10 Minute Rule

1. Tonight I had a chance to sit down and listen to three of my former and current students read their creative writing. I was not only proud of the work they put together but awed at how far they’ve come as writers and how dedicated and skillful they’ve grown into their craft. I get that I’m a part of that growth and there is a part of me warmed by the understanding, but tonight was about them sticking to it and being rewarded for their excellence.
2. Long semester. I’m about done with it, if not actually then psychologically.
3. I’m about done with a lot of things that way.

If anything I’ve noticed a reduction in the number of words I can put down in 10 minutes.

That’s how the world works though. You have your high moments and your low ones. You hit a groove then a bump and the groove is suddenly gone and you spend a few months trying to get that back only to discover that it existed in that place and time and is now a part of your history. You gotta keep churning and uncovering the new. You have to evolve, change, aspire, be. Maybe not be. When I think about that word it is about existing and simply becoming a listener. Every now and again I start to believe that this is what I want to be–one who listens to the universe and, instead of acting on the voice of the universe and the voice of my own motivational energies, leans into the energy of time and space and tries to exist in that moment for as long as possible. Only, it isn’t possible to live in a moment. That is why it is called a moment. You live on a breeze, pushed along a current of wind towards an eventual destination; towards a new part of yourself that grows and changes and flowers and becomes something new itself.

It is simple to say you’ve become who you can be, but less so to understand what that means or why that is so incredibly defeating. I see it played out in the most minute ways sometimes. Tonight on the soccer pitch my 8-9 team went up against a team from the next age group. This 8-9 team is undefeated, destroying practically every team they face leading up to this weekends final match. Still, the team has deteriorated in each consecutive game, leaving us vulnerable for a big and painful end of season loss. The brilliance of our head coach (for I am merely an assistant) led to a match up against the older kids–kids who’ve won a majority of their matches this season and several of whom are quality club players. So, our boys faced off against their boys with all the fire and punch an undefeated, ego-strong 8-9 team can bring and their charge broke against the walls of the 10-12 goal where they discovered there are indeed players stronger and faster and better trained than them who, believe it or not, want it more.

We lost 3-1, but it was an incredible moment of realization where we stopped dying and started coming together and playing team ball again and deciding that individual glory matters little in the face of opportunity and purpose.

If I am to reflect on one last thing this night it is those two words. I realize the best way to live is to constantly throw myself in the path of opportunity and purpose. Not only to land in its path but to take advantage of it in any and all possible ways to the best of my ability. Go hard. Always. There is nothing after this life that is at all like this life, so take advantage of this singular opportunity before it ends.

The Walking Dead reminded me of a important lesson tonight.

A lot of the character development was based around the history of specific characters that developed slowly over the seasons of the show. In other words, the long history of a person informs his or her actions in a given situation. The revelation for me is embracing that vs. this constant running and fighting and doing little to embrace the past isn’t working. There are parts of my childhood I’d rather forget, but at the same time those parts of my childhood were impactful in me becoming the man I am today.

The past matters. History matters–whether it be in our own lives, our own understanding of the lives of others, our relationships, etc. History is all that separates us from oblivion. Without history we move through this world a forgotten wind.

Watching Fury I found myself remembering a conversation I had with one of my classes. The students were reflecting on how we, as a country, tend to forget the bad and dwell on the good. They even referenced Tim Wise who once said something along the lines of nobody talks about July 4th like ‘lets get over it’ but we act like we ought treat slavery and discrimination like its in the past and move on. They related that to the relationship we have with wars. For example, we remember D-Day and all the good we did to help win WWII, but Vietnam is a blight best forgotten. It turns out that philosophy is even more nuanced. Fury is the first film I’ve encountered to talk openly about U.S. forces being overmatched in that war–in this case by the German Tiger tanks.

The overmatched situation here was of course made into the positive. It quickly unraveled into a U.S. against impossible odds situation–which of course means it is a fair fight. Up until that point Fury is among the best war films written. There is a great deal of story that unfolds and relates the character of hardened soldiers and the temporary nature of life in wartime. This is a film well worth seeing, and I feel the director should churn out a few more war treatments–perhaps even give ‘Nam a shot.

Of course, nobody would see that film. We didn’t win that war.

One day I’ll write a book about relaxing. I’ll figure out how to create a pocket of time that allows busy individuals to reload utterly. It seems counterproductive to say that I want to write about creating this small pocket of recharge time, but the fact is few people actually have enough time to recharge themselves. I certainly don’t–at least not in the sense that I’ve been conditioned to understand time.

I think so many more people would be happy in their lives if they had just a few minutes each day of pure and blissful happiness and or relaxation. I don’t have that every day but I try to strike out and find that–even in every day actions–whenever and however I can. On the other hand, I hear stories each day about people waiting until they retire to cash in on being happy and relaxed and refreshed. I believe at that point you’ve already forgotten what that feels like and are possibly so set in living life without it that it is impossible to enjoy relaxation.

Lately I’ve been listening to zen music and tuning out for just a handful of minutes each day. Sometimes those minutes stretch into hours and I try to tune in and do work in the ‘zen mode’. I haven’t mastered the art of staying zen. I haven’t figured out how to reload and let go the tensions of the day, but I’m working on it. This is a problem that needs to be solved.

Some weeks you just try to make it through. You push on, keep your head low, and you survive.

I survived a long and tough week It was not incredibly different than the weeks before it. I think the real issue is that I hit a point in the semester where we’ve come too far to be fresh and new and are still too far away from the end of the road for any of that to come into focus. As a result I’ve been drained all week and unable to connect intellectually with much of anything. Cal it a wasted week or perhaps even needed downtime. I still actually need some downtime before nanowrimo kicks off and I start writing like a maniac.

