'tis the season for unconsciousness

This morning, two good friends left after a long weekend visit...one marvelous friend defended a doctoral dissertation, and the partner accompanied for moral support and drinking opportunities. Since both are dear friends and readers of this blog, the spousal unit and I opened up our house to them...and they repaid our kindness by bringing Old Style 30s and by refraining from trashing casa DuBose.

Somewhere in the visit, however, I got an e-mail from another friend. He's moving away at the end of the summer and wants to go out and drink this week. I told him that I could be persuaded to agree.

Later, I received an e-mail from another friend. Him and his spousal unit are coming for a BG visit (not sure why, but whenever anyone talks about a BG visit, I always think of the line from Bull Durham: "People who leave the Carolina League don't come back"). Of course, we will get together, socialize, and inevitably drink.

What does this all mean? With friend 1 and 2's visit, there was consumption on last Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. I go back to bar for friend 3 this Tuesday. Then starting Thursday, I have drinking with friends 4 and 5.

I like seeing good friends. I like socializing. I enjoy a beer or twelve. However, I doubt that I will be tremendously coherent come next week.

The dangers of summertime, I guess.

where's my gub'ment handout?

Today, I finally got my welfare check. You know, the thing that our glorious leaders call the 2008 Economic Stimulus check? By any other name, though, it's welfare, but our glorious leader (yes, the repeated Boris & Natasha reference is on purpose) cannot call it that and still think of himself as a conservative...although when you think of it, anyone who expands government, starts two wars, and increases government intrusion into the lives of citizens (thanks, Patriot Act) cannot really be conserving anything.

End soap box moment.

Anyway, I've been thinking of the best ways to spend our welfare check. Part of me wants to follow some great liberal stereotype. Why not? I've felt like a stereotypical liberal waiting for the damn thing to arrive ("where's my free money?"), but it would be more fun to use it to induce a stereotypically racially-other welfare mother to not get a job or something like that. However, I really didn't get that much money. What other options exist? I thought about hookers and blow, but that's more Republican than Democrat, isn't it?

Ideally, I would like to donate it to some worthy charity. Hell, I'm of the mind that instead of cutting everyone a check, we should've used the money to build solid levees around New Orleans or maybe even houses. This would've stimulated the economy and done some good at the same time, but I guess my government thought that landlords, gas station owners, and other elites needed a few c-notes more than did the devastated Katrina survivors.

In the end, though, I'm probably not going to do anything more fun than satiate my own creditors. Oh well...poverty wins out over idealism.

on freaking brothers everyway like m.j.

I try to write every day, in the mornings mostly. Yesterday, I was wrestling with every single word, hitting them with suplexes, piledrivers, stunners, but they just wouldn't stay down for the count. This morning? Everything's going good, and I blasted out almost three pages in two hours...a fantastic rate.

Strangely enough, though, when things are going good, I always think of the Ice Cube song "It was a good day." Why not? Note the lyrical genius:

Today was like one of those fly dreams

Didn't even see a berry flashing those high beams

No helicopter looking for a murder

Two in the morning got the Fatburger

And that's how I feel. Writing went good, and, much like Ice Cube, "Today I didn't even have to use my A.K."

Peace, out...going to get coffee.

Post 400, by the way...sorry it wasn't more notable.

losing it?

There are many unknown (or at least unpublished) costs of leading an academic life. The mental anguish can be extraordinary...from having most of your friends move each year towards distant locales, to dealing with the lack of logic, manners, and reason on the job search. And I have had to deal with this on many occasions.

Another cost (and one on which I would love to see a study) is the physical. The stress can take a real toll on one's body, and I have seen friends suddenly start to recover from long illnesses once they turn in their dissertation. It's almost like grad school tries to kill you.

What I've fallen the most victim to, however, is the complete sedentary nature of my career. I sit while I drive to class. I sit in my office while I hold conferences. I sit in my study while I write. I sit on my couch when I read and do research. My new laptop does allow me more mobility, but until they come up with a computer one can use while jogging or biking, us academics are, at least in terms of motion, gonna be physically inert.

My summer plans, in addition to the scholarship I must produce (3 articles, book review, completed manuscript...yes, I know I'm a dreamer), include an attempt to remedy the situation. I have an exercise bike, and I have committed to 30 minutes each day on the sucker. These are not happy minutes. I play music, and I have (in the past) tried to read while biking (doesn't work...the book gets all sweaty), but I still dread my rides. And I realize that an actual bike would provide scenery changes, and that would provide more intellectual stimulation, but it would most likely also provide crashes, wounds, injury...I am, after all, one of the least dexteritous people on the planet.

I've also tried to get out of the house each morning for a walk to a downtown coffee shop. This too is boring, in spite of my efforts to jazz it up by trying to take a different combination of streets and alleys each day, but the coffee is good, and it's still much more exciting than the bike/torture. Plus this way, I've been barked at by most of the dogs in town.

I've been at the bike since January and at the walks for about a month now, and I have seen some results already. It might even sound impressive if I were to list them in pounds lost, but if I think in terms of percentage of total, not so much. But it is something, and although I know I'll never be Kate Moss svelte, I do hope to eventually weigh less than most football players or Larry the Cable Guy. However, since seeing the endless parade of diet plan commercials, including one featuring Dan Marino and the aforementioned racist redneck stereotype comedian, I think they're on to me.

I'd like to think I have the willpower to stay at the workout regimen until I have undercut at least some of the effects of sitting around all day in the name of knowledge. Who knows? Maybe I'll get back into my 9th grade 24" waist jeans and earn my own weight loss commercial! I could become the Jared of Grounds for Thought coffee...although I don't really know the ethics of selling caffeine as weight loss impetus, and I don't want to be anywhere as annoying as Jared.

Will I be a shadow of my former self next time you see me?

marvelous things I'd never hear if not married

At 2:37 last night, my darling spousal unit woke me up:

"Mike! Mike!"

"Huh?"

"There's some pencils...and pens!"

She then went back to sleep...and I had to learn how to incorporate this new knowledge into my life.

now he definitely has my vote

You want another reason to like Obama? How about him drinking PBR and being a good tipper?

my first audition

Summers are always an interesting time for me, because they present a bit of an internal identity crisis. No, I'm not talking about the "I'm an academic and the summer is supposed to be my vacation period but is in fact the only time I have to do any of my own work" crisis...or even the "I am trying to use the summer to actually get into shape (or at least be slightly less bloated), but so many of my friends are leaving town for better jobs than I have and everyone else finally has time to hang out so I end up drinking entirely too much" crisis. No, this one is a bit more essential than either of those.

The summer is the time when I can actually restring my guitars and play a bit for my own amusement, something I never have time to do in the semester...and this is the issue. I can actually feel like a musician again, even if only for a limited time.

I started playing guitar in junior high, after saving up my lunch money for about a year. It was a cheap "Chicago"-brand Les Paul knockoff. Eventually, I outgrew it and wanted something a bit better, so again I saved up my lunch money for a year or so and bought a cheap Fender. Unfortunately, one of my parental units made me sell the old one (so whatever unfortunate offspring I might eventually have won't be able to inherit it), but I kept playing, and eventually, I didn't altogether suck.

I thought of myself as a guitar player first and foremost for years. While in school, I got a job so I could get a better amp and keep myself in strings. I cultivated friendships with other musicians. I bought a car mostly so I could drive to jam sessions. I practiced as much as I possibly could. I learned scales, wrote them out in every key, studied them incessantly. I tried to do everything musicians do, but there was one big void in the act: I wasn't in a band.

After I'd been playing for a year or two, I knew that I wasn't good enough to form my own band, but I really didn't know any bands that were hiring someone who had no real skills save the ability to bash out some simple chords and play the guitar solo to "You Shook Me All Night Long" perfectly...but who was willing and eager to learn. However, a classmate (in my sophomore science class, I think) told me that some friends of his were looking for a guitar player, and he offered to drive me to their practice.

So, I packed extra strings (necessary because at the time, I was using a galvanized steel guitar pick out of some misguided notion that it made my playing sound tougher or more metallic, whatever that means), lugged my Peavey Renown amp (notable for being loud as all hell and weighing 2,374 pounds) to my friend's truck, and off we went. And went. And went. We drove down roads until we got to the country....then we went until the pavement ended...and then we stopped for a cow crossing...and finally, we arrived at the house, at the end of a very long dirt driveway. My friend assured me that despite the long drive into farmer territory, we were technically still in Jacksonville FL. Personally, though, I could've sworn I saw a "Welcome to Alabama" sign somewhere along the way.

We entered the house, and my friend introduced me to the band...all in the 18-19 year old range, so I felt like the young'un. We then played some songs. If my memory serves me right, we went from "Sweet Home Alabama" to "Fade to Black" to something else similarly whiplash-inducing; the whole session jumped from genre to genre, as if they had gone to a record store, picked out several albums at random, selected the third song off each album, and decided to make that their repertoire.

