Month: May 2017

There is a theory being floated out there that white men are under attack–under siege really. The theory goes like this: We have, as a species, swung away from appreciating the contributions of white men to society and have swung towards embracing so-called diversity to such a extent that everything is acceptable. Furthermore, we have begun to openly blame white men for all that ails the world. Of course, none of this is new and some of this is true.

Here is where I stand on such things: It has nothing to do with color. It has everything to do with power. We have experienced a slight but measurable shift in the balance of power. Traditionally, the power was held by old money oligarchs who were, traditionally, white and male. They controlled the resources and the jobs, thus giving them control of the ‘democratic’ process. Things went completely off the rail once Obama was hired. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t terribly different from past presidents in terms of policy, but optics are extremely important in our country. We must see things as being ‘as they should be’ As a result we hit a hard reset and stumbled into Trump.

White men are no more under attack than they have been. Only now the white male movement is attaching itself to everything and anything that represents so-called traditional beliefs and gathering it all under one header–one of the oppressed. It ought not be done as it muddies the truth of what is happening.

People who don’t teach speak of the breaks that teachers get as too much. I was once inclined to agree–not knowing the profession as I do. Turns out the break is entirely necessary. You take 8 classes, 150+ needy souls, and more papers than one person should handle and, yeah, you need a break. Perhaps I’m really reflecting on the fact that I also have the vestiges of a writing career, three kids, no wife, and I coach. It might be a lot.

The classes are over for a few days. The kids are thousands of miles away. The grading has subsided. Now it is time to recover. I’m taking a few days to get my head screwed on straight again. Rediscover my passion for all things. Maybe write a little. A lot.

The original plan was to go away. A physical change of scenery to get me right, but going away only means coming back to things that aren’t quite right and trying to get them there while the new round of classes are getting underway. So, instead I’m taking a few days to go away from routine; to go away from the responsibilities that are the lines I live in between; to figure out more about who I am, what I want, and where I am going.

Ought to be a dope few days.

Yesterday I was at Phoenix Comicon when a lone gunman showed up laden with weapons and ready to kill cops. I had no idea it was happening. None. They didn’t evacuate us, tell us, or even make it all too obvious stuff was going on. By the end of the day I noticed more cops and that was that.

Today was different. The news reported the situation with the salaciousness common to American news media. He had enough guns to kill a score of people. He was hoping to ‘rack up a high score’. All of that gets people to tune in. All of that also added hours of security to the convention. By 11 am the wait to get in was close to two hours. The cops were screening everyone going in and as a result, there were thousands of people standing in a queue outside. Not A hundred or two hundred. Well over a thousand people waiting in line. Waiting with no security to protect them against the possibility of an attack. See, by securing the interior so well, the cops created a target-rich environment outside. It all felt like a brilliant plan–for the bad guys.

‘lets send in a rube to get nabbed, so we can create the conditions for a massacre soon after–one that can take advantage of the heightened media coverage. The security check was meant to do good, but quickly devolved into doing very bad. I just feel lucky things didn’t go wrong.

Some Thoughts:

1. The calendar widget is unforgiving. And wrong. While it may seem as if I have missed a day here or there, in fact I still write everyday within the waking hours. Sometimes the post falls outside the boundary of the midnight hour. I ought to get better at that too.

You may have noticed yesterday that the theme of the site completely changed. Then it changed back. I tried something new. It didn’t fit. It doesn’t change the fact that change is needed though. I have used this theme since post 701, and while I do like it I have noticed the blogs growing shorter and less focused/useful. I’ve also noticed a steady degradation in chrome (unrelated) that coincides with this period of unwanted sadness. Here is what I think:

It is time for a fresh start. New look, freshen up the paint. While I know for a fact that the shell of a site does not make the content more worthwhile, the look of a thing does make me feel better–the way dressing nice can make you feel better about yourself. This website is going to undergo such a facelift. Meanwhile, I’m dumping chrome. The browser is a memory and battery hog.

I feel like there are times when you need to clean up some of the debris in your life in an effort to make things smoother, easier, and better. Often it is just a cosmetic fix, but looking good is intrinsically tied to feeling good.

I’m back in that space where I may step away from coaching. The problem is twofold: I love coaching and I have difficulty watching my kids play and being totally uninvolved. I don’t believe I am ready for that yet. At the same time there is a level of politics involved in coaching that I am also not prepared to partake in. To make a long story short, I’m standing outside the doorway of a youth football organization that is being built, and I can clearly see that my opinion is unwanted by those in charge of construction. Be it from lack of trust, faith, or no real value attached to my name, I am on the outside of this thing looking in and unhappy already with the direction things are going.

What makes me most unhappy is the lack of inclusiveness–specifically when it comes to me. I feel like I’ve contributed a lot to the team in terms of time and effort and even website. Still, no seat. The last football organization I was a part of found me in the same position where I was on the outside and not a single entity on the inside appeared to take value in my contribution–or even possible contribution. It is as if I need to prove to people that I can contribute and when I do, they attribute those contributions I’ve made to other people.

Story of my life so far.

It is no secret that I’ve been battling depression as of late. Turns out stuff like this is helping. Well, helping in a way, because that depression is slowly shifting into anger and spite.

Coulda said Netflix, but the now-obvious connotation would be wrong. No, I’m just in a kickback mode. It could be called a recharge. While there are still stories out there to be (and being) developed, the main portion of my gray matter is just soaking in my environment. My bestie calls it nesting. I would not argue with that connotation. I’ve spent the day cleaning small portions of the house, playing video games, and listening to Wings co-star Steven Weber read Stephen King’s It. 

Veg and Chill.

Some Thoughts:

1. People still really believe that Transexuals are actually perverts looking to molest girls and or join women’s sports and dominate. That is absurd. Stop watching Tyler Perry and the Wayans Bros right now. Anyhow, people looking to do that are few and far between. Just like we cannot stop a lone nut terrorist, we cannot stop a lone nut.
2. There are many many shitty people in my life who only seek to use me and my kids. They open themselves up to that crap.
3. I’ve quickly gone from the house where all the kids come over to the house where most kids can’t sleep over and many don’t come over so much anymore… You yell at your kid once with an open window…

There is an old sociology maxim that language shapes the view of reality of its speakers. In recent conversations with my best friend and partner, that subject sank deeper and deeper into my psyche. The idea that changing the way I speak–professionally and otherwise–would necessarily change my view of reality was more of an afterthought than a present logical concern… there, see? Present logical concern is a turn of phrase–language–that I once found as foreign as Spanish. Yet I find myself steeped in more and more officious and trade-based language, and as I do so, I slip further and further away from the passions that brought me to my craft.

The craft in question is teaching. The teaching of writing to be specific. I spend a lot of time (I wanted to say vast there) surrounded by university wonks trying to bring that mentality to the community college level. I’m not just talking about standards, though that is a discussion worth having. I’m talking about the culture of the place. My school is built around a transfer-to-university philosophy. Other schools I’ve dealt with have different mentalities and that made the culture of each very different and the language used from peer to peer to student (there I go again) very different.

In short what I’m talking about is this idea of becoming a fake wonk because I talk like one. It changes you. It doesn’t change your philosophy so much as it changes the way you unconsciously interact with the world. It is like the boy from the hood waking up one day and realizing he’s part of a country club (I see you, Jay-Z) and mimicking the culture of the people he is surrounded by. When in Rome, so to speak…

Some Thoughts:

1. Finished Big little lies. While the ending twist was entirely predictable, it was handled very well. Not to mention a baller soundtrack.