Diet & Fitness Books of the Bible

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/1hughes.html

DIET & FITNESS BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.

BY LAURENCE HUGHES

- - - -

Cross Training

Pontius Pilates

Low-Impact Ecclesiastes

Antiochcidents

Psweatin' to the Psalms

The All-You-Can-Eat Loaves-and-Fishes Diet

The AbsSolution

Power Walking on Water

Good Fat, Bad Fat, Jehoshaphat

The Flat Belly of the Whale Diet

Fit for Life Everlasting

Pillar-of-Salt-Free Cooking

YOU on a Diet of Worms

Take and Eat This, Not That

The Resurrection Regimen: Three Days to a Transmogrified You

standing on the precipice of what remains of my life

So obviously the great Lenten experiment was a bust. Ran out of energy/gumption/anything significant to write about at the end. But the attempt was there and at least I wrote something, which is more than I had been doing before Lent.

A fellow traveler posted something that rang true for me. I, too, haven't really "felt" much this Lenten season. No ecstatic highs. No epiphanies. No overwhelming sense of God's presence. And as faithful readers can attest, I had more than my share of lows this season - lower than I've been in quite a while. I don't believe the two are related (Lent and my bouts with depression), though I do wonder if my writing did at least bring some of what I experienced to the fore. Still not sure that was a good thing - still feeling the effects of it. Was a complete ass this afternoon during our staff social. Lack of sleep is definitely not helping much, either. Too awake when it's time to go to bed last couple of nights - was up until 1AM both nights, back up at 5AM. Not nearly enough sleep. Here's hoping I can get some over break. Sleep, that is.

'Twas a good weekend (I know, it was forever ago, right?). Good to see everyone and to remember Jeremy. Not that that doesn't happen normally, but you know how it is. Still hard to believe he's gone. Still hard to believe that the grass hasn't grown in front of his grave yet. :) While we were standing around, sharing memories and scaring off other visitors, I began to look around at the other headstones around Jeremy's. Names, dates, each one a story. I wonder about Walter and Raymond and their shared headstone and the 21-year difference in their ages. How did they find each other? What was their story? Or Earnest and Linda, who got married when when he was 42 and she was 25. Standing there I couldn't help but find hope in those stories I don't know, that maybe life isn't completely over once tomorrow comes.

Other unknown stories - a man with two young children came to a newly dug grave - not even a headstone yet. They didn't stay long, but I couldn't help wondering if they were their to visit their wife and mom. It just felt like that. Reminded me everyone deals with pain - too often we get caught up in our own stories and forget to look around and see we're all dealing with loss, we're all clinging to those closest to us to help us get through. There's a poem I often read to my classes that sums it up pretty well:

Tuesday 9:00 AM

Denver Butson

A man standing at the bus stop
reading the newspaper is on fire
Flames are peeking out
from beneath his collar and cuffs
His shoes have begun to melt

The woman next to him
wants to mention it to him
that he is burning
but she is drowning
Water is everywhere
in her mouth and ears
in her eyes
A stream of water runs
steadily from her blouse

Another woman stands at the bus stop
freezing to death
She tries to stand near the man
who is on fire
to try to melt the icicles
that have formed on her eyelashes
and on her nostrils
to stop her teeth long enough
from chattering to say something
to the woman who is drowning
but the woman who is freezing to death
has trouble moving
with blocks of ice on her feet

It takes the three some time
to board the bus
what with the flames
and water and ice
But when they finally climb the stairs
and take their seats
the driver doesn't even notice
that none of them has paid
because he is tortured
by visions and is wondering
if the man who got off at the last stop
was really being mauled to death
by wild dogs.

One of my favorites.

Part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and stay up all night watching movies, trying to squeeze as much celebration as I can into tomorrow. I mean, it's not like I have to do anything once school ends, right? Although if I stay up all night tonight, I'll collapse in the middle of the Poms show tomorrow before I can get to Dewey's for my free pint glass and Graeters for my free scoop of ice cream (strawberry chip is back tomorrow!). I don't know. Of course, I'll probably be up anyway so I might as well do something. The question is, what should I watch? 40-Year-Old Virgin is a little too on the nose. Maybe a little High Fidelity. Watched that ten years ago when I turned 30. Though it might depress me just how little my life has actually changed since then...

Think I'll save talking about Sunday's Maproom until later. Our Journey to the Cross was a rough one for me. And it all started with this simple question: If you knew this was the last week of your life, how would you spend it? I'll share my thoughts for...well, probably Friday because I'll be too busy celebrating tomorrow to come here and type. Or maybe I won't be. We'll see.

See, after 11:00 and I'm not tired in the least. Not a good sign. One more hour until my birth-day (though technically I wasn't born until after 10:00 PM, so I don't turn 40 for another 23 hours). Goodbye 30s. Here's hoping my 40s are better than I can imagine right now...

Æ

write...now

Bad sign: not here because I have anything to share. Only here out of obligation and wanted to knock this out before spending the evening in my comfy chair catching up on TV and, if the spirit moves, watching some basketball.

You've been warned.

Final full day of classes today before spring break. Not that we're there yet - still four more days to go. But next week is whack: Black History Month speaker on Monday means I only see half my students and have 4+ hours (7:15 - 11:43) before I teach my first class (to clarify, Mason is aware Black History Month is in February, but we had a snow day when the speaker was originally planned and I have such an open time because I have first bell plan, which is when the speaker is planned); Tuesday is a "make-up" day for the speaker on Monday, which means I don't get a plan bell but do get to teach extended-remix classes for my first two bells to make up for not seeing them on Monday; Wednesday, which I nearly took as a personal day since I can't take off my birthday because it falls the day before a break, is our usual shortened primetime day; and Thursday, the day before break, we have a shortened schedule for an afternoon pep assembly (which, unfortunately, was not planned to celebrate my birthday. Oh well). All that is far more information than anyone needs about my coming week, but I thought I'd let you in on the craziness. Turns out doing a unit focused mostly on students being self-directed was a brilliant move on my part. Can't imagine trying to teach a "typical" lesson next week.

Because I am wonderfully blessed with four hours on Monday, I left all my grading at school and will tackle it on Monday. If I'm feeling up to it, I might try to grade the wiki discussions on Sunday night, but we'll see how I feel after the weekend.

This weekend is Jeremy's wake up in Mansfield/Bucyrus. Looking forward to seeing friends and remembering Jeremy (or is that Jerry?). Not looking forward to the 6+ hours in the car. Still hard to believe most days that he's gone. Just feels like he's moved away and I don't get to see him as often as I used to. Of course, going to the grave site kind of brings it all home. I do enjoy the fact that every time I've gone to the site, it's been mostly filled with laughter, which is what I think Jeremy would have wanted. Not sure how that goes over with the other visitors, but then, that fits Jeremy, too.

Lethargy is settling in - too much Jalapenos, not enough sleep. Time to excuse myself from my office and get comfortable in my comfy chair. On the playlist tonight: FlashForward (yes, I'm still watching), Important Things with Demitri Martin, Spartacus and, if I'm up to it, the first disc of the first season of The Wire. Never seen it. Afraid I might acquire a new addiction - just in time for spring break.

Not sure I'll get here tomorrow - leaving at 9AM and won't return sometime after midnight. We'll see how wired I am from the drive. In the mean time, do me a favor: find a friend you haven't talked to in a while and send them a message telling them how much they mean to you. Life's too short and people connect too rarely to let friendships die. Æ

tie-errrrd

I am so going to get sick. Three hours dance rehearsal, sweating like a stuck pig, only to walk out into the nearly freezing rain. Hot cold, hot cold. Bleah. And I can already feel a lack of sleep coming on. Too wired to sleep, too tired to do much else. Lovely.

You know, I spend far too much time talking about myself on this blog, never taking a moment to ask you, my reader, how you're doing. So how are you? Life been treating you well? Seems like a lot of people's worlds came to an end this week - lots of skies falling, lots of praying for Jesus to return, lots of websearches on moving to other countries. Trust me, I've been there. For about eight years. You eventually get used to it.

My friend Brad, who teaches down in Florida, sent me a vision of my eventual future this week. Seems the powers that be, in an attempt to "improve" schools, have decided the problem lies with the teachers. Our schools would be successful if it wasn't for those selfish, lazy, overpaid know-it-alls clogging up the works. So they're in the process of passing a bill to solve the problem. The magic bullet? More testing, of course, paid for by the taxpayers and the school districts to fill the bottomless coffers of the test designers. There's a special interest group no one ever talks about but which wields incredible power in government. Below are some of the provisions, along with the commentary I sent along with it in italics.

The Florida Senate is right now working on a bill - SB 6 - that will seriously affect educators in the state of Florida. Here's what it will do if passed:

1. Takes 5% of all operating funds from each school district (estimated to be in the $900-$950 million dollar range) to be used to develop the tests which will be used to measure student learning gains and then to pay any performance pay benefits required by the bill. In essence, all teachers are paying for the cost of the test development and performance awards which may become due under this bill.

Yes, once again, testing companies have sold lawmakers a bill of goods, claiming they are the only way for true education reform. Because how do we know students are learning unless they can fill in bubbles and pass a test? To steal money from school districts to develop these tests is downright criminal. But you know, corporations now have more rights than citizens. Shows where our priorities are.

2. Places all new teachers on annual contracts for the duration of their teaching careers and the contracts may be non-renewed for any reason or no reason without recourse.

I know why they want this - too much "dead weight" according to them. But why can't they take care of the problem without punishing all teachers? Nothing like working with no job security and nothing to protect teachers from being wrongfully dismissed or pushed out (which happens more often than you think).

3. Requires 50% of performance appraisals to be based on student learning gains based upon end of course tests which don't yet exist.

