Dribble Pop

blurry formalities

The atomic clock keeps ticking like a metronome and the days fall off the edge of the earth the the fallout.  These days I feel like I'm driving the streets of San Francisco.  One day I'm winning beaucoup cash at the casino and falling into a new relationship, and the next I'm dreading going to school and losing a person I care about through no fault of my own.  Nothing feels catastrophic, but I feel like the weather is mocking me and my fluctuating moods.  Even though I've decided to remain in New Orleans for the next year, I will not return to teaching next year.  I've checked out, burnt from the daily toil.  I plan on entering a year of resurgence.  I can regain myself, who I was through a coddling of my social life.  The summer will cut off my excrutiating stress like a french guillotine.  I'm intentionally being vague, because I feel ephemeral right now, like I'm floating.  While my intentions are in no way cloudy, I like wading through this mist.  I've catalogued the next few month weekend by weekend.  As I scatter them in front of me, they seem to alternate between work and play.  I can manage a flip-flopping April and May.  I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette.  I miss Corey.

Sussman's back, back again.

There I was, rubber gloves gripping my talc covered hands, desperately avoiding scratching the itch on my nose, washing the dishes, when it happened. My dedication and desire to continue to update myy blog slipped out of my hands and whirred down the drain. To make matters worse, I accidentally flipped the wrong switch and set off the garbaged disposal tearing my "blog consistency" into a million pieces. You can imagine my surprise when I heard a knock on my door. I apprehensively opened it to find my lifelong idol, Punxatawny Phil. I staggered back and whispered, as if the FBI were ready to converge from their sting positions, "Phil! What are you doing? I thought the Groundhog's Day post-party lasted at least a week?!" He glanced to his left. He glanced to his right. "The heat is coming down on me Garrett. Apparently even a mild winter is more disturbing than Judge Alito and an Iranian Nuclear Holocaust combined! I had to get the hell out of Pennsylvania."
He then proceeded to ramble on about teenagers wielding mousetraps, a misguided horny pitbull, and an old woman who mistook him for a hat. With the help of a trucker named Oscar, he managed to begin his annual February vacation a bit early. He was pissed about missing Mardi Gras last year and had heard through the Grape Vine that I was in La Place. He then handed me a briefcase. I looked at him confused. "What's in it?" I asked. "The fucking Mohammed Cartoon that's enciting riots in the Middle East. It's your inspiration to get back on the blog bandwagon, you moron!" He smacked me upside my head. "Ouch! Why do you have to be so hostile Phil? I already apologized about the hoodie you gave me that got 'moldified' in the flood." I held up the (now) multi colored hoodie. "I don't care about the hoodie, " he grunted "I just want to know what the hell is going on with you these days. Are you staying in New Orleans another year? Have you gotten any booty yet? I'm gonna bag me some southern poontang." He ripped the hoodie out of my hands, took out a bic lighter and set the cloth aflame. I was aghast. Phil was right. I had buried myself deep into a mysterious hole and that is unlike me. I mean, shit, I love being the center of attention and I was cutting myself from any potential audience. SO........WITHOUT FURTHER ADO..........
A brief dissertation on my most recent exploits:
I sreturned to the struggle of my future plans. After having decided that I would absolutely return to my school next year, I hopped gingerly back on the fence. The direction of my school set me into a panic. I was floundering with my students. While many of my kids were making incredible gains in their education, the ones that chose not to embrace the value of school were spinning out of control like the bad guys dressed in black leotards inprisoned in that two dimensional square mirror from Superman. I felt like I was letting them down. I had chutes and ladders throughout my classroom and each day another student was sliding down a chute. The last week, I've begun to adjust my outlook. I invested heavily in the Positive Behavior Support Committee which has decided to address the gigantic communications gap between the administration and faculty at my school. We held a workshop both yesterday and today to orient the staff to our new school wide behavior plan and also to gather feedback on the major concerns they've been having with the students and the administration. I took copious notes and sat down with my principal. The two of us discussed the issues at length and she was positive and open to the faculty outcry. The morale had been down and problems had begun to fester. I explained to her that even though she would not be able to solve every problem that she confronts, it was necessary for her to communicate to the staff what she was doing and how she was trying her best even if it was becqause central office was tying her hands. The meetings that allowed the teachers to vent have lifted a great burden and I believe the next steps will prove to be positive and vital to continued growth of our community. Being a part of the process has reinvigorated me to commit to my school. While I won't claim 100% allegiance to returning next year, I am being pulled to that side of the fence by a bunch of cows (not that I'm implying my fellow teachers are cows....haha).
The past two weeks, I've been establishing a fruitful routine with healthy eating and sporadic exercise. It's not perfect, but it's a start and it's made me feel generally refreshed. I even hit up Urban Outfitters and restocked my wardrobe with some really cool work clothes and a stellar brown hoodie. The one tragedy about the hoodie though is that it makes me looke like Dan Akroyd in an SNL coneheads sketch. Therefore the hood part of the hoodie will be non-functional as much as an aesthetic accessory. This past weekend I went to Rock n' Bowl for the first time in my New Orleans' career. I bowled like shit, but the stylings of Kermit Ruffins gave my example of ineptitude some much needed flare. Jake's birthday was a blast. I love that guy. I watched the Super Bowl on Sunday. While the officiating was not their finest performance, Seattle Fans should shove their whiny lamentations up their you know where. I'm immersed in the fifth season of 24. I enjoyed the four previous seasons on DVD and I can't fucking deal with waiting an entire week for each epsiode. It is torture. My roommate made a funny joke about how if Kiefer Sutherland ever hosted SNL, they should have a sketch where Jack Bauer has to take a dump that lasts ten minutes and have the 24 clock and the sound effects running the entire time while he continues to emit farting noises and yelling, "I'll be out soon," and "I shouldn't have had Taco Bell for Lunch." Funny Stuff.
I have a lot more to get off my chest, especially the world politics situation with Iran and Palestine, but I will save that discussion for the near future. Also the State of the Union speech got me riled up. Alas...so it goes. Until we meet again. Now if you want some encore material write a fucking comment! No harm intended.

