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Exhale.

It has been a whirlwind of a week. There are a lot of things happening at once and not all of it is wonderful. For the sake of inner smiles, I’ll start with good, go to bad, and go back to good in the end.

Here’s some good: I got to see my eldest run track for the first time. I was super proud of him. I watched track quickly become his favorite sport and watched him have some decent times despite not being equipped with the right shoes or having very much practice in certain events. He was proud of himself, especially in distance where he beat kids he swore up and down were faster than him. Moreover, he did it in the craziest fashion imaginable. He ran a 100m dash and within a minute of finishing that race they were lining him up to run the 1600m. He did that race less than a minute and a half after the 100m. Dude hadn’t even caught his breath. Beast mode.

I like to use that term, beast mode, in regards to my boys because it reflects a certain killer instinct and ability to rise above common performance. Unfortunately, the beast comes out of coaches as well. I’ve been seeing it more and more in flag football and my dumb ass has been feeding in. It doesn’t take a whole lot for me to turn into one of those coaches lately, and I am certain it is at least partially inspired by doing too much and getting involved in petty conflicts. It is supposed to be about the kids and not about a coaches’ ego or desire to be the leader of a winning team or desire to defeat another coach whose ego and attitude you find personally offensive. This is not about taking someone down a peg.

Hell, I am not even playing. I’m coaching. No pay, no real stake other than my stake in the players. Nothing at stake beyond ego and I need to invest less of it in winning or losing and more of it in putting the kids in position to succeed.

That is the good I’ll end with. I’m watching the kids enjoy this and I enjoy them doing it. So, maybe thats the focus I need to have. That and that alone.

No, this account has not been hijacked.

I decided to come out and take a firm stance. I decided it was time to do what so little of America seems willing to do right now: Be absolutely honest about the nation I live in. If we just take a moment to peel back the veil of American society we see something very striking. We see, without a doubt, that Donald Trump represents the id of the American people. Donald Trump represents, to quote dictionary.com, “the part of the psyche, residing in the unconscious, that is the source of instinctive impulses that seek satisfaction in accordance with the pleasure principle”. He is, therefore, the most honest representative of America that there can be, and as such ought to be our president.

Neil Gaiman wrote in American Gods, “This is the only country in the world, that worries about what it is…The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.” Well, we know what we are as well. We just spend an awful lot of time catering to the voices of the minority opinion. America is 63% non-hispanic white. Hispanics, 17%. People who are black like me only represent 12.3%. Asians barely creep past the 5% mark while those who consider themselves multi-racial number 2.4% (according to the Census Bureau). So when you hear ‘Red-blooded Americans’ odds are you are in a conversation about white people. Trump caters to that demographic. Trump caters to the mindset that America is to be the all powerful voice and leadership of this planet. Trump is representative of who we are (primarily) as a nation and should be given the job to lead us. It is time for us to stop trying to be this all-inclusive stay nation and become who we have long been deep down inside. Trump brings all of this to the surface.

To say that I am wrong is to say that this nation doesn’t need to be governed by its id, but instead, as a brain is governed by its ego and superego, needs some other representative that mitigates our raw voice and perhaps gives strength and soul to the voice of minority thought. But are we truly that nation? Are we a nation that wants to hear all voices, or are we a nation that wants to be strong, and make money, and be great in our own eyes and in the way we have for some time defined ourselves and defined strength?

I do not have the answers to these questions. I can only say that when Barack Obama first appeared as a candidate offering promises of hope and change, the resounding response from a significant portion of the country was, “Keep your change” so perhaps it is in this fashion that we have come to Trump who means to undo that change (which apparently was for the worse) and make America great again. If we are to accept who we are as a country, and if we are to magnify that then we need to become the country of Trump and vote to save ourselves from the alternative.

February closed its doors with multiple shootings. This one, perpetrated by a 14 yr old was considered so ordinary by CNN that I had to search along the sidebar between Caitlyn Jenner stories and a cop-involved shooting to find it. Equally disappointing is the fact that another article, this one about a cop murdered on the first day of work, did not make the front page. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter anymore. It is the way rings were when I was a kid. People get shot, guns get overlooked, and the cycle continues. At least the very badly written and performed Chi-raq made an effort to show us the gravity of the numbers. Still, who is listening? I don’t think anyone is listening or truly worried. Superman doesn’t worry about catching a cold and Americans don’t worry about the lasting effects of our culture.

This latest shooting involves an 8th grader culture which through whatever form of social learning they partook in, recognized that bringing a gun to school and trying to take people out was a good idea. I get being fed up with bullying and the like, but I don’t get the mindset that says, “just shoot em” Of course, the shooter had to be crazy, right? Wrong. The problem with that thinking is that it dismisses any possible discourse about the conditions that led to the shooting. At first, everyone wants to know how someone can come to the point to shoot a bunch of people. Once the crazy label sticks, nobody cares about the conditions. The focus shifts to gun access and politics.

I feel like we live in a shoot em up culture that not only condones public violence but rewards it. In such a culture one cannot be surprised that people get hurt.

I think I figured out why nobody with skin like mine was nominated for Best Actor or Actress. They were all too busy wasting their damn time doing Chi-raq. Seriously. No wonder Spike Lee boycotted the Oscars. He didn’t want anyone to have a chance to talk legit smack about his latest movie come atomic bomb.

It is a bad movie.

I’ve seen bad movies. This is on par with Eraserhead. I mean what he tried to accomplish and what actually happened is as far apart as Bill Nye’s science and Ted Cruz’s reason. Let me start with the fact that Nick Cannon was playing the hardest gangster rapper in the whole movie.

Nick Cannon.

The story of Chi-raq borrows from a classic tale discussing the war between the Spartans and the Trojans. Lee layers his own baggage (the slow and steady gentrification of New York, his lack of faith in those who are servants of the church, a crap load of female tropes, the war in Iraq, his disgust over the dislike and distrust of Obama) into a narrative that is as sing song and rhyme as any rap song or nursery rhyme and the level of intelligence lies somewhere in between. Well, maybe closer to total idiocy than anything else.

There is actually a sequence where a general wearing a confederate flag blindfold and underwear is sitting spread eagle on a cannon called whistling dick and waiting for a cammo clad black woman to have sex with him. Yeah, that actually happened.

I cannot condone this movie in any way, shape, or form. I’m glad Spike got it out of his system but I truly must question why he published the dang thing. What, did he expect an Oscar? I expected to turn it off, which I still might. See, I’m writing as the show plays in the background. I am trying to distract myself in any way possible, because to really acknowledge that Lee fell this far (one chick said “You just like having your man by the Jackie Robinson’s”) would be to admit that one of the most important (if not the most important) black director’s in the history of cinema was done.

I’m not ready to say that. I am also not ready to say Chi-raq is worth the film it was printed on.

Chris Rock killed it at the Oscars. If my partner in viewing is to be believed, he killed it a little too much. In other words, the controversy over race was expertly addressed early in the Oscars, but remained a prevalent theme that began to detract from the overall experience as the hours wore on. I agree with her in part. The constant references to the lack of color did drone after a while, but this was a necessary argument to have. What concerned me the most was that the whole race argument fell on the shoulders of Jada Pinkett-Smith, who doesn’t deserve to be out in front of this thing.

Joke of the night: (Rock) Jada boycotting the Oscars is like me boycotting Rhianna’s panties. I wasn’t invited! That joke encapsulated the problem right there. She doesn’t have the gravitas to make the argument that she did. Instead she came off as a woman angry about her husband not being recognized for this particular season of film work. I didn’t see his film, so I don’t know if he deserves it or not. I do think the people who won were very deserving of the honor–except for Leo who took that award from someone who earned it this year.

I believe there is a problem with being non-white in hollywood and I believe that problem is systemic and financially driven. The people with the money swear that white leads are needed to make money and that isn’t entirely true anymore. However, that old money tied to old ideas is what keeps Hollywood in our hearts and keeps the majority of people of color in the industry on the outs.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. What I love the most about the walking dead are the complex relationships and love stories that spring forth in this land of after death. The story here–the real story–is how you manage to stay human and sexual and maintain faith in the whole thing moving forward when it is so much easier to give up and become a monster–living or otherwise.