Unfortunately, this is the next wave of reform and I'm convinced the majority of the country will move to these end of course tests in the next five years. Mason has already started giving them. They claim it's to track students' progress, but we all know eventually it will be tied to our reviews. They also claim it will only be used to reward good teaching (think bonus), but I doubt it stays that way. The good news is, judging from our experience, the tests are way simple, which is usually how standardized tests work - they shoot for the lowest common denominator, which, judging from the test, is pretty low. Which is probably good because they'll have a lowest common denominator work force to teach to the test.

4. Removes local decision-making by elected school boards or through collective bargaining on matters which relate to wages, hours andterms and conditions of employment.

Yes, by all means, let's take this out of local hands, who might actually have an understanding of their district's population and its needs, and give it to ...who? State officials? Some new bureaucracy? Brilliant.

5. Prohibits recognition of years of service or advanced degrees in determining teacher salaries.

I...have no idea what to say. How would this help? What problem would this solve? How is experience and education a bad thing, especially in education? Oh right, we want to base teacher salaries on how their students do. So are we going to do that for all professions? If a doctor's patients don't stay healthy, will we dock their pay? If a politicians constituency continues to break the law, could we demand they return their paychecks? Just checking.

6. Permits non-renewal of a teaching certificate if a teacher cannot demonstrate student learning gains in 4 of the preceding 5 years.

Again, we're back to tests being the "magic cure" for all of education's ills. Gotta hand it to the testing companies - they learned well from their teachers how to manipulate the system through propaganda. This is the problem when decisions like this are made by politicians who have only tangential connection to education and not by educators themselves. Frustrating. Wish they'd listen to educators, those actually, you know, teaching. I don't have solutions to all the problems, but I know bad solutions when I see them.

Look, I realize schools aren't perfect and there are teachers who need to find their true passion in life instead of drawing a paycheck and screwing up students. But denigrating the entire profession because of a few bad apples is demeaning and ultimately going to harm the ones reformers claim they want to help the most: the students.

OK, that took much longer than I anticipated. Hopefully I didn't put you to sleep. Unfortunately, it didn't put me to sleep, either. I think there might be a basketball game on or something. Maybe that will do it. Night.

Æ

what's done is done

No beating myself up over missing the last few days. I know, I know, you're thinking, "Wait. Is this some impostor pretending to be Thurman. 'Cause he feels guilty like Kevin Smith tweets." Don't let this aberration throw you.Trust me, it's me.

Been an interesting week. And by interesting, I don't mean "Oh God, oh God, we're all going to die." OK, maybe not interesting. Odd? Does that work? Of course, my life is pretty odd anyway, so that doesn't help much. Ah, I've lost my adjectives. Screw it.

Been swimming through a sea of nostalgia this week. About a year ago, I gave my friend Steve all my old vinyl albums to rip into mp3s. They were sitting in my basement doing no one any good, but I couldn't just part with them. So he said he would rip them for me when he got the chance. Well, between foreign exchange students and adopting a son, he's been a bit busy. But on Monday he messaged me and told me he'd found a site I might want to check out: http://flipsidemn.blogspot.com/ So I did. And I was immediately transported to a time when I wore sleeveless shirts and headbands with no sense of irony.

I know this may be hard to believe, but I have not always been the indie musical elitist you see before you now. Back in junior high, I had a whole other obsession: Christian Rock. That's right boys and girls, I used to tow the line, refusing to purchase any music that didn't come from a Christian bookstore or wasn't featured in Campus Life magazine. In my defense, I stayed clear of bands that might be heard on what passed for Christan radio at the time. No Amy Grant. No Michael W. Smith. No Russ Taff. No, I stayed to the fringes of Christian music, which is why when I got older and moved from vinyl and tapes to CDs, I lost a lot of that music. Not like there was a lot of money to be made selling CDs by the obscure artists I liked.

But now, through this site, I've reliving my junior high days (ok, and some high school). Barnabas. Daniel Band. Undercover. Mad at the World. Messiah Prophet. Flock 14. The adult part of me wants to pick it apart, cringe at the derivativenes, mock the trite lyrics and bad theology. But the junior high me has been living it up all week. So strange to hear music I haven't heard for over 20 years. Scares me how many of the lyrics I still know by heart. I can't wait to get the batch my friend Steve has downloaded for me. Reminds me of a more innocent time, a time when the world wasn't quite so complicated and faith was as easy as yelling "God Rules!" at a concert.

Sometimes I wish it was still that easy.

The other event causing nostalgia overdosing this week is the loss of my favorite radio station - WOXY. I discovered WOXY about the time I realized listening to secular music wasn't going to send me to hell. Back then it was an over the air station from Oxford that barely reached Dayton. I was lucky if I got to listen to a whole song without static breaking in, especially if I was in my car. Even today, when I hear some of those songs I first experienced through WOXY, I half expect a burst of static to drown out the chorus. The music they played not only shaped my musical tastes during college, but in many ways sharpened my critical ear and broadened my horizons. I wouldn't be the person I am today without WOXY.

Now there's hope it will rise again - it's done so before, transforming into an internet only station. But until then, I will mourn the passing of such an important part of my life.

I have nothing else I want to share, so I think I'm going to try and go to bed early tonight, though last time I did that, I woke up in the middle of the night. I think my days of sleeping for more than six hours at a time are in the past. Guess the only thing left is to get my AARP card and start eating at Golden Corral at 4:30 in the afternoon.

Only one more week in my 30s. *sigh*

Æ

not nearly long enough

There's the blank space here, waiting for me to type in, but as I stare at it, I can't think of anything important enough to share from my day today. Woke up late (well, for me, anyway). Watched some TV/DVR/Netflix stream. Went to Jalapenos. Used up my month's worth of shopping energy looking for a new TV. Took a nap. Helped celebrate Mac's birthday. Came home. Stared at the blank space until I started typing just a minute or so ago.

Really. Not much there.

I could talk about the miserableness of shopping - the overbearing sales assistants who try to convince you if you don't buy this TV right now you will regret it for the rest of your life because this amazing sale ends tonight and prices like this won't be seen again ever (at least, not until their next sale). But I'd rather not relive the experience.

Mac's last minute birthday celebration was great - went to McCormick and Schmicks and ate seafood for the first time probably this millennium. Had salmon which I liked. Didn't convert me to a seafood lover, but was very tasty. Tried some wine, too, which I still don't like. And since this was good wine, I think that confirms the fact that I'll probably never like wine. We were there about four hours - lots of great conversation and food.

Of course, I kept being asked what I was doing to celebrate my not dying for another year in a couple of weeks. I've got nothing planned. I think I'm in denial - if I don't celebrate it, it won't be real. Not sure why this birthday is screwing me up so bad - not like I had this problem when I turned 30.

Well, nothing I want to talk about here.

So glad I didn't do a bracket this year. Much more fun to root for all the underdogs. And to all my friends who picked Kansas: you should have known once everyone picked them that they'd lose. They only win when no one expects them to. You know how this works.

No where near 30 minutes but I'm calling it a night. Might go watch Withnail and I for the first time (thank you Netflix). Could use some good British humor (or is that humour?). And probably should figure out if I need to be at tomorrow's rehearsal or not. You would think I could figure that out. You'd be wrong. Night.

Æ

if you're wondering how my day went, this post won't help

I'm beginning to think this Lenten experiment was a bad idea. I didn't write last night because I had a crisis a faith. Not about my actual faith, but about writing. I thought adding this discipline to my Lenten remembrance would help me focus, would add something to this usual season of subtraction. But what I'm adding to the world isn't always a positive thing. Too often I focus on the dark side of life and I can't imagine anyone feels better or closer to God after reading my ramblings the past couple of posts.

Part of the problem is the inherent narcissism involved in writing, and especially in blogging. I constantly talk about the fact that I write for myself and no one else. What could be more selfish than that? And in this kind of blog, where I talk mostly about my life, the selfishness is increased tenfold. Is it any wonder my experience this Lent has been less than fulfilling. It's like I purposefully sabotaged it by choosing an activity that goes against the self-sacrificing spirit of the season.

Of course the flip side is that perhaps my writing has given me the opportunity to bring to the surface some thoughts and feelings that would normally stay hidden. Maybe my writing is a purging of the poisons inside of me so I can be healthier and can fill the vacuum left behind with better things. The problem is the process is quite unpleasant. It's been emotionally draining and has forced me to question who I am and where I'm going and in some cases where I've been.

Making it worse, I'm doing it in a public sphere as opposed to somewhere private like therapy or a private journal. I'm spewing all this nastiness on my friends who were probably only expecting a quick overview of what my day was like (of course, if they know me, they had to know that's not the way I tend to write). Initially I thought sharing these ideas might help others who felt this way. But I'm not sure all this ugliness is actually doing that. If it's making me more miserable and not helping others, maybe I'd be better off not doing it?

I don't know.

I'd hate to give up now, with only a couple of weeks left, but can't help thinking we'd all be better off if I did.

But for now we'll plow on. Thanks to all those who responded to my last posts. It's strange - I sound much more depressed in my writing than I actually feel. Hopefully that's some consolation to those who feared I might be going off the deep end. Contentment seems to be the issue - I'm not content with the way I am and perhaps I need to be. But as another blogger friend pointed out, once we become content, we stop trying to change, stop trying to make tomorrow better than the day before. At least that's the tendency. And perhaps that's one of my fears: that if I accept I will never get married, I will no longer put myself in situations where I could meet someone. I know, I know - it's when you stop looking that love finds you. Sorry, that may work for some people but it's never worked for me. Not that actively searching has done wonders either...It's not an either/or thing. Contentment and hope aren't mutually exclusive. At least I hope not. But how do we feel content when we're always hoping for something else out of our lives?