...or laugh

Almost two weeks have passed since I last updated my blog and I am ripe like a fruit. This post may seem tainted because I am in a strange state of mind at this moment. I have just watched a movie that I found randomly when browsing movie trailers on apple.com. The movie is called Chumscrubbers, an unfortunate title. Described as a dark comedy, the film rehashes many thematic cliches that explore the consequences of subrubia. How the desire to attain a cookie cutter life with a nuclear family and financial success leads people to ignore the chinks in the armor and develop emotional holes that lead to behaviors that affront "normalcy." The tone and the odd characters left a disturbing taste in my mouth and yet I thoroughly enjoyed the film. I grew up in two different types of suburbia: the big house suburbia where you don't actually know any of you neighbors but they know you and the town house suburbia where you know your neighbors, but they don't know you. The former occurer pre divorce, the latter post. Both felt incredibly isolating, and when I had lived in college surrounded by others and even now when I was living in a city I did not feel capable or didn't know how to breach that isolation. I react to people in three types of ways. There are people I am obsessed with, mostly girls I am attracted to and could spend countless hours on end with them doing anything. I would be content to have them mow the lawn while I watched. Then there are those people I enjoy spending time with a great deal but in a moment I can become bored or "finished" and need to leace their presence. I would have difficulty staying in the same place for a long period of time unless I was thoroughly entertained. Even when I was entertaining people at my house I'd get up and leave briefly to satiate my need for a social respite. Finally there are those I cannot stand and cannot be around. As I have gotten older, the numbers in this category have significantly decreased, but when it occurs, my personality changes and I'm not my usual kind self. I might be resulting to hyperbole or oversimplifying, but when I think about it, this seems to describe my true primal feelings. People can change categories at the drop of a hat. Even people very dear to me. It happened with my best friend in tenth grade for a period of three months. With my mother it happened an entire year. I have regrets about how I treated them, but at the time it felt so strong and I couldn't deny how I felt. I feel a bit apprehensive about posting this, but I announced my disclaimer about how strange I feel tonight...

