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

two hour delay

At least this time I found out about it before I was already at school. Up, showered and mostly dressed by the time I got the call. Happy for the extra time this morning, though again, it wreaks havoc on my lesson plans. Trimester ends in a week. Guess we'll see which students are reading the book instead of relying on class discussion to get the idea of what is going on.

Anyway, figured I'd steal 30 minutes here at the beginning of the day, see if my writing comes any easier. Not that it will matter, really - no way am I going to get up at 4:30AM so I can write. Which begs the question, if I'm not, does that mean I'm not a writer? A writer has to write, no matter what; will sacrifice anything, even sleep, to do so. I am so not that guy.

Funny moment: last night, while taking out the garbage, a bit of red and white caught my eye, just off my front porch. On my way back inside I stopped and picked it up. It was a Netflix envelope. Seems my attempt to mail it out failed because it fell out of the mailbox and then got buried under the snow and only now reemerged. Lovely. Surprised the mailman didn't notice it before, but I suppose he has other things to occupy his mind. Will drop it in the mailbox at the post office, which, after the first debacle, I've been doing with all my returns. Guess I should have checked when it first went missing.

Speaking of movies, today's our first film club meeting of 2010. Should clarify that - first meeting with (keeping my fingers crossed) actual students. We'll see who, if anyone, shows up. We're going to try watching (500) Days of Summer...again. Third time's a charm, right? We'll see. In other movie related news, our local Hollywood Video is going out of business, so I stopped by and took advantage of their misfortune. Picked up three DVDs for $20: It Happened One Night, Henry V and Playing By Heart. Probably a good thing I didn't have more money - could have been quite an expensive day.

Tonight's my dress rehearsal for playing Bob in Beyond Therapy. Have to admit, I'm feeling a bit of pressure. Dave's been doing such a great job as Bob and I have the fear there's going to be a bit of a letdown. I know, I know, must have confidence and it will be fine once I get there. Comparison kills, but hard not to do so in this situation.

Hmmm...time doesn't seem to pass so swiftly here in the morning. This isn't so good.

I almost jumped into the fray on a friend's Facebook post. He claims being a moderate (or "moderate" as he puts it since he doesn't believe they exist) and being a Christian is impossible and to prove his point, posted the following:

For all my "moderate" friends out there who think the "middle road" is the right path... "So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth." Revelation 3:16 New International Version

*sigh* So why did I only almost jump into the fray? Because everyone else saw the post first and said mostly everything I would have said anyway. My friend Mike summed up some of my thoughts well:

1) You do realize the passage isn't referring to politics. And anyway, this whole 'political spectrum categorization' stuff (i.e. crap) is a construction of man (or possibly the Devil)--not God. Both parties take positions, endorse legislation, and espouse views that are not consistent with biblical teaching.

2) You're assuming that one can't be passionately moderate in their political views.

And I could have jumped in with a "Me too!" post, but really, what's the point? Not like posts like that actually encourage discussion. Two sides (well, many more than that, but in that world, there are only two sides - his and everyone that disagrees with him) screaming at each other but never listening to each other. Yes, you could say that about 90% of internet-based communication, but I guess I'm over it (and no, the irony that I'm writing about this on a blog is not lost on me). I've made my viewpoint clear and piling on more words only adds fuel to a fire that will burn no matter what I do or say. Feel free to question my faith because it doesn't fit with your narrow definition, but don't expect me to keep wading in just to give you the opportunity to mock and ridicule it. And I'm sure I'll be called a coward for doing this in my own space instead of posting on said person's blog or page. To quote Phil Collins, I don't care anymore.

OK, I should try to drive to school, get some grading done before students arrive at 9:15. If only every day was like this, I think I'd be a far more adjusted person. At least I'd feel more rested. Hope I can figure out how chop half an hour out of my lesson plans. So much for my hope of at least one full week of classes before final exams next week.

Might be back tonight. We'll see if I have anything worth writing about.

Æ

listening to American VI

Johnny sings in the background as I type this. A little sad, but in a good way.

