Dribble Pop

Skipping and Faking All the Way to the Bank

Let me explain why I chose not to write a post yesterday. It wasn't because I didn't have time. I actually feel like I had more time last night than I've had in a cool while. I just stumbled across some writer's block. There was nothing going on in my head that felt pertinent to a post. When I got home from school, I passed out for about two hours and woke up fully clothed and a bit disoriented. I didn't feel like discussing school, because the day had been extremely stressful. I could not possibly relive that by expressing my frustration. I hadn't been apart of any pop culture that made me vent. So thus, I let it go.

Today, I feel refreshed. I didn't necessarily have any more energy than yesterday, I just felt more put together. When I finished tutoring a few Fourth graders for the leap, I went to Walmart and picked up a beautiful pair of gray starter sweatpants, a memory stick for my camera and a new leash for Jack. He had gnawed right through the old one so that I had to create a makeshift leash using three key chain necklaces tied together. My courtesy was extended to a nice woman who treated me like a Walmart employee, inquiring about the utility and practicality of getting a polaroid camera versus a digital camera. Her main concern was being able to have that immediate gratification of seeing the picture instantly. I explained that even though polaroid film is always a party just to have around, financially it would cripple her. She pointed out to me how cheap some of the digital cameras are nowadays. Now they were still expensive ($127), but she found a kids digital camera that was twenty bucks. Unfortunately, we couldn't figure out if she'd be able to see the image on the back. I'm not sure if I really was able to help her, but at least I was able to steer her away from the polaroid and that has to be a success in itself.

When I got home, I went out for a jog with Jack and got dragged throughout the neighborhood. We had a great run of him running a few yards and me coughing like a locomotive. I think he might have even more energy now than usual. Isn't excercise supposed to wear him out? Other than that, I had to make some frightening telephone calls to parents who think I'm a horrible teacher. Ultimately, we were able to come to some mutual understandings and I hope it will benefit the behavior in the classroom. I almost forgot to mention that I got informally observed by my principal this morning. I expected her to out me as a fraud in the area of education, but to my dismay I got a surprisingly positive slew of comments. This all harks back on my magnanimous fear that I've faked my way through everything I've attempted/been responsible for in my life. I faked my way through High School, never doing my homework. I faked my way through college, never doing my homework unless essential. I felt like I was faking my way through this evn though I've gotten good feedback all along the way. Either I'm really awesome at faking, or my expectations of myself are too damn high. I'm not proud of these sentiments but maybe they're part of some specifically Jewish complex that I developed in childhood. Why Jewish, you ask? It all comes down to the pervasive burden of guilt. Always feeling guilty.

I plan to enjoy the rest of my evening. Friday we are having a talent sho in class and I intend on taking many pictures with my new camera. As soon as I get home, I'll upload them to the blog. Await with baited breath. Curtains please.

Body Spray in Xmas

I get such a thrill from seeing the Christmas decorations going up around the neighborhood. I now live in one of those neighborhoods that ferociously competes with their light and other paraphenalia. I thought Halloween was excessive, but Christmas here is completely over the top. For Halloween, one house had a massive spider web covering the door with a giant spider hovering in the corner. Driving down Somerset, I saw at least three nativity scenes, four snowman stand up statues and one giant blow up Santa Clause. I feel like every family thinks they're the Griswalds from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

I ran some errands this evening and made a stop at the local Winn Dixie. After collecting my usual groceries, I realized I need deoderant and casually made my way over to the appropriate aisle. As I was searching for my reliable Gillette Cool Wave, I found the recent phenomenon that is body spray. I must admit that I've been sucked in by the Axe and Tag commercials. I took a deep breath and threw some Axe into my cart. Ladies...my trepidation grows with anticipation on my first outing wearing the body spray. I've seen the commericals of women throwing themselves at men wearing the marketed body spray. Should I be afraid? Honestly, is it a cheap cologne or is there something more to it that I am missing? Please express your opinion with zeal.

I finished The Confederacy of Dunces. It is drawn together at the end brilliantly. The climax has that satifying notion of bringing together all the subtle and not so subtle pieces that have been floating in the ether of the entire book. Well done John Kennedy Toole. I highly recommend the read. Even though he would need to wear a fat jacket, I do believe Will Ferrel could play a convincing Ignatius J. Reilly. We shall have to wait.

I also received my digital camera in the mail! It was like Christmas early! Or Hannukah for that matter. Maybe I'm turning Christian like straight men can turn gay, haha (okay, bad joke). Anyway, hope all is well around the world. G'night.