A week back at school and I feel like the Stranger in Albert Camus' most famous novel. I've been induldging in a societal taboo. Talking at length with a person I shouldn't and yet I'm getting more sucked in every night. I'm being drawn by the emotional connection. I need to click and isolation is starting to wear on me. My principal has had difficulty in connecting with our staff. She is unaware that she separates herself from the teachers to an extent that she doesn't understand them. Others have made comments that she's not a people person, but I don't know if that's true. Even though she walks around presenting an air of professionalism, every now and then she'll let down the drawbridge and reveal a vulnerable scared side of herself to me. I appreciate it. And I want to help her. I want to take the initiative in making my school better and nurturing the environment, but I get scared about teking on such a huge responsibility. When it comes down to it, even though I've come a long way, I still hate responsibility. Part of it has to do with a malaise I've grown accustom to. I shirk responsibility. I procrastinate it. While I know many people also suffer from procrastination, it doesn't suit a teacher. There are consequences to being unorganized.

Time seems to be passing quickly. I live my life looking ahead to the next event on my calendar: a school vacation, a dinner with a friend, a birthday, a weekend. These events are coming at me at the speed of light. Even though there are no major deadlines weighing on me, nothing pressing, I feel like I'm running out of time. I don't understand why this feeling of impendingness(is that word) is bothering me, but it feels like it's poking at my brain. Disaster seems to be looming like a guillotine and I want to nip it in the bud before it can get the best of me. I know I sound vague, but my feelings are just that, indistinct.

Last week I remembered almost all of my dreams. I think this was because I was staying up later than usual and cutting off my sleep mid R.E.M. cycle. The most fascinating dream placed me in the back of an open air train car. In the center, there was a large green felt table with poker accoutrements scattered across it. There was varely any room along the edges from the table to the car rail, but about nine men were cramped around playing cards. I was in a "specator" car behind it, nut my car didn't really make any sense because the only people who could see the game were those in the front row. Midway through the game, I was invited to participate in the tournament. I was honored, because the game was sponsored by Abraham Lincoln who I knew was in the presidential car of the train three cars ahead. I didn't ever see Lincoln, but I knew he was there. It was a great dream, but astonishingly weird.

I have Monday off for Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday. I wonder how he would react to our current social establishment. Would he be amazed by everything that's been accomplished since he began his mission, or would he see how far we still need to travel. Would he have an opinion on the way middle easter citizens are being treated in our country now? If he was alive now, how would his "dream" be different? Would he need a month or a year in order to fully understand where the problems still lie, or a day?

Corey left for London two weeks ago. I miss her. I can't call her so we've been communicating through emails. We've never used this medium to communicate before and it's extraordinary because she's the same in some ways. Her tone seems different though. I guess we express ourselve differently in our writing compared to our speech.

I have more to say and update, but this will suffice for now.

Is anybody out there?

Let me hear you scream! or laugh...

So this is the New Year, I don't feel any different...

Time for the awaited New Year's Eve exploits of one Garrett P. Sussman.

After bumming the day away, I drove to New Orleans to Andy and Jake's house. There, we enjoyed a delightfully well prepared pre-bash dinner of salad, butternut squash soup and a brilliant apple pie for dessert. Jake happens to be an excellent cook. The guys live pretty close to the French Quarter, so it was no time before we found ourselves amidst the hectic neon lights and precarious bead tossing of Bourbon Street. Our first drinking game involved predicting how many underage children were present among the destitution that triumphed the glory of the street. Needless to say, we were hammered only three blocks in. When he had our fill of the debauchery of tourists beckoning drunk sorority chicks for a brief flash, we headed towards Jackson Square. Jake and Andy were taken by the extensive mist that hovered in front of us, but I felt strong feelings of Deja Vu, considering the weather was much the same last year. The silver lining was that it was quite warmer. As we approached the stage the beams of purple and green stage lights created an atmosphere of carnivale. It was almost as topsy-turvy as Crew Du Vieux, but not quite. There were no men walking around with pizza boxes filled with giant stuffed penises. We arrived at the tail end of a set break and were thrilled as Arlo Guthrie took the stage. He emerged in full glory, decked in his cowboy apparel and his long gray wispy hair. His choice set consisted of three songs which seemed a little weak, but he was solid. Our second drinking game involved surveying fluffy boas throughout the crowd. We encountered a few raving drunks desperate for conversation. One guy told us an epic story about how he stared at a woman for two hours, claiming that she was the MOST beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He then detailed his dismay when he learned that she was 59 years old. He was about halfway through a two liter bottle filled with half orangeade and half vodka. 2006 arrived with a exuberant countdown by Mayor Nagin. He got his publicity shot then disappeared into the darkness. We meandered back towards the house and came upon the coolest spectacle of the evening. A man established on a street corner was banging away on the most incredible contraption. It looked like one of those carts that had every instrument imaginable on it, including a giant bass drum, but this one was purely percussional. He had a ravishing beat puttering along and was surrounded by an entourage of drunk hipsters who had found a long whit rope and were participating in a hilarious game of limbo. Everyone was involved, dancing and clapping and falling on the ground as they tried to go under the rope. We remained as passive observers for the better part of an hour. When we got back to the house, Andy immediately passed out. Considering it was only one o'clock at this point, Jake and I were not ready to end the night. We went to a vacant parking lot across the street and set off the remainder of our fireworks. We took turns trying to hit an empty wine bottle with out roman candles. When we ran out, I realized that I was not drunk anymore and decided to head back to La Place. I walked in the door to find Jon and Karen playing drinking games with the girls passed out on the couch. I joined them for a few rounds of high-low, got thoroughly wasted and finally scampered off to bed. This was a good new years. On the GPS scale, I'd give it a solid seven out of ten.

