This is the lawn outside my apartment window on a sunny Friday in the end of March. Poor-poor me.
Friday, March 30, 2007
The Room with a View
This is the lawn outside my apartment window on a sunny Friday in the end of March. Poor-poor me.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Perp Parade
It has happened twice now. Both times I was heading over to the Donkey, Athens best coffee house and study lounge with high-speed internet access. The Donkey is right next door to the Athens County Sherif Department and right up the street from the court house. When the court opens for business, the Sherif marches the nightly haul of evil doers, dressed in orange and white jail house jammies, and dayglow slippers to the cross walk and over to the judge.
The first time, it was two young men, hand-cuffed, hip tied, and shuffling in leg shackles. Although both men were well into their twenties, the expression on their faces was exactly like kids being sent off to their room after getting caught throwing rocks at a vacant house. This morning the parade featured two young women, one small and short, the other tall, and lanky. They were only handcuffed together, but their odd size obviously caused them discomfort as they each tried to dominate or accommodate the other's gate. Their expressions were less repentant than the men I saw. Their eyes were full of disgust, and they blazed when the Sherif gently asked them to "gitty-up" when the crossing light changed to the striding icon.
I thought to whisper, "Walk, don't run," as I passed in the opposite direction but I figured that those jammies could make anyone cranky enough to kick a smart-ass on their way to arraignment.
The first time, it was two young men, hand-cuffed, hip tied, and shuffling in leg shackles. Although both men were well into their twenties, the expression on their faces was exactly like kids being sent off to their room after getting caught throwing rocks at a vacant house. This morning the parade featured two young women, one small and short, the other tall, and lanky. They were only handcuffed together, but their odd size obviously caused them discomfort as they each tried to dominate or accommodate the other's gate. Their expressions were less repentant than the men I saw. Their eyes were full of disgust, and they blazed when the Sherif gently asked them to "gitty-up" when the crossing light changed to the striding icon.
I thought to whisper, "Walk, don't run," as I passed in the opposite direction but I figured that those jammies could make anyone cranky enough to kick a smart-ass on their way to arraignment.
Laundry Day
Wednesday is a quiet day. A good day for a guy to do his laundry in a girl's dorm.
After a quick sort and a scramble for quarters I made my way to Voight Hall's basement. I loaded both machines with soap, water, clothes, and $1.75 in coins, and then headed off on some errands. A half hour later I moved my stuff into two driers. Forty minutes later the entire pile was folded and ready for business.
In preparation for class, I selected a pair of toasty slacks from the top of the pile to replace the sweat pants I usually grace laundry day with. I was looking good and feeling great as I locked my dorm door behind me and started toward the Radio and Television building across the street. I was about halfway there when I detected a thin, scratchy strip of material wedged down the left leg of my pants. When I took another step, I could tell that this thing was on the move.
"Dryer sheet," I thought to myself. Those gauzy things that are supposed to keep your stuff from clinging yet somehow manage to cling to everything. I did an about face and made my way back inside Voight hall just in time to see the rumple appear at my ankle. I lifted my leg so that I could gracefully pull the wad out only to discover what I thought was a cling free sheet was one of my laundry room mate's frilly, purple and white thongs - a gift of the dryer's black hole.
I stuffed the floss like garment into my pocket and walked quietly down to the laundry room where I placed it on a hook intended for unclaimed laundry. I did not see a soul. After all, it was Wednesday, a quiet day, a good day for a guy to do his laundry in a girl's dorm.
After a quick sort and a scramble for quarters I made my way to Voight Hall's basement. I loaded both machines with soap, water, clothes, and $1.75 in coins, and then headed off on some errands. A half hour later I moved my stuff into two driers. Forty minutes later the entire pile was folded and ready for business.
In preparation for class, I selected a pair of toasty slacks from the top of the pile to replace the sweat pants I usually grace laundry day with. I was looking good and feeling great as I locked my dorm door behind me and started toward the Radio and Television building across the street. I was about halfway there when I detected a thin, scratchy strip of material wedged down the left leg of my pants. When I took another step, I could tell that this thing was on the move.