Kinda like the way Kevin Smith feels about God...

Ah the joy of being super productive! Finished updating the electronic grade book and have been conducting the reading train like Casey Jones on crack...wait he was on crack. I'm chugging through The Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. Fascinating story this guy writes and even more interesting is his story. After he committed suicide, his mother brought the finished manuscript to a professor at Tulane University. The novel was published posthumously and went on to win a pulitzer. Another brilliant mind suffers by the slings and arrows of depression and society. His novel centers around a fat, flatulating, obnoxious, savant, Ignatius J. Reilly, who cruises the French Quarter quixotically with an obsession fixated on Boethius. An attempt to adapt the book to the silver screen has been thwarted on two accounts. The first actor to potentially portray the protagonist was John Belushi. We all know what happened there. The second victim of the Dunces' curse was John Candy. Thus I fear for the life of Will Ferrel who has been the most recent comedian to be tapped for the role. The ex-Saturday Night Live star must have a death wish. Anyway, I've only got about a hundred pages left and I might have it finished by this evening. My next project will be attached to the enigmatic Thomas Pynchon. I will be embarking on a welcomed return to the realm of post-modernism.

Speaking in academic terms, I engaged in some revitalizing discussions with Corey over the break. Over the last two years, she has become inseparable from the writings of Freud. She has currently been dedicating her studies to his essays regarding the "uncanny." She even had me pick her up a survey of the exploits of the Uncanny X-men to include in her paper. Struggling to create a short story that is immersed in the uncanny, we discussed a variety of possibilities after watching a few classic Twilight Zone episodes and she settled on a narrative that pits a man and his doppleganger of a hitchhiker traveling through a darkened American landscape. The story has potential, I just worry about the inevitable cliches seeping between the clever dialogue and exposition. She'll handle it with poise. I thoroughly enjoyed "talking smart," it has been a while. Writing is a good outlet, but how easy it can be to flounder through pop culture and boredom into the land of status quo and repetition. The shock to my outer cortex will inhibit my mental return to Louisiana and perhaps influence and ultimately determine my future conquests in my social, professional, and geographical lifestyle.

Random thought: Using a public bathroom where I am aware of the broken lock on the door can be terrifying. I have been walked in on twice at this local coffee shop, and while both myself and the guilty patron have handled the situation with grace, I now tend to avoid the facility for as long as possible. I enter the lavatory now with a steady string of faux coughs and sneezes that with great hope I intend to alert the offending company. I believe I was first traumatized by a similar experience at the impressionable age of ten. I had been frequenting the Hopewell Valley Tennis Center for years under the pressuring guidance of my father whose desire for me to become a professional tennis player was conceived before I was. An older gentlemen caught me with my pants around my ankles and a face as red as a fire engine. We shared that everlasting moment of awkwardness and yet I probably have carried it with me a good half a century longer than he did. So it goes.

I truly hope that the levee comittee is planning on having bonfires again this Christmas. They have been suffering a political onslaught by the Governor, yet this tradition is not like allocating millions of dollars to a superfluous fountain. A very quaint tradition of lighting tens of hundreds of small bonfires in a string across the levee made that cold night fairly enjoyable last year. Since I believe I will be spending the winter holidays in the South, I do wish that the tradition continues. Farewell good friends. Tomorrow brings the beginning of that exciting stretch that lasts from Thanksgiving till Christmas. I will be a surgeon and slice through it with efficiency. Is there a saint I could pray to who represents efficiency? I'm sure I could google it, but the world of google deserves a break from the trivialities she is forced to endure. If I genedered Google, it would be a woman in my mind. Kinda like the way Kevin Smith feels about God.

Home and Back Home

Always a satisfying hike out to the Wachovia Center as long as the Sixers win.  The game Monday night was over by halftime and I could not be happier.  I felt a bit weird walking around the complex though because everyone was focused on raising money for Katrina victims.  I was wearing my VooDoo fest black hoodie, but no one commented on it which was fine.  I just felt like my presence should be known, that the people that these Philadelphians were supporting was me.  Well not directly, but indirectly.  I walked around wondering how many folks had a face to put on the tragedy.  Before the game began, I ran down to courtside to try to get the attention of Chris Anderson.  He really had no reason for recognizing me, but one night four months ago we had played poker at the same table in Harrah's for about two hours.  Not only was he one of the tallest men I've ever seen in person, but he was a true celebrity celebrating.  He was throwing his cash around, spilling tequila shots on the carpet.  It made no sense for him to be sitting at the 3-6 Hold Em' tables but there he was in his glory.  During warmup he sidled over to the scorers table and within earshot of me.  I yelled, "Hey Chris!"  He flashed me a cross between a gang sign and a peace sign.  I responded, "Harrah's.  Poker.  New Orleans.  How ya doin'?"  He yelled, " Beat up man, beat up."  I don't think we connected.  For all I know, he just thought that I was a tourist who happened to see him on my visit there.  I could have come up with something more genuine or pertinent like: the city's coming back, My refridgerator looks like shit, or I'm not voting for Nagin in February.  That might have gotten at least a smile.  So it goes.

Finished the graphic novel "V for Vendetta" today.  Great read.  It has an air of intelligence that I should have expected from Alan Moore.  Loaded with poetry and famous quotes. They are making a movie of it that is coming out in March. Hugo Weaving (Matrix) will be playing V and Natalie Portman will play the female lead. I've already seen the poster and it is stellar.

Thanksgiving was a complete success. We had a veritable feast featuring fried turkey, vegetable laced stuffing, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. The dessert was a homemade apple pie. All of it was delicious even though my mother harped on the fact that the mashed potatoes had way too much garlic and the apple slices in the pie were a bit too thin. Afterwards we played scrabble and my sister beat me for the first time. I even hit a bunch of the triple word scores but to no avail. The following night after a dinner that included my mom, sister, step dad, my step brother, his girlfriend and my step sister we played an amazing game called Apples to Apples. The main gist is you get seven cards that each have a noun on it. The person leading the round picks a card with an adjective on it and you attempt to present the most appropriate noun in your hand. If yours is chosen you win the hand. The game lends itself to hilarity. After the game I went out with Krishna to the Annex, a local bar in Princeton. I found myself overwhelmed by familiar faces of kids from my high school who I hadn't seen in five years. I approached very few in order to escape the awkward conversations that involve catching up. I finally flew back to New Orleans and was pleasantly surprised by the 75 degree weather. School begin again on Monday and I am apprehensive. I need to finish my progress reports and generally organize my classroom. I have a lot of preparation to do tomorrow so I plan on getting some sleep and crack at it in the morning. Much other news to discuss, but I'm feeling tired and uninspired. Sweet dreams and I hope y'all didn't miss me too much.

Excursion:NYC

I always seem to gain a small amount of perspective when I visit the Big Apple.  While there are hundreds of appealing idiosyncracies that make NYC distinctive, this weekend reinforced that I could never live there.  I just can't bring myself to deal with how exhausting it is to get where you want to and see who you want to.  A forty-five minute subway ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan just seems excessive.  I did get to reconnect with a bunch of college friends.  I also missed a bunch of people who were either out of town or busy.  That's the problem, everything is too busy in New York.  The cold weather doesn't help either.  People race around clenching their teeth and avoiding eye contact.  Saturday night I went to celebrate Jocelyn's birthday at Absolutely 4th.  A typical club scene awaited and while there were plenty of attractive women and strong drinks flowing, there were a lot of people and the noise was oppressive.  I didn't know anyone except the birthday girl and the three friends I arrived with.  I had gotten stoned for the first time in a few months before I went over so I was not in any capacity to meet new people. 

I am now back in New Jersey sitting in my father's bachelor pad.  I stopped at a comic book store in the city when I was hanging out with Sarah and picked up the graphic novel "V for Vendetta."  I can't wait to dive into it because it was written by a pure genius, Alan Moore and there is a movie coming out that adapts it.  Once I read more, I'll update y'all on my opinion.  I generally want to begin reading more.  It's been a while since a read a good book.  I choose not to read in spurts because I when I find a novel I enjoy, I devour it.  Thus, vacations always present perfect opportunities to get some serious reading done. 

Not much else to discuss except I can't seem to figure out my sister's newest infatuation with drunk dialing me.  It's happened three times in the last month.  While I find it mildly entertaining, it tends to leave me a bit concerned.  Her latest communication included a picture message that was received two nights ago.  Although it's tough to make out, I'm pretty sure it is a naked picture of one of her guy friends.  There are many questions lingering around the purpose and subject matter of the message.  I have yet to talk to her about it.

Now that I'm back in Jersey I plan on trying to be reliable in my posts, but no guarantees.

A Poetic Moment...can't help but be saccharine

Disaster averted! Dr. Motaghