bugsii

Bah.  I worked today.  Then, I had to wait in a really long line to get my FBI background check.  I’m thinking about substitute teaching a bit this coming year, so I had to get it done.  They have very weird limited hours at the ESC and apparently every new teacher in the the greater Columbus area was sent to get their background checks done today.  Good thing I brought a book.  Tonight, I just hung out at home, read on the porch a bit, ate some leftovers, watched some telly.  I’m feeling kind of cruddy and ronery (Kim Jong-Il style) though.  I miss my partner.

Today, my big plan was to complete the final revision on two of my exams.  First, I had to run 7.5 miles.  I did that (a little later than I planned), showered and got to work.  I was rereading on the porch and the sun was starting to get a little uncomfortable, so I came inside to sit on the couch and cool down.  I was about halfway finished with my reading of the first exam when I slowly slumped over, suddenly feeling every one of those 7.5 miles.  I reached up from my slumped position to grab the blanket from the back of the couch and wad it up for a pillow.  I took a nap.  When I woke up, I felt even further behind and also hoped that my drooping eyelids had nothing to do with how interesting my paper was/is (of course it couldn’t).  But after that nap, I felt pretty good and really got into the revisions.  So much so that I completely forgot that I was supposed to be on a webinar for ODE at 2.  I remembered this at 3.  Oof.  It wasn’t life or death or anything, but I felt like a flake regardless.  Anyway, after revising that first paper, I was feeling pretty impressed with myself.  Sure, there were corrections to make, but those block quotes that I was worrying about 5 weeks ago fit just as I’d hoped and didn’t seem to take up as much room as I once thought.  It even sounded nice.

I headed to a coffee shop for my second paper and that was a little less successful.  It required some more rethinking and I’m also not very happy with the flow.  It sort of has to do with the nature of the question, but the paper is dry and choppy.  It doesn’t sound lovely and I like papers to sound lovely if I can manage it.  An older guy at the coffee shop butted in during my (apparently obvious) struggle to ask if I was editing my own paper or someone else’s.  When I told him it was mine he said, “You sure are giving that a lot of thought.”  Ha.  I’m so transparent.  Anyway, I think I’ll be returning to that one again… maybe tonight.  These papers are sort of becoming my babies (giving them so much thought and all), and I’m starting to think that it will be hard not to be offended when I have to orally defend them.  Time will tell.

-Ask what others honestly think of you (and just listen)-

This week’s challenge is to ask what others honestly think of me and then just to listen to what they have to say without inserting any protest or explanations.  I think what I wanted this challenge to be about is some honest feedback.  You know how sometimes you think you come across one way to people only to find out later that you have been putting out something completely different?  I’m hoping that I can take what people say, reflect on it, and improve myself.  I’m going to ask just a few people since I feel kind of weird about putting people out.  I think I better do this via email since I won’t be able to see everyone in person and I don’t want to put anyone on the spot either.  I think email will let them think for a minute, avoiding some awkwardness.  I’m  feeling really nervous right now.  Eeks.  What will you say?

This week’s challenge was to go to a play. Marcy and I went to see the Broadway musical, Wicked at the Ohio Theater. We got all dressed up, went out to a nice dinner at a sushi restaurant, and then headed downtown feeling a little bit fancy. See, we had splurged on fifth row seats and when we got to the old regal theater, with the gilded walls and ceiling and red velvet curtains and seats, it felt nice (and foreign) to walk right into the first level and then be escorted to the front by a kindly old gentleman in a tux that asked us one question before we took out seats, “First you have to tell me, how excited are you?” Neither of us have ever been good about masking our feelings. We must have been beaming.

We sat down and took the theater in. It was beautiful and I’ve never had to crane my neck backwards to see the entire theater before. We sat and listened to the fancy orchestra seat crowd talk about how they were getting rid of their horses, taking an aging parent to Ireland, and sending the kids off to college in California and Texas. It reminded me of a comment Marcy said earlier that day. “You know what’s funny about us getting fancy? We’re so not.” But, then again maybe we are. I mean, there we were, right?