I’m planning this assignment for my developmental students. The idea comes from this season of award shows where we are all listening to the ‘Academy’s’ voice as to what the best picture of the year is. My plan is to do Oscar 2.0 with the classes and have them design their own series of film reviews detailing what they would vote in as best picture of the year as well as other categories. I also think they should present them to the class–petitioning the class to support their votes.

In other words, I want to have an Oscar redo in my classroom. Only, the actual nominees are totally off limits. Anything already slated as Oscar-worthy has been so written about and toiled over that I cannot hope for original essays from the students. The lure of potential plagiarism would be too great.

My plan starts at the top. I’m going to have them all write their top three films on the board and we will erase the ones already under consideration (of course, by the time this is unveiled the Oscars will already be over). What we are left with will be our pool for the Oscars.

This is where it gets tricky.
I want a pool for as many categories as possible, but I’m not sure how to winnow the list down to something I can potentially have them vote on. Furthermore I am trying to solve the group component of this whole thing and haven’t. I’ll keep working on it…

Some Thoughts:

1. Spent a lot of time building relationships in this tiny l’il town of mine. Now it seems I’m making my fair share of enemies as well. This all stems around sports of course. I don’t hate anyone but I’ve seen a lot of side eye and shit talk these last few days. I’m going to continue overlooking that nonsense and go about the business of sticking with the kids and parents I’m tied to.
2. On the other hand, I won’t be in this town forever, so why care so much? It is in the blood, I think.

 

I’m freaked out by how little people know about their candidates. I’m more freaked about where they are getting their information. According to one voting age student Hillary Clinton has murder charges against her, is personally responsible for people dying in the Benghazi terror attack, and really wants to kill babies. Meanwhile, Trump is a stand up guy who takes no nonsense and will put our country back on track. On track for what, she won’t say (or even knows). Still, I have to remember who I was as a young person. I remember liking Bill Clinton for his smooth sax-playing ways and charming smile and thinking he was, in a social way, the first black president. His presence allowed me to ignore the Monica Lewinsky scandal. Is that really any different than these folks liking Trump because he treats other people we dislike like crap?

I wish I could say it is different, but part of what I was getting at in that late night blog about the issue is that Trump represents the discontent of a lot of people. That rage springs up out of somewhere and is the same rage that drives extremism. It is the anger and unwillingness to embrace common sense that allows us to label people. It is the fundamental flaw of any people who are not, ultimately, happy with the way things are.

Politicians professionally tap into that rage well and bring about changes that benefit themselves financially and help to reinforce a world view they enjoy and are employed by. What can we do or say about the situation? Well, nothing.

Except have the common sense to vote for someone else.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. Here is something dancers inherently understand that the rest of us figure out eventually: Clothes are just forms of expression that are interchangeable and don’t actually define who you are. It is just a costume.
2. I’ve lost faith in the combine as anything more than a tool to help me understand what the eventual stats of my Madden 17 players. We’ve seen them in action, which is far more telling than catching passes and running sprints and throwing balls under no coverage or blitz whatsoever.

 

I am a lucky man. I’ve managed to fall into a work situation that is something I really enjoy doing. I get to interact with young minds every day and participate in their growth an exploration of a world that grows smaller yet deeper with each passing tech iteration. I teach a swirl of subjects that allow me to stay engaged in literature and non-literary writing. So long as I get the competencies handled, I can teach however I like. All of that is meaningless unless the students are engaged.

I’ve been almost anti-social at work lately, struggling to balance the responsibilities of office with the realities of life, family, and relationships. A good deal of that has to do with feeling like I’m drowning in essays and assignments, never fully able to get ahead of it all. Now none of that matters if I feel like I walk into a classroom and have a moment with the students where we share that love of learning. This hasn’t been happening as much in some classes and virtually not at all in one class in particular.

The class in question is a mythology class where I am trying to connect classic mythological understanding to modern literature. We are currently cruising through the world of Gaiman’s American Gods, a story I felt connected all of mythology together in a big ole soup. Now I get that the novel is a hard read and that I as an instructor am very demanding of critical thinking, but this group is killing me. Not getting it is one thing, but not wanting to try to find meaning is making me hate my job.

I need to figure out a way to figure them out and give them the space to build that connection between the novel and themselves and to discover the joy of mythology so I can get back to reveling in the joy of teaching.