Musically, the guitar player--who did all the leads--was the best one there...I seem to remember he almost had the ability to play "Eruption." The rest of the band was almost able to play a lot of songs...not that they made any major mistakes, and they could definitely finish everything they started, but there was always something slightly yet indefinably off about their performance.

So we played for about an hour. They then said they needed to talk, so they went outside, leaving me in this stranger's house. I plunked on my guitar. I stared at the faded movie posters. After ten minutes, one of them invited me outside to hang with them, and it was only then when the absurdity of the situation hit me.

There was some middle-aged guy wearing a flannel jacket wandering around. He had no teeth whatsoever. He kept offering me salt-free pretzels.

Everyone in the band was wearing "Just Say No to Drugs" shirts, hats, or pins...this being in the middle of the then-First Lady's attempt to solve the drug crisis by letting the youth of America know that illegal drugs were not in fact mandatory. Of course, the first thing these guys did was light up a joint.

The guitar player then lit into a speech, letting me know that his band was a democracy, and that everyone worked together in his personal band, but he was in fact the leader (something I gathered from his constant use of the word "my" when discussing the band), and they wanted to invite me to join...and did I have a good name to suggest?

I told them that I had another offer, I would need to think about it, I promised to get back to them, but I did really enjoy playing with them.

I never did contact these guys again. Looking back at it, I don't really know why I was reluctant to join. True, I didn't have a car, and these guys practiced 2,049 miles away. It was also true that they weren't exactly a great band...but then again, I was a mediocre guitar novice who could only really bang his way through songs as long as they had lotsa power chords. And we all would eventually get better.

And ultimately, it's not like I had lots of success later in getting into a band. Years later, I blew one audition because I was drunk. I blew another because I didn't know a Dokken song by heart...and I didn't have the guts to tell them that I didn't really listen to or even like the music they were playing in the first place. I backed out of another because the guys kept switching keys in the middle of AC/DC songs. And the only time I ever had one of my musician friends invite me to try out for his (very good) band, they wanted me to play bass...and auditioned me with a fairly hard song that they only wrote a few days before. Needless to say, I blew that one as well.

I tried forming my own bands, also with little success. Some friends invited me to join their jam sessions, and we did have a brief period of existence as a three guitar metal/blues/psychedelic band, but we didn't have a singer or a PA...and none of us had the guts to try singing ourselves. I formed another band with a few friends, and we wrote several original songs that I still think are pretty good...but we could never get a drummer. Another friend and I started a cover song band, and I think we got pretty decent...but singer never showed up for practice, and then the drummer left to join the singer back in their old band.

It's a shame, because I have never learned as much as when I played with other musicians. Also, when these jam sessions were going on, I felt happy, powerful, content, and they were some of the few times in my life when I've ever felt cool.

Also, I have never been in a band that's played out, and this is truly one of my deepest regrets. I have never played live. I wonder if my musician friends, most of whom have played out in some form or another, realize how lucky they are, or realize how strange it must feel for me to have failed so utterly at being able to perform and thus achieving the ultimate end-goal of anyone who considers themselves a musician first and foremost.

If I had to do it again, I'd just pick some kind of music that I could sing and play, so I wouldn't have to rely on other musicians. Unfortunately, I used to smoke, and that ruined whatever voice I might've had. I can do it now, but getting the vocal chords in shape to sing requires a lot of work...and most of the time, I'm too busy being teacher guy to even look at my guitars.

I'd also like to get some of my friends here together and play, but that's only actually happened twice. Each time, someone got busy with writing or teaching or something, and we never played beyond our first sweet, wonderful jam session. And if they're not busy, they're getting ready to move away.

But the summer...although I have lots of research and writing to do, there are still enough hours in the day where I can pick up a guitar, run through some chords, and maybe play a song or two.

Last week, I restrung my Ovation acoustic. Ever since, I've picked it up once a day at least. I've run some simple finger exercises, played some scales. Then I've started strumming, going through a basic chord structure, found myself singing something.

While playing, I've thought back to all my musician friends. Some of them still play out on occasion. Some consider themselves retired from whatever level of involvement music had in their lives. Some pick up their instruments only occasionally. Some I've long lost contact with, and I wonder if they play.

Since I restrung the acoustic and started my summer playing, I've found myself thinking about that first band audition. I don't remember any of the guy's names anymore, and I can't even remember what they looked like. I wonder how long they played together. I wonder if they still play. I wonder if they still think of themselves as musicians in any sense, or if they ever think of playing at all. And I wonder how all of our lives would've been different if I would've joined their band.

Three of my guitars sit on their stands at the end of the couch. Besides the Ovation, I have my green Telecaster out, as well as my Yamaha, which I use for slide playing (and I'm not very good yet). My actual, not-a-copy Les Paul custom sits in its case, patiently waiting its turn in my guitar rotation. The black Fender I took to that audition all those years ago also sits in its case, but it won't come out anytime soon...it needs rewiring, and I just can't afford that right now.

Once I finish writing this, I want to pick up the acoustic and run through my country cover of "Boys of Summer," or perhaps some Wilco, maybe try to perfect that Josh Ritter song. I'd then love to plug the tele into my Marshall combo, crank up the gain, and just let a few chords rattle. I'd love to restring my Gibson, move to some big city, and form a band, show them how it should be done.

Instead, though, I need to grab lunch and then get back to that race article...so I can send that off, get to the awaiting book review, television article, and book manuscript. Meanwhile, my guitars look at me, wondering how they became adjuncts to my life rather than the center of it, as they were at one time.

I wish I knew what to tell them.

quote of the moment

This might take a bit of mental digging to figure out for many of you, but it perfectly sums up how I feel right now about a great deal of issues:

"I thought there were alligators in the sewers...I mean, I was ready for alligators..."

my contribution to the world of mixology

I just created a new drink.

• ice up a glass
  
• pour in 15-20% golden rum
  
• splash in some triple sec
  
• top off with apple juice
  
• splash in a little grenadine
  
• stir, garnish with an apple wedge (and a little umbrella thingie if you've got it)
  
• imagine you're in an orchard watching the sunset with some cute country girl by your side while you sip gently
  

I don't have a name finalized yet, but I'm leaning towards a "Mike-intoch"

a quick link before I return to work

Been meaning to link to this open letter to Obama from a friend's blog. Late on my part but still relevant.

where were you five years ago today?

What's really wacky about this is the CBS article's quote from the White House Press Secretary--"President Bush is well aware that the banner should have been much more specific and said 'mission accomplished' for these sailors who are on this ship on their mission"--made me have to check to make sure I wasn't reading The Onion.

signs of mental distress

I've noticed a few things about myself lately, and all of them make me really nervous:

1. I seem to have developed the incessant need to slurp whatever beverage I drink. My spousal unit started complaining about this last week, and she claims this is a new occurrence. I have honestly been trying, but I can't seem to stop myself.
   
2. When I'm teaching, I now talk with my hands. I don't normally do this. In fact, I normally make fun of people who do this.
   
3. Since we got the laptop, I seem to play a whole lot more computer solitaire. This is a habit I thought I broke when working on the dissertation...when I broke it by removing everything off my computer. But I now find myself playing Kansas...and I can't stop!
   

Am I getting old, or are the years of teaching starting to take their toll? Will I be a blithering idiot in five years? I mean, more than I am already...

false arrest?

Actor (not really, but that's how he's known) Wesley Snipes has been sentenced to three years in jail for tax problems. I'm upset about this...because if he needed to go to jail for anything it should've been for Passenger 57, perhaps the worst movie ever...it's so bad, it's not even entertaining.

a night out

A good friend and fellow blogger did the return to BG tour this week. Last night was our drinking evening, and it ended the way it should...with one friend trying to steal street signs and another trying to grab a local rabbit.

last day teaching for the semester!

The sun is shining, the flowers blooming, and after my next class, I don't have to teach for a few months...just blast through some grading, and then I'm in the land of frozen drinks, palm trees, and babes in bikinis!

(Actually, it's just sitting on the couch and writing, but work with me here!)

I've done two of my classes so far, and only one of the students talked to me on the way out. On the plus side, this is the first semester in a while where my teaching and assignments didn't cause even one student's grandmother to die.

of a pianer player

Last night, the spousal unit and I took a road trip to Adrian MI. We found out Saturday that Ben Folds was playing at the University there, and as we're both fans, we made the trek.

A friend of ours lives there, but he was at a book signing that day (for his own book...which, by the way, rocks) and couldn't meet us. But he did refer us to a good Mexican restaurant.

While the spousal unit only thought her flautas were "okay," I was a big fan of the tacos. Of course, the tacos were the recommended item, so I just chalk her avoidance of the specialty of the house to my spousal unit's desire to always walk the unbeaten path...and in no way would I ever say she was just being difficult with her choices...I'm too nice of a guy for that.