I am a Raving Rabble Rouser...

How funny is the beginning of the song Age of Aquarius? I imagine the singer on a ladder about to lose her balance, swaying back and forth.

What is old people's obsessions with little crystal figurines? I was in a random truck stop driving home from New Orleans the other night and saw an entire glass case of such figurines. There were a variety of dolphins, small animals, medieval swords, dragons and guitars. Who goes into a truck stop and sees the case and says to myself..."Oh my Lordy! I've been searching truck stops across America, from Chatanooga to Alberquerque, for that little porcupine with the beady black eyes! Here it was all along, sitting in this glass case right outside of La Place, Louisiana! Thank my lucky stars. You know that at some point in that individuals lifetime, there will be a comical event ivolving some uncoordinated doof taking an awkward step and instantaneously smashing the priceless/worthless collection of little figurines. I must admit though, the crystal porcupine feels so cool, all prickly-like in your hand. It's better than those chinese soothing yin-yang balls. Let me tell you!

The New Orleans Saints will be returning to the city for the 2006 football season. The ten Saints fans who still live in the city were exstatic. They even went as far as erasing "Owner Tom Benson is a black- hearted, glue-sniffing, soul sucking, douchebag cock sucker" from all the refridgerators still lining the sidewalks. I sadly predict the Saints will be relocated by 2007. Honestly, how can a devestated city support a professional football team? Say it ain't so, but so it goes.

I once was the pig who built his house of straw. Now I am the pig who builds his house of bricks.

After I saw the movie Jaws, I was terrified of stepping into a swimming pool let alone the ocean! First that thirteen year old phenom gets her arm bitten of and is back on the wave the second her rehabilitation finished. What a soldier! And another guy, when being threatened by a shark, punched the fish in the nose. Damn, don't mess with a surfer...um...don't mess with a surfer. That doesn't sound right. Unless he's Patrick Swayze from Point Break. If I robbed a bank, I'd definitely wear a mask with the likeness of Dubbya, or Cheney.

I lost the volume increase button on my Laptop due to Jack. He also ate my cell phone charger. Dog's are expensive. But even when he's biting my arm, he's too damn cute. I'm just waiting for the hormones to kick in. I hope he's not one of those dogs that humps people's legs.

Identify me...The only celebrity I've been told that I look like is Jason Schwartzmen ( the guy from Rushmore). I've also been told that I look like I come from Italian heritage. I am pure russian, baby. My Great Great Grandfather was a blind clarinetist. My Grandfather was the second best ping-pong player in America. My dad is the greatest Jewish Pimp with perpetually tanned skin in America. What will be my legacy?

I was given a Nintendo Entertainment System when I was three. I just finished my game of LifeForce yesterday. I used to have to go to the bathroom and then hold it. Sometimes I couldn't hold it, but I didn't stop to go to the bathroom. I remember one of my favorite movies in the eighties was the movie "The Wizard." Fred Savage played the older brother of aseven-year-old autistic Video Game prodigy who ran away from home to join a gaming tournament in California. The two highlights of the movie were as follows: Lucas, the thirteen year old villain, who used "The Glove" to kick ass in the game Rad Racer...and second, the final competition in the tournament using the video game Super Mario Brothers 3 BEFORE it came out for distribution across the country. I was mesmorized.

