond its time.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Phambiguosly Gay Duo
Oh, y'all already know what this blog is about, but I will entertain you until the time is right. It's been a while my friends. Some very interesting people have been asking about the whereabouts of my next blog post. I have no good reason. Summer happened. I had writer's block, so I avoided the topic.
The other night, I was having a beer with my good friend Tucker when I happened upon my summer '08 American History 1865-Present professor at the Draught House. Carl took this class with me so he should remember. This man, Professor Haney, was possibly the best college professor during my tenure at the University of Texas. It wasn't that he had any unique way of teaching history (as my administrators at work would believe is the only way to reach young minds), it was that he had passion. He didn't have any technologically advanced way of feeding us information. He actually just typed notes out on Microsoft Word. It was probably the Office 95 version too! He LOVED what he did. He LOVED explaining to us the implications of the film industry on race relations during the early 1900's. He LOVED explaining to us the upshot of the Cuban Missile Crisis on the advertising agencies of the time. He LOVED to remind us that these types of events were happening today. He LOVED to remind us that our voices sang the same song of change as those in our textbooks. This man did not simply teach me about history, he breathed it into my lungs and my heart. He did this in the same way that Mrs. Green did in AP US History in high school. I majored in biochemistry. Throughout my college career, I took a 100+ hours of science courses. Every once in a while, I was allowed to enrich my knowledge of life with a couple history lessons, lessons that I valued beyond anything I ever learned in organic chemistry. To put it simply, I FUCKING loved this class. As an educator, it meant the world to me to be able to thank him for his service.
At the end of summer after graduating, I was without employment. I scoured the world for work. Eventually, I happened upon a teaching assistant position at the university. The position required that I met a certain grade point average. This all depended on what I made on my summer courses which were US History and Human Sexuality. I needed an A in both. Unfortunately, I made a high B in each course, so I emailed the professors about my plight and provided reasons on why I should get a higher grade. I knew I didn't deserve shit in Human sex. I missed a stupid journal entry (write about feelings) that brought my grade way down. I think I did it on purpose because I thought I would get an A regardless. The TA could see this so she said it was a fucking "learning experience" to always do the best you can do. FUCK HER. I'm a privileged college student who has never worked a day in his life. What the fuck do I know about responsibility and doing the best I can do? US History professor Haney was a bit more understanding of my situation. He knew that I came in everyday, sat at the front of class everyday, and listened intently to his humble lectures. He acknowledged that I did in fact master the objectives he set for the course and boosted my grade to an A. Even though I did not get the position I had wanted due to the stupid human sex TA, I am forever in debted to Professor Haney's ability to validate my accomplishments.
Validation. This concept has stuck with me ever since Camp. If any of you know me personally, you know that Camp means more to me than words can express. I'm already pregz with emo just thinking about it. During the summer of 2002, I was asked by my English teacher Mrs. Thomas to attend Camp Anytown. At first, I was skeptical because I noticed that she only asked the "minorities" to attend. I was reluctant to attend some cumbahyah camp and express my feelings and cry and paint ponies and rainbows and blah blah blah. Eventually, I agreed to go, and my friend Nader and I were on a bus off to some woods. When we arrived to the camp grounds, the staff was pounding on the bus, cheering for our arrival, and celebrating our names. I turned to Nader, 'Oh gawd, it's gonna be like that.' To be honest, I can't remember exactly what changed my mind. I just know that it did. This place, this magical place, was a microcosm of solace where I could just exist without any expectation placed upon me. I was allowed to just be me.
Growing up in the suburbs was not difficult. Many of the people I know and love have experienced so much strife and pain during their upbringing that I am ashamed of telling my lackluster story. I am the son of a Vietnamese family from the middle class. I went to a private school during my early years, and then I attended an exemplary middle school and high school. We stuck to our comfort zones. I never bothered anyone else, and nobody bothered me. And then I went to camp. I could finally see the injustice of this lifestyle. I was completely unaware of struggle. I was completely unaware of discrimination. I was completely unaware of these unspoken divisions in my community. I always felt like I didn't really belong. After I went to camp, I realized why that was. I didn't fit in because I could not accept life the way it was. I could not accept the fact that a person was treated differently than me solely because he came from a less affluent neighborhood than mine. I can still remember the day in gym class when one of my classmates was violently assaulted in the locker room because he was "poor" and could not afford new clothes. His blood stained the walls. And you know what I did when this happened? I DIDN'T DO SHIT! I was afraid. I was a coward. I didn't speak out against injustice. I was nothing.