The concert was in a gym on the college campus. Somehow, I find it a bit depressing that so many of our experiences with music tend to take place in areas that are better suited for volleyball than for music. I wonder how much this gets on the nerves of the performers.

There was also something about the crowd at the event. They were not attractive people. Now, I'm not exactly what you'd call Humphrey Bogart, but it looked like someone had jumped through the crowd while beating people with an ugly stick.

There were, for some reason, a lot of people who were wearing either clothes or jewelry that looked like they made it in summer camp. There were a number of guys in the crowd who were larger but wearing tight shirts that emphasized their ample bosom. Again, I'm not exactly scrawny, but I know a secret that these guys obviously don't: if you're big, do NOT tuck in your shirt.

Opening act was Ben Lee, and he was okay...did as good as one guy with a guitar and songs that very few of us had ever heard can do.

Ben Folds, though, was really good. He's playing with a band these days...a drummer and a distorted bass player...it's like the Ben Folds Five, but with different guys. There was also a roadie who would come out at random intervals to play tambourine...he always had his back to the crowd, played very dramatically, and then left without noticing the band at all.

They were very tight...played some stuff off their upcoming album, all the classics, some experimental/jam stuff. The version of "Narcolepsy" was a full-out sonic assault, which was interesting, because it's not normally my favorite song...but it rocked.

I also loved the instrumentation. We all know the bass through the distortion pedal bit, but he was also running his piano through one...as well as through some other effects. He would hand mute certain strings so that the piano would be more percussive. He snuck in some synthesizer. At times, he attacked the piano, going so far as to play the piano by throwing his seat at it.

There was also singalong portions, but they weren't the annoying "call and response" bits (that unfortunately the opener used). Instead, he had us singing horn parts and 3 part melodies.

And the crowd loved it. Actually, it was weird to see a rock show where the virtuosity of the musicians was a draw. Most of the people out now rarely do extended solos or anything else. Here, they were the highlight, the draw. It reminded me of a Zappa show (albeit with more melody), and that truly gives one faith.

technology reaches its zenith

It's entirely too nice outside...perhaps the second day it's hit 70 degrees. Yet I have conferences.

Is this a problem? No, and this is one of the reasons I love technology. I have a laptop! I have wifi! I can go make a pot of iced tea and chat room conference from my lounge-y chair!

Ah, a great time to be alive!

update...wifi works out here. First bug bite of the season. No outlet, so I'm doomed to battery life. And there's so much light, my screen is mostly glare...but it still rocks.

wakeup call

Killing time before my conferences, and I've got the tv on. Flipping through channels, I just found out that Spike is playing repeats of The Shield...at the ungodly hour of ten am! Can you really think of a worse way to wake up?

the obligatory depressing post, courtesy of a certain conservative newspaper suppliment

In case you missed it, this weekend's newspaper contained that very special issue of Parade which throws me into fits of melancholy on an annual basis: the "What People Earn" issue.

Now, I'm actually way past moaning about celebrities making exponentially more than me, even those talentless hacks like the Hilton or Simpson sisters. Doesn't bother me. The secret? I just took to heart Jimmy Carter's dictum "life ain't fair."

No, what I'm bummed about this time are the stupid and illogical jobs that get paid more than me, a Ph.D. in a full-time university teaching position:

• psychic
  
• bounty hunter
  
• tow truck driver
  
• locksmith
  
• screen printer
  
• dental assistant
  
• casino dealer
  
• massage therapist
  
• Branson MO singer
  
• rodeo steer wrestler
  

Yes, it's bad. Of course, with our current contract negotiations, there's a good chance that my earnings will plummet. But it could be worse; I still earn more than a hospital clown or a competitive eater.

But if the pro lacrosse mascot overtakes me next year, I will be mighty ticked off.

N'awlins

I've been working on a paper dealing with the media, New Orleans, and Katrina. For a while, I've been waiting to view When the Levees Broke...I've been backed up on work, but mainly, I've known this would be a very hard watch.

I'm not even halfway through it so far, and I've lost count on how many times I've wanted to hit someone. I am so mad, frustrated, and shaking angry at so many people. The only thing that's more overwhelming is the amount of times I've been horrified or broke down in tears.

My hatred of our current federal administration is at a new high, and I sincerely hope that people pay for their horrible inefficiency, disdain, and utter uncaring stupidity. This is one of the most powerful television events I've ever experienced.

Update: 3:40 into this, and my god, someone make me laugh, please.

one step closer to victory

Here in northwest Ohio, we're definitely in the middle of "the turn." After a winter whose snowfalls never seemed to end (not that we got that much snow, but it just never stopped), it might in fact finally be time to put away the snow boots. Yes, we're finally at that stage where both the calendar and the weather finally agree that it's Spring.

The signs:

• We have projected high temperatures in the 60s all week. Right now, it's already 52. Actually, according to the weather widget on my laptop, it's 52.8, but outside, it feels like...52.8. You gotta love technology.
  
• Last night, we decided to take the tertiary quilt off our bed.
  
• While me and my lovely spousal unit decided to go for a random weekend walk yesterday, we saw an inordinate amount of frat boys playing in their front yard.
  
• There were also a large number of joggers out, with a particularly high concentration of stick women. I guess that everyone's trying to get in swimsuit shape. I'm also exercising a bit more in hopes of being able to fit into that bikini by June.
  
• The Bowling Green squirrels are out in force. They are still a bit downsized for the winter, but they're still large enough to take on the average bulldog.
  

Pretty soon, it will really start to get warm, and then the town will suddenly shake off its annual winter depression. I can see it now. Frat boys drinking Natty Light in kiddie pools in their front yards. Sorority "chicks" sunbathing in the park. Drunk undergrads on the decks at local frat boy bars.

I look forward to all this, and it's not for the unadulterated love of intoxicated student behavior. No, this all means three things. First, I'm that much closer to escaping the tyranny of socks and moving back into sweet, sweet sandals. Second, Smoovies (our cinematic smoothie place) should be opening soon. Finally, and most important, we as a town must be only be mere weeks until the undergrads pack up and go the hell back to wherever they came from. The town will be ours again! We will have won!

ps: Just got back from my morning walk, and when I asked about Smoovies, I was told that they weren't opening this year. Hope the resulting bad mood hurries up and lifts.

an anniversary of sorts

interwub postcards, my webjournal blog, has just hit the 75 post mark. If you've never visited, it's where I post links to all the useful/insightful/helpful/just plain weird websites I encounter in my daily journeys around the World Wide Wub.

do I make you laugh?

My lovely spousal unit just told me that my level of humor tends to add to her stress load. For people who know me and have experienced that humor, this should come as utterly no surprise.

desperation

I just saw a television ad for some asthma medication, where one of the side effects was "increased chance of asthma-related death."

Don't you miss the days before they would let drug companies advertise on television?

self realization hurts

Today, I learned something really sad about myself....I still know all the lyrics to the commercial jingle for the Atari 2600 version of Defender. Why can't I purge this and all the other useless crap (like how to play the guitar part for Accept's "Balls to the Wall") from my head so I can remember useful stuff?

if you really put metal there, it would hurt

Today, while exercising, I had the computer play Metallica's Ride the Lightning. A few thoughts:

• I actually remember when Metallica was transgressive. When you played them, everyone looked at you as if you were crazy.
  
• I also remember when Metallica was cool. Today? They're classic rock. Wee.
  
• I will never be able to make clear to my students just how shocking it was to first hear "Fight Fire with Fire" in 1984.
  
• Today, a kid listening to Metallica is basically akin to if I, when in high school, would've listened to The Byrds.
  
• Is this really the same band who did "Enter Sandman," which had the really wussy "Now I lay me down to sleep" bit?
  
• This album would've been even better if they would've eased off the effects. Metal guitar does not need a chorus pedal!
  
• It's neat that you can have a full album and hardly hear the bass.
  

This is all secondary to my biggest conclusion: jeez, I'm old.

on race and hope

For the first time since I can remember, I'm excited about the presidential election.

The first president I remember was Carter, and I really don't remember too much about him. I have lots of memories about Reagan, because I started to become aware of the importance of government by that time...but that's a topic for my book, not the blog. I was not old enough to vote for Bush I, and to tell you the truth, I have no idea where I would've went with that one...it's not like Dukakis inspired great loyalty, after all. On the other hand, I did get to see the marvelous economic effects of the Bush I presidency, so it's not like I have an abundance of love for him either.

I did vote for Clinton both times. The first time, it was in part because I saw the economic devastation of Bush I first hand, but the biggest reason was frankly that I wanted health insurance. I voted for Clinton the second time because as bitter as I was about the health insurance debacle, he still seemed less deadly than Dole.

Al Gore got my vote, but that one was a toughie. Gore ran without a doubt one of the worst possible campaigns I could imagine. How can you distance yourself from a president with one of the highest approval ratings ever? But he was no Bush II, and that was enough for me...although I had to have a shot of bourbon after voting to get the taste out of my mouth.

Kerry was also hard, because he was such a charisma void and an idiot to boot. However, by this time, I saw the damage Bush II could do, and I would vote for anyone who could prevent our great country from turning into an overly moralistic bully. We all know how that one turned out, though.

This time, however, I feel really good about the election, and that's mostly because of Barak Obama. I used to wonder what it would be like to vote for someone you actually believed in, who wanted to be president for all the right reasons, who made sense and had obviously weighed out all sides of an issue--morally, politically, ethically, practically.

I like Obama so much, I went out and campaigned for him on the day of the state primary. For those who know me, you realize how hard it is for me to approach and interact with total strangers, so this was not easy. I wanted to be a part, however, and I wanted to know that I did everything I could to help in this movement.

In this, I was largely inspired by a friend, who was very instrumental in the BG Obama campaign. Also, my in-laws drove in and did campaigning the week before the primary.

Today, Obama finally addressed the 500 pound gorilla in the room...race. After all, when you have the first black man ever to be a serious candidate, race is obviously an issue in some regard. On his website, there's a video and a transcript of his speech entitled "A More Perfect Union." It is perhaps one of the more lucid, eloquent, intelligent, and hopeful takes on race in America I've ever heard. It shows a grace and spark which I've never before seen out of a politician.

It's also a good reason why I, for the first time in ages, have real hope for our country.

2007-2008 job decap

Last year, I spend the better part of the summer writing, because I was quite clear that the number one thing I could do to improve my chances on the job market was to increase my publications. I got several articles and a book proposal revision finished. I felt good.

I also decided to revise my letter and vitae format significantly, so I sought advice from several sources. The cv is now 100% better...nice font, nice format, much tighter and more professional.

The letter, however, suffered some growing pains. I took it to a professor who, although I had only very limited experience with her, came highly recommended. The draft of my letter that she wrote (while I sat and watched...I swear, it's great being excluded from writing your own job process) bordered on science fiction...and not the good kind. Apparently, I use my classes as "inversion portals" or something like that. I have no idea exactly what an "inversion portal" is; it sounds like something off of Star Trek, but how that might fit in with my teaching, I have no idea.

So I tried a draft that combined whatever good elements existed in this sci-fi letter with my normal letter and took it to a co-worker. She liked it, so I went with it, and used it on my first 13 jobs. The results? Some trees died. Some woodland creatures had to find somewhere else to live. That's about it. I even bought some of the most expensive deluxe resume paper, hoping that might set me above the crowd, but the $25 per half ream paper also yielded no results.

Finally, I went to my work department office and grabbed a handful of job packets. We were running a search, and I figured out that the best advice I could get would be to see how actual job candidates were doing their stuff...why not, since they were my direct competition?

This was truly enlightening. For one, no one ever told me to use letterhead. Can you believe that? In all the people I asked for advice, this simple bit never came up. Also, research was always the second paragraph and took up 35% of the paper's length. I, after being told that I'd end up with a teaching position instead of a research job, minimized my research.

These are just two of the things that I had been doing wrong and no one had ever told me about. I wonder how many jobs I had lost because of no letterhead and minimal discussion of research.

The job market has been really tough for me, mostly because I've been doing a lot of the work completely on my own. My dissertation chair did a great job getting my diss through committee, but I never got much help on the job process from her...and now, I hardly see her and feel a bit abandoned. My department chair has been wonderful, but he has entirely too much stuff on his plate to really dedicate any consistent amount of attention to me. So everything has been trial and error, and I fear that the errors have cost me on more than one occasion.

I know I can be a great professor and a wonderful colleague. I like teaching, especially when I am allowed to get more involved in the subject and in my student's work than the business writing I currently teach allows. I feel I do good scholarship that will eventually earn a notable place in the academic arena, once I get a job which more greatly allows me to write. And in spite of the limitations of being a full time 5/4 teacher in a field outside my own, I think I've done a great job of everything, even above and beyond.

Making this all the more stressful is that I don't easily fit into an established field. I do the eighties, and this is not a standard academic field...or even area of concentration...or, for that matter, a topic...yet, that is. I have been told by many that the eighties will eventually end up being a hot academic area someday. It should...there's way too much fascinating stuff, and with the intersection of identity politics, postmodernism, and Reaganism, we should be talking about this stuff. As of now, we haven't got there yet. Soon, I hope.

I also do media studies, but there's not a tremendous number of those jobs out there. Many are film studies gigs, and for those, I just can't compete against film studies scholars. Others require production skills, and I don't have them. What's left is a small percentage of jobs where I can apply. I could also do Culture Studies jobs (and it is my preferred area), but there are even less of them. This means that in any given year, there's 15-20 good jobs out there. The odds are stacked against me. And although I applied for 21 this year, I only got a single phone interview.

In spite of this, I am very optimistic. There's a really good university press who's requested a book manuscript, and I have high hopes for that, ideally thinking I can get a contract by next October if all goes well. I have great ideas on how to revise several articles. I have several good articles on the go. One of these is a guaranteed publication. If even 10% of the irons I currently have in the fire work, I will be in great shape for next year's run.

On top of that, this past year has really taught me how to do a good resume and letter, even if that instruction came the hard way. My materials are now dynamite. I feel fully at ease with my application packet.

Get ready, world. 2008-2009 will be my year.

a crisis of delivery

So, I'm in the zone, I'm ready, I'm back in the "whenever I'm not in the classroom, I should be working" vibe. I feel good, I know what I'm doing, I'm confident. I am riding the writing/research wave, and I am hanging ten. All the other beachgoing-academics are swooning.

Of course, that's always the first sign, isn't it?

There are currently a large number of balls in the air, but the one I'm most concerned with is my Captain America article. I have every right to be concerned...it has the soonest and most absolute deadline.

So I read and reread the source materials enough to where I actually know my topic and argument...it took a little bit of time, since I haven't actually done any work with the fine Captain in four years, but I have it nailed, and it will be a good'un...notable, with the benefit of expanding my cv.

Of course, my argument fits in to my general scholarly theme of studying how identity works in a postmodern existence. Also, however, this paper is sending me to yet another field of theory--masculinity studies--where I don't have a whole lot of experience or knowledge backlog, but that's how things are working lately, so I expect that.

There's one of the industry-wide classics of theory in this field (Connell's Masculinities) which is listed so much as source material in my research, I feel I have to read it...it would be like ignoring Marx in a Marxist analysis if I miss it. But, thanks to the internet, you can order anything and have it on your doorstep in days...right?

I've got the book ordered, and I have a long weekend to start the drafting process...almost a full week, thanks to student online draft days. I'm in great shape. Then I realize that, even though it's been a few days, the book hasn't come yet. I check the fine print on Amazon, and it says "ships in three to six weeks."

AAARRRGGGHHH.

There's still time to recover, so last Wednesday, I order from half.com and select expedited shipping. This means I should get the book this Friday or Saturday. That still leaves all weekend, Monday, and Tuesday to draft. No problem...right?

On Saturday, I get an e-mail from the half.com seller...she can't ship the book until Monday...which means I wouldn't get it until Wednesday at the earliest.

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

I cancel the order with her out of general spite, and, after online checking, find out that no one in 100 miles seems to have this very important book in stock. Barnes and Noble online, however, claims they can get it to me in a few days, but I'm still looking at Wednesday before I can start reading it...and only after that can I outline or draft.

Keep in mind my deadline is March 31, and you can see why I'm panicking. I thought I'd have a nice long binge draft session and then relatively relaxed revision. Instead, I lost a four day block of work time and will instead have to cram this together in a few days. This is made all the worse by Easter and the inevitable family visits the holiday entails...which I love, but they make my deadline a migrane.

It's just my life, I expect.

The weirdest thing about this snafu is that it gave me a weird weekend. I couldn't do any more work on this paper because I was missing a source. I didn't want to distract myself by working on something else, because my mind can no longer multitask several arguments...I lost that ability when I finished by coursework. And there's nothing built up on the TiVo to occupy my brain. This is why I spent part of Saturday night bored out of my skull and reading A Cricket in Times Square.

This is also why I can tell you the aforementioned Cricket book kicks Judy Blume's ass.

Ah, the joys of being a full time academic...drowning as a wave of unavoidable delays and setbacks crushes you against an outcropping of rocks.

proof that my work is indeed relevant

I'm eating lunch while prepping for a phone interview, and I'm experiencing something horrifying on television....a History Channel show called History Rocks. The concept of the show is a combination of Pop-Up Video and the standard reductive pseudo-documentary tv is famous for...particularly this channel.

This one's on the eighties. They started off with a bit on Pac Man...yes, the video game is the most important thing about the decade to these guys. {ac Man was, incidentally, covered while "Everybody Wang Chung" played. They just finished doing Black Monday to the strains of Foreigner's "Urgent," and after the break, it's the fall of the Berlin Wall to Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It."