I tried to save my favorite article of clothing, my Punxy Phil hoodie from the grasp of Katrina mold. It was soft. It was blue with yellow writing. It was one of those pieces of clothing that everyone commented on. I got it in Punxatawny, Pennsylvania on Groundhog's Day in 2003. Rest in peace hoodie. You did not survive. I will never forget you.

I have yet to induldge in the latest craze of the podcast, webster dictionary's word of 2005. Are they entertaining? Please tell me.

Have we figured out what to call the decade we're living in yet?

If smell-o-vision was technologically possible, would there be a demand for it? Do you actually want to be able to smell most of the stuff we watch on T.V.? I think not.

Do you think Bronze has an inferiority complex to Silver and Gold, or is it one of those rare metals that doesn't care what other people think of it?

I find it a bit frightening that nanotechnology will be the next step in computer chip functionality. It will not be long before people will hear the suggestion of getting a computer chip implanted into their brain and not cringe.

I believe we are truly moving towards an Orwellian state. The next presidential election will greatly impact the future/direction of our country. We've been living in a Bush world for so long that we've forgotten about what used to be "normal."

Alcohol should be illegal. Period. Cigarettes should be illegal. Period. Fast Food should be illegal. I know this is a free country, but I would be so greatful...Then again, pot is illegal and that hasn't stopped me, just made me poorer.

"Yo, man, where can I get a Big Mac?" I said. "Dude, shhh, not so loud, you know how rare those things are these days?" "I'll give you fifty bucks for one." Can't do it man. The NSA have been coming down on everything fomr McNuggets to McFlurries. They're probably listening in right now. It'll cost you one hundred."

I wish there was a cartoon town like in the movie "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" I'd like to meet Apri from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...and Michaelangelo for that matter. Even though I've always been partial to Donatello, Mikey always seemed like more fun.

Existential Fireworks and Urban Planning

Last night was a blast, literally. Headed into New Orleans around dusk to meet up with my good friend Jacob. Before the trip, I stopped at one of the fireworks tents that has popped up around La Place and invested in a nice little arsenal of black cats, parachutes, and roman candles. Finding a place to set them off without drawing attention proved to be tenuous, but we trekked over to the barren neighborhood where I my old apartment stands and set up shop. After realizing the precarious postioning of power lines that gridded the street, we picked a relatively safe spot, placed our wine bottle/ launching pad on the ground and lit up the night sky. All in all, it was a good time.

When we returned to Jacob's house in mid-city, we spent an hour engaging in beautiful conversation. I've been feeling quite intellectual lately and thus have jumped at any opportunity to initiate philosophical and political dialouge. He told me about his adventures in Morocco and Egypt studying anthropology in the Middle East and the surrounding areas. I can't admit being surprised when he explained the intense hatred that accosted him from the local citizens regarding his membership to the mailgned country the good old U S of A. I'd assume that most people who travel these days would find themselves embarrassed by their association with our country. We are greatly detested and deservedly so. Jacob and I had fun running wild with the School/World analogy for a bit. It was another one of those infrequent conversations where the vulnerability of intimacy is deglected for the greater value of getting to know someone on a deeply personal level. Jacob's friendship is becoming increasingly important to me. After our discussion we retired into his house to watch the movie I Heart Huckabees. I've been really burying myself in the philosophies of existentialism lately. The basic tenets being:

-People are inherently not good, sharing and generous, but are conditioned to be these things through societal conditioning.

-Mankind has free will.

-Life is a series of choices, creating stress.

-Few decisions are without any negative consequences.

-Some things are irrational or absurd, without explanation.

-If one makes a decision, he or she must follow through.

Therefore, we are at our best when we struggle against the contraints of existence and not allow ourselves to be complacent with our lot in life. We are responsible for our choices whether they have good or bad consequences. If we detatch from our problems, we are attempting to avoid responsibility which is impossible. All of our experiences and decisions are subjective based on personal experience. Even though there are moral and ethical guides that influence our choices , we have the freedom not to follow them. Since we are free to make our own subjective choices, resposibility is thrust upon us. This ideological pathway leads some existentialists to claim that we are "condemned to be free." I Heart Huckabees struggles between the ideas that everything is connected and nothing is connected. The dialectic between pure being (existence without thinking) and the unescapable draw of human drama forces us to rally like a ping pong ball back and forth. The movie resolves with a resolution between the two trains of thought. I personally believe everything is connected, but find it near impossible to be aware of this idea in the day-to-day. I'll leave this thought as an ellipsis...