Been reading Klosterman's latest, Eating the Dinosaur. His essay on voyeurism, "Through the Glass, Blindly," touches on part of what I've been feeling/experiencing:

What are the things that make adults depressed? The master list is too comprehensive to quantify (plane crashes, unemployment, killer bees, impotence, Stringer Bell's murder, gambling, addictions, crib death, the music of Bon Iver, et al.). But whenever people talk about their personal bouts of depression in the abstract, there are two obstructions I hear more than any other: The possibility that one's life is not important, and the mundane predictability of day-to-day existence. Talk to a depressed person (particularly one who's nearing midlife), and one (or both) of these problems will inevitably be described. Since the end of World War II, every generation of American children has been endlessly conditioned to believe that their lives are supposed to be great - a meaningful life is not just possible, but required. Part of the reason forward-thinking media networks like Twitter succeed is because people want to believe that every immaterial thing they do is pertinent by default; it's interesting because it happened to them, which translates as interesting to all. At the same time, we concede that a compelling life is supposed to be spontaneous and unpredictable - any artistic depiction of someone who does the same thing every day portrays that character as tragically imprisoned (January Jones on Mad Men, Ron Livingston in Office Space, the lyrics to "Eleanor Rigby," all novels set in affluent suburbs, pretty much every project Sam Mendes has ever conceived, etc.). If you know exactly what's going to happen tomorrow, the voltage of that experience is immediately mitigated. Yet most lives are the same, 95 percent of the time. And most lives aren't extrinsically meaningful, unless you're delusionally self-absorbed or authentically Born Again. So here's where we find the creeping melancholy of modernity: The one thing all people are supposed to inherently deserve - a daily subsistence that's both meaningful and unpredictable - tends to be an incredibly rare commodity.

The two obstructions he points out - an unimportant life and a mundane predictability - are what I've been struggling with. And look, it's happening just before my 40th birthday. Great. I'm a cliché. But at least I'm not alone - can't be if I'm a cliché, right?

And I've run out of ideas and the fact that I slept not at all last night isn't helping. So I guess I'll keep writing for now. I only ask that you, my faithful readers, take my thoughts with a grain of salt. In some cases, with an entire saltlick's worth. 'Til tomorrow. Æ

no, I haven't been drinking...

One of the benefits of being single is you are not beholden to anyone else's traditions. If I decide I want to celebrate St. Patrick's Day by eating pie and drinking White Russians, then there's no one to tell me I'm doing it wrong (not that I'm actually doing this. Nope. Not at all). And no one to remember I've done it in case next year I want to do something else. Oh I know, some would quibble and say then they're not traditions, but then they don't live here and, well, I don't care. So cheers and pass the pie.

Sorry about last night. As I've mentioned before, there are some nights where it's a bad idea for me to type out the thoughts I have in my head, where being honest and open will do more harm than good, both for me and for anyone unfortunate enough to read my ramblings. When I got home from rehearsal last night, I was not in a good place. So rather than subject people to my thoughts, I broke my Lenten promise (again!) and took the night off. I think everyone is better off for it.

But now, with some distance between myself and those thoughts, I think it might help me sort out what I was feeling by typing it up. I was driving home, listening to my iPod on shuffle, when "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds came on the radio. I love this song and had been thinking of it this past week, basically along the lines of I should listen to more Ben Folds. So with the wind whipping through the sunroof, the song played and I realized I couldn't imagine ever singing the song to anyone. Or having anyone sing the song to me. This wasn't a simple failure of imagination. It was the sense that I didn't believe in the possibility of love ever occurring in my life again.

As you might imagine, it made me a little sad. Crushed, actually. This isn't totally new - I've had thoughts like that float through the transom of my mind before. But last night was one of the first time when it felt real, like this was a living, breathing possibility, enough that now, 24 hours later, I'm still having difficulty convincing myself it's not true. I mean, looking at my age, my lifestyle, my past relationships, it's hard to argue that the odds aren't against me. It's not like I'm suddenly going to become good at dating or not have the worst timing in the history of the world.

I wonder if maybe I need to run with this feeling. Maybe if I realize no hope remains, I'll be able to focus my energy on those things I am able to accomplish instead of wishing for something I'm in all likelihood never going to have. It's like the old Steve Taylor song: "Since I Gave Up Hope I Feel a Lot Better." Yes, I realize he was singing against that idea, but maybe there's some truth to it in this instance.

I don't share this so people will try and tell me it's not true. Or feel sorry for me. Or tell me to quit my whining. Or even tell me I'm probably right. It's been on my mind and that's why I share. Unfortunately, it hasn't done what I'd hoped, which is to help me understand it. But it has helped me to clarify some of the things I need to think about, pray about.

Over half way through OGT Week. Hasn't been horrible, which is probably all I can ask for. I'm glad my lesson plans worked so well - lots of self-directed time for the students, which with the wacky schedule works great. I did make one mistake, however: I allowed my fourth bell to choose which movie they'd like to watch (before you go casting stones, know that I have my fourth bell twice as long as my other bells and I refuse to give them busy work or get ahead of my other classes). They chose Hotrod. It's like almost every other SNL-related movie I've ever seen. Might have been funny as a five minute sketch, but not as an 87 minutes movie. Luckily, it will be over after about 20 minutes tomorrow, which means we can watch something else. From now on, I'm only letting them choose movies from my collection - that way at least I'll know I'll like them.

Speaking of movies, I watched Gone Baby Gone this afternoon. Liked it more than I anticipated. Who knew Ben Affleck could direct? Lots of good performances and a story that left you torn on how you wanted it to end. Need to return it tomorrow if I hope to get another movie by the weekend, but might try and watch the commentary if I can.

Time for sleep. Here's hoping I don't wake myself up over and over again like I did last night. You know it's bad when your moaning wakes you up. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

standardized hell, day one

So today was the first day of the Ohio Graduation Test, Ohio's version of high stakes testing where everyone must pass to graduate and we make the test so easy that you'd almost have to try not to pass. Yes, I understand, I'm blessed to be in a district that does well and that's why it seems easy, but any assessment where you need less than 50% to pass is not a terribly accurate tool. I'm just sayin'. Not that I have to worry about that at all this year since I'm spending my time with the freshmen. It's not horrible and it could be much worse, but let's be honest, if they could drive themselves to school, they would be allowed to join the juniors and seniors with late arrival. So while we try to make the time meaningful, the truth lingers in the backs of our minds and it's hard to throw yourself into the activities with abandon when you feel they're meaningless. And of course, if the students aren't involved, it's all the teacher's fault for not being more energized and excited.

See? This is what this week does to me. It makes my jackass side more pronounced. Sorry.

Took a Sabbath from writing yesterday, partially because I was sick and exhausted and partially because I really didn't have anything to share. Didn't do a whole lot, which was both good and bad. And by the time I was ready to do something, my body shut down and I could barely keep my eyes open. Of course, when it was time to go to bed, I couldn't fall asleep and ended up being up well after midnight with the alarm set to go off at 5:30 - 4:30 the old time. Joy. Maybe that's why I'm so grumpy today.

Two good rehearsals again for Wedding Singer. I know I've said this before, but it's simply a fun show and one I don't mind rehearsing for. I'm still fighting those initial rehearsal jitters - I always tend to feel like an outsider, especially with this show when everyone is so much younger than me. I know I just need to relax and not be so uptight about how I appear, but I still feel a bit awkward. Of course, the case could be made that this isn't limited only to rehearsals and doing shows but is how I wander through life most of the time.

Yeah, I don't want to go down that road tonight.

Saturday night, after blogging, I watched Every Little Step, the documentary about the revival of A Chorus Line. It took you from the first day with over 3,000 hopefuls to the final cast. I loved it, but I'm not sure what non-theater people would think of it. It resonated for me because I've been in similar situations (not quite that large, but still) and I know those feelings and my heart went out to those auditioners and I died a little every time someone got cut. I suppose it's similar for those who play sports and see movies about what they go through. If you have any ties to theater at all, I highly recommend it. Netflix is streaming it, which is how I saw it.

My computer is acting like it's 1995 and I'm on dialup yet again. Everything is taking three times as long and occasionally everything freezes and stops for a while. I feel like I want to put on some Gin Blossoms and watch the X-Files.

Less than 20 days left in Lent, which means Easter will be here before you know it. My Lent has been a bit lackluster. The extra silent time in the car has been good but not transformational. The blogging has been good, but too often I feel like I'm not digging nearly deep enough or writing well enough or saying anything of importance. And I'm definitely not experiencing a Lenten honeymoon. More like God and I are going out to dinner and tolerating one another's presence. Which is totally my fault.

You know those days when you can't think of any reason why anyone would want to spend any time around you because you're so miserable? Yeah, I'm having one of those days.

Bwahahahaha, "Casualty of Love" from the show just came on my iTunes. Perfect.

And on that note, I hope to go get some sleep. Here's hoping day two goes better...Æ

ArtWalk

We'll begin with some thoughts I had wandering through the Starburst exhibit (right side) at CAM today. Then we'll see where it goes from there.

Looking at pictures behind glass, it's impossible not to see yourself reflected in them, both literally and metaphorically. The pictures shift and change depending on where you stand, your silhouette strangely making visible what lies there. You have to focus, concentrate, lest your eyes stare at the reflection and not the image beneath the glass.

These Eggleston photos again make me wonder about the stories behind them. Why are those two men standing together? What is the boy in the chair thinking? What happens beyond the doors of that unnamed building? Why is that man standing naked in a room graffitied with God? The critics hailed these photos as boring. But aren't all photos that way when you have no connection to the story behind/beneath them? Even the mighty Adams could be dismissed as someone else's artsy vacation photos.

divolas: These images move me more than the abstract Kasten's next to them. The collision of the decaying beach house with the eternal beauty of the ocean and sky behind it. The garish colors of delapidation make the softer colors of the sunset more poignant somehow. Or maybe that's me writing my story into what I see. Not that there's anything wrong with that. In fact, I'd say it was expected.

