Month: November 2014

For a number of reasons–most of which I’m not prepared to get into right now–this has been an extremely challenging semester. The challenges don’t stop at the classroom door. They crawl inside and back outside and into my home and through my brain and extend through my body like a white hot stress projectile. That being said, I’m a stronger person for making it this far and not falling completely over (or quitting everything). Now we are in the last gasping weeks of the semester, where students are angling for grades and teachers angling for the freedom of a short winter recess. I’m looking forward to getting back with the boys and hanging out and running and trying, together, to work back into some sort of decent shape. I’m not going to do anything overzealous like set a 40 lb goal. I’m going to take advice from a close friend and try to move towards a more holistic approach to exercise.

I carry my stress in my belly. My belly fat to be specific. I eat my pain, and according to the scale I’ve eaten quite a bit of it over the last year. Reversing that trend means learning to make better eating choices, finding the will and the time to exercise, and putting myself on a schedule–even if it is one that allows for a large chunk of unscheduled time. I was using the Jawbone UP for that purpose until I lost mine on a road trip. I’m not sure if I want to spend the $150 on a new one. Towards the end there it was starting to look like wear and tear had gotten the better of it. For the money I spend I can find a new way to wake up in the morning and to know when I’ve been sitting still too long.

I have been sitting still too long–especially in non physical ways. I’m looking for ways to be less stagnant and to grow as a person. I’m terrified of becoming someone who is closed off and afraid to learn from new experiences and new people. Basically, I’m afraid of becoming an old codger at 40.

The blog is a good example of stagnancy. It has not been very good for a while. That deep well of energy and creativity I once drew ideas from has shifted out of view and I’m looking for it or something like it to allow me to connect to the ethereal yet again. Be patient if you can. I’m trying.

Here’s a new one. I deleted the original post by accident. I don’t know how and it is quite befuddling. It sucks, actually. So here are some basic (angry) picks.

 

OAK over KC

CLE over ATL

NYJ over BUF

TB over CHI

HOU over CIN

IND over JAX

GB over MIN

NE over DET

PHI over TEN

SD over STL

SEA over AZ

DEN over MIA

SF over WAS

NYG over DAL

BAL over NO

 

 

Some Thoughts:

1. Sorry for a weak post. It is hard to bounce back from losing something–even ten minutes of something.

I’ve long hated the twilight series. Loathe is the word best to describe my general tenor towards that writing. I loathe it because of the fans it gets and the copies it sells and the millions the writer makes off of it. I loathe it the way a kid hates his friend’s shiny new PS4–because he doesn’t have one. I consider the writing and think, ‘I could’ve done much better. I could’ve told a better story with more developed characters’. Then, I take a deep breath, exhale, and decide that I’m completely wrong. Sure I could’ve written something along the lines of Twilight, but I could not ever have written that book because of the way I was taught, and the stuff I read. I would’ve written the version of Twilight that didn’t sell and didn’t reach so many people and compel them to read.

Twilight is not Faulkner. It isn’t the lost works of any dead white guy or Ellison or Neruda in long form or any of that. Twilight is a fun trip into the mind of teenage girl who is being pursued by incredible men. In that lives the stories simple pleasure. In that lives the reason why it is so compelling. So many of us want to be wanted by others and stepping in the shoes of Bella allows us to be wanted and to imagine what we would do in a similar situation. Because she is little more than a shell character, it is very easy for a multitude of readers to impose their own ideas upon her and in that become her. I submit that the same holds true for the actress who plays her in movies. All this Team Edward vs. Team (whoever) crap is merely an extension of the basic premise of choice. The followers of one team are only there because that is the team they would chose had they been given the choice themselves. There is the beauty of reading–the freedom to choose and in that choice extrapolate a meaning for the book that the author might not have ever intended.

So, I write this to say thanks to Bella and all of the published characters that bring more readers into the fold. I’ve much enjoyed the chance to watch new readers grow and learn and it is an experience I won’t soon forget.

Its no secret that I’ve been a missing man in my professional life this semester. It didn’t catch my attention so much as it did when the Black History Month planning committee put out an email and I wasn’t on the mailing list. I’ve been really gone, man. I pulled a Ralph Ellison. I pulled a John Cena–you can’t see me on my campus. This isn’t entirely a bad thing. For anyone to continue performing at the level I was for a sustained period there needs to be a significant break period, or recharge, with the singular goal of giving the worker a chance to step away from the level of responsibility and expectation in order to renew a sense of vigor.