A recent article in the Times Picayune detailed a few of the ideas that are floating around the local government that would begin to revive the city. A light rail service that would travel from the Louis Armstrong Airport to downtown New Orleans seems to be the most riveting. I was enthralled by the education proposals. Mainly, since the population seems to be hovering around 200,000 people and will not increase dramatically in the next three to four years, politicians want to make huge changes in the education system that transform New Orleans public schools from a boon of the city to a draw. The architect of the Philadelphia school system recently spoke to lawmakers expounding how they had their pick of any superintendent in the country, because the opportunity of a fresh slate could not be overlooked. One plan flowing through the veins of the rebuilding committee involves the construction of mini school campus facilities that would be utilized by the community. Four schools would be placed on a campus and would include, medical, entertainment, community centers and a variety of other buildings. These mini communities would increase parental and community involvement. Studies have show that parental involvement positively impacts education. Such communities have already been founded in Wisconsin with incredible success. I want to be a part of this! I think that after I've been teaching for another year or two, I could dedicate my efforts full-time to the future planning of New Orleans education. Once the actual plans take shape and the process begins, I need to find out how I can get involved and help steer the direction of the future of the New Orleans public school system. I get excited just thinking about it...time will tell. And I'll do my research.

Microcosm-Macrocosm; School-World

The day after Christmas and all through the house, Breanna and Alyssa were stirring, so was a beagle-pitbull-catahoula pup named Jack. I don't know Jack's official birthday, but I know that I got him around the first or second week of February when he was already six weeks old. So I am declaring today, Jack is one year old (or seven in dog years)! Last night I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with the Iannone family, the wonderful people I've been staying with. We had a beautiful array of salad, meatballs, eggplant parm, lasagna, orange cold drinks, and pumpkin pie for dessert. After dinner, Jon, Mr. Cici, and I engaged in a fairly intense intellectual discussion spanning religion and politics. Breanna and Alyssa were desperately wrestling for our attention. They already had the pretty princess board game set up. Jon kept saying how this was the first adult conversation he had had in the house for months and they needed to be patient. We were a regular multicultural melting pot, the three of us. Jon is a Christian from Connecticut, Mr. Cici is a Muslim from Mali, Africa, and I am the Jew from Dirty Jersey. Too often, when the big discussions of faith and politics arise, people want to run for the hills. So I always appreciate when people of different cultures and faiths can get down to it. Throughout the discussion, Jon would preempt his comments with "I don't want to offend you, but..." then he would throw out an honest question. He's very endearing in that way. He demerits his own intelligence, and doesn't allow himself enough credit for his own thinking. The most fascinating part of the conversation revolved around the Iraq war. Mr.Cici and I banded around our belief that the war was not necessary. We realized that our main point of contention with Jon was the claim of the existence of WMD in the desert. We all understood that we did not know for sure one way or the other, but my inclination was that there were not WMDs, and he believed that they were possibly buried somewhere before we could find them. We skittered around the United States involvement in forgein affairs. I explained how I thought that we should stop meddling and acting as the world police. I think that should be the responsibility of the United Nations. Then Jon alluded to a brilliant analogy between world politics and a regular school. I jumped on his analogy and used it to iron out my own view of how world politics should be run. Let me try to articulate:

Imagine a public school as a microchosm of the world. The United Nations would serve as the Principal. Their responsibility would be to make sure that the world run smoothly facilitating in "classrooms" where problems were arising that effected the entire "school." They would intervene and provide support, and if necessary provide a blue print for successful management. Each country could be seen as a teacher and their citizens be students. The teachers would manage their students and if a few bad students were found to be negatively effecting the entire school and it was beyond the teacher's control, the principal would aid in reprimanding and handling the student. Now, in terms of the Iraqi war, imagine that I am a the teacher representing Iraq, and I choose to run my classroom in a way that other teachers frown upon. I use corporal punishment on my students excessively. I am having difficulty managing my students, so another teacherfrom the other side of the school, we'll call him "Mr. Sam" decides that it is his responsibility to enter my classroom without my permission and tell me how to run my class. Not only am I offended by his presumptuous actions, but I feel that the Principal should be the one to help me, whether or not I ask for her help, not another teacher...especially one that I hate. Now, I realize the analogy has holes in it. But I feel that it still works fundamentally. One of the breakdowns is that the "principal" or United Nations needs to gain more power over the school with the support of all the teachers. Countries need to restrain their own infringement and rely of the judgement of the principal. Now the United States has too much pride to accept the judgements of the United Nations. We have to accept that there will be times when we disagree with their judgements. But that's part of democracy. I disagree with the President Bush, but I understand that the majority of my country voted for him and so I must accept the public's and the president's decisions. I won't necessarily silence my opinions, but that is how democracy works. Until our country accepts the decisions of the United Nations we will not be truly serving democracy. Looking back on my argument I am aware that it is full of errors based on my lack of knowledge in the realm of political science. I'd appreciate any help in understanding the faults of the argument. And I have plenty more to say that was discussed, but for now I will say that the conversation I had last night was quite enjoyable and I will now return to my preparations for the second half of the school year.

With the free time I have...I will probably revisit the blog again today.

Mothers, and it's not even mother's day...

My mother used to remind me of Carolyn Burnham, the mother character from the movie "American Beauty." Even though the woman, played by Annette Benning, is a contemptible representative of Americana circa the late 90's, I never made the connection between her and my mother with any contempt. I was just aware of a professional ambition that catered to a pretense for fake presentation. Never in a million years would my mother admit her superficiality in earnest, but I sensed that her maudlin marriage to my father always seemed fragile and combustible in her opinion unless a spotless image was maintained. I inherited her need to be accepted. It's not something I am proud of, yet it can feel consuming. That's one of those things I would have difficulty saying out loud, but purging of it through writing seems safer, even if I know anybody could read it. Living with a cut-and-paste social network down here, I feel even less burdened by it. My mother has gained persepective over the years. She's a brilliant woman. She can be self-depricating in her regrets of not going to college. She attended nursing school, but deep down, I don't believe that she considers those years on par with "college." After her divorce with my father, she went back to work. Initially she resumed her career as an RN at a local OBGYN. Mom's always been a saint when it's come to children. Her heart busts open when an infant or toddler enters a room. We'd be in conversation and her eyes would drift to the youngster. Her connection sometimes led her to deep pain at work. She'd aid mothers who couldn't have children without the help of artificial insemination. Many mothers would endure the hardships of unsuccessful trials or miscarriages. This took a toll on my mother. Finally the clinic began making budget cuts and preemptively she began searching for another job. Through a friend's connection, even with a lack of sales experience, she got hired for Bristol Meyer Squibb in pharmaceutical sales. What she lacked in organization and experience she made up for with determination and incredible people skills. Working admingst MBA Harvard grads and young bucks attacking the field, she quickly jumped up the pinnacle ladder. Pinnacle, being the major selling incentive for the company. Those who had numbers within the top fifteen per region went on business vacations to Hawaii, Italy, Cruises, etc. In two years, she was consistently winning these awards. She had a knack for the job. She thrived. Over the years she acquired impressive organizational skills, a supportive husband, and a proud son. She even became interested in politics, launching her opinions and intiating discussions with me that we never could have had before. Maybe I've grown up a bit, but it can't be mistaken that she's grown too. She's taught me, through her actions, that no matter what stage of your life you are in, you can always change and become who you want to be. Who you see yourself as. Nothing's perfect. We still have our disagreements. I haven't talked to her in two days because I'm avoiding a responsibility to sign a paper that she needs to fax to me. I do love her. I've never been a momma's boy. But it will crush me if I were to lose her. I love you mom.