The scripture today is John 9, the story of the man born blind. Yet another scripture where people are looking to blame and Jesus focuses on something greater. I wonder how the blind man made it to the pool of Siloam to wash. Did someone take him? Did he know the way to go? And what must it have been like, to see for the first time. Like being reborn where everything you've known is changed. I've heard stories of those who received their sight being overwhelmed by all they were now able to see. Sometimes this world is overwhelming to those who are used to seeing. I can't imagine it all being new. And then to have those around you doubting your identity and peppering you with questions. I think I would have run off and locked myself in my room for a while, until I could deal with this new world around me.

Perhaps that's why I like photographs so much - they take that which I've gotten used to and make it new. Almost like seeing for the first time.

Looking at all these pictures from the 70s, I wonder if our current time will have such a strong aesthetic. You can tell the time period simply from the photos - the design of the cars and building, the colors they used. Time and objects now seem so generic. Given a photo of 1995 and 2010, could anyone 30 years from now tell the difference? Or perhaps there is an aesthetic, only I'm too close to it now to see it. Perhaps I have to wait 30 years to see what this particular time period will be remembered for. Perhaps only then will I be able to appreciate what is all around me right now.

It was only Rob and I today, so plenty of time to sit and talk. We discussed the possibility of him and Lilly leaving and moving to CA. I'm excited for him and the opportunity to follow his passion, but am saddened too at the thought of them leaving. Guess that's true any time someone you care about moves away. And it could all happen relatively quickly - if Rob gets accepted, he'll need to be in CA by June. It does certainly seem that God has little by little been freeing them from their ties here in Cincinnati, so I guess I wouldn't be surprised to see them go. We talked about getting those involved in Thinplace together and talking about the eventuality which would be good. I know ArtWalk will continue as it's now become a vital part of my life. As for our journaling time, my guess is it will go on, though perhaps in an altered form. I'm trying not to get ahead of myself, but also don't want to get caught off guard.

Bleah. Just realized it's an hour later than it actually is due to that jerk Ben Franklin. At least now it happens away from my birthday. I'm going to miss actually driving to work while the sun was rising. Back to the darkness for my morning drive.

Went and saw Copout tonight. Was pretty much what I expected, which was not much. Willis definitely phoned his part in. And I still don't understand the appeal of Morgan, though he did have some funny bits. Not nearly as bad as Jersey Girl, but definitely not a fave of mine. I figure Smith simply wanted to work with Willis and took this project to do it. His life, he can do what he wants. But I felt it was mediocre at best.

Went to see the movie at the Regal in Mason and therefore ran into several students, both at the movies and Red Robin. All I could think as I talked to them was the line from Mean Girls: "Oh, I love seeing teachers outside of school. It's like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs." I wonder if that's what they're thinking, too.

OK. I guess I should start to wind down. Another choreography rehearsal tomorrow. I definitely need to be well rested for it. At least I know what I'll be wearing this time. Until tomorrow.

Æ

no...of course I'm not home blogging on a Friday night...

OK. Yes I am.

Friday has finally arrived and I could think of nothing better to do than to stay home, catch up with my DVR and browse the interwebs. Such a glamorous life I lead. But not terribly unexpected after the craziness of the first week of a new trimester and the impending doom of OGT week. Throw in my first choreography rehearsal in two years and, well, you have one mostly exhausted Thurman.

Favorite line of the night: "Disappointing you is like choking the Little Mermaid with a bike chain." Jeff Winger - Community Don't know why more people don't love this show.

Sorry. Brain is a bit scattered tonight so should be interesting to see where my fingers take us. Hopefully no where too embarrassing (though that might be more fun for everyone but me).

I want this t-shirt. No, really. One of my favorite lines ever. Non-geeks need not click on the link as you probably won't understand it.

From the greed and consumerism department: Got my Norwood taxes back from my friend Gary. So instead of owing the city a ton of money, they actually owe me a whole dollar (which they won't send to me, which I don't care). What's this mean? It means the quest for a new TV is officially on! Woohoo! Anyone want to go shopping with me? Or give me suggestions on what and where to look?

Curious collision: I recently downloaded Emmylou Harris's Heartaches & Highways and the new song on the collection is called...wait for it..."Connection." And it's playing right now. Unfortunately, I seem unable to find the lyrics and since I'm writing at the moment, I don't have the time to actually listen to them. But I find it amusing just the same.

A friend of mine emailed me about my thoughts on connection and said they didn't believe a connection could occur via social networking sites. I'm not sure I believe that completely. My friend claims you can't truly connect with someone unless you've met them face to face and looked into their eyes. But my experience speaks to a different reality. I have friends who I met online and felt connected to well before we actually came face to face in 3-D world. And I've felt connected to people I've never met before in person. Now you could argue those aren't true connections, that we're connected to the idea of the person and not the person themselves or to their online persona but not the actual person. But I'm sure that happens in face to face relationships, too. Again, it may depend upon your idea of connection and what that means.

Don't get me wrong - I think it's difficult to connect online because, well, it's much easier to lie, to show only specific parts of yourself but not the whole. But in some ways, it's also much easier to be open and honest - our anonymity gives us the freedom to put ourselves out there in ways we don't with people we know. Hmm, paradox much? I understand the pitfalls of feeling connected to people online, but I'm not ready to dismiss it completely. Or maybe it's an example of hope springing eternal, that somewhere out there (beneath the pale moonlight) are other souls I could connect to...and I don't have to actually be in their physical presence for that to take place.

ArtWalk tomorrow. Looking forward to hitting the other side of the photography exhibit for another trip down nostalgia lane and hanging out with people I haven't seen in far too long. Time for me to renew my membership, though part of me wonders if I should. I mean, I joined last year because they were starting to charge for parking, but now that I can get it validated by eating at the cafe (and when don't I do that?), it might be better to take it on a visit by visit basis. I'll probably still reup - I want to give the museum as much support as I can.

OK, time to go continue my night of DVR overdosing with some Caprica and The Soup. Then maybe I'll catch up on Spartacus. Ah, the glamorous life...Æ

we're going to party like it's 1985

Sore. Sore. Sore. Sore. Sore. As if I needed another reminder of times approaching footsteps. First choreography rehearsal tonight. Opening number. I'm going to be lucky to be standing once it's all said and done. Though, on the good side, I picked up the moves pretty quickly and I didn't drop my partner when I did the lifts. Here's hoping I can continue that on Sunday for the next choreo rehearsal..and that my muscles have recovered by then.

I'm a bit frightened by the moves we're doing - they're all the ones I avoided in high school in my attempt to be holy. The running man. The Roger Rabbit. The snake. Scary scary scary. I think there's even a little Thriller in there. And that's only the first number. Probably a good thing my grandmother doesn't know about my blog. She'd be appalled. I'm sure the good Reverend Phineas Bresee is rolling over in his grave. Of course, my friends are probably rolling in the aisles at the thought of me dancing those moves.

Speaking of which, if you're reading this, you should make plans to come see the show. Tickets are already on sale and some of the shows are selling out quickly. May 6-9, 13-16, 19-22. Footlighters. I'll try and post info as I get it. I promise, this is going to be a fun, fun show (and not just because you get to try and see me dance).

I'm not going to make it a full half hour tonight. Muscles too tired, head to spinny, need for sleep far too strong. Plus, I need to get up early and make sure I have my wiki all set up and ready to go for class. Starting our lit circles tomorrow. Everything went well splitting the classes into groups except for my 2nd bell. 21 guys. 7 girls. And most of the guys all chose the same book. We'll see if I can balance out the groups somehow, though when I asked some of them to take their second choice, they balked. I can't really blame them - what's the point of offering choice if they're not going to get the book they really want?

That pinging sound in my head must mean it's time for sleep. Sorry for the brief post. Hopefully my usual Teacher Friday Night doesn't wipe me out. Night!

Æ

somehow the vital connection is made

A bit odd coming here right after watching this week's House. The episode focused on a blogger who shared her entire life on her blog. It dealt with many of the questions I've raised about blogging - why do I do it, who is it for, how do I decide what I write about, etc. The character on the show attempted to share everything, without editing, to break down any walls of privacy in an attempt to connect with people. But is that what it takes to connect with people, complete transparency? Does it actually help people feel closer to you? Or is there a point at which sharing everything actually keeps you from connecting with people? I don't know. I know I don't share everything here (and everyone should be overjoyed that I do not). Many, many things that happen in our lives don't need to be shared with everyone. And maybe that's the key: it's not about simply sharing, but about with whom you share what you share. I shouldn't be about connecting with everyone; it should be about finding those people with whom you connect and then opening up yourself to them. But then how do you find those people unless you first open yourself up?

This is something I often struggle with - this idea of connection. I used to joke that I felt like a Duplo block in a Lego world - kind of the same, but not exactly. The show talked about how the internet was supposed to solve this problem - with so many people online, you had a much better chance of finding someone who thought like you than if you had to rely on the people in your general vicinity. Makes sense. But simply finding people like you is much different than actually connecting with people. With social networking sites, we're more "connected" than ever. We know more about our "friends" than we used to. But I don't see it making us any more connected. We have more information about people, but I'm not sure we actual "know" them any better.

I used to believe the more you knew about a person, the better able you would be to connect with them. And to an extent, without knowledge there's no way to truly connect. But there's more involved than just knowledge for true connection. I mean, I have many friends that I know a lot about, but the amount of knowledge doesn't necessarily transfer to being more connected. There's something else involved, right? Something that allows us to connect with people we barely know? Something that separates our acquaintances from our deep friends?