Ug. These people need me.

damn you, Bing Crosby

We had somewhere around 6" of snow. I live about 20 miles away from where I work. Naturally, this causes a problem.

I get up, and the spousal unit and I check the television and web to see if our work places are open. Hers has announced that they're closed until noon. She goes back to sleep. I go "grrrrr." and hop in the shower.

I make and pour coffee. It's 8am, and now, I'm awake. That's when my school decides to stay closed until noon. Caffeine is in my system now, so sleep is realistically an impossibility. I'm slightly peeved.

I go online and cancel my first wave of conferences. I get the standard web stuff done. I check into applying to the MLA's conference (it's the biggie for Lit types), but they make you join and pay the $80+ dues to even consider your proposal. I'm ticked.

Spousal unit gets up, and I gaze longingly at her for a while. Her school decides to close for the day, and she vows to wear pajamas for the entire time. I look out at the 6" of snow on our cars. I'm still ticked.

So I check my school's web site, and I have to dig to find anything...but still no notice of closing. So I go out and shovel off our cars and all the snow around them. I work steadily, but it's still that fun "you're outside, it's below freezing, and you're sweating" kind of work.

I come back inside, check the web, and NOW they've decided to close my workplace. Grrrrrrrrrrr.

This is all further fuel for my rampant paranoia, of course. And to make matters worse, after they finally decide I don't have to risk life and limb to work, THEN it quits snowing.

a strange serenity in face of the storm clouds

I am so horrifically overworked right now, I should be in absolute panic. I have a month to finish an article for a contracted book. I have another article I'm co-writing with a friend. I have two articles that need revision and resubmitting. I have two more articles in various stages of the process...one of which I have to then convert into a book chapter. And then I have the big book revision project.

Not to mention, of course, the joys of teaching 4 classes...one online comp I and three business writing sections.

However, I'm strangely at peace. I am actively researching and writing...with only minimal tv immersion/screw off periods. I think I can actually make all my deadlines. I have faith.

Not two weeks ago, I was in depressive/"the world is going to end" mode...in other words, I was acting like my brother. However, I got in succession potential good news on both the book and the job hunt...nothing I can discuss right now, but it's a real lift to have some actual validation, some recognition that your efforts are in fact appreciated. You can bet that if there's any progress I can discuss, you'll here it here.

Damn, I'm actually only one step away from breaking into the whole "ant can't pull a rubber tree plant" routine.

rolling frames

Last Thursday was the lovely spousal unit's birthday. To celebrate, we had a bowling extravaganza on Saturday. The main thing we learned? Proficiency at Wii bowling does not really translate to the real world.

I didn't get the hang of it right away...my first 6 balls were all gutters. Of course, when we had 10 minutes left on our lane, I started throwing strikes. My dad was a great bowler, which makes my own ineptness at the sport that much more disappointing.

As we were leaving, I thanked some of our friends for coming, because my spousal unit would've been heart-broken if people didn't show up. The response? "we couldn't break her heart...that would be like slaughtering puppies."

read this

a momentary boost to a poor ego

I've been asked to write an article on Captain America prose novels for a contracted book. While doing research today, I typed in "Captain America" into the search engine of one of the library's research databases, and my Journal of Popular Culture article was the first one to come up! It briefly made me feel famous.

Also, there has been some acknowledgment of my scholarly existence! If anything ever comes of it, you can bet you'll hear it here.

don't trust the gub'ment

In my initial preparations for tax filing, I was running through the 1040A and found out there's several things that annoy me.

I teach college. Specifically, I do writing. Many of the things I teach are the type of things that, if they were any good, most high schools should really teach. Should one be able to finish public education and still have to ask: What's an argument?

So I was pleased when I saw that there is a slot for educational teaching expenses. However, since I do college, I don't qualify...never mind the fact that I do so much high school-appropriate stuff.

Also, the spousal unit did have to pay tuition this year, and I know I can claim that. However, according to the form, I can claim it in one of three different ways. Obviously, I was confused, so I called the IRS, and after hearing the same classical "hold" music for twenty aggravating minutes, they told me that there's no real guideline as to which one I should use, and I should really just do all three and find out what works.

Now, I am a supporter of the graduated income tax, but c'mon... This just kind of reinforces my dream that the IRS must really be a dungeon, with dungeonmaster figures managing the phones, letting out maniacal laughs whenever they're able to fully and utterly confuse or torture someone.

rooting for the monsters

Last night, several friends, the spousal unit, and I went to see the movie Cloverfield....one friend described it as "Blair Witch meets Godzilla."

For those of you who haven't been exposed to the mega amounts of hype, the premise is that the movie is supposed to be the retrieved film from the minicam of a New Yorker taken as the city is attacked by some giant monster. As such, it's supposed to be "the average person's point of view of a major calamity" kind of thing.

The film starts off with the "let's set up the character" stuff. One of the major characters, it seems, is about to move to Tokyo for a job or something, and his brother and friends are throwing a going away party. There's some subplot with him and a girl whom he has loved for years. It doesn't matter, really. The set-up went on for about twenty minutes, and although it was supposed to build our sympathy for the characters, it instead made me wish that the monster would hurry up, attack these people, and make them die slowly and painfully.

The humans were all annoying. They were the "hey, we're in our mid twenties, unbelievably rich, thin, and spoiled, and we're partying yet can still cry when our stupid little boyhood crushes go bad" types. They were stupid. They were petty. I wanted them to suffer.

Then the monster attacks NY. Everyone runs to the roof, and when debris started to fly, everyone ran to the street. A building collapsed/exploded, and the crowds scattered. Some of the major characters found refuge in a store before the clouds of smoke, dust, and crap hit.

Right then, I started to feel dramatically uncomfortable. I wondered how a 9/11 survivor watching this film would feel about their experiences being ripped off and regurgitated so the viewer can feel sympathy for spoiled brat 20 year olds who have Central Park-overlooking apartments.

It went on. The characters never became likable. We only really got limited exposure to the monster. We never figured out what it was all supposed to be about.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to focus on the small scale stories instead of adopting a big picture view. Hell, in most cases, the desire to look at the details, at the humanity, would be appealing and gutsy. The problem with this film is that the humanity we did get to see was annoying, the horror was hidden, and the big picture was non-existent. Unfortunately, while many of the lead characters died, they did so in quick, non-pain-filled ways instead of slow and horribly, which is what they deserved.

When the closing credits started, one film-goer let out a loud "That's it?" As we left, I heard another say "That's the worst movie I actually saw in the theaters." Personally, I wanted to make the filmmakers sit down and watch Godzilla 2000 to see that monster movies do not have to suck. It also made me aware that any piece of crap can be hyped into being the "best selling movie of the week."

Avoid this film, unless you just have excess time to kill, money to blow, and incredibly low standards.

a loss in Bowling Green

For a while, I doubted that she even exist. She was the thing of legends, of stories. Everyone else I knew had seen her, but whenever I was in the area, she seemed to have vanished.

It is in downtown Bowling Green where she was rumored to hang out, in the window of a corner in a downtown store which I would often pass yet never enter. Indeed, it was a strange place for a rumor, a legend, but that's were they said she stayed.

She was Window Kitty. In the window of a craft/scrapbook store, the owners set up a mini bed for their store cat. Window Kitty had free reign of the store, but she slept in her window bed, and people would stop, double take, then stare and "aww" over the cute little cat in the store window.

Or, at least, that's what everyone told me happened. For my part, years passed of walking to dinner, walking to the library, or walking to the bar, and each time, I would head past the downtown store in hopes of seeing her...but she was never there, apparently content to wander the aisles every time I was in the area instead of posing and being cute for my convenience.

For the longest time, I doubted. I suspected a conspiracy, that everyone was in league in a conspiracy to make me hunt for cats that weren't there. Then I wondered if said kitty really did exist but consciously avoided me. Maybe Window Kitty had spies that told her "Hey, Mike is coming" and then hid in response.

One day, I saw a sign in the window, telling passers-by that yes, this was a real cat, and please stop banging on the window. Still, however, the actual Window Kitty eluded me.

This went on for years, and I got more paranoid and hurt with each failure to see Kitty.

Early last Fall, I was walking to my favorite downtown tavern, and something in the window caught my eye. It was a sleeping cat, and she was gorgeous. Window Kitty was real! Moreover, she decided to take pity on me bless me with her presence.

Every time thereafter, whenever I would be downtown, I would look, and Window Kitty would be there. She became a landmark for me, a reminder of BG in this time.

Last night, the spousal unit and I were going to eat downtown, and we passed Window Kitty's window...yet there was no cat bed. We looked in the window, and there was a new sign.

Window Kitty, the sign said, had passed on. The sign said to not be sad, because Window Kitty was undoubtedly now sleeping in heaven's window, purring up a storm.