When I went to camp, I was a broken child. I only believed in the power of war. I only saw the effects of hate. I did not believe that humanity was good. I hated us. When I went to camp, Cinto, one of my many mentors, told me that I was good. He told me that despite our different life experiences, we were the same. He told me that despite all of the things that separated us, we were brothers. I doubt he even remembers little 16 year old Johnny. Our year was easy to forget. But I remembered him. I remembered Q. I remembered Chuck. I remembered everyone. I could not let this feeling go. Our class wasn't the best of classes. Honestly, the only person I keep in contact with is Nader, but I think we've kept the spirit alive. Our experience was validated.
Validation. Cinto introduced me to this word for the first time in a meaningful way. When he went to camp many years ago as a teenager, he felt validation as a voice for the first time from someone outside his community, from someone outside his race. This summer, I finally understood the word. This summer, President Obama announced to the world that we would give the DREAMers a shot at a fair life. This happened on the last day of camp. This happened after a group of our young people professed that they were undocumented. This happened after those same individuals were embraced by our community. This happened after those individuals were VALIDATED by their peers. They found validation. I found validation for what it is I do. What I do is very little in comparison to my other mentors, Miguel, Claudia, Cinto, Adena. What I do has no place in the realm of achievement as my mentors. These people are angels on earth. Their fight, which is essentially our fight, is far from over. Please educate yourselves on this issue, this revolution, that affects each of us on a human level. http://www.dreamactivist.org/
I can't believe I even exist in the same organization as these great people. I am so very humbled. Y'all know me. I am conceited as shit. When I am in the presence of camp staff, however, I am but a whisper. What we do at camp, no matter how obscurely I try to explain it, is not mystical. We simply offer a place for our youth to be themselves. We simply let people love the way they were meant to love. It's about CommUNITY. As I have said before, the dalai lama spends his whole life in meditation in order to make his heart as big as an ocean. Because when you drop a bit of your pain into it, that pain is absorbed. The heart of our community is an ocean. It is time to absorb the pain of the world, and let the healing begin.
This leads me to my not so happy part of my blog. This whole chick-fil-a nonsense has gotten me a bit riled up. I agree whole-heartedly with J-Stew's and L-Carver's assessment of the debacle. GAY MARRIAGE IS HAPPENING. It doesn't matter how hard you protest against it. It doesn't matter how many chicken sandwiches you eat in opposition to it. IT's GONNA HAPPEN! Just like integration happened, just like suffrage happened, just like slavery ended, just like the first black president happened, just like AMERICA HAPPENED! Nothing you do will be able to stand against it. You will fail. Just like the Nazi's, just like the Confederacy, just like the KKK, just like Saddam, just like Bin Laden. You will LOSE. It is you, who supports hate. Many people are confused about why this argument about chicken is so prevalent today. The reason is because it NEEDS to happen. People NEED to be angry. People were angry because of the Jena 6. People were angry because of Matthew Shepard. People got angry about Trayvon. People got angry because of Kony. People were angry because of Katrina. PEOPLE NEED TO BE ANGRY! THIS IS INJUSTICE. THIS NEEDS TO BE AT THE FOREFRONT OF DEBATE. WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE ECONOMY AND JOB CREATION WHEN PEOPLE ARE BEING TREATED LIKE SHIT FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN THE FACT THAT THEY ARE DIFFERENT?! WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT TAX CUTS WHEN A PERSON IS UNJUSTLY IMPRISONED FOR HAVING A SPECIFIC SKIN COLOR? WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE FUCKING ELECTION WHEN MY FRIENDS ARE BEING DEPORTED SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY WANT TO WORK OR GO TO SCHOOL?! THIS NEEDS TO BE DISCUSSED. THIS NEEDS TO BE RESOLVED.