Wondered why no one said anything about my last post, but it turns out it still hasn't found its way to Facebook. So much for the checking every couple of hours to update. Maybe I should copy and paste and forget the auto update. We'll give it another day and if it doesn't get any better, we'll do it the old-fashioned way.

My latest Netflix treat was a movie I've been meaning to watch for years but never quite got around to it: Harold and Maude. Heard all about it. Knew it's significance in pop culture. My favorite author even wrote a piece about it (sort of). But until tonight I'd never watched it. Such an odd film. I can't imagine it being made today, not by Hollywood anyway. And I can't imagine why it took me so long to see this film. Definitely my kind of flick. May watch it again before mailing it back. At least I have that luxury.

Confession: I started this post about over an hour ago but couldn't get it to go anywhere, so walked away for a bit. Didn't help. Thoughts are hard to come by tonight. Must have used up all my writing mojo last night. Some nights are not meant for writing and this seems to be one of them. Rather than beating myself up for not making it for the full time, I'm stopping now and going to bed and hoping my brain is in a better place tomorrow. But so you have something for taking the time to stop by, here's some more thoughts from Brother Merton, a confession of sorts and one that speaks to where I am tonight. Æ

I am sorry for having let myself become so stupid and so torpid, thinking more of myself than of what I owe to your Love - and I owe You everything. Forgive me for paying so little attention. Without compunction and deep sorrow, contemplation is likely to be nothing more than a kind of idolatry. How can I love You if I do not know who I am and who You are? And how can I know this without sorrow? Jesus, I no longer want to have anything to do with love that forgets that it was born in sorrow, and therefore forgets to be grateful. Otherwise I will only go on lying to You, and I want to be done with insincerity forever and forever.

more random thoughts on compassion

Maybe I should have made an addendum to my Lenten practice: I will write in my blog every day BEFORE 9PM. Then I wouldn't be staying up so late doing this. Of course, the way my schedule works, I'd never get to steal away long enough to get it done.

Thanks to Jay and Laurie for their responses to my last post via Facebook. We'd like to think this compassion thing would be easier than it is - and it seems quite simple from an intellectual standpoint. It's when we have to put those ideas into action in a real-life situation that life gets difficult.

Compassion = suffer together with. It's not simply an acknowledgement that someone else is suffering. It's a desire to enter into that suffering and help to alleviate it. It's easier with those we love - who hasn't watched a loved one suffering and wished you could take that suffering on yourself? Who hasn't wanted to be able to take away the pain, to exchange your own well-being so the one you love doesn't have to suffer? In fact, if you don't feel that way, I'm not sure you can honestly say you love someone. "Greater love has no man than this, then one lay down his life for his friends."

It's having compassion on those we don't know that becomes tricky. We see strangers suffer, like those in Haiti, and we wish and pray their suffering to go away. And yet, would we be willing to enter into their suffering, to suffer with them, or going even farther, to make their suffering our own? We'll send our money, maybe even give some of our time, but will we sacrifice our own well being for theirs? Most of us would answer no. We might sympathize, even empathize, but compassion goes beyond that.

Which brings the hardest call of compassion - to be compassionate to those we disagree with. Or even despise. How many of us are willing to enter into the suffering of those we call our enemies? The ones who have hurt us. The ones who have abandoned us. The ones whose beliefs run counter to our own. The ones who hate us as much as we hate them. So easy to see their suffering and believe they are getting what they deserve, that those are the consequences for their actions and they just have to live with them. We call it a tragedy when it happens to someone we love. We call it justice when it happens to our enemies.

The parable of The Good Samaritan comes to mind. As a Samaritan, the traveler was despised by the person he was helping. And he probably despised him as well. And yet, unlike the earlier travelers, he didn't see the suffering and move on. He stopped, bandaged his wounds, took him to an inn and paid for his lodging. He entered into the suffering of the one he did not know, did not love. Compassion is not a feeling, a sense of pity. It's a call to action, to put love into practice.