Not a lot to say here. I’m all tapped out.

SD over DEN
I don’t see SD dropping two in a row. This is in part to the so-called curse that SD has placed on Manning. He doesn’t do so great when Rivers is watching him from the sideline. Maybe he’s shy.

DET over ATL
This is a great look. The game is in London, which mean it is starting at 9:30 which means when I wake up at 6:00 in the morning it is time for pregame! Yep, I’ll roll out of bed and start my slate of games.

SEA over CAR
The bleeding has to stop soon, and I think that even on the road they are far superior to CAR

BAL over CIN
Big game for Sanu won’t be enough here.

JAX over MIA
they sneak one in here…

KC over STL

NE over CHI

NYJ over BUF

MIN over TB

HOU over TEN
Another rookie QB? Come on, man.

AZ over PHI

OAK over CLE

IND over PIT

GB over NO

WAS over DAL

I’m too tired to be more complete in my thoughts tonight. More detail tomorrow…

 

 

The article header on the sidebar reads, “Which Celebrity shared her sexy tattoo in an instagram snap?” below the promoted stories scroll from “Anna Faris: Blonde Bombshell to TV’s hottest mom,” to the “Most Revealing Red Carpet Looks of All Time” to an AARP offering of “Playboy Bunnies: Then and Now.” The article itself bringing forth all of this smut and distraction is a NY Daily news post about the competency of the 911 system. Smut, lust, and longing all wrapped insecurity like a Nathan’s bun. I should be at least slightly surprised by this. Surprise is the bi-product of expectation and I should not expect discussions of security to be wound tight with sex in a rag like the NY Daily News. Hell, maybe I should. Therein lies the problem.

I’m tired.

I feel like the more I learn and understand about the way the world works, the worse I feel about moving through it every day. I don’t even know that much. As my good friend is fond of pointing out, ‘You know nothing, talislegger.’ Indeed, I can fit my worldly knowledge into a keyhole, but it still pops open the door to disappointment. The issue is that very little is genuine. Because our part of the world, at least, is driven by this idea of gaining wealth and being heard about the din of the billions, we exist in a structure where the loudest, brightest, and most compelling message is heard. We are reduced to birds eyeing for the brightest feathers. Hell, one news station even uses a peacock as it’s symbol. We paint pretty graphics and disturbing tones onto news that deserves a far more nuanced approach and in that we trigger the reptilian brain and reptilian fears of the average consumer. I have dozens of students who can speak to nothing better than they can speak to their fear and misinformed viewpoints about Ebola. To hear it from a college freshman, Ebola is spreading through the world rapidly and will be in Arizona within weeks–if it isn’t already here–and Obama should have done more to stop it. As if the Office of the President is responsible for failures at a Texas hospital. Wait, isn’t this all the fault of Obamacare? Or, as many have suggested, this is the fault of Obama himself for not better protecting the Mexican border and allowing ISIS terrorists laden with Ebola to cross over and infect our innocent women and children. I’m being hyperbolic, but only slightly. That part about the women and children wasn’t explicit.

The truth is, I am worn down on reality. This is part of why I gravitate to fiction so readily. Fiction provides the space to study these real problems and craft solutions that, in my magical world, can be played out to their eventual success or failure. Both happen in my stories, but not in the real world. In the real world there can be no such thing as failure.

 

The student in the corner was decked out in orange. Dark blue flared out from beneath his armpits and his hat was black with the Broncos insignia stamped across the front. Last week he was wearing A Yankee hat and a Yankee shirt with Jeter’s number emblazoned on the back. This week’s number was 18 and this week’s name was Manning. It made me wonder about the costumes that people wear. There is no chance he will be mistaken for Peyton Manning, just as I will never be mistaken for Amani Toomer when I don the Blue. Still, we do it all the time. We put on these costumes and pretend to be our heroes, these people from what sociologists call Reference Groups that help us decide how to behave at what to be. It made more sense to do that when I was a kid, but why, as a 20-something, would you do it still?

Spoiler Alert: I don’t have a good answer. I think it makes us feel connected to these people and through that connection we identify ourselves to the public as avatars of that person or followers of that individual or what they represent.

 

My relationship with medication is… disadvantageous.

I’ve tried, on occasion, to self-medicate when sick. Nothing drastic. Just the basic herbal remedies. The problems start when I step beyond the herbal concoctions and dive into the truly wicked stuff. By wicked I mean Benadryl. One pill dropped me into a condition eerily similar to depression. I had a hard time picking myself up off the floor after I swallowed a single pill. There is no chance of me ingesting another, even if it means this temporary near-blindness must continue.

On friday my right eye began to itch. I rubbed at it and picked at it, hoping to finger whatever was in there and pluck it free. There was not a thing to be plucked. Still the eye throbbed incessantly, promising that any plans I had would forever be cancelled. This was the moment I was called, “Melodramatic.” True, but what is a person to be if not himself?

The eye worsened. Eye drops did little to ease the pain and redness, leading me to purchase an eye patch. Ladies, I am no Nick Fury. I try to be, of course, but it takes a certain amount of practice to rock the patch on any day other than 10.31. More laughter ensued, but the circle of darkness protecting my eye was very effective in, at least, giving the eye time to rest and heal.

Today the eye flared up again, and I took that pill. I should not have taken that pill. The eye does feel much better but at the cost of nearly everything the eye is attached to. Even my brain feels like it is moving in slow motion. There has to be other ways to deal with allergies. The more I experience in life, the more it turns out I am allergic to, so I would like to have a useable remedy that doesn’t leave me feeling like a guy who just lost to Mike Tyson.