This leads me to a single conclusion. Because I am not like many of you, I do not hold myself to the same standards. I do not care if I am a hypocrite. Trying not to be one is like trying not to be human. I do not agree to disagree. I have no tolerance for intolerance nor do I pretend that my ultimate goal is to allow you to have your freedom of speech because I have mine. My goals, my hopes, my dreams for this country, for this world, are based on the principles of goodness, of compassion, of humanity. I am not religious, therefore, I do not have to forgive. YOU WILL LOSE. EQUALITY IS HAPPENING WITH OR WITHOUT YOU. A friend of mine tried to explain to me that although she embraced those who have committed the sin of homosexuality, they had no place in God's kingdom. This is clearly ____ man's burden if I e'er did hear it. I ain't got time for that shit. Tolerance is not enough. Acceptance is not enough. Only when all men are created and treated as equal will it be good enough. Good always prevails over evil. This is not a threat, but a promise. If I sound judgmental, it is because I choose to be. You will find no quarter here. Say goodbye to your so called values. This is a declaration of love.
The other night, I was having a beer with my good friend Tucker when I happened upon my summer '08 American History 1865-Present professor at the Draught House. Carl took this class with me so he should remember. This man, Professor Haney, was possibly the best college professor during my tenure at the University of Texas. It wasn't that he had any unique way of teaching history (as my administrators at work would believe is the only way to reach young minds), it was that he had passion. He didn't have any technologically advanced way of feeding us information. He actually just typed notes out on Microsoft Word. It was probably the Office 95 version too! He LOVED what he did. He LOVED explaining to us the implications of the film industry on race relations during the early 1900's. He LOVED explaining to us the upshot of the Cuban Missile Crisis on the advertising agencies of the time. He LOVED to remind us that these types of events were happening today. He LOVED to remind us that our voices sang the same song of change as those in our textbooks. This man did not simply teach me about history, he breathed it into my lungs and my heart. He did this in the same way that Mrs. Green did in AP US History in high school. I majored in biochemistry. Throughout my college career, I took a 100+ hours of science courses. Every once in a while, I was allowed to enrich my knowledge of life with a couple history lessons, lessons that I valued beyond anything I ever learned in organic chemistry. To put it simply, I FUCKING loved this class. As an educator, it meant the world to me to be able to thank him for his service.
At the end of summer after graduating, I was without employment. I scoured the world for work. Eventually, I happened upon a teaching assistant position at the university. The position required that I met a certain grade point average. This all depended on what I made on my summer courses which were US History and Human Sexuality. I needed an A in both. Unfortunately, I made a high B in each course, so I emailed the professors about my plight and provided reasons on why I should get a higher grade. I knew I didn't deserve shit in Human sex. I missed a stupid journal entry (write about feelings) that brought my grade way down. I think I did it on purpose because I thought I would get an A regardless. The TA could see this so she said it was a fucking "learning experience" to always do the best you can do. FUCK HER. I'm a privileged college student who has never worked a day in his life. What the fuck do I know about responsibility and doing the best I can do? US History professor Haney was a bit more understanding of my situation. He knew that I came in everyday, sat at the front of class everyday, and listened intently to his humble lectures. He acknowledged that I did in fact master the objectives he set for the course and boosted my grade to an A. Even though I did not get the position I had wanted due to the stupid human sex TA, I am forever in debted to Professor Haney's ability to validate my accomplishments.
Validation. This concept has stuck with me ever since Camp. If any of you know me personally, you know that Camp means more to me than words can express. I'm already pregz with emo just thinking about it. During the summer of 2002, I was asked by my English teacher Mrs. Thomas to attend Camp Anytown. At first, I was skeptical because I noticed that she only asked the "minorities" to attend. I was reluctant to attend some cumbahyah camp and express my feelings and cry and paint ponies and rainbows and blah blah blah. Eventually, I agreed to go, and my friend Nader and I were on a bus off to some woods. When we arrived to the camp grounds, the staff was pounding on the bus, cheering for our arrival, and celebrating our names. I turned to Nader, 'Oh gawd, it's gonna be like that.' To be honest, I can't remember exactly what changed my mind. I just know that it did. This place, this magical place, was a microcosm of solace where I could just exist without any expectation placed upon me. I was allowed to just be me.