Bustin' some Trustin'

I find myself tete-a-tete with a moral quandry that I am not at liberty to divulge. A classic struggle of intellectual rationality versus emotional irrationality. The answer seems simple when presenting it in its purest simple form, but my heart still challenges me. The consequences of making the right decision would be minimal. The wrong choice would lead to a path of inevitable deceit. I don't like secrets yet I always feel like I am buried in them. My family has a lot of skeletons, some dead, others ongoing. It's not healthy to grow up in a house of secrets. The ability to trust someone who hides secrets is a difficult task. I don't want to be someone who people cannot trust. To be able to trust somebody is perhaps the deepest form of communication. Trust cannot be handed over with kind words. Trust needs to be earned over a great deal of time. Through ours' and others' actions we gain or lose that trust. I hate those things that are so valuable to us yet so fleeting. We can spend a lifetime building and maintaining our trust in other people, but with one faulty step the ground, one mindless action the ground can fall from beneath our feet like an Indiana Jones movie. I think that is so scary. The ease from which we can betray another's trust. I believe most everyone has had such an experience. Where, at the right time at the right place, have said that most singularly wrong remark and lost a deeply personal, well esblished connection with another person. That one action or comment that changes everything. When there's no going back to "how it used to be." I'm rummaging through my brain for the last such episode I have endured. I lost a minor friend before Hurrican Ivan. We had been hanging out a whole lot when I slipped the old "I am attracted to you" into conversation. She stopped speaking to me for a while and even though we have cordial conversation on occasion, it's never been the same. I wasn't too messed up about it, because we hadn't gotten incredibly close, but all it took were those famous words. That situation seems pretty common, where one individual admits attraction or feeling to the other and when it is not requited the relationship walks the plank. The last time I lost the trust of someone I loved was back in college. No regrets though. That one wasn't meant to be. Still slightly painful though. Is that pathetic or what?

I spent a good two hours today playing a b-ball and baseball with my landlord and two kids from the neighborhood. I've never been a superstar at sports, but I've always been able to exceed folks' expectations of my capabilities. We tied Jack up to a tree and just let loose. It was a beautiful day out, surprisingly warm.

A fireworks tent popped up right by my house last week. I'm feeling the id in me commanding me to go buy a whole slew of them and have some good old boyhood fun. I remember some crazy friends of mine who would shoot roman candles at each other for fun senior of college. They'd play tag with the fireworks. It was an accident ready to happen, but they provided hours of entertainment. Let's just say my roommate who was studying for his LSATs didn't quite appreciate it. Tomorrow night, I will go down to the levee to see the mile long line of bonfires that they set up every year. Should be a spectacle. That's it for now.

It's Brisk Baby!

Finally the anticipated day has arrived. The beginning of the Christmas vacation. I specifically say "christmas vacation" because that is purely what it is. Signs around the school read Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. We have no politically correct inclinations. We are a christian society and proud of it. You can imagine my apprehension in breaking the news to my students that I am Jewish. It went fairly well this year. We were watching a small video about Kwanzaa and then another about Channukah. I became dismayed when my kids talked through the videos. I sternly explained how important it is to appreciate other people's cultures because you never know when you may be offending someone. Then I dropped the bomb. Naturally they had questions. Cameron remarked that I didn't look Jewish. I won them over when I explained that Channukah was eight nights long which resulted in eight nights of presents. You see, you have to relate to kids on their level. They didn't understand that I didn't believe in Jesus as the massiah. Without going into a lengthy diatribe I merely explained the similarities between Christianity and Judaism, and moved on to another topic.

Tonight I had the priveledge of attending the annual faculty Christmas party. We did not celebrate the occasion at Bull's Corner a local bar, like last year. This year we enjoyed a feast of home cooked dishes consisting of gumbo, fried turkey, cream cheese and bacon crescents, among other various goodies. The blatant segregation between the black and white teachers that was prevelent last year, seemed nonexistent this year. I gathered my teachers manuals and left in style.

After a night of rest and relaxation, I will embark on a cavalcade of coffee shop trip to prepare for next semester. I intend to be hard at work for a smooth spring. I will do my best to be organized, even investing in one of those large desk calendars to fill with excessive long term planning.

Tragically, the new friends that I am excited to spend time with have all gone home for the holidays, but I am not amiss. I will be ready for they're return.

On a final note, my class passed today's principal's challenge. The students read a total of 85 books in less than two hours. Kudos to them! Also I found out that the St. John Police chief has recently been busted for selling drugs across the street from my school. What a sad state of affairs.

I feel good. Even with the cold weather, I myself feel brisk, like Lipton Iced Tea.

Oh...and I have a secret crush. Love is in the cold air.