But what is that thing? Is it like the ever-elusive chemistry we talk about in dating relationships - impossible to define but we know when we have it? Again, I don't know. I don't understand why I connect with some people and not others or why at some points in my life I can't seem to connect with anyone. Trying harder doesn't help and may in fact hinder. Perhaps this is one of those areas of life I'm going to have to surrender to mystery and realize there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy...

Anyway, it's obvious through this Lenten experiment that I do not have what it takes to be an actual writer, by which I mean, I lack the discipline necessary to do it well. I'm far too good at finding excuses not to write instead of making time to do it. Even when I try to get myself to write by attaching a spiritual aspect to it I can't quite do it. Would be much easier if I didn't keep my life so busy. I wear myself out, leaving little energy to do activities like writing. Watching TV is far less taxing than sitting down to gather my thoughts and when I'm exhausted, I tend to go for what is less taxing.

Of course, being exhausted doesn't seem to help me sleep any better at night. Insomnia has crept back into my life here at the beginning of the trimester, as it always seems to do. I'm sure if I was in therapy I'd be able to make the connection between the two. But right now, I'm too tired to think about it.

Things that make me wonder: my neighbors behind me currently have almost every light in their house on. This is not an unusual occurrence. And there are few times, even in the middle of the night, when I turn to look out my window and don't see at least one or two lights on. Just strange to me.

And that my friends is a sign I should stop typing. Probably won't get to blogging until late tomorrow - school, then film club (The Fisher King) then my first choreography rehearsal for The Wedding Singer. I'm exhausted and I haven't even started yet. Better get some sleep tonight (I hope, I hope, I hope). Æ

not enough hours in the day

11:22 and I have to get up in six hours so there will be very little writing here today. Thought about blowing it off all together but decided I should say something at least. Highlights of the last day or so?

• The Wedding Singer music is written for men with a much better range than me and less testosterone.
• Sleeping in will not work for me as I can't handle dealing with the traffic around the school every morning.
• My classes were quiet today - almost too quiet. Makes me nervous.
• I got a haircut but you can't tell.
• I need good ideas for good bar songs for my band to play.

OK, I'm slacking off and going to bed. Hopefully I won't run out of hours again tomorrow. Night. Æ

they're going to regret this in five years

Monday. Time for recovery from the weekend. Time for new starts. Time for me to try and do this blogging thing some other time than right before I'm going to bed.

Some leftover items from the weekend first. I went Saturday to see Burton's Alice in Wonderland. It was a Burton film - pretty to look at, but the story left me less than engaged. How less? I dozed off for a while somewhere in the middle and don't feel I missed too much. It's definitely pretty to look at and I didn't mind the grown-up Alice aspect, but it didn't wow me, which is what I was hoping for. Everything was adequate, which for a Burton film, was a bit underwhelming.

I also got the chance to catch Pomegranates for their vinyl release party - unlike last weekend when I got shut out of the Pop Empire show, there was plenty of space this time. Almost too much space. I was surprised at how few people there were. I also didn't see many of the regular crowd I've grown accustomed to seeing at the shows. The show was a bit bittersweet because it marked Josh's last gig with the band. No explanation on what happened, which I guess I understand, though it does fuel questions and rumors on why he's leaving. Was he asked to go? Did he decide to go? Did he find another band? Did they like the new guy better? I have no idea. Speaking of the new guy (who they didn't introduce at all, which also seemed strange), all I can say at this point is he's tall. Decent guitar player, didn't change the sound or feel of the band, which is probably what they're going for. He didn't play the song I was most curious about, "Coriander," because they saved that for Josh. Guess we'll find out at upcoming gigs. Talking with Isaac after the show, it sounds like they'll be plenty busy soon - SXSW this week then returning home and working on some new material. Yeah for new material.

Oh yeah, and I picked up their limited edition vinyl. Very pretty. And lyrics! Score!

Yesterday was the first read through for The Wedding Singer. A little nerve wracking, considering it was a new company (Footlighters) and pretty much a whole new group of people to work with (I only know the director and two of the cast members and they're both principals I'll probably not share many scenes with). And the cast is young. Way young. Other than the grandmother role, I think I'm the only one who actually remembers 1985. And I'm guessing some of them weren't even born then. But it looks to be a fun cast and a fun show. In fact, that's going to be the operative word for this show: fun. Much like the movie, it's not great theater or great depth, but the audience will walk out having had a great time. Tonight's our first singing rehearsal (nothing like jumping right from one show into another) so we'll see how it goes. As an ensemble member I've been assigned a couple of roles (the priest at Robbie's wedding, a bum who sings one of my favorite songs from the show). Can't wait to get started.

Added bonus: no Tuesday night rehearsals which means I don't have to figure out what to do with Entertaining Lucy. Excellent.

Went to Tracy and Kristy's Oscar party last night. Had a fantastic time hanging out with everyone and watching it on a HUGE screen with an amazing sound system. The show was pretty much what I expected - Steve and Alec were funny, NPH was incredible, Tina Fey and Robert Downey Jr. were hilarious. But the awards themselves left little drama. Warning: rant ahead. As for The Hurt Locker winning best picture...this only confirms my opinion that the Oscars are all about money and hype. I know many people loved The Hurt Locker and were glad to see Bigelow win over Cameron (which, I admit, did make me happy). But I'll say this now: if The Hurt Locker had been made by a man, it would not have been nominated for an Oscar and never would have won. It's like people were amazed an action picture was directed by a woman so they rewarded the oddity more than the film itself. Why this one more than any of the other action films she's done? I have no idea. Look, it's not a horrible movie (like Crash was), but I think five, ten years from now, people will look back and say, "Really? We said this was the best picture? Really?"

Same with Sandra Bullock's win. She's cute and fun and fine for the roles she typically plays. But best actress? I sat there watching the clips before they announced the winner and EVERY other actress did a better job in their movie than she did. If I'd been judging just by the clips, I would have been flabbergasted that she'd won. I did not see the movie (and don't plan on seeing the movie) but I didn't see anything in any of the clips that would have made me think, "Wow, she really put on the performance of a lifetime."

I may be done with Oscar. They rarely reward the performances or the films I think were truly outstanding and I end up feeling exhausted and disappointed every year. And despite promises, the show was as horrible as year's past (for the love of all that is holy, stop doing interpretive dances!) And I also feel completely out of touch with everyone. If they would only take my suggestion and award Oscars five years after the films release then I might find them actually worthy. It takes at least that long to realize which films have staying power and which ones were all about they hype. Of course, you could say that about any awards given - books, music, etc.

I think I'm expecting too much of my awards shows.

Lots of good comments on my post pornstache look. I'd originally intended to grow the beard right back, but maybe I'll go about barefaced for a while. The only problem is I have to get a new driver's license this month and it might be weird to be be without facial hair for that since I have some kind of facial hair the majority of the time. We'll see how I feel after a week or so.

Today was teacher work day and I feel remarkably prepared for tomorrow's onslaught of new students, which of course makes me nervous I'm forgetting something. But at least I'll have first bell plan to make sure every thing is in order. I may even experiment with getting up later, say 6:00 AM instead of 5:00 AM. I didn't do that first tri because I knew I'd have to break the habit once 2nd tri started. But I have no such worries now. I even got a decent lunch, so I teach two bells, have lunch and then teach two more bells. Couldn't ask for a better schedule (well, I could ask for 4th bell plan, but that's not going to happen). Here's to the final trimester - I hope it all goes well.

OK, time to grab some dinner before heading down for rehearsal. Very excited to get started.

Æ

mea culpa

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two days since my last entry. I've been too busy and I humbly repent. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.

You would think if I've been too busy to blog I'd have plenty to write about. But busy-ness does not equal interesting. But we'll give it my best shot.

2nd trimester is nearly over - teacher work day tomorrow than a whole new batch of students on Tuesday. I get four days with them before the week-long extravaganza that is the Ohio Graduation Test. Joy. So I'll only see them every other day and they'll be OGT zombies so the odds of learning anything are slim to none. Then I get a full week with them and then the week before spring break we have our rescheduled black history month speaker on Monday, altered schedule Tuesday, primetime Wednesday and pep assembly on Thursday with Good Friday starting our spring break. So yeah, planning should be interesting. I have some of it ready - in fact, I'm much farther along than I normally am at this point. Had almost all my exams graded before lunch on Friday - only a handful of IEP tests that haven't been returned by their support educators to mark up on Monday. Don't think I'll have any students scrambling on Monday to turn in late work - as usual, most students grades didn't change with the final, either up or down.

Lots of endings this week - end of the trimester, end of Beyond Therapy, end of my facial hair (sorry, I couldn't keep the porn 'stache any longer). But some beginnings too - heading down to Newport this afternoon for my first meet and greet with the cast from The Wedding Singer. I'm excited and a bit nervous - pretty sure I'm the oldest person in the cast. Probably only one who was actually alive during the 80s. This is the first musical I've ever done where I know nothing about the show going in - everything else I've at least had a vague idea. Not this time. Should make life interesting. At the very least today, I'll find out how much of my schedule is swallowed up by rehearsals. Hopefully not too much or at least nothing that will cause drastic changes in my current calendar.