The lights went down and we both looked at each other with our super-sized smiles. Two hours later, I felt like I’d barely been watching for twenty minutes. It was intermission time and we went to grab some snacks from the lobby. We debriefed that we loved the costumes, couldn’t find the mic on the main characters, saw themes of power, truth, history, depth of character, racism, animal rights, etc (This story had to have been written by a PhD, I swear. Yep, just looked it up). Marcy had read the book beforehand and was letting me in on just how different it was. I didn’t want the show to end, but the second act came and went as quickly as the first and before we knew it we were giving a standing ovation and fawning over how well the writer of the screenplay incorporated this story into the original story, The Wizard of Oz (One of my top two childhood favorites… the other, Annie). It was fun to see this author’s ideas about how the Tinman, Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion came to be, and how, of course, the Wicked Witch might not have been so wicked.

What’s so great about getting to spend an evening watching a really good play, or any other type of performing art, is that you get to feel fancy. What do I mean by “feeling fancy” though? I like to use that term, and what I think I mean is that I allow myself to appreciate and partake in some beauty in the world. Instead of my old practical, efficient self, I enjoy dressing up, eating good food, watching and critiquing art, things that most of us as we get caught up in the day-to-day do very infrequently. Feeling fancy is usually a little above my station. I need to remember to allow myself to feel fancy more often.

Yesterday was such a fun day with my best friend, Marcy, that I was totally exhausted today.  Here’s a recap.

Yum!

1) Got up early to run.

2) Was at the North Market by 10:00am to get a free Jeni’s sundae.  Lemon yo with stonefruit compote and whipped cream.  It was refreshing and fruity enough to be considered breakfast (right?).

Awesome

3) Saw a string band at the North Market.

4) Got a bite of free cake from the bakery at the North Market that was celebrating 7 years.

5) Ate Indian food at the North Market.

6) Got some farmer’s market fruits and veggies.

7) Came home and chatted.

8 ) Got more Jeni’s (we paid this time.  What?).

Double dip

9) Marcy took a mini-nap.

10) We got dressed up to go to dinner and Wicked!

11) Went out for sushi At Haiku and enjoyed every bite.  It was so delicious.

Sushi!

12) Saw a Broadway musical from the fifth row!  It was awesome!*

13) Conked out at home from a good day!

Wicked!

*Will write more about Wicked and my experience tomorrow.  I need to get to bed!  Night!

Marcy got into town this afternoon and we shopped, ate Mexican food and went to see the movie Eat, Pray, Love.  It was a perfectly girly evening.  The movie made me feel lovely and want to travel, which was nice, but I kept getting distracted by the inconsistencies between the book and the movie and how I liked the characters in my head better than on the screen.  I think I shouldn’t have reread the book right before the movie.  Ah, well.  Julia Roberts was charming as usual.

Watching the movie right after reading the book reminded me of Walter Benjamin’s argument in The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. At one point, he claims that photographs and video as media are subject to misuse more than other media because they appear so much more real than, say, a painting.  Because they look so real, they make a more convincing (though not more true) argument and so can be used for things like propaganda.  This “problem” is made worse by the ease of reproduction in modern times, which means that these convincing images are more likely to seen and further propagated.  So, as I watched the movie, and wished for the characters that I had invented in my head or the scenes as I had imagined it, I thought of Walter Benjamin.  The movie is a rather convincing representation of the book, even though much of it was very different from the book.  I wondered how many people had not read the book and were even more convinced and I thought about how this movie was playing all over the country at this moment, reproduced every hour for the next few months.  Not that this movie is propaganda per se, but the making of a movie from a book argues for a certain version of the book (one with a much happier ending), often watered down, oversimplified, and spread easily to the masses.  Reading a book, like reading a painting, allows more room for interpretation, imagination and play, than looking at a photograph or watching a movie.  The photograph or movie, Benjamin would warn, is more dangerous than the more nebulous, less “real” painting or book because it is much easier to be convinced that what looks real is the real thing, when in fact meaning is always much more illusory.

I guess I don’t have a real point to make, I just had Benjamin stuck in my skull and had to try to get him out.  That’s my life now.

Today is my last day in Cincinnati for the week.  This morning I got up and ran in the heat.  Then, I went into Heritage to help Jess set up my old room.  I don’t think I’ve talked about it before, but my sister-in-law, Jess, was a third grade teacher at the same school where I was a sixth grade teacher (she was my in).  She has taught third grade for twelve years, but this year, the district and the state are having all kinds of financial problems and they eliminated a third grade section at our school and Jess was bumped to sixth grade.  Sixth grade science to be exact, my old room to be even more exact.  Quite a coincidence, I know.  So, even though I’ve been gone for two years and someone else has been teaching in “my room,” I went in to help sort out some things and give some advice about room arrangement, computers, the location of various supplies, etc.  I didn’t feel all that helpful, but I did feel like I was in the twilight zone.  Three years ago (for the fourth year in a row), I was setting up this room and preparing for my own school year.  It was kind of nice, but I think it might have cured my nostalgia.  I forgot how overwhelming it can be to walk into a classroom at the end of summer.  There is much to be done.

A crowded table

This afternoon, I did a bit of schoolwork and then Joyce made dinner and had a few people over (see picture at left).  Then, we walked around to the preview of tomorrow’s neighborhood garage sale.  I got the book Julie and Julia for a $1.  Sweet.

Today was all lump lumping around the house while it thundered and rained outside.  I read, I wrote, I ate.  I like days like this.

Terry's Turf Club

For dinner though, everyone got together and we headed down to Cincinnati (the real and actual city of) to a place called Terry’s Turf Club.  It was featured on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives recently, so my brother-in-law Jeff thought it would be fun to try it out.  The place is a restaurant conundrum if I ever saw one.  It’s all neon signs, cracked paint, giant plastic hamburger, ancient movie theater chairs outside to wait and all sort of other delightfully tacky decorations.  It’s definitely a dive.  But, at the same time it has gourmet toppings for burgers like red pepper and goat cheese sauce, or mango curry sauce or red wine and mushrooms.  It’s confused.  I like that.

Shitake Burger with Mango Curry Sauce

Dan got the burger with red wine and mushroom sauce and, lucky for this vegetarian, they had the option to get a portabella or shitake mushroom burger.  Since I’ve seen and eaten many a portabella burger, I opted for the shitake burger and added the mango curry sauce.  The burger was stacked high with the most enormous shitake mushrooms I had ever seen and the mango curry sauce was delicious, but in my humble opinion, the bun had way too much butter on it.  I felt like I got a mouthful of butter with every bite, which don’t get me wrong, isn’t the worst flavor or anything, but it was almost too rich (in Dan’s words).  So, while I finished the whole burger and enjoyed myself thoroughly, my stomach was really churning for the rest of the night.  Ugh, dive food.  Good thing we stopped at Graeter’s so I could get some mint chip ice cream to calm my stomach.  Oh wait, that’s mint tea that does that?  My bad.

Last night we went to the Reds game.  Yes, it was pretty hot, but we managed to survive.  The Reds, however, did not.  They got beat pretty badly. I haven’t been a big baseball fan since the Indians went to the world series in 1995 (and then broke my heart), but, still, there are things I like about baseball and going to the park made me remember some of those things.

1) Fights!  Oh, yes, I love baseball fights.  I don’t know why it’s sort of disturbingly exciting to see any fight (maybe because it

Fight, fight, fight!

doesn’t happen very often? or maybe it’s just me and my raised-in-the-Canton-hood mindset?), but baseball fights are exceptionally awesome.  Here’s why.  The two guys that exchange words are never the only two to fight.  The outfield comes running in.  The managers come running over.  The whole dugout is cleared and there’s no longer a little fight between two guys, but a war between two teams.  Those baseball players, they may stand around for 90% of the sport, but they ain’t no weenies.  Last night the first batter of the night got into a fight with the catcher.  I thought it was a good omen, turns out it wasn’t.  Worst part?  The first time that catcher (for the Cardinals) was up to bat, we all booed him and then he hit a homerun.  That must have been very satisfying for him.  Anyway, the picture is the view I had of last night’s fight.