Economists talk about the 80/20 rule, in which 80% of the work tends to be completed by 20% of the people. This winds up being true of most work situations (and beyond!). I tend to be a twenty percenter. It takes a toll. Moreover it surprises people when you pull back and do less. It feels like suddenly you’re doing nothing. Doesn’t feel that way to me of course. I’m writing a novel, amongst other projects, coaching multiple football teams, teaching/learning, and teaching all kinds of stuff.

Still, I did-am doing less.

This minivacation of sorts renews me and fills me with that sense of professional urgency that has been lacking as of late. In other words, I’m just about ready to remind the world why I rock.

I just about believe I do again.

Taking a break from Bob today. It has been that kind of day overall. I’m tired and more than a little drained. I’ve had some time to reflect about perceptions, about the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, happiness and satisfaction. All of this swirling around my life like an unwanted halo. I’m constantly drawn to the Steinbeck quote:

“when I face the desolate impossibility of writing 500 pages, a sick sense of failure falls on me, and I know I can never do it. Then gradually, I write one page and then another. One day’s works is all I can permit myself to contemplate.” John Steinbeck

It applies to how some people live life and, in many ways, the way I’ve contemplated living life. This isn’t necessarily a happy development. As my mother in law put it, ‘You think you’re happy with the choices you make but then you’re only happy 20% of the time. The other 80% is sadness.’ Without trying to sound like a person who is morbidly depressed (which I’m not, btw) I can explain that I’m someone who is at a crossroads in life. I’m still trying to figure out the best path to happiness.

People can be happy in a number of ways and for me it comes down to figuring out the things that make me least happy and eliminating them from my life. Afterwards I can start to think beyond the next day and regain the perspective of a long and satisfying life plan.

A lot of this sounds like a jumbled mess today. That’s probably why this is one of those blogs that won’t be sold…

 

(continued from yesterday)

Bob was married once. He’d done his undergad six at Southern Methodist. Being neither Southern nor Methodist, the dating pool was limited to other ex-pats like himself. One such ex pat was blonde with big green eyes and a crooked smile. Bob was smitten. He kissed her on the fourth date and proposed half a year later. Lana was his sacred cow. Even after the cheating allegations became a joke whispered between his friends, after the second child looked more like his Post-grad Humanities professor than him, Bob loved Lana. Then one day she decided she no longer loved him.

It took Bob a few years to come around after that disaster. He graduated, wandered around Dallas for a few years, lived with friends. Eventually a job caught hold of him and his friends rediscovered their faith in the kind of man Bob could be. So, when met Diego’s eyes and saw that flicker of uncertainty, he said. “We can do this.”

Bob never did anything half-ass. In the morning he went to bodybuilding.com and typed in ‘best protein powder’. The muscle heads had a lot to say about protein. He went to the pharmacy and loaded up a few tubs full of protein and supplements. Then he called Diego and told him the plan…

Bob could trace his dramatic weight gain back to a bet.

It happened the Thursday after Halloween. He was at a bar with Diego and Finn. ZZ Top hammered out of the old jukebox so loud that the peanut shells on the ground shook. The Redskins game was on. Diego and Finn sat to either side of him each cradling a long necked beer. Bob wasn’t a beer drinker then. He’d come and sit with his guys and nurse a tumbler of rum and coke for close to an hour. When the drink got so low and old that the ice cubes looked like tiny o’s and the last wisps of alcohol were so joined with water as to be tasteless, he’d tilt his head back and clear the glass in one swish.

Diego said, “I’m done with women.”

The hints of a joke played at Finn’s mouth but Bob jumped in before his friend started something that could only end one way. He said, “That thing with Sarah wasn’t about anything, man. She just not into skinny dudes is all.“

Finn was still fighting for that joke. He said, “Yeah, dudes like Bob—skinny in all the wrong places.”

Diego laughed, his shoulders rolling with the effort. Bob laughed too and slapped Finn on the back. He ordered another rum and coke and winked at the bartender as she went away.

“You really think that’s true, man?” Diego said. “About the weight I mean. You think if I bulk up I’d get more chicks.”

The drink came and the bartender waited for Bob to taste it. He took a long sip, watching her as he did. She smiled and he smiled right back, adding a wink for emphasis. She shook her head and walked away.

“You know, it couldn’t hurt. You see it in all those magazines. Girls like the muscles. Hell, it could even make you healthier to slap on a couple of pounds.”

Finn said, “You guys are full of crap. Girls don’t buy into that stuff. They want hot guys and guys who have money. All that muscle stuff is for football players and those, what do you call them, Chickendell guys?”

Bob snorted. “Chippendales, and I don’t think those guys have any trouble with getting chicks—if they want chicks I mean.”