"Dryer sheet," I thought to myself. Those gauzy things that are supposed to keep your stuff from clinging yet somehow manage to cling to everything. I did an about face and made my way back inside Voight hall just in time to see the rumple appear at my ankle. I lifted my leg so that I could gracefully pull the wad out only to discover what I thought was a cling free sheet was one of my laundry room mate's frilly, purple and white thongs - a gift of the dryer's black hole.
I stuffed the floss like garment into my pocket and walked quietly down to the laundry room where I placed it on a hook intended for unclaimed laundry. I did not see a soul. After all, it was Wednesday, a quiet day, a good day for a guy to do his laundry in a girl's dorm.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
First Day of Classes
I got it all. The full-on blast of academia (which I now believe is a chemical imbalance in the blood). The issue is four classes competing for a limited supply of equipment. There is a meeting scheduled Friday. I might be invited.
My first class took place at 1pm in an undersized, stuffy classroom. Temperature was about 85 degrees and the predominate odor was flip-flop foot. The forty, primarily second year students, managed to stay awake for my introduction but better than a third of them were swinging their heads after an half-hour. The good news: they are smart and enthusiastic about almost everything except sitting still. I definitely have sympathy for all the instructors I've know who have had to face a sleepy class. Tough crowd.
My second class took place in the evening (after I took a nap and had my second breakfast complete with coffee). This group was mostly seniors and much better connected with each other and uninhibited with me. I designed a PowerPoint presentation about Myers-Briggs based on the characters from LOST. The bad news: only two of the twenty student had ever watched the program. I suddenly felt like I had dropped onto an island in the middle of nowhere.
I was relieved to have 8pm roll by.
My first class took place at 1pm in an undersized, stuffy classroom. Temperature was about 85 degrees and the predominate odor was flip-flop foot. The forty, primarily second year students, managed to stay awake for my introduction but better than a third of them were swinging their heads after an half-hour. The good news: they are smart and enthusiastic about almost everything except sitting still. I definitely have sympathy for all the instructors I've know who have had to face a sleepy class. Tough crowd.
My second class took place in the evening (after I took a nap and had my second breakfast complete with coffee). This group was mostly seniors and much better connected with each other and uninhibited with me. I designed a PowerPoint presentation about Myers-Briggs based on the characters from LOST. The bad news: only two of the twenty student had ever watched the program. I suddenly felt like I had dropped onto an island in the middle of nowhere.
I was relieved to have 8pm roll by.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Dinner with my associates at the Blue Gator
Just came back from dinner at the Blue Gator, the town's only blues venue owned by former hostage Terry Anderson. The menu features caijun, memphis and criole standards. I had the meatloaf.
We had the place to ourselves as there was no band. I shared the meal with my fellow instructors and now I can't tell if I'm inspired or undone. They are smart, committed people who love what they do and are fierce about having any element compromised. They've set a very high standard for me and I hope I don't disappoint them.
While we were eating a former student of mine dropped in on us to say hello and to mention that he had just gotten accepted to CalArt for a MFA in film. I was very pleased when he recognized me but it brought home what a fleeting experience teaching is. You help a bunch of kids find their way in the world and a few really catch fire and exceed your own accomplishments. Next year, you get a whole new crop.
We had the place to ourselves as there was no band. I shared the meal with my fellow instructors and now I can't tell if I'm inspired or undone. They are smart, committed people who love what they do and are fierce about having any element compromised. They've set a very high standard for me and I hope I don't disappoint them.
While we were eating a former student of mine dropped in on us to say hello and to mention that he had just gotten accepted to CalArt for a MFA in film. I was very pleased when he recognized me but it brought home what a fleeting experience teaching is. You help a bunch of kids find their way in the world and a few really catch fire and exceed your own accomplishments. Next year, you get a whole new crop.
They're Baaaacccckkk!
What a lovely day. Sunny and warm enough for shirt sleeves. I wandered around the main square today trying to familiarize myself with the landmarks and available cuisine. The Diner is still here and in full operation but I've resisted the temptation to go there just yet - mainly for caloric reasons. I indulged every food craving I had on the drive out to Ohio, which has left me feeling a little bloated.