Growing up in the suburbs was not difficult. Many of the people I know and love have experienced so much strife and pain during their upbringing that I am ashamed of telling my lackluster story. I am the son of a Vietnamese family from the middle class. I went to a private school during my early years, and then I attended an exemplary middle school and high school. We stuck to our comfort zones. I never bothered anyone else, and nobody bothered me. And then I went to camp. I could finally see the injustice of this lifestyle. I was completely unaware of struggle. I was completely unaware of discrimination. I was completely unaware of these unspoken divisions in my community. I always felt like I didn't really belong. After I went to camp, I realized why that was. I didn't fit in because I could not accept life the way it was. I could not accept the fact that a person was treated differently than me solely because he came from a less affluent neighborhood than mine. I can still remember the day in gym class when one of my classmates was violently assaulted in the locker room because he was "poor" and could not afford new clothes. His blood stained the walls. And you know what I did when this happened? I DIDN'T DO SHIT! I was afraid. I was a coward. I didn't speak out against injustice. I was nothing.
When I went to camp, I was a broken child. I only believed in the power of war. I only saw the effects of hate. I did not believe that humanity was good. I hated us. When I went to camp, Cinto, one of my many mentors, told me that I was good. He told me that despite our different life experiences, we were the same. He told me that despite all of the things that separated us, we were brothers. I doubt he even remembers little 16 year old Johnny. Our year was easy to forget. But I remembered him. I remembered Q. I remembered Chuck. I remembered everyone. I could not let this feeling go. Our class wasn't the best of classes. Honestly, the only person I keep in contact with is Nader, but I think we've kept the spirit alive. Our experience was validated.
Validation. Cinto introduced me to this word for the first time in a meaningful way. When he went to camp many years ago as a teenager, he felt validation as a voice for the first time from someone outside his community, from someone outside his race. This summer, I finally understood the word. This summer, President Obama announced to the world that we would give the DREAMers a shot at a fair life. This happened on the last day of camp. This happened after a group of our young people professed that they were undocumented. This happened after those same individuals were embraced by our community. This happened after those individuals were VALIDATED by their peers. They found validation. I found validation for what it is I do. What I do is very little in comparison to my other mentors, Miguel, Claudia, Cinto, Adena. What I do has no place in the realm of achievement as my mentors. These people are angels on earth. Their fight, which is essentially our fight, is far from over. Please educate yourselves on this issue, this revolution, that affects each of us on a human level. http://www.dreamactivist.org/
I can't believe I even exist in the same organization as these great people. I am so very humbled. Y'all know me. I am conceited as shit. When I am in the presence of camp staff, however, I am but a whisper. What we do at camp, no matter how obscurely I try to explain it, is not mystical. We simply offer a place for our youth to be themselves. We simply let people love the way they were meant to love. It's about CommUNITY. As I have said before, the dalai lama spends his whole life in meditation in order to make his heart as big as an ocean. Because when you drop a bit of your pain into it, that pain is absorbed. The heart of our community is an ocean. It is time to absorb the pain of the world, and let the healing begin.
This leads me to my not so happy part of my blog. This whole chick-fil-a nonsense has gotten me a bit riled up. I agree whole-heartedly with J-Stew's and L-Carver's assessment of the debacle. GAY MARRIAGE IS HAPPENING. It doesn't matter how hard you protest against it. It doesn't matter how many chicken sandwiches you eat in opposition to it. IT's GONNA HAPPEN! Just like integration happened, just like suffrage happened, just like slavery ended, just like the first black president happened, just like AMERICA HAPPENED! Nothing you do will be able to stand against it. You will fail. Just like the Nazi's, just like the Confederacy, just like the KKK, just like Saddam, just like Bin Laden. You will LOSE. It is you, who supports hate. Many people are confused about why this argument about chicken is so prevalent today. The reason is because it NEEDS to happen. People NEED to be angry. People were angry because of the Jena 6. People were angry because of Matthew Shepard. People got angry about Trayvon. People got angry because of Kony. People were angry because of Katrina. PEOPLE NEED TO BE ANGRY! THIS IS INJUSTICE. THIS NEEDS TO BE AT THE FOREFRONT OF DEBATE. WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE ECONOMY AND JOB CREATION WHEN PEOPLE ARE BEING TREATED LIKE SHIT FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN THE FACT THAT THEY ARE DIFFERENT?! WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT TAX CUTS WHEN A PERSON IS UNJUSTLY IMPRISONED FOR HAVING A SPECIFIC SKIN COLOR? WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE FUCKING ELECTION WHEN MY FRIENDS ARE BEING DEPORTED SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY WANT TO WORK OR GO TO SCHOOL?! THIS NEEDS TO BE DISCUSSED. THIS NEEDS TO BE RESOLVED.