Some Thoughts:

1. This argument over whether or not the President should nominate a new Supreme Court Justice is stupid. It ignores one key fact: Nominations take time. Clearly, republicans are banking on the hope that the White House goes to a republican, giving them more influence in naming the new justice. The problem there is that we are still talking about a really long time for an incoming president to nominate and vet a candidate and then for the hearings to happen to get that person in office. Meanwhile, the 3rd pillar of the federal government is effectively incompetent for the duration of two calendar years (including this one). Why? Because with 8 they can become deadlocked and unable to solve any legal issue.
2. As I write this I’m sitting at Village Inn (part of my T/H morning writing ritual) listening to a car alarm go off. In another era I would have gone outside after the first 2 minutes to figure out how I could help. Today I merely blog about how I would’ve done so. Meanwhile, the horn drones on.
3. One of the reasons I come here is because the waiter I always get is kind of an asshole. He bitches when I show up late or not at all or yawn too much. Feels very New York. Feels like home.

I’m really glad I was never talented enough to be a professional athlete. It feels like a small death to hear someone look at a 34 year old and say, “his best days are behind him.” We are in that era where the window for success seems to creak shut faster and faster. This isn’t the same for writing and science where wisdom is valued over youth.

I suppose this line of thinking feels more mission critical now that I’m in a situation where my body is falling completely apart. I just had my first sinus headache, which severely challenged my ability to reason and ultimately teach. I am not used to that localized pain and pressure. I am even less used to the effect it has on my body.

Still, this blog isn’t about complaining. It is a brief moment of understanding and disappointment about the concept of aging and how our view aging makes it difficult to feel anything but pity towards the idea of maturing (read: growing old). I am seeking other emotions about aging. I’m trying to get excited about it, because of all the challenges (read: work) it has to come.

Some Thoughts:

1. Saw my son’s old team practicing. I was pleased to see the level of involvement of other players. It wasn’t about one or two kids. This is an actual team and about spreading the ball a little bit more. I like it.

 

Watching Kevin Negandhi on Sportscenter reminded me of a very difficult truth. All of this is built as a house of cards. I am saying this as an observer and participant in a culture that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Follow me here: We have dozens of sports channels on cable TV. Espn has maybe 8 of its own. This glut of channels is relatively new. When I was a kid there wasn’t even a ESPN. Why do they exist? To inform you about the sports of the world. In other words, these channels exist purely to inform us about what matters to us. They are commercial enterprises that make money based on how many advertisers are willing to buy ad space to sell us things they want us to buy. Yes, virtually all TV is this way, but with sport it is more specific.

My kids play youth sports, and I’d be lying to you if I didn’t, at least subconsciously, think about them parlaying that talent to something professional, collegiate, or at least highlight worthy. I’m trained to do so. Sportscenter, smartly, shows me highlights of games at all levels. I don’t go a week without seeing a game clip of some kid doing a spectacular play. I also feel like I’m given so much information that the sheer volume of it ensures its importance. I can no longer name the periodic table, but I can name every relevant player on every roster in the NBA.

I don’t even watch basketball.

I haven’t seen a full game since last year’s NBA finals. That isn’t even entirely about the TV. Its about the video games, the commercials–all of it working together to manufacture importance towards something that really isn’t. Who knows if we will ever stop caring. I cannot hope the house comes crashing down, because there are millions of good people employed by the industry of sport. I just wish they (we) all focused on something a little more important to humanity.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. I’m starting to recognize how hard it must’ve been to be a fan of anyone else during the Bulls epic Jordan years. Now, with the spotlight firmly centered over the Warriors, nobody else can be seen. Forget for a moment that the Spurs (who’ve been doing it for decades, right?) are barely a few losses behind the warriors and well in line to break the 72-10 record. Forget that there happens to be an entire Eastern Conference. No, this is all about the Warriors and nobody else counts–unless you happen to screw up. Then you matter enough to be laughed at and serve as a reminder that the Warriors cannot be stopped.
2. This case in Egypt really illustrates the false construct of justice in the world. I mean really? Mistaken identity ought to be sorted out before the trial and subsequent guilty verdict. And once that happens you cannot just take the closest available human and blame him.
3. Apologies for the late night blogs. They ain’t good.