They all had another laugh at that then Finn turned on his stool, dipping his index finger in and out of the mouth of his beer bottle. He said, “Prove it. Hundred bucks says if you to put on, say, 20 pounds, you wouldn’t be able to get a girl to look at you, less go on a date with you.”

Some Thoughts:

1. Ten minutes were up, so I couldn’t finish it. I think I’ll continue it tomorrow….

For months now I’ve been puzzling over the idea of a single class. This is a class I’ve never taught before with a population that is so mixed in level as to be unrecognizable as a single class. I loved it for the first few weeks. The raw energy that came out of these conversations was enough to power me through the difficult early weeks of the semester. None of my other classes matched this level of passion. Yet that passion wasn’t sustainable. It felt like the age old story of the torch that burns too bright only to flame out too early. Once the class flamed out and the weight of the content sank upon them, the class took up another meaning in my head: Massive failure.

I have a tendency (one that must be corrected) to base my class around the level of the mean. The kids who represent the average student level get the attention. In worst case scenario (which is where I am) the kids who are the lowest are the ones who dominate the class and content. This is where I go wrong. This is where I went wrong this semester and continue to struggle. I mentioned in an earlier blog that this course steals more of my passionate energy than all of the others combined. This problem is exacerbated by the level of content not at all being congruent with the level of the course. I’m asking students to digest, understand, and interpret the entire history of the African American literary diaspora in 17 weeks. I am asking this of kids whose english and reading comprehension skills range from developmental to advanced. Moreover their specific attention spans are limited to fully engaged.

The important lesson I’ve taken away from the class is this: don’t teach it till you’re ready. I wasn’t and the result is obvious. I let my tendencies make a bad situation worse and the result is a class I’m not that pleased with. In other news the rest of the semester is incredible and uplifting in many ways. I’m ready to be the teacher I can be.

I am also ready to be the writer I can be.

Just finished watching Interstellar, the nightcap to one of the longest days in recent memory. The day started around 6 AM and pounded relentlessly until, well, now. The last part was the sugary stuff. Christopher Nolan’s space-time epic is one of a few to actually get a bit of the science right. Neil deGrasse Tyson even tweeted a bit of praise about the handling of space-time. He blasted several other things about the film, but that’s just how he rolls.

How I roll is to dig into the story and uncover what human elements lie beneath. This is largely where I think the film goes wrong. At the root, Interstellar is a film about the relationship between a father and daughter and the abandonment issues that string them together like a spider’s web. That relationship is sensible and feels real–as do the majority of connections in the film. Where the film dims a bit is the character of son, who is basely performed by Casey Affleck.

The film sells the father-daughter relationship, but the son is left to toil as an unimportant and largely forgettable character who is, at one point, villainized. I am given to believe that the director’s cut will explain more of that storyline. I hope I’m correct. In the meanwhile, I just enjoyed a great movie that left me thinking about the relative nature of time and about the way I think about family relationships.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. Not surprisingly, children’s opinions hinge on those who they highly respect. Two of my boys are now Obama haters. One because his teacher bad mouthed the prez and the other because his brother aped the teacher. I get where she is coming from–disappointment with the ‘handling’ of Ebola–but you cannot blame every mocked up crisis on one dude. Obama followed the CDC’s lead–as he should and even went a step further and hired a Washington insider to help the doctors navigate the politics of the press and of the city itself. Too bad she didn’t get it, because now my kid thinks Obama is a bad president.

From dawn well past dusk I was a dad.

I’m a dad every day and I love every day that I get to be a father to my children, but today was really a chance for reflection and understanding. Moms get it. When you are a mom you have that role full time. You sleep and rise to the cadence of your responsibility. This has been the case for me for quite some time. Today was different. I’m used to the full time role on weekends and breaks and long hot summers. Today was a midweek dad day where the entire universe was made up of boy.

We began the day a little past dawn. I remember waking up to the roar of boys playing some manner of game downstairs. It was 6 AM. I joined them (reluctantly) and we hung out for a few hours before I started getting things together for our Veterans Day kids flag football game. That isn’t really a thing–at least it wasn’t until today. We got together a lot of the kids we play soccer with and got them ready for flag football. We had a game with kids from 5-14 and it was a fun and tiring defensive battle than ended in a 7-0 win on a pick-6.

Here is what I learned: I need a few minutes a day for me. I got 30 minutes today. Ten right now, ten I snuck by locking myself in my office to breathe, and ten I stole when the wife came home. It isn’t enough. Life is crammed with responsibilities, from the time you spend with your kids to your spousal time to you spend working or getting old work done. I need to create a life where I can enjoy my kids the way I love, but also have time to enjoy being with myself and enjoy being a writer.