This leads me to a single conclusion. Because I am not like many of you, I do not hold myself to the same standards. I do not care if I am a hypocrite. Trying not to be one is like trying not to be human. I do not agree to disagree. I have no tolerance for intolerance nor do I pretend that my ultimate goal is to allow you to have your freedom of speech because I have mine. My goals, my hopes, my dreams for this country, for this world, are based on the principles of goodness, of compassion, of humanity. I am not religious, therefore, I do not have to forgive. YOU WILL LOSE. EQUALITY IS HAPPENING WITH OR WITHOUT YOU. A friend of mine tried to explain to me that although she embraced those who have committed the sin of homosexuality, they had no place in God's kingdom. This is clearly ____ man's burden if I e'er did hear it. I ain't got time for that shit. Tolerance is not enough. Acceptance is not enough. Only when all men are created and treated as equal will it be good enough. Good always prevails over evil. This is not a threat, but a promise. If I sound judgmental, it is because I choose to be. You will find no quarter here. Say goodbye to your so called values. This is a declaration of love.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Save the Hammer for the Pham
As I was coming back from Dallas for an AP conference, KUT was ON POINT! The playlist was as follows:
Name Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Song Title How Long
Name of CD Long Walk To freedom
Start Time 2:51:34PM
Name Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Song Title Wenyukela
Name of CD Raise Your Spirit Higher
Start Time 2:57:51PM
Name Dan Dyer
Song Title Love Chains
Name of CD Dan Dyer
Start Time 3:03:55PM
Name Drew Smith
Song Title Nilsson Sings Newman
Name of CD Drew Smith's Lonely Choir
Start Time 3:07:55PM
Name Harry Nilsson
Song Title Living Without You
Name of CD Nilsson Sings Newman
Start Time 3:10:16PM
Name Craig Finn
Song Title Apollo Bay
Name of CD Clear Heart Full Eyes
Start Time 3:13:06PM
Name Bruce Springsteen
Song Title We Take Care of Our Own
Name of CD Wrecking Ball
Start Time 3:21:34PM
Name Tom Morello -The Nightwatchman
Song Title Save the Hammer for the Man
Name of CD World Wide Rebel Songs
Start Time 3:25:15PM
Best line, "Whisper words of freedom"
Name Leonard Cohen
Song Title Show Me the Place
Name of CD Old Ideas
Start Time 3:30:42PM
Name Joe Tex
Song Title Show Me
Name of CD 25 All-Time Greatest Hits
Start Time 3:36:30PM
Like a bold, full-bodied coffee curling its aroma through your nostrils to the back of your tongue. This post would have sucked if all that SOPA/PIPA nonsense had passed. That was a mess. You know what they say, "if you can't do, legislate."
I finished book two of Hunger Games. At the moment, I am Team Peeta/Gale. I am NOT Team Katniss. She's just another girl who makes mistakes and tears through life leaving behind a miasma of discordance and resentment. And the few good men she leaves behind have to clean up after her because she's just so damn conflicted. She's a maturing young lady, mind you, so you're just expected to accommodate her volatile growth as it ravages through your emotional viscera. *exhale* So yes, she's stupid.