Goodbye, Window Kitty. I'm sorry I never went in to pet you, but I'm glad I got to see you. Downtown Bowling Green will never be the same without your purr.

this just in...

Puxsutawney Phil saw his shadow. More winter, folks. However, I'm still up for celebrating Groundhog's Day, that most Freudian of all holidays.

I want candy...

We had some friends over last night (tv night!), and here's an actual snippet of the conversation:

friend 1: I love M&Ms...they have the perfect kind of chocolate.

me: Of course, M&Ms are better when you only eat the same colored ones and pretend that they're pills of some sort, like amphetamines.

friend 2: I do that too!

friend 3: I sort them out by color, but then I eat one of one color, one of the next color, one of the next color, and go around like that.

This explains a lot, no?

reservations

In case any of you are curious after reading my post last year or hearing me and the spousal unit talk about it, White Castle is doing their Valentine's Day candlelight dinners again. Get your reservations quickly...the spouse and I are all set.

another in the long line of stupid commercial products

While I was at the grocery store waiting on my prescription, I saw, in my wanderings, some company that's making something called...wait for it..."artificial honey." What's even worse is that it was, for some inexplicable reason, grapefruit flavored.

It's the consumer industry gone horribly awry, and it makes me want to reconsider communism.

diagnosis

I have, for two weeks, been suffering through what I've dubbed "The Cold That Will Not Die" (and yes, the capitalization is important). It's bad...I even canceled a class last week, and that's something I never do. I tried Mucinex, but no mucus was moved (stubborn phlegm!). I tried Zicam, but the cold did not speed up. I've been going through boxes of echinacea tea, but the only thing that's done is make my breath all herb-y. Chicken soup has been of no help. I've been ill so long, I'm seriously thinking about finding a voodoo specialist to see if they can help.

So after my spousal unit telling me that she'd brain me if I woke her up coughing at 4am one more time (she's actually been really sweet and concerned about the whole deal, but that doesn't make a good story), I made a doctor's appointment yesterday. First, though, I had to get through three classes, and my throat was raw like sushi afterwards...and I found myself flying through the lecture parts because I just wanted to get home and lay under my blankie. I did note, however, that I have several students who have also been sick for several weeks, and each of them has not yet missed a class because they were at home laying under their respective blankies...no, they were tough, tougher than I.

(incidentally, for one of my readers, they only become blankies when you are ill...I'll accept no childish names otherwise)

My appointment was this morning, and I came away with a startling (for me) revelation: doctor's offices are full of sick people! But you get a better class of sick people at a clinic then you would at, say, an urgent care place.

My doctor thinks it's my sinus infection holding on, even though the symptoms are totally different...but, as one doctor to another, I guess I'll have to offer the professional courtesy to give him the benefit of doubt and see if his drugs will work before I offer a contradictory judgment, even though I strongly suspect some type of super-flu.

If this really is the sinus infection holding on, then I've been sick for a while now. Most of the time, though, I don't find it painful or debilitating but merely annoying. The throat doesn't bother me too much if I don't talk (one wonders how the spousal unit feels about this), and my biggest inconvenience is finding somewhere to dispose of the used tissues...but that's bad enough to make me want this to just go the heck away.

When horror novels talk of super viruses, they always end up being immediately lethal, with the victims dying slowly under mountains of mucus and phlegm. What's probably a more realistic scenario, and one that I personally predict, would be if the victims just had really bad colds that never got better. Society would grind to a halt, because everyone would be at home drinking herbal tea and laying under their blankies instead of working. What industry would be left would center on tissue production, and the tattered remains of our government would be run by the Kleenex family, who would open our national forests to harvesting so they might have enough paper to meet the increasingly steep demand for said tissues. Chicken soup would become the mandatory meal for everyone until we as a nation ran out of chickens. Humanity as we know it would collapse first in the Great Chicken Soup Riots of 2010, Puffs and Kleenex would then, as the only two remaining superpowers, get locked into open warfare, and the battles would rage until we all suffocate because the last tree in existence got cut down for tissue raw materials. When the space aliens finally arrive a decade later, all they find is a mound of used herbal teabags and a pile of medical waste.

Maybe that's just the phlegm talking, though.

computer update

Thanks to a marvelous friend's help, the laptop is up, running Ubuntu, and doing so marvelously. There were installation pains, and I know I couldn't have done it by myself, but I'm told that such installation issues are not normal. At any rate, I like this OS a hell of a lot more than Vista...if for no other reason than Ubuntu is faster and has a better built-in selection of games/time wasters.

It's weird having a laptop. I'm using it a lot this week, because being sick, I'm spending a lot of time under a blankie on the couch, and I can still get work done. Luckily for me, tv writers are still on strike, so I have less distractions in that regard. I wonder, though, how much I'll use this and how much I'll favor the desktop.

work update for the week ending 1/25/08

In terms of fiction, I have finished a short story...it's an interesting dialog with a man and wife, where the wife is discussing the pros and cons of marrying a ninja. I'm gonna sit and let it percolate for a few days, but I think it's good. Also started the novel and one other short story.

Scholarship: I have been contacted by an editor of a contracted anthology, and he has convinced me to write a chapter for him on Captain America prose novels. I have the source material, and I've finished one book, almost done with another. I think it will be an interesting article. I do, however, worry about being typecast as the comic guy...I guess I have to work out another way of selling this.

Also, I have been invited to speak at a graduate student conference's roundtable of life after graduation. Long time readers of this blog know I have a lot to say on the matter.

There's no real motion on the rest of the scholarship, although I still hope to get a section of the NO paper done this weekend.

Teaching: Kind of a weird week for this. With the holiday on Monday and my cold, I didn't conduct a class this week. The main thing I spend my time on is sorting through the 1,285,377 students who want to either drop or add.

(Incidentally, this will hopefully become a regular feature. I'm not sure how interesting it is, but if I hold myself accountable, I should hopefully get more work done.)

an anniversary

I remember it well, like it was five years ago today. It was snowy, cold, but throughout the blustery weather, I knew I had an appointment with...destiny.

I came home to the apartment, and I saw her...the woman with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. She was still unconscious from the medication, so I quickly bound her arms and legs. I knocked on my across-the-hall neighbor's door...we had met him earlier that month, when he had locked himself out of his apartment...we let him go out on our balcony, climb onto the roof of our three story building, and jump into his own apartment. He was more than happy to help me (as I'd turned a blind eye to the emanating weird chemical smells from his apartment and the unusual visitors coming all hours of the night), so together, we picked up the woman of my dreams and hauled her down to my car. She just started to come to when we got to the city hall, and she was just awake enough to slur through the wedding ceremony. Boy, she had a shock when she fully regained consciousness.

No, not really. The truth is, she had to work later than I, so I was to meet her at city hall, where we would be married by the mayor...who demanded our assurances that we didn't just meet in the bars the night before. I got there about a half hour early and waited...and waited. I was, for some inexplicable reason, fairly nervous, and the future spousal unit not showing up immediately didn't help.

Finally, she came through the door, also looking fairly nervous. It seemed that she had parked out on the street, didn't see my car, and decided to wait in hers until I showed up.

Since it was finally made clear that neither of us were running away from the other, the mayor came, introduced himself, and then married us...I think his secretary was our witness. We then went to a fancy dinner and then home, where we watched High Fidelity.

Later, the spousal unit's co-workers were upset with her not telling them about the wedding "because I thought we were family." My co-workers were upset with me not telling them because they wanted a party and cake.

It's been five years. In many ways, it seems like much longer. I have problems remembering what life was like before I met my beautiful life. She still comes home to me. We still laugh. We still hold each other. I can't imagine loving anyone more than I love her.

Ah, the joys of half a decade of contractual obligation!

cough, weeze

I started off my Christmas break with a horrible cold which then morphed into a sinus infection. It caused me to hold my head (which then weighed 287 pounds) in horrific pain. It also caused me to not do any of the tons of academic work which I had on deck. At least, however, I was over the whole cold thing for a season.

Or so I thought. I've had a moderate cold for about a week, but I didn't really feel bad until yesterday, when I was achey and just didn't want to move. Woke up this morning, and my throat was throbbing. The red glow from the soreness actually woke up the spousal unit.

I had to cancel class today, because I was afraid that my voice wouldn't hold up through one class lecture, let alone three. It's a shame, because I had the "How to invade Canada" lecture for my tech writing class, and that one's always a favorite.

I just realized that with my cold and with my grandmother dying, I'm just like one of my students! Oh, the humanity.

Mabel Carnell RIP

Just got word from my sister that my Nanna (my mom's mom) passed away this morning. Last I heard, she had been hospitalized with fluid on the heart. She was 92. Luckily, my parents did get over there to see her.

Nanna was a fun, cheerful, warm, hopeful person. My earliest memories of her were of the summers we used to spend at her house in England when Dad was stationed in the Air Force. It was always important to Nanna to set out a warm house, make sure everyone was welcome and well-fed...her dinners and teas were enormous (and, of course, delicious).