Much, much easier said than done, especially in the face of what we find abhorrent. Think of those you have a hard time loving, those you would consider the antithesis of all you hold dear. Those are the very people we are to have compassion for, the people, given the opportunity, we are to suffer with. Even if they brought that suffering upon themselves.

I know some would object and say that by doing so we condone their activities and behavior, give them our tacit acceptance. But compassion isn't about who is right and who is wrong. It doesn't judge before acting - it simply acts. The call is to enter into their suffering, not show them all their faults, help them become acceptable and then enter into their suffering. We don't show compassion so the person will change or so we'll feel all warm and fuzzy inside (though those things may happen). We show compassion because we know it is what Love demands of us and it is only Love that can help us to enter into another's suffering. Æ

insert witty title here

When I am most quiet and most myself, God's grace is clear, and then I see nothing else under the sun. What else is there for us but to be tranquil and at peace in the all-enchanting wonder of God's mercy to us? It falls upon this paper more quietly than the morning sun, and then I know that all things, without His love, are useless, and in His love, having nothing, I can possess all things. ~ Thomas Merton

I have nothing to add. Just some thoughts to ponder today.

My thoughts are languid tonight, slowly trickling down the uninteresting face of the day. This is the kind of day the Stage Manager from Our Town would encourage me to visit when I've left this world and wanted to return. An ordinary day of no significance. Why can I not see with eternity's eyes so I realize how amazing this most boring day actually is? Would it be too much for me to take in? Perhaps.

Honestly, I have nothing to share, nothing to talk about. The mundaneness of today is overwhelming. Rough waking up. Caffeine fix at Speedway. Uneventful silence on the way to work. Students took tests while I graded. I dropped off my tax stuff into the mail. Grabbed a late lunch. Caught up on the interwebs. Started laundry. Dozed off. More laundry. More web. Late dinner at Lemongrass. More laundry. Watched Anchorman. Laughed with Angie at In the Loop. And now I'm here, typing about the nothing I've done all day. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. What profit has a man from all his labor in which he toils under the sun?"

Obviously, we're not going to get much out of this half an hour.

They (whoever they are) say that sometimes the writing is enough - it doesn't matter what you write as long as you write. Fine and dandy if you're scribbling notes into a private journal, but I don't think it translates to this medium well. Because, let's be honest, you hope someone reads what you wrote. And you can't say it doesn't matter what you read as long as you read. Or can you? Why are you reading this? Is this making you a better reader somehow? The argument could be made that this isn't making me a better writer either. So there's that.

As I mentioned last night, the word I'm pondering for Lent is compassion. So of course it came up several times today - in discussions, in readings. I know, it's like when you're looking to buy a new car and suddenly you see the car everywhere you go. This isn't a bad thing, to become more aware of compassion in the world. Better, of course, to actually show compassion. But is there a line? Can compassion reach a point of diminishing returns? On one of my mailing lists they were discussing the whole Joe Stack incident, one side arguing they felt bad for the guy, the other said they did until he burned his house and flew his plane into a building. No one was saying what he did was acceptable or to be lauded. The question then, is, can we be compassionate toward someone, even when they do something we despise?

Maybe I'll spend some time later unpacking the etymology of compassion. Literally means "to suffer together." And how does it fit with the idea of passion? Lots of writing. Too bad I didn't think of this earlier. Much more interesting than what I typed earlier.

Hope: I, like many others, read the Esquire piece about Roger Ebert and they talked about how losing his voice has allowed him to experience a resurgence in his writing. It pointed out that when he first started blogging, there really wasn't much there. But now it's his primary mode of communication. Something for me to aspire to.

Night. Æ

Maproom

Spent the day setting up and participating in our monthly experiential worship called Maproom. Our theme this month was "A Lenten Hobo Honeymoon," focusing on Lent not as a time for sackcloth and ashes but as a time to fall in love with Jesus all over again. As I walked through the stations, I jotted down some thoughts. I'll try not to edit, but I may chicken out at some points. Some things I'm just not ready to share yet.