2) No cheerleaders.  Yeah, baseball has more dignity than that.  But, I must say that I’m not a fan of those stupid fuzzy monster mascots/nonmascots that every team has now for some reason.  I liked the redlegs mascot, but not the dumb monster.  But hey, at least there weren’t any annoying cheerleaders (speaking as a one-year-only annoying cheerleader).

3) Pop-up foul balls.  I’m not sure if that’s exactly how you say it, but I like when the foul balls go really high and then into the stands.  The going really high part is important because 1) when the foul balls come flying directly at you, you fear you might die and 2) it builds the “Where’s it going to land?  Do I have a chance?” excitement.  Last night I think I saw the best foul ball catch in history.  The ball popped straight up and directly backward toward the windows where the announcers and television people sit.  A few of the windows were open and a single hand, reached out and snatched the ball and then disappeared.  It was so weirdly anticlimactic and mechanical that it seemed kind of like a joke.  It was awesome.

4) Putting the fans on the big screen.  I don’t know why I get kicks from seeing kids staring off in a daze, only to be shaken by their parents, pointing to the screen trying to tell them that they’re on, looking around and then waving like crazy.  Last night they did the “Kiss cam” where they point the camera at couples and then they are supposed to kiss.  It was cute.  But then at the end, they put the camera on two of the Cardinals.  They noticed, stared at the camera for a second, and the one guy grabbed the other and laid one on his cheek.  I like a good sense of humor.

5) The music that each of the batters pick to play when they are at bat.  I think it’s interesting to hear what the players pick and it gives me a few moments to dance in my seat.  I especially like the hip hop selections.  I was very excited, though, to hear that Henry Rolen had picked Viva La Vida by Coldplay.  I can’t resist movement during that song.  If I was up to bat, my choice, hands down, would be Gold Digger.

6) The changing of the pitcher.  I don’t know why, but I think when they decide to change pitchers, it’s sort of regal ceremony.  The manager and the catcher walk to the mound with their heads down, solemnly.  A few other serious looking guys join them.  The pitcher remains calm, nodding.  The whole group exits as the relief pitcher is released from the bull pen.  This is especially fun during a championship series when they have a big closer and they make the release from the bull pen extra dramatic (I’m thinking of good ol’ Jose Mesa!).

7) The slowness of the sport.  I like the fact that people, for the most part, sit casually at baseball games.  Their relaxed state is punctuated only by occasional excitement.  There are nine innings nicely paced by the rituals of the batters and the pitchers, scraping the dirt with their toe, tapping home plate with their bat, taking a couple of slow practice swings, swaying carefully before settling into their own careful stance, while the pitcher tosses the rosin bag and pauses with the uncanny ability to slow down time and capture everyone’s breath before they make their slow-motion pitch that somehow manages to speed up to 90mph.  This goes on through the tops and the bottoms of innings, requiring a 7th inning stretch (which I like a lot).  Being at a baseball games makes it easy to imagine what it felt like to live in a “simpler time” (whether or not that is something that really ever existed).  I like to imagine that as I watch this familiar American scene, it could just as easily be 1920 as 2010.  A few seats in front of us, there was a frail elderly man with wispy white hair, wearing a tailored long-sleeved shirt in the 93 degree heat, holding his grandson (or great grandson?) on his lap watching the same game I imagine he has watched since he was just as small.

An aside: Of course, as I wake from that nostalgic dream, I know that the baseball players of yesteryear were slimmer, hit less home runs (because they weren’t all on steroids), played in stadiums that weren’t named for big corporations and actually wore pants that fit.  Seriously, what happened to baseball pants anyway?  In high school, that would have been number 1 on my list.  Baseball pants.  In the last 15 years they’ve become a little saggy for my taste. 

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A TED talk with Mena Trott.