Her husband (my grandfather) died a number of years back, and I know it was a shock to her to be alone. After a while, she spent half the year with my uncle (the less said about him, the better...I'm trying to block out the hatred) and the other half with my parents...so I got to see her on a normal basis, and she even came up here for my graduation. Luckily, the spousal unit and I got to see her this past summer when she was staying with my parents.

It wasn't the easiest of visits...we knew her health was declining to the point where she wouldn't be able to come back, so we knew it was the last time we'd see her. But even though she had visibly declined, she was still warm, still funny, still happy to see us. Lori and I got our photo taken at one of those "old time-y photograph" places, and gave Nanna a copy...she loved seeing us as "the outlaw and the hussy."

When she went back, she went into a retirement home, and my mother went over there with her, to help her settle in. Her fellow residents, she made a point of telling us, saw the old timey photo of Lori and I and asked Nanna if we were movie stars. Nanna liked that.

There's so much more, so many memories, but frankly, I don't have the energy right now. The only thing I can think of is the words of a favorite writer, on the passing of his mother...after apparently getting one too many sympathy e-mails, he said something to the effect of "while I appreciate the sympathy, every day we have here on earth is a blessing, a bonus."

I'm happy I got to know Nanna, even if not as well as I wanted. I'm happy that she had my parents to look after her for half the year. I'm happy that she was in a good retirement home, where they looked after her. I'm very thankful to my cousin for looking after her.

This is what I'm trying to hold onto...the happiness.

a new addition to the family

After a while of being a one computer family (at home, at any rate), the spousal unit and I decided it was time to welcome a new bundle of joy. Many reasons for this, but with spousal unit working on the 'puter in the evenings, I could either watch television or stare at the ceiling...and they're about on equal levels in terms of productivity. I simply have too much writing to do, and I need to be able to do it more often, not less. Being lazy is fun, but it's not a career-positive move.

After a bit of hunting and comparing online, I decide on a nice-looking Toshiba laptop on sale at Best Buy. From work, I call the closest Best Buy store right before I leave, and they assure me they have 3 left. I get there, the sales guy can't find one after looking for about an hour.

So they call another store. I go there and get one. The sales guy can't understand why I want to buy a full-size mouse to go with my laptop instead of a notebook mouse. Frankly, I didn't feel like explaining that my desire for a laptop wasn't just because I like tiny, dainty things (resisting the urge for a sexist comment here). I also buy a router, so my humble abode can become a wifi hotspot in addition to typing zone...after all, I also need the ability to waste time effectively from the couch.

I get home, start to unpack, read through all 283 pages of the manual, and look at the computer...it's sleek, sexy, and gorgeous looking. I then boot it up, and it takes forever to start. Toshiba has also loaded about 20 icons on the desktop, because they assume (I guess) that anyone wanting a new computer must also want Vonage, Napster, or one of a thousand other pay sites/services. Damn you, corporate synergy.

So I delete the icons and try to erase some of the extra crap from the computer itself...but Windows Explorer then freezes and crashes....all within five minutes of work.

Now, I know a large number of computer guys (from various mailing lists and such), and none of them have much positive to say about Microsoft Vista, the new "state of the art" operating system. I have, in fact, been overwhelmed with an enormous amount of spite and vitriol aimed towards this operating system. In spite of it, I swore I was going to keep an open mind, but after less than a half hour of dealing with this OS, I hate it almost as much as I hate Word 2007.

This evening, a friend is going to help me rework the whole damn thing. We are going to downgrade to XP (luckily I have an extra legal copy) and then install Ubuntu as a dual booting operating system.

This is very much an experiment for me. I have toyed with open source software before...I'm currently weaning myself off Office and onto OpenOffice. Never before, though, have I made such a large-scale change, as we're basically going to go Total Recall on the unit. I have a techno-savvy friend coming over tonight, however, so we'll see how it goes. More importantly, we'll see if it's all technology that hates me, or just that technology coming out of a major corporation.

Updates to follow.

the future of my writing

I've decided that my return to fiction-writing is long overdue. Although I certainly don't have the time to do more work (especially work that isn't really going to help my scholarly career), I have story ideas that have been bursting in my head, and I need to get them out. First off, I have a short story about a manic rest area attendant, and then I start work on a novel loosely based on my Minnesota trip of a few summers ago. I also have thoughts of a fictional biography of a rock star and a novel about grad students surrounded by zombies, but they are both in the future.

I tried to become a fiction writer before, but right out of high school, I just didn't find my own life that interesting or remarkable...and I didn't feel I knew people well enough to successfully comment or understand the lives of others. Maturity has helped a lot in this regard.

Why am I telling y'all this and thus risking ridicule in case this new push fails? Because it's possible that this burst of activity might influence my blog...although I have no idea how. If the fiction ever does see the light of day, you might have to start looking on this blog as at least in part research notes.

I will, however, never stop blogging. As I have wrote, I have also noticed my sanity increase. And I am thankful for all of you who read...it's nice to be able to keep in touch in some way.

a one day low country vacation

random notes from the road:

At one of the early rest areas we hit on Friday, I saw my first waterless urinal. Apparently, Ohio is looking for more ways to turn their bathrooms green (ugh, that sounded bad). I hope it works well enough for them to continue installation, but it was weird.

It seems to always be cloudy or raining whenever I have to go on a long drive. And let me tell you, there's nothing to increase the "gahhhhh!" factor of a 14 hour commute than inclement weather.

I-77 has to be my favorite interstate, because they have two separate tunnels under mountains. I love tunnels. I always expect to exit in a different country than I enter...or at least drive out and into a video game.

Somewhere on the road in a gas station, I found some gummi candy that was in the shape of breakfast cereal...eggs, bacon, and so forth. I was quite disappointed to find out that it wasn't actually egg flavored (or bacon flavored, or so forth). The package claimed that it was actually fruit flavored, but after tasting, I suspect ear wax.

When it's gray and overcast in South Carolina, it's still more cheery than the gray, overcast days in Ohio for some reason...it must be the beach.

The parts of Myrtle Beach that we traversed were not tremendously picturesque...they looked like the endless strip malls and subdivisions of my hometown of Jacksonville, and I've moaned about this one before.

If I were in charge of the world, I wouldn't allow people to consciously live up to their stereotypes...but it was somewhat amusing to find out that the priest performing the wedding (the reason for this trip) was heavily Irish.

Receptions are always better with a beach view. And my admiration for my friend the groom grew when he (1) had Bushmill's at the bar and (2) insisted that the cuisine include South Carolina low country cuisine, including bbq pork sandwiches on biscuits or sweet potato rolls. They also had venison potstickers, and I love the opportunity to eat game.

When the bride told me that she fought to have shrimp and grits on the menu, I instantly figured out why my friend fell in love with her.

My aforementioned respect and love for my friend did not, however, stop me from making fun of how he danced (typical "I'm a man and therefore don't dance" moves...that is to say, very little movement at all). I largely made fun of him while talking to his father, whom I met on the Great Trip to the North Country (previously chronicled here and in earlier posts). Both his father and mother are awesome, and they treated me like a long-lost relative.

There seems to be a certain order to wedding reception music: first gentle "let's not offend anyone" music, then the obligatory round of required dances, then the "let's get the kids on the dance floor" songs that no one would ever listen to outside of weddings, then finally the "what the couple actually wanted to hear" music. Whenever the dj played a song from a band I introduced the groom to, my friend would look at me and wink.

The spousal unit and I went for a brief walk on the beach, and if I ever actually update my Flickr page, I'll post some shots.

After the wedding, the spousal unit and I went to a Piggly Wiggly (the best-named grocery store ever) for some supplies, found a bar strangely dedicated to all things Baltimore where we had the best crab dip ever, and then went somewhere else and had the most mediocre oysters ever.

The next day (Sunday) was spend back on the road. Highlights included a stop at my new favorite chain restaurant ever called Biscuitville and lunch at a great NC barbecue place whose name is esca. Otherwise, it was just me driving through dreary weather and the spousal unit sleeping or reading.

Monday was recovery day...I sat and watched four football games back to back.

psychedelic oompah

This Friday, my favorite bar in the world had a band that I had heard about and desperately wanted to see: Polka Floyd. I managed to get a friend to meet me up there, because it was one show I did not want to miss.

Polka Floyd is exactly what you would expect: a Pink Floyd cover band that plays all the songs in the style of polka. My friend argued that they occasionally leaned over into zydeco, but he's an academic, so you can expect him to overanalyze at least a little.

They opened up with "In the Flesh?" but then went on to play the entire Dark Side of the Moon album. They then delved into Floyd's back catalog, including a few Syd Barrett songs. The only time they left Pink Floyd is when they did a medley joining "Pigs" into Black Sabbath's "War Pigs."