I keep promising my students that I will sponsor a Games in my room one day. It would be spectacular! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Name Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Song Title How Long
Name of CD Long Walk To freedom
Start Time 2:51:34PM
Name Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Song Title Wenyukela
Name of CD Raise Your Spirit Higher
Start Time 2:57:51PM
Name Dan Dyer
Song Title Love Chains
Name of CD Dan Dyer
Start Time 3:03:55PM
Name Drew Smith
Song Title Nilsson Sings Newman
Name of CD Drew Smith's Lonely Choir
Start Time 3:07:55PM
Name Harry Nilsson
Song Title Living Without You
Name of CD Nilsson Sings Newman
Start Time 3:10:16PM
Name Craig Finn
Song Title Apollo Bay
Name of CD Clear Heart Full Eyes
Start Time 3:13:06PM
Name Bruce Springsteen
Song Title We Take Care of Our Own
Name of CD Wrecking Ball
Start Time 3:21:34PM
Name Tom Morello -The Nightwatchman
Song Title Save the Hammer for the Man
Name of CD World Wide Rebel Songs
Start Time 3:25:15PM
Best line, "Whisper words of freedom"
Name Leonard Cohen
Song Title Show Me the Place
Name of CD Old Ideas
Start Time 3:30:42PM
Name Joe Tex
Song Title Show Me
Name of CD 25 All-Time Greatest Hits
Start Time 3:36:30PM
Like a bold, full-bodied coffee curling its aroma through your nostrils to the back of your tongue. This post would have sucked if all that SOPA/PIPA nonsense had passed. That was a mess. You know what they say, "if you can't do, legislate."
I finished book two of Hunger Games. At the moment, I am Team Peeta/Gale. I am NOT Team Katniss. She's just another girl who makes mistakes and tears through life leaving behind a miasma of discordance and resentment. And the few good men she leaves behind have to clean up after her because she's just so damn conflicted. She's a maturing young lady, mind you, so you're just expected to accommodate her volatile growth as it ravages through your emotional viscera. *exhale* So yes, she's stupid.
I keep promising my students that I will sponsor a Games in my room one day. It would be spectacular! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
After Summer must come Fall
October is never good for me. I come down from my summer high, realize I won't have time for exercise or healthy eating, and count down the days until winter break. My car situation isn't getting any better. They have been working on it for 2 weeks now. Rental car tab is through the roof. Luckily, I just got paid. Allergies are gradually getting worse. My precious 8th period is declining into an uppity mess. And most of all, I'm still angry. October is never good for me.
One positive is that I have reestablished Monday Night Dinners. We have one helluva host home so we might as well make the most of it. Last Monday, Mel, Thomas, Danielle, and I had Hannah, LC, and Buddy over to eat, drink, and watch Paranormal Activity 2. I prepared linguine with a mushroom cream sauce I learned from Lisa, garlic bread, salad, and wine. For dessert, we had leftover birthday cake...there is still some left...4 weeks old? I enjoy the novelty of doing "white" things to get a laugh out of Thomas, so I lead "grace." We joined hands and I thanked everyone for joining us at our home for this meal. The night ended with LC doing her Wicked victory dance. This week, I prepared beef & broccoli, and the roomies sans Danielle were joined by Maggie, Hannah, LC and Dawson. When Dawson arrived, we performed an a capella on the spot rendition of Paula Cole's "I Don't Want to Wait." After dinner on our amazing screened patio, we watched Bridesmaids...or they watched Bridesmaids, and I passed out because of fatigue and wine, as usual. Still, that is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen. We won't be meeting next Monday because Thomas and Mel will be in San Diego, so hopefully, we'll be able to meet Wednesday. I'll have to conjure up a recipe. Somehow, I feel this will eventually evolve into a storytelling gathering like Mel always wanted. As long as there is wine, I don't care what we do.
One positive is that I have reestablished Monday Night Dinners. We have one helluva host home so we might as well make the most of it. Last Monday, Mel, Thomas, Danielle, and I had Hannah, LC, and Buddy over to eat, drink, and watch Paranormal Activity 2. I prepared linguine with a mushroom cream sauce I learned from Lisa, garlic bread, salad, and wine. For dessert, we had leftover birthday cake...there is still some left...4 weeks old? I enjoy the novelty of doing "white" things to get a laugh out of Thomas, so I lead "grace." We joined hands and I thanked everyone for joining us at our home for this meal. The night ended with LC doing her Wicked victory dance. This week, I prepared beef & broccoli, and the roomies sans Danielle were joined by Maggie, Hannah, LC and Dawson. When Dawson arrived, we performed an a capella on the spot rendition of Paula Cole's "I Don't Want to Wait." After dinner on our amazing screened patio, we watched Bridesmaids...or they watched Bridesmaids, and I passed out because of fatigue and wine, as usual. Still, that is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen. We won't be meeting next Monday because Thomas and Mel will be in San Diego, so hopefully, we'll be able to meet Wednesday. I'll have to conjure up a recipe. Somehow, I feel this will eventually evolve into a storytelling gathering like Mel always wanted. As long as there is wine, I don't care what we do.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
phuck
LC and I saw this poet named Lacey Roop a while ago. She was fascinating. I loved her because she said these words, but I hated her for saying them. I wanted those words to be mine. Now they seem to belong to me because I know and feel them. I wish I never knew what she meant.