I did some writing this afternoon as I watched nervous parents releasing their young into the gene pool that is Athens. My neighborhood, South College Street, is also the home of many of the campus' Greek organizations (Fraternal - not like you Alana), and the beer drinking, shirtless boys made a great show of enthusiasm for any female who happened to be in the company of a parent. One mother, late forties, surprised them back when she mistook their attention for herself and shouted, "Thank you - handsome boys!"
The boys disguised their embarrassment by hiding their face behind a quick swig from their beer cup.
I did some writing this afternoon as I watched nervous parents releasing their young into the gene pool that is Athens. My neighborhood, South College Street, is also the home of many of the campus' Greek organizations (Fraternal - not like you Alana), and the beer drinking, shirtless boys made a great show of enthusiasm for any female who happened to be in the company of a parent. One mother, late forties, surprised them back when she mistook their attention for herself and shouted, "Thank you - handsome boys!"
The boys disguised their embarrassment by hiding their face behind a quick swig from their beer cup.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Getting aclimated
It Staurday night at 11:30 and the students have started to return. They are babies. Seriously, small young cheribs with almost no form. They scuff around in their flip-flops and fresh faces reciting vulgar lines from hip-hop songs. Welcome Spring 2007!!
Greetings from Athens
I made it.
It was a 700 miles Odyssey which I'm very glad I started at 11pm Wednesday night. With the help of my trusty British accented GPS device I was able to make it through the New Jersey Turnpike "Fruit Loop" with only one brief visit to Bayonne. After that it was a pleasant jaunt down the Penn Turnpike until Carlisle PA. There, I pulled off at at Flying J truck stop for fuel and a nap. The refueling was a bit complicated because of an issue with my credit card and a pump that didn't want to release its product. The nap went well, until the leaf blower men surrounded my van in an attempt to free a plastic bag that had lodged itself to my undercarriage. They dueled with the bag for five minutes of choking two-stroke fumes before I hopped out with my light-blocking eye-shades on top of my head and bellied under the van to seize the rouge bag for them. They accepted the bag from me and then tossed it on the ground so that they could chase it off the property with their three horsepower noisemakers.
The trip from Carlisle to Athens took another six hours along the Mason Dixon line. I remained alert and entertained by the sequence of 2100 plus foot high eastern continental divides and the antics of couple of over-sized cement trucks playing chicken with a nuclear waste hauler and a gasoline tanker on the down slopes of the Cumberland Gap. Ah, another metaphor for life.
I pulled into Athens round 4pm and was loaded into my apartment by 4:30. I proceeded directly to bed for what I thought would be a nice three hour nap but was woken a half-hour later by an OU grounds keeper who was fighting a head wind with an underpowered, un-muffled leaf blower outside my window.
We are doomed.
It was a 700 miles Odyssey which I'm very glad I started at 11pm Wednesday night. With the help of my trusty British accented GPS device I was able to make it through the New Jersey Turnpike "Fruit Loop" with only one brief visit to Bayonne. After that it was a pleasant jaunt down the Penn Turnpike until Carlisle PA. There, I pulled off at at Flying J truck stop for fuel and a nap. The refueling was a bit complicated because of an issue with my credit card and a pump that didn't want to release its product. The nap went well, until the leaf blower men surrounded my van in an attempt to free a plastic bag that had lodged itself to my undercarriage. They dueled with the bag for five minutes of choking two-stroke fumes before I hopped out with my light-blocking eye-shades on top of my head and bellied under the van to seize the rouge bag for them. They accepted the bag from me and then tossed it on the ground so that they could chase it off the property with their three horsepower noisemakers.
The trip from Carlisle to Athens took another six hours along the Mason Dixon line. I remained alert and entertained by the sequence of 2100 plus foot high eastern continental divides and the antics of couple of over-sized cement trucks playing chicken with a nuclear waste hauler and a gasoline tanker on the down slopes of the Cumberland Gap. Ah, another metaphor for life.
I pulled into Athens round 4pm and was loaded into my apartment by 4:30. I proceeded directly to bed for what I thought would be a nice three hour nap but was woken a half-hour later by an OU grounds keeper who was fighting a head wind with an underpowered, un-muffled leaf blower outside my window.
We are doomed.
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