They were all phenomenal musicians. Musicianship aside, though, me and my friend spend most of the time just laughing our heads off. It both rocked and was funny as hell.

on identity and hubba-hubba flicks

Wired continues its run as one of the best magazines around. They just posted a very intriguing article called "Deaf Porn Gives Viewers an Eye-Opener."

I find this interesting. The porn industry has always been on a weird sort of cutting edge. If there's a new media technology out there, chances are that the porn industry is among the first to take advantage of it. Many people argue that videocassette players really only saturated the home market because of porn. I've also read that porn is largely responsible for the push of broadband internet access.

Now, however, porn is being used as a tool of a minority group...and, if I'm reading the interview right, this is more than just "someone's finally catering to us as a group"...which would be weird enough, because I really doubt that having subtitles is really that enlightening to anything other than how stupid the dialog normally can be. This reminds me of when Trio used to be on DirecTV and played classic porn with all the dirty stuff cut out under the name "Good Clean Porn"; it is admittedly entertaining, but only in a B-Movie kind of way, and there's a limited market for that kind of stuff, the continuing success of Steven Seagal aside.

No, porn here is being used as a tool of enlightenment. The company founder makes his goals explicit: "The fact that we are marketing porn with a "disability" actually invites people to discover what we're about."

I'm torn. Is the goal here to gain mainstream acceptance for their group? If so, could having their own brand of pornography really do that? Or is this just going to further mark them as a separate group? Could they instead be pushing themselves as a fetish group? If so, is this a positive step for deaf America?

I like to tell my students that you should be willing to analyze anything and think about anything in depth, that they should take everything seriously as a subject for pondering. And I am glad that I get to think more about deafness as a social group, and the community building versus mainstream acceptance is a debate well worth considering. However, I just never thought that debate would be prompted by a company that produces titles like Naughty Deaf Roommates.

Yes, the world is more complex than anyone would imagine. Porn is just exhibit one.

up & down again

Finally got to the Black Eyed Peas & Rice. It was awesome, and I hope that helps the luck. However, I had the added fun of losing my cell phone, which my darling spousal unit found in the snow outside my car. It still works...so far...

It's a general tilt-a-whirl of luck!

the dualities of the new year thus far

I started the Christmas break with a mega sinus infection. This sucked and was very bad. I laid around in pain until I got antibiotics. They were good in that they cured the infection, but they were bad in that they turned it into a 2 week-long cold. Weee...I was mucus city.

My parents decided to come up for the holidays, and it's always nice to see them. However, with infection/parent visits/in-law visits, I haven't gotten anything on my ambitious winter research agenda accomplished...and that's not so nice.

New Year's party, good. Lotsa good friends, conversation, and drinking...plus I learned a lot about the Orthodox Church, which was unexpected. New Year's Day hangover, also good. I didn't get up to anything notable last Dec. 31 and the year sucked...so I'm hoping that my moderate hangover this time around is a good sign.

New Year's Day dinner, traditional black-eyed peas, rice, cornbread, greens...but I forget to turn the beans from "boil" to "simmer." As a result, the liquid boils away, and a layer carbonizes on the bottom of the pot. I also forget to turn on the rice cooker. This meal is supposed to bring luck. What does it say about the approaching year that I ruin the lucky meal and have to do takeout?

One of my favorite bands, Two Cow Garage, finally comes to BG...to my favorite bar in the world, Howards Club H no less...and it's a weekend when I'm away for a wedding...damnit. They also came to Toledo a month ago, when I had plans with the in-laws that I couldn't cancel. Is this a further sign of my upcoming luck?

However, I am looking forward to the wedding itself...one of my best friends, plus we get a weekend around Myrtle Beach SC...that's gotta be good.

I don't know how much I really believe in omens, but if the above are any indication, this year might just send me into the arms of lithium.

the rest of 2007 best of

FILM
Best Movies

1. Zodiac—David Fincher shows restraint and directs one of the best films of his career. Quiet, subtle, and deep.
   
2. Sweeney Todd—Tim Burton’s usual eye for amazing visuals is once again rejoined by plot, and the result is his best film since Beetlejuice.
   
3. The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters—Surprisingly engaging, with frightfully strong characters.
   
4. No Country for Old Men—The Coen Brothers finally ignore mainstream standards and once again put out a brilliant film.
   
5. The Darjeeling Limited—Lilting, playful, and nowhere near as depressing as The Life Aquatic. Visually stunning.
   
6. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford—Perhaps the best looking film of the year, and Brad Pitt kicks ass.
   

Not Opened in the Area Yet, Salivating Over:

• There Will Be Blood

Horrific Disappointment:

• Spider Man 3—Five plot lines inadequately shoved into one film, and it doesn’t work. Also, why in the hell would you give Spider Man a happy ending? His whole character note is that his life sucks.

TV

1. The Shield, season 6—Took the intensity of season 5, ramped it up, and made it downright creepy.
   
2. House—Still fresh…the best mainstream television program today.
   
3. Dr. Who (repeats)—Brilliant sci-fi. Why doesn’t America produce characters this deep? I’m stuck on season 2, but it has been amazing.
   
4. Life on Mars, season 2—There has been no quality drop at all since the marvelous debut. Now, can we sabotage the upcoming American David E. Kelley-produced version?
   
5. Torchwood—Not at the Dr. Who level, but close.
   

COMICS

1. Docktor Sleepless—The “shrieky girl” segment was the best writing I’ve seen in years…in any medium.
   
2. Powers—Consistently brilliant and still working out issue one plotlines.
   
3. Fell—Sadly in hiatus, but it’s always brilliant when it comes. Issue one is available online, for free.
   
4. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 8—It’s early, but this is still as solid as the show.
   
5. Desolation Jones—This is only low because it’s been stalled for so long on issue 8…but that issue is one of the best things ever.
   

REASONS I HAVE FOR HOPE FOR 2008

• New Drive-By Truckers album!
  
• New Gary Louris album…AND an album with Mark Olsen!
  
• The Shield, final season
  
• Synecdoche, New York...a new movie starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman, written by Charlie Kauffman!
  
• Spike Jonze adapting Where the Wild Things Are!
  
• More Desolation Jones! Finally
  
• It could only be better than 2007

2007 in music

Top Ten Albums

1. You Am I, Convicts—Rock! Awesome three chord rock! It lives!
   
2. Modest Mouse, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank—Weird, funky, catchy…what a combination.
   
3. Wilco, Sky Blue Sky—This shows what a great band can do with a song. Awesome arrangements. Worth it just for “Impossible Germany,” if nothing else.
   
4. Two Cow Garage, III—Working class garage rock with improved songwriting
   
5. We Are The Fury, Venus—Toledo area Glam Rock hits the national stage. “Saturday Night” might be the perfect pop song of the year.
   
6. Ryan Adams & the Cardinals, Follow the Lights—Honest, soulful alt-country. Too bad Easy Tiger, RyRy’s full length release, didn’t have this level of emotion.
   
7. Jason Isbell, Sirens of the Ditch—A great but sometimes overly subtle debut. There’s hidden depth on this.
   
8. Jesse Malin, Glitter in the Gutter—Great songs for car rides, but this has hidden depth. Fave line? “One day you wake up, you’re 30, and you can’t even drive a truck.”
   
9. Glossary, The Better Angels of Our Nature—My spousal unit told me, after listening to the disk, that “This is Mike music.” How true. (you can download this for free from their website)
   
10. Grand Champeen, Dial T for This—Minus the ending track (a very sappy “Olivia”), this turned out to be a good album…unfortunately, though, it just doesn’t sound much like Grand Champeen. C’mon, you don’t have to stop rocking to grow as musicians
    

Too New to Tell

• Weakerthans, Reunion Tour
  
• Maritime, Heresy and the Hotel Choir (what I have heard is pop dynamite)
  
• Keller Williams, Dream
  
• Martin Sexton, Seeds
  
• Robert Earl Keen, Farm Fresh Onions
  
  (yes, this is more than I would normally buy, but I had a good haul from the BGSU Music Library sale)
  

“Meh” Albums

• White Stripes, Icky Thump—Some of this is good but sounds like “running through the motions,” while other songs are just annoying.
  
• Ryan Adams, Easy Tiger—This is entirely too polished and commercial for my tastes
  

Top Songs

1. You Am I--"Secrets"
   
2. Wilco--"Impossible Germany"
   
3. Two Cow--"Should've California"
   

Best Concerts

1. Ryan Adams & the Cardinals, Michigan Theater, Ann Arbor MI
   
2. Route 33 Rhythm and Brews Anniversary Show, with The Drams, Jason & the Scorchers, and more, Wapakoneta OH
   
3. The Hold Steady, some theater, Columbus OH
   
4. Modest Mouse, some amphitheater, Columbus OH
   
5. You Am I, Beachland Ballroom, Cleveland OH