Walk through with me...

Hobo = HOmeward BOund. A pilgrim.

Station #1 What will you carry with you?

I wanted hope - God gave me compassion. My want came out of my personal need - God gave me what He wanted me to show to others. My heart turned inward, God wanted it turned outward. How can I show compassion to others? How can I let God show compassion to me?

Station #2 Prepare your heart for the journey

Is my heart a sponge, a rock, or dry sand? Can I answer all three? I want my heart to be a sponge, absorbing more of God. But it feels more like a rock, weighed down with the burdens of life and my own expectations of what life should be like. Lately I seem unable to absorb God - I am surrounded by Him, but nothing seems to seep in any more. Like a too full sponge. Perhaps I need to squeeze out some of God I have, share it with others so I can be filled again. Or maybe God, like He did with Pharaoh, has hardened my heart.

Father, transform this stone into a sponge once again. Help me to soak up more of you, more of this love and life you've given me, not so I can be full, but so I can share it with others.

Station #3 Praying for Haiti

I cannot imagine the devastation of their lives. So much loss. So much never to be repaired. I know of the tragedy, yet have done as much as I can to ignore it. I've donated money, given so others can help. But is that money spent so I don't have to think about it? Pray about it? I'm reminded of the Haitians I was blessed to work with back in high school youth group. They used to shout "Bene Swale Tarnell." (forgive my spelling) Praise the Lord. Such joy, even in the face of hardships having given up everything to come to our country. I pray, Father, you'll help those who have lost to find that joy, even in this tragedy.

Station #4 Lenten Tattoos

A reminder of the impermanence of this life. To dust we shall return. We are marked as God's to do with as He will. I do not fear death. But I do find I fear life. I was reminded this week that people with pets live longer lives and all I could think was, yet another reason not to have a pet. I've grown weary of searching for what this world can offer me. I need to look for what God is offering me.

Station #5 Fill a Bag

Paul speaks of learning the secret of being content in any and every situation. I wish he had taken the time to share that secret. Maybe it's this: only when we give away do we feel content. Only when we hold so lightly to this world can we find contentment in God.

Station #6 Honeymoon Adventure with Jesus

I like the idea of Lent being a time to fall in love with Jesus. I think it's the idea of a honeymoon that bothers me, mostly for selfish reasons, because I can't stop thinking what if this is the only honeymoon I ever have? I makes my heart hurt a bit to think about it.

What would it take for me to fall more in love with Jesus? More time with Him? More time remembering how He has blessed me? I feel like I need a second honeymoon more than a first. We're almost too familiar with one anohter, like a couple that's been together for so long they can finish one another's thoughts, anticipate on eanother's actions. How could I get away and remember what it was like to love the Lord my God with all my heart, mind, soul and strength?

Station #7 Stuff in Your Backpack

What's weighing me down on my journey? Fear. Lack of trust taht God is leading me somewhere worth going. Worry that I'll miss everything He wants for me to see because I'm too busy looking for what I want to see. It makes the journey much harder. Much less enjoyable. And yet I try to shoulder on through. The will never give me more than I can bear, right? But what about those bricks I put n my own backpack? What if I've given myself more than I can bear?

Station #8 The Mirror

This is the one station I truly dread. Before heading to the desert, Jesus heard the words, "This is my beloved. I am pleased with you. God wants to say the same to me. But I don't believe Him. I'm supposed to look in the mirror and say, "I am God's beloved. God loves Thurman. God is pleased with Thurman." But dare I do it if I don't believe it? The words don't come easy; neither does the belief. Won't I be lying if my heart isn't in it? My head may know, but my heart doesn't believe. This makes me feel ashamed, that I cannot trust this to be true.

Station #9 The Desert

I am no longer in the wilderness I was ten years ago. God brought me through that. But now I seem to be in a complacent place. I have no great battles in my life. I have no great temptations. My life stretches before me uninterrupted, unremarkable. What hope, then, remains for me?