When a girl says kiss me, be careful. She may not know what she is asking. She may not know what she wants. Some girls never do.
Ask her what she wants. Assure her there are no wrong answers.
If she says she needs time give her all your clocks. If its space she wants construct a rocket—send her there. Mean what you say. Girls do not like to be lied to. Mean what you say.
Kiss her but do not expect anything. Girls disdain expectations.
Do not discard her as just another one or mistake her as a wonder carved from the skin of the moon. Girls are special; not unique. They are hair, hide. Teeth, thumb. Bone, brain. Wondrous vessels composed of hellos, heartbeats. Goodbyes, gums. Their bodies shaped like cellos or pears. As unpredictable and powerful as wind or waves. Listen to me my brother when I say “Welcome her crash with caution”.
Tell her you appreciate her entirety, even the rust. Build her a castle with the dust she’s swept under the rug. Undress her ghosts. Tell her, her ghouls are gorgeous. Palm her phantoms. Do not treat her like a problem to solve. You my friend, are not that advanced. She is not a book to be read then placed back on the shelf; a magazine to thumb through, a letter to be opened or sent out, some 44cent stamp. She is not an equation; so do not treat her like a number. Pull her close. Follow her breath. Study it. Listen.
Kiss her like rain. Kiss her like spark. Kiss her like whisper. Go slow. Let her hips guide you. Feel her meaningful. Thrust gentle. Move like you are giving something back instead of taking something from her. Never make her feel like she is an accident—even if you hate her—do not hate her. Accept her misunderstood.
Understand her uncomfortable. Love her awkward. Adore her whole. Respect her being. Embrace her difficult. Cuddle her complexity. Caress her chaos. Hold her honest. Take her broken; lick it perfect. Let her know she has always been a jawdropper. But do not put her on some pedestal, you may like her too much to hurt herself if she falls.
When a girl says kiss me, be careful.
She may not know what she is asking. And you may not anticipate
The haunting you may have when she doesn’t want you
to anymore.
When a girl says kiss me, be careful. She may not know what she is asking. She may not know what she wants. Some girls never do.
Ask her what she wants. Assure her there are no wrong answers.
If she says she needs time give her all your clocks. If its space she wants construct a rocket—send her there. Mean what you say. Girls do not like to be lied to. Mean what you say.
Kiss her but do not expect anything. Girls disdain expectations.
Do not discard her as just another one or mistake her as a wonder carved from the skin of the moon. Girls are special; not unique. They are hair, hide. Teeth, thumb. Bone, brain. Wondrous vessels composed of hellos, heartbeats. Goodbyes, gums. Their bodies shaped like cellos or pears. As unpredictable and powerful as wind or waves. Listen to me my brother when I say “Welcome her crash with caution”.
Tell her you appreciate her entirety, even the rust. Build her a castle with the dust she’s swept under the rug. Undress her ghosts. Tell her, her ghouls are gorgeous. Palm her phantoms. Do not treat her like a problem to solve. You my friend, are not that advanced. She is not a book to be read then placed back on the shelf; a magazine to thumb through, a letter to be opened or sent out, some 44cent stamp. She is not an equation; so do not treat her like a number. Pull her close. Follow her breath. Study it. Listen.
Kiss her like rain. Kiss her like spark. Kiss her like whisper. Go slow. Let her hips guide you. Feel her meaningful. Thrust gentle. Move like you are giving something back instead of taking something from her. Never make her feel like she is an accident—even if you hate her—do not hate her. Accept her misunderstood.
Understand her uncomfortable. Love her awkward. Adore her whole. Respect her being. Embrace her difficult. Cuddle her complexity. Caress her chaos. Hold her honest. Take her broken; lick it perfect. Let her know she has always been a jawdropper. But do not put her on some pedestal, you may like her too much to hurt herself if she falls.
When a girl says kiss me, be careful.
She may not know what she is asking. And you may not anticipate
The haunting you may have when she doesn’t want you
to anymore.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
This phase is phamiliar.
School is pwning my life. The past couple weeks, I haven't left work until atleast 7PM. I'm adjusting to a new grading policy, and I'm already behind on interventions and such. I'm not saying I hate it, I'm just saying I need more time. Time has always been my achilles. I'm out of sync with my world, the people in my world, and myself.
Last class, I posted this Stephen Crane poem on the board and told the students to write down a reflection:
A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
My point was to get them to acknowledge the overwhelming generation me attitude in the high school world. Everybody is performing, and no one is listening.
Even at my age, I still feel like I'm performing, like the world is my stage, and I'm the protagonist. I imagine I will eventually save the day. I imagine the players in my story will provide me the challenges and support for my role to grow. My major character flaw is placing too much expectation on my players. That sounds lame. It's kind of like saying your greatest weakness is working too hard. No, my major character flaw is hubris. My arrogance is a defense mechanism for when I feel insecure, which is a lot of the time. I'm out of sync. I'm waiting for everyone else to grow up, while they are waiting for me to do the same. I'm so afraid of being an extra in someone else's story. I don't want to be a lesson learned. I don't want to be a minor set back or the moral of the story. I don't want to be a forgotten phase in a sea of faces.
"This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper."
Last class, I posted this Stephen Crane poem on the board and told the students to write down a reflection:
A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
My point was to get them to acknowledge the overwhelming generation me attitude in the high school world. Everybody is performing, and no one is listening.
Even at my age, I still feel like I'm performing, like the world is my stage, and I'm the protagonist. I imagine I will eventually save the day. I imagine the players in my story will provide me the challenges and support for my role to grow. My major character flaw is placing too much expectation on my players. That sounds lame. It's kind of like saying your greatest weakness is working too hard. No, my major character flaw is hubris. My arrogance is a defense mechanism for when I feel insecure, which is a lot of the time. I'm out of sync. I'm waiting for everyone else to grow up, while they are waiting for me to do the same. I'm so afraid of being an extra in someone else's story. I don't want to be a lesson learned. I don't want to be a minor set back or the moral of the story. I don't want to be a forgotten phase in a sea of faces.
"This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper."
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Phailblog part V
One of my colleagues came into my room today to show me a quiz she got back. The quiz was over dimensional analysis which is a simple way of organizing numbers and units in order to carry out multiplication and division. It's spectacular but gets a terrible wrap from lazy, ungrateful children. Anyways, a question on the quiz read, "convert 5 inches to feet." The response to the question read, "12-5 = -7" NEGATIVE SEVEN!! HAHAHA, I laughed soooooo hard. The negative sign was like the little cherry on top that let me know it would be an awesomely highlarious day.
This morning at 9 AM, I had an online assignment due. You guys remember that UT online homework system we used in physics and in college chemistry? Oh yes, I am using it now to torment my minions. Anyways, I gave them 9 days to complete a 30 question assignment. Three students hadn't even registered with the website yet even though I posted instructions on how to do that on my school blog. Everyday, I reminded them that the assignment was open, and I even added on an extra day. They feel like I am abusing them, but shit! The economy is down and China is kicking our asses in math and science. Someone's gotta break them and their generation ME attitudes. MUAHAHA! Honey badger all day errday. Also, I've been giving out asset to class clementines everyday to instill some competitive edge in them. Let the games for my favoritism begin!
This morning at 9 AM, I had an online assignment due. You guys remember that UT online homework system we used in physics and in college chemistry? Oh yes, I am using it now to torment my minions. Anyways, I gave them 9 days to complete a 30 question assignment. Three students hadn't even registered with the website yet even though I posted instructions on how to do that on my school blog. Everyday, I reminded them that the assignment was open, and I even added on an extra day. They feel like I am abusing them, but shit! The economy is down and China is kicking our asses in math and science. Someone's gotta break them and their generation ME attitudes. MUAHAHA! Honey badger all day errday. Also, I've been giving out asset to class clementines everyday to instill some competitive edge in them. Let the games for my favoritism begin!
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