Strike is this morning, so can't make it to the monthly gathering at St. E's. And no Thinplace tonight. Sometimes it feels like I gave up church for Lent. Took a little time this morning to read the Lectionary passages. We've got Moses and the burning bush, a warning lest we be struck down like the Israelites and Jesus saying, basically, not everything happens for a reason and we've got a year to bear fruit or else we'll be cut down. So glad I don't have to preach today. I may have to go searching for sermons today - would love to see what different people focused on. Makes me think of the Otherness of God - His holiness compared to us and how wholly different He is than us. Much easier when we feel we have a grasp on who He is, can understand why He does and allows some things to happen. It makes sense if people are punished for sins - we may not like it, but we get it. But for bad things, like the killing of the Galileans or the accident with the tower, to happen to people no different than us for no apparent reason - it makes no sense. There's always the hope that once we're not stuck in the middle of this thing called Life, we'll have perspective and be able to make sense of it all. But maybe not. Maybe we'll never make sense of it. Maybe we'll reach a point where we simply don't care anymore because it's not important.

Like I said, glad I'm not preaching today.

Abrupt change of topic: got my taxes back from my friend Gary yesterday. Was very excited when I saw my federal and state returns - more than enough to get a decent flat-screen TV if I so desire (and I do, oh I do). But then I looked at my city tax and it said I owed nearly half of my federal return. At first I was furious - leave it to Norwood to find a way to screw me. But as I looked at it closer, it seemed there had been some confusion - the form filled out was for Northwood, Ohio not Norwood. So what I'm hoping is the total was off and I'll only end up owing Norwood my usual amount, which is still annoying, but better than almost five times my usual amount.

OK, time to get ready to head down for strike. A little more prep time today with the shaving of the 'stache. Going to be awfully breezy. Been a while since I've been barefaced though I don't anticipate it lasting too long. Maybe not even a week. Faretheewell. Æ

it's 1:30 AM

and I'm going to bed. Sorry. Not taking the time tonight to do a post. Will pick it up tomorrow when I'm more awake. But I survived the last day of the trimester, am done with grading (except for a handful of IEP exams that didn't get to me yet), performed in Beyond Therapy's penultimate show, picked up some wicked cool Pomegranates vinyl and watched a bittersweet concert. But bed is calling and I'm going to try to heed her call and hope she welcomes me with open arms (but not in a Steve Perry/Journey kind of way).

Night.

Æ

the day after

Don't worry. I won't torture you any more with long, third-person accounts. Not today anyway. I will give this brief epilogue to last night's...whatever it was. Warning: not for the weak of stomach.

Exhausted from battling with his demons, Thurman went to bed before 10:00, a rare event indeed. It didn't last long, however. Just before midnight, his stomach gently tugged on his consciousness like a small child needing to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He made his way to the medicine cabinet and popped a handful of antacid before trying to settle down and go back to sleep. After about an hour, he decided the antacid wasn't helping, so he got back up to head downstairs to get a little 7-Up to hopefully settle his stomach. But as he stood up, he coughed, which caused whatever was upsetting his stomach to come flying out of his mouth, all over his hand, his hardwood floor and the dirty clothes lying there. He spent the next half an hour cleaning up the mess and throwing the clothes into the washing machine. By this time, his adrenaline refused to allow him to fall back asleep, so he finished Pride and Prejudice and Zombies before finally drifting off to sleep around 2:30AM.

Contrary to what I wrote yesterday, that was the perfect ending to the perfect day.

Today was better - I at least was able to keep the thoughts at bay, which was somewhat remarkable given my lack of sleep. Probably helped that I felt like I was underwater most of the day - everything seemed distant and swirling. Thanks to those who sent along words of encouragement - they are always appreciated, though please don't get the idea I was fishing for such. I really do write to make sense of my life, not as a passive-aggressive way of getting compliments. At least, I don't think I do. Who knows what my unconscious is doing?

Anyway...exams are half over. Two more tomorrow, during which I hope to grade the essays from today's exams. If all goes well, I should have all the grades done before I leave tomorrow afternoon. I might even have them done before lunch. I am not used to this. I feel like I'm doing something wrong, that I'm forgetting something if I'm this far ahead. Maybe if I ignore it, it won't all come crashing down on top of my head. I'm even mostly ready for the beginning of the trimester next week. I better stop talking now before I jinx it.

Met with Greg and Nathan again today for lunch at the Chinese buffet (probably not the wisest of choices given my recent stomach issues, but other than feeling too queasy to eat dinner, I'm doing OK). We talked about movies and the upcoming Oscars. I even filled out a ballot, though I went with what I wanted to win, not what I thought would win. So what did I put? Here are the highlights:

Best Picture - Inglourious Basterds

Best Director - Quentin Tarantino

Best Actor - Jeff Bridges

Best Actress - Meryl Streep

Best Original Screenplay - Inglourious Basterds

Best Adapted Screenplay - Up in the Air (though I almost put In the Loop)

I get the feeling I'm going to be very, very disappointed on Sunday night.

Which reminds me, I need to make sure I tape the Independent Spirit Awards this weekend. Much better options.

Tomorrow night begins the final weekend of Beyond Therapy. It is also the Pomegranates vinyl release party at Southgate. Hopefully it doesn't sell out before I get there this time. Don't think there's much of a chance for that since it's in the ballroom, but it's been that kind of week.

Time to go watch The Office birth.

Æ

one of those days

DISCLAIMER: The following is the author's attempt to make sense of the day he has had. It is not to be taken too seriously, or too lightly for that matter. But the day perplexes, and writing, hopefully, will help to sort out the tangles. Hopefully. Also, please note: it is officially Talk in Third Person Day (3/3).

Thurman awoke to the jarring sound of his cell phone's death rattle shaking him from somewhere this side of actual rest. Unlike previous mornings, when he had horribly abused his snooze button, Thurman jumped immediately from bed. He knew he had promises to keep and miles to go before...well, you know.

Prep and travel to school was uneventful, if a bit out of the ordinary - a quick stop at Speedway for some caffeine, then on to Kroger to reward a class for a competition won months ago, finally stopping at the dreaded Arches for a sandwich and a yogurt parfait. Thurman still pulled into the parking lot before 6AM and was busy grading journals and furiously late homework assignments as students entered the building. He felt accomplished, knowing his day required little more than asking for final questions and hitting play for the Mockingbird DVD.

On days like this, it's hard to pinpoint the exact moment when it all starts to spiral out of control. Perhaps when his class refused to shut the fuck up while the movie was playing. Perhaps while watching Tom Robinson wrongfully declared guilty for the nine-hundred and ninety-ninth time. Perhaps while grading reflections lacking any kind of depth or intellectual rigor. Or perhaps it was the cumulation of a thousand little things, each stealing a little bit of his soul away.

By lunch time, the darkness had taken hold. Thurman's humor took on an edge - a short jab here, a snide remark there. Luckily he was done with students for the day and the only person who might have noticed was his partner in lunch-time crime, Andy. Did he sense the change? Could he tell his friend was preparing to step off into the abyss? Could anyone?

Thurman returned to his room after lunch, photocopied his final and dove head first into the pile of journals still waiting for his red pen of doom. No joy filled his heart as he read his student's words and made comments on their thoughts. Only a desire to be done with it all and go home. But no, that wasn't going to happen any time soon. First he had to go discuss the dreaded summer reading assignment with his fellow sophomore cogs in the wheel. Thurman hated summer reading, thought it a waste of time for everyone involved. The email pointing out its benefits and its importance only increased his hatred for it. And then, after beating his head against that wall, he had to stay so a student could take her exam early because of a soccer tournament in Tennessee.

A thousand little things.

He didn't hear the final bell ring, only saw the hallways flood with students and knew it was time to go. He finished the last of bell two's journals, printed off the hated email and made his way to his friend Kurt's room. He talked with Kurt about the open department head position, saying he would vote for him in a second, especially if it meant keeping other people out. He even joked that honestly, anyone who wants to be the department head should be automatically disqualified, following Douglas Adams's logic on those seeking power.* It was then that Kurt mentioned he'd already talked to Jenny about applying to be department head.

Another bit of soul.

Luckily Thurman's embarrassment didn't last long as the rest of his comrades came in. They allayed his fears that they would have to revamp their entire assignment to fit within the confines of the email, so they moved on to other issues, namely how lit circles had gone this trimester. He expressed his frustrations with using the Wikispace and with the activities in general and told of his plans to revamp what he'd done to make it more student and teacher friendly. Then he heard how the unit had gone in other classes. Amazing. The students loved it. The work they turned in was reflective and accomplished. The grading was a snap. One of the best parts of the trimester.

Thurman's head began to buzz. Conversation continued, but he checked out, not wanting to be reminded of his incompetency, his lack of proper planning skills, his worthlessness as a teacher. Everyone was laughing, discussing classes and students, but he sat there hiding behind a benign smile, wanting to leave but afraid to miss something important. Eventually the clock helped move him from his indecisiveness: his student was waiting to take her exam. He excused himself, found said student and walked with her back to his room. While she bubbled and scribbled on the scantron, Thurman tried to shake the all-too-familiar feeling bubbling up inside him.

On days like this, logic goes out for a drive and it never comes back. No amount of mental gymnastics will stop the barrage of negative thoughts. You're the worst teacher ever to collect a paycheck. Your students would be better off with a trained monkey passing out worksheets. You are emotionally incapable of being in any kind of relationship, not that anyone would want to be in a relationship with someone so physically unattractive. You have 40 more years left on a life filled with loneliness and destined for worthlessness (25 years if you're lucky). You could disappear from the face of the earth and no one would even notice...or care.

On days like this, thinking positive thoughts is impossible. Most days you can ignore the temptation to compare yourself to everyone else around you. Not today. There's always an "er" standing by to crush your soul. There's always someone better, smarter, funnier, cuter, richer, happier, sexier, kinder, friendlier, braver. More successful, more attractive, more confident, more desirable, each thought stepping on the heels of the one before it, stampeding through your brain until all you can think to do is find some way to remove your brain from your head, preferably with a heavy metal object and an explosion.

These were the thoughts torturing Thurman as he drove in silence toward his house. He'd felt this way before and he knew from experience these weren't the kind of thoughts to simply go away. He couldn't fill his head with happy thoughts because, well, he couldn't think of any. He tried to bury his thoughts in escapist television, but only succeeded in making the world seem sadder. Even a trip to his favorite Mexican restaurant couldn't cheer him up. He ended up feeling bloated and even uglier than he had before. To make matters worse, a five-minute sneezing fit assailed him on the drive home, only to be topped when he stopped at Kroger for a sugar fix and stepped in some poor child's pastel-colored vomit in the Easter candy aisle. The perfect ending to the perfect day.

Not wanting to be around people anymore, Thurman made his way home and did the only thing he thought might save him from his scorching case of ennui: he flipped on the computer screen, laid the keyboard in his lap, and typed and typed and typed into the night...Æ

*"It is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it... anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job."

obsessions

10:08 PM and I most desperately want to be doing something else, but know I need to do this first. So we'll throw some words against the screen, see which ones stick, and then go do what I want to do. It will make it that much sweeter, right? I hope so.

For the uninitiated: I have a bit of a thing for Lauren Graham. I think I've gone as far as to call her my future wife, though since that sounds a bit on the stalkerish side, I've taken to referring to her as my Alternate Universe Wife ('cause, you know, that's far less creepy). When people ask me what I'm looking for in a woman, hers is the first picture that comes to mind. Of course, I've never actually met her (though I tried my darndest to last spring break) and from the hearsay of friends, I hear she's not nearly as interesting in real life as she is on the screen. But hey, it's my obsession (I prefer the word fascination) and I get to make up the rules. Honestly, I'm more interested in Lorelei Gilmore than Lauren Graham, but that could change I suppose. We'll see what Parenthood is like tonight. I know I'm dooming it to an early death by watching it, but I'm willing to take my chances. Here's hoping it works out.

What is it about her that I like? Physically, she has the characteristics I like - not waiflike, dark hair, eyes to get lost in. But it's more the intelligence she projects. Now that may simply be her character(s), but the ability to drop pop culture references and connect every day events to obscure facts is a turn on. Blame the geek in me. You know that Friends episode where they make up their "freebie" list? Yeah, she'd be at the top for me.

OK, before we permanently move into the creeper zone...

Finished the basic recording for our demo tonight at band rehearsal. We laid down Bon Jovi's "Dead or Alive." Ironically, it's Jon Bon Jovi's birthday today. Appropriate, no? Thus ends my first recording experience. I have to say, not nearly as much fun as I thought it might be. Lots of sitting around while others record their parts. And playing along with headphones isn't nearly as much fun as practicing with the band. But it's a necessity if we want to play anywhere outside of John's basement. Be glad to get back to normal rehearsals next week and begin putting together a set. Been trying to think of songs we could play but there's a big difference between songs I want to play and songs our audiences would enjoy. I think you can find a balance, but if we want to play out, we need to think of audience first, our own tastes second. Feel free to offer suggestions if you have any.

Last teaching day tomorrow - not that I'm doing much teaching. We're watching To Kill a Mockingbird, looking for differences between it and the book. Also serves as a bit of a review for the book while giving me a chance to make sure I have all their grading done, though I rarely get as much done as I'd hoped. Too many distractions during the school day. I'm always a bit frustrated because I figure this would be something they would enjoy. But they tend to get distracted during the film. Guess I overestimate the attention spans of high schoolers. You'd think I'd get this by now.

Dangit - just remembered I'm supposed to bring in some snack/reward for one of my classes tomorrow. Was going to stop on the way home but, well, I forgot. Could run out now, but will probably wait until tomorrow morning on the way to school. No snooze for me tomorrow.

Walter Bruggemann is doing a special Lenten series at Redeemer on Wednesday nights during Lent (duh). Debating on whether I want to go over and listen or not. His book The Prophetic Imagination was significant during my seminary days. I guess he lives here in Cincinnati somewhere which for whatever reason seems odd to me. Of course, tomorrow might be my only chance to go depending on what the rehearsal schedule for The Wedding Singer is like. Will find that out on Sunday. Will probably keep the 'stache through the meet and greet, see if it's something that will fit in the show. Will not be keeping it until May, however; I know if I get creeped out looking at myself in the mirror, it must be worse for others. Excited to get started, though it will steal lots of my time here soon.

Wow. That's a horribly constructed paragraph. And how does one move from Walter Bruggemann to The Wedding Singer? It's a gift. Or a curse. Take your pick.

Five minutes before I can go watch Lauren again. *sigh*

I watched Oprah today. I'm not proud of the fact, but Roger Ebert was on and after reading the Esquire piece, I was curious to see what he had to "say." The voice technology using his actual voice was fascinating. I cannot imagine going through what he's going through, much less having such a positive outlook on life. Though I have to say, I hope his Oscar predictions don't come true. Sandra Bullock, best actress? The Hurt Locker best picture? I really think I'm going to hate the Oscars this year, no matter who wins. Not that this is anything new. I so rarely agree with the Academy any more. I'm not even excited about the screen writing awards this year, which is normally where I find my favorite films.

OK, time to turn on my DVR and watch Parenthood and hope it turns out well (and no, it didn't take me five minutes to write the above paragraph. I had a whole other paragraph started and then decided I wanted to talk about Ebert). Æ

the lull

Monday night. No rehearsal. And, oddly enough, considering exams are only three days away, no grading. Finished everything they'd turned in today. Will have to start grading their journals tomorrow, but for now, I'm all caught up. Must say, quite a pleasant feeling.

Went on an adventure tonight for dinner. For months friends have been raving about Terry's Turf Club, known for their burgers. I was feeling like a burger, and nothing else was pressing, so I did a quick Google search, got directions and headed down. After missing the initial exit (why must I always get lost on Linwood Avenue?), I made my way. Nice eclectic outside - good match for what was inside. I sat at the bar since I was alone and the bartender was friendly and helpful. I looked at the (very) simple menu and decided to keep it simple with my order - a burger with American cheese, lettuce, tomato and grilled onions, a half order of fries and a Sprite. The verdict: definitely has potential, but I think I might have to change my order next time. I forgot to tell them (they forgot to ask) how I wanted it cooked and so I got what appeared to be a medium rare to really rare burger. Much of it looked barely cooked. Also, I'll forgo the onions next time. The taste was great, but the burger wouldn't stay on the bun. First bite sent it flying out the back. Not good. Plus the onions made it a messy, messy, messy meal. Killed at least one tree's worth of napkins. And $11.50 seemed a bit steep for what I got (especially the $2 for a can of Sprite). I'm not willing to declare it a total loss - will try at least once more. Kind of like Five Guys - I think I was overdone by the hype.

Been pondering Saturday's ArtWalk some more. We talked at lunch how our image of the 70s is "ugly." Hard to get away from that image looking at the photos. Some of it is the color processing of the time - the colors seem a little off. But definitely of the period. But even the subject matter chosen painted a picture of a time that seemed to have little beauty. Maybe that's my own biases coming in to play. I mean, how could an entire decade be ugly. But honestly, even looking at what these artist chose as beautiful, I couldn't help but thinking how...well, ugly everything was. I really can't make sense of it. Is it the fashion of the time? The design? What is it about that decade that will always look a little dull and yellowed?

And again I'm lost on the surface of things, judging based on the superficial, not on what lies underneath. But isn't that what makes good photography so compelling - it's ability to capture something beyond just its subject matter? That's what draws me to a good photo - that what is found within the frame is much more than the sum of its composition and subject matter. Sometimes I feel guilty for liking photography so much. I mean, photos are everywhere in our world. Heck, I take them myself. But it's the ones I know I could never do myself that I find most impressive. I think that's the crux of my art appreciation - it needs to look like something I couldn't do. Which is probably why I'm not drawn so much to modern art - I feel like I could do what they've done. But with some photographers, I realize that though we use similar tools, there is an art to what they do that I will never be able to match. So maybe I should embrace my love of photography and finally put my pieces up on my wall.

Whoa Thurm. Don't want to get too crazy.

Crap, just remembered I was in the middle of doing laundry. Completely zoned. For some reason, my whites always get the short end of the stick. I usually do them last and by the time they're ready to come out of the dryer, I've already used up all my laundry energy, so they sit there. Then they end up wrinkled, so I have to take a wet towel and throw it into the dryer and redry them. Hopefully they're done and the clothes I washed aren't all wrinkled, or I'll have to start all over. I know. Stupid. It's amazing I've survived on my own this long.

Still haven't hit my Lenten groove yet. The silence in the morning and afternoon are good, but I find it difficult to focus. I'm hoping once next week begins and I have 1st bell plan, then it might be a bit of a richer experience. Hope springs eternal.

Currently listening to The Stone Roses. Their self-titled first album is one of my "perfect" records. Picked up their album of B-sides off eMusic this month. Great stuff. So sad they crashed and burned so brightly with their second album. Not sure how the wheels could come off so quickly, but it's not an unusual story. So much potential unrealized. And crappy bands put out album after album. Sad.

Funny: last night I went out to The Comet with my friend Colin to catch the Comet Bluegrass Allstars. Great, great show. I tweeted "If my high school self knew I spent my Sunday night listening to bluegrass, he'd probably fling himself off something tall." I realized last night that bluegrass is the opposite of American Idol. The focus is on the music and the talent, not the show. They play their own instruments. They sing without the help of studio tricks. It's everything music should be and in this day and age so rarely is. My tastes have broadened quite a bit since those heady high school days, but one thing has remained true - I've always been drawn to artists with passion, who cared more about the music than about the scene or making a ton of money. Not that some of them haven't been popular or made money (U2 anyone?), but it's not what keeps them going.

OK, enough for tonight. Must go get the laundry before I have to dry my whites a 3rd time.

Æ

2nd Intermission

In the middle of watching the USA vs Canada gold medal hockey game. USA is losing 2-1. They haven't trailed the entire Olympics until I decided to watch. Coincidence? I think not.

Been a relaxing day. Spent the morning at Redeemer. Decided to go old school instead of taking in the more contemporary service. Stepped into the other service, but felt like I was in the halls at Mason High, so figured I should go hang out with the adults. The sermon was on Jesus's lament over Jerusalem and how little we as a church and particularly a society don't lament. We cut the laments from our liturgy. We mask our funerals as celebrations of the life. But we need to no that lamenting is part of life. Two related quotes stood out to me. First, we cannot begin again until we weep first (or something like that - I didn't take notes). Too often we try to move on without taking time to experience the loss. The last quote ended the sermon: lamenting isn't a death rattle; it's a birth cry. How would our lives change if we took the time to lament - to feel sadness over the loss of life in an earthquake, the ending of relationships, the opportunities missed. Not to dwell on them and get lost in the sadness we feel (which is what I'm too often guilty of doing) but so our hearts don't become hardened to the suffering around us.

Lunch was spent at City Barbeque enjoying some brisket (and chocolate cake) and grading reading reflections. Hard to believe the trimester ends on Friday. I've got my exam set (which I need to remember to send off to my support educators tomorrow), but still have lots of grading to get through, namely the journals they've been keeping all trimester. Wish I was disciplined enough to grade more than once during the trimester but I haven't done that. Time consuming more than anything else. Not sure if the students have understood Mockingbird or not - actually had one student say his favorite thing about the chapters was when Tom Robinson was found not guilty. Oy to the vey!

Game has restarted, but I still have about 15 minutes left of typing. But I figured I'd better get this done now since I might not feel like it tonight. Am heading to The Comet for the first time in a long time - no Thinplace, so I'm meeting Colin for some burritos and bluegrass. Haven't seen Colin since the past summer - looking forward to catching up, seeing how his time at the friary is going. Hopefully we'll actually have the time to talk - and it isn't too crowded, though I'm guessing that's wishful thinking on my part. Probably won't stay the whole time - I do have to be up early in the morning - but wanted the freedom to stay if I need to.

Last night I actually was home in time to type some more, but decided to watch A Serious Man instead. Tried to get into the Pop Empire gig, but it was sold out. Never had that happen before. Too bad I didn't know that before I walked all the way down. Wishing the movie was better. I like the Cohen Brothers, but couldn't get into this one. Like with many of the Oscar pics this year, I can appreciate the performances, but the movies as a whole have been underwhelming. Can 't say I really have one I'm rooting for. Of the ones with the best chance to win, I'm pulling for Inglorius Basterds. Get the feeling I'll be disappointed no matter what happens. Like I said, none of them seem worthy. I've listened to the arguments for The Hurt Locker, but I still don't get all the hype. Obviously I missed something. And don't get me started on Avatar. An enjoyable film? Yes. Best picture? No way.

OK, the game is getting too intense to try and type at the same time. Here's hoping Team USA is able to overcome my curse. If not, my apologies Team USA. Æ

i don't have 30 minutes

Due to lack of planning, I'm not going to be able to spend a full thirty minutes typing here, not if I want to be ready in time to go on at 8:00 tonight. Still have to shower, make sure I have everything I need and, if there's time, grab something to eat. I could come home after the show, but had planned on walking down to the Southgate House to catch the Pop Empire show. We'll see how I feel after I'm done playing Bob.

ArtWalk was great today. Great group of people, great exhibits, great discussion afterwards. Definitely needed it. In the time I have left, I'm going to transcribe the thoughts I scribbled down while I was there. The lectionary passage for the day was Mark 2:23-3:-6, which is where the opening thoughts come from. I spent all my time in half of the new photography exhibit, Starburst, a retrospective of '70s color photos. I've had some other thoughts since then, especially after our discussion, which I'll post whenever I make it home. Or tomorrow.

_____________________

Lawful. What does that mean? Full of law? Fitting within prescribed boundaries? Black/White. Right/Wrong. The Pharisees were all bout the law. And loved to point out when others weren't following the rule of law. they used it as a weapon, to discredit those they disagreed with. They, to use a cliche, weren't interested in the spirit of the law, why the law was there in the first place. Their interest was in the letter of the law, in adhering to whatever the law says. Even if that meant the death of another.

Enter Jesus and His disciples, breaking the law, doing what is not lawful. And the Pharisees jump to point it out. How dare you break the law! And you call yourself a teacher, a leader. Look how you lead others astray! Jesus doesn't argue with them, doesn't say, well, it should be legal. He points to what lies behind the law.

This isn't a casual dismissal of all law, a call to anarchy and licentiousness, to only abide by those laws you feel are important. It is a call to look beyond the surface of the law, to see the depth behind it, the story it points to. Not nearly as simple as following the rules, but closer to what the Maker of Rules had in mind.

______________________________

When I was young, my parents kept most of our photos, not in an album, but in a large, topless box under their bed. Sometimes I would sneak in and pull the box out, go through the pictures, looking at these moments captured in time. My parent's honeymoon. Christmases past. Family reunions.

Walking through this exhibit is like crawling under someone else's bed, looking at their captured moments. But these are devoid of the connections and associations we have with our own pictures. We're free to create stories that may or may not have anything to do with the actual capture moment. Isn't that the dream? To write the story behind our own moments, or to rewrite the ones that already exist? To be in control of what the pictures show? Or at the very least, to be freed from the confines of what has already happened?

Æ

forty-two hours later

SO, obviously didn't make it back last night. Could have, but since I'd already written in the morning, I didn't feel the burning desire to jump right back in last night. Plus, you know, I had lots of important things to do. Please, don't ask me what they were.

My opening night as Bob went remarkably well. Crowd seemed to really enjoy it. As I say, never underestimate the power of a man on stage sporting a porn 'stache. Way nervous before going on stage - that hasn't happened in quite a while. But the adrenaline rush helped, as did the good reaction from the audience. Only went up on a couple of lines, and nothing too horrible. Gives me a little confidence going into tomorrow, which, strangely enough, is my closing night as Bob. Fun. Hope it goes as well.

This afternoon after school I came home to take a nap before the show, but couldn't seem to drop off. And then, once I did, my dreams were way whack. Somehow I was out visiting friends and when I returned home, my house had burned to the ground, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins. Without a beat, I went to my parent's house and crashed for the night. When I woke up, I told them the news, but they didn't believe me. And I was like, "Why else would I be sleeping on your couch?" So we walked over to where my house used to be so I could prove to them it had burned down. But somehow we didn't make it there - we ended up at my old neighbor's house and they invited us in. And when I got inside, a bunch of VC people were sitting around a large table and as I walked by, they all got up and left. I tried to say hi to a couple of them, but they averted their eyes and darted for the door, leaving me standing alone, wondering what just happened. And that's when my phone's alarm went off.

All right, all you armchair psychoanalysts. Have at it.

Don't you hate when you rant and rave about something, just because it doesn't go the way you hope it would, then realize it's not nearly as bad as you made it out to be and really, you simply need to get over yourself? Yeah, that happened to me this week. One of the joys of teaching sophomores is preparing them to take the beloved Ohio Graduation Test. Much of our curriculum is designed to help them succeed and Mason's done well with it. In years past, the culmination of this was proctoring the actual test in the spring. Well, this year they changed things up and for the first time since I started teaching, I'm not proctoring the test. Instead I was stuck doing the freshman activities, which basically means babysitting for three hours simply because they don't want to run buses to pick up only the freshmen. Really hacked me off. I mean, I'd invested all this time and now I wasn't going to get to see it through until the end. It's like being a basketball coach and getting them all the way to the state championship, but not being allowed to the final game. So I vented to some friends. Most kindly listened and tried to empathize, but I felt they didn't get it. Anyway, today we had our meeting to go over our responsibilities and while I was sitting there listening to the activities they had planned, I realized I wasn't angry because I wasn't going to be there to help my students take the test. I was angry because I liked having the time during proctoring to get stuff done and I wasn't going to have that this year. I mean, the activities should be right in my wheelhouse - it's exactly the same kind of stuff I used to do as a youth pastor. So this is me, apologizing for my bad attitude and actually looking forward to getting to hang out with students outside of class, which are some of my favorite times anyway.

Tomorrow is ArtWalk, which means I should have plenty to type about. Missed the one earlier this month, so this will be my chance to see the new photography exhibit that's there. Be good to be back in our "church" again. Could be only Rob and I again, though that's fine with me. Lots of good discussion to be had, no matter how many show up. Here's hoping the museum isn't overrun by rugrats like it's been the last couple of times. Have to make sure my iPod is charged up and ready to go, just in case.

Speaking of which, trying to decide what to use my eMusic credits on this month. Pretty sure I'll download the new Los Campesinos! and probably Turns Into Stone by The Stone Roses. They've also got a two CD greatest hits of Emmylou Harris for only 12 credits which I should pick up - amazingly enough, I think I only have a couple of the songs on the collection. Still worth it. Glad I splurged and bought the 50 extra credits last month - gives me a little more freedom. Love me some new music.

Lent is strange once again this year. The fasting part is going well (though I did get honked at on the way home the other day - must've been dosing off and fading into the other lane). But I find myself missing having a weekly gathering to go to. I love Thinplace and the chance I get to experience God there, but I miss the liturgy of a larger gathering. Might have to see about going back to Church of the Redeemer Sunday. Need to get my Eucharist on again.

OK, time to head to bed. ArtWalk isn't until 11:15, so I get to sleep in. Ahhhhh. Here's hoping I can actually do it and not wake up at 5AM as usual. Until tomorrow...

Æ