Digging my toes into the sand I'm reminded of times of great joy, moments filled with hope for what lies ahead. The waves crashing on the shore, messengers from a time to come, telling me to hold on, everything is going to be all right. I need to dig my toes into the sand again. I need to listen for the hope washing up on my shore.

Station #10 Praying for Hobos

I offered up a prayer for those lost in loneliness, who feel disconnected from those around them. I am constantly reminded of Coupland's words, who said loneliness is the one thing we don't talk about. To confess to it is admitting a fault deep within oneself. People will avert their eyes from you lest they too catch this loneliness. May those who are lonely find eyes that meet theirs, that help them connect to a world that seems to ignore them. Give them love. The love they seek. The love they need.

Æ

waiting was a bad idea

See, this is what procrastination gets you, young people. 12:30AM and I'm just now starting my 30 minutes of blog writing, which means no sleep until after 1:00AM and a greater chance of saying something incredibly stupid that I'll have to either take back or explain tomorrow.

Anyway...

Day started with watching Caprica and Spartacus: Blood and Sand. I really like Caprica - I think the way they're "humanizing" the Cylons is intriguing. Not at BSG level quite yet, but it's well done so far. Spartacus...well, we'll call it a guilty pleasure and leave it at that.

The only thing on my agenda today (if I kept such a thing) before Beyond Therapy was going out and buying some new jeans. The crotch has begun to fray on the pair I wear the most and while it's subtle now, it will pick the most inopportune time to explode into a full blown hole and I'd prefer to not have that happen. I toyed with breaking my ban on Old Navy because they were having a good sale on their jeans, but after talking with a friend, I decided to head to Kohl's and invest in some Levis, hoping they would last longer. The shopping itself was less painful than I anticipated - didn't take long and I even found a couple of shirts. But the getting there and getting back was out of my own personal hell. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate the traffic in suburban sprawl? Bleah.

Speaking of my own personal hell, I've gave some more thought to the article I posted last night and talked to a good friend about it all and realized that the dating scene they described is not designed for me. It's designed for douche bags and the women that love them to find one another. I mean honestly, that's not where I would find the kind of girl I'm interested in. But my friend then asked, so where is the beta dating scene? Bookstores? Coffee shops? Museums? And they're not really scenes - though perhaps if I started to think of them that way, I might discover more opportunities...Anyway, I'm not nearly as sad as I was upon first reading it (and let's be honest, I am the king of hyperbole and most everything I say should be taken with a grain of salt).

My friend also brought up an interesting point: these men (and women) that go out simply to hook up for sex are looked at as normal. However, when someone who is married does the same thing (Tiger Woods), they are seen as a sex addict. Double standard much?

I think I'm a little in love with Elizabeth Bennet. No, not the one from Jane Austen (though I could definitely be in love with her too). I mean the one from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Finally getting around to reading it. Brilliant. Simply brilliant. Fits into my enjoyment of all things mashed up. Not sure why it's been languishing so long on my shelf. Will probably finish it before the other book I'm currently reading: Blood's a Rover by James Ellroy. That one's taking a little longer to get through. Not because it's bad, but because it's a completely different style of reading.

First weekend of Beyond Therapy is over. Now comes the fun - playing a different role for the second weekend. First time I've ever done that. I've got some big shoes to fill - Dave does a great job in the role of Bob. Ted's done a good job of allowing us each to develop the character our own way - hopefully that won't throw of the rest of the cast members. Guess we'll find out on Thursday when we run the show with me as Bob. Little scary, I have to admit.

OK, I haven't written a whole lot here in 30 minutes. Fingers and brain moving a bit slow for obvious reasons. At least I get to sleep in tomorrow. Heading over to Taza to set up for Maproom tomorrow night at noon. It's focusing on falling in love with Jesus over Lent. Looking forward to spending some time listening tomorrow. Definitely could use it.

Though it's Sunday tomorrow and I'm not technically required to write according to Lenten tradition, I'll probably stop by anyway, if only to distract myself from the piles of grading waiting for me in my backpack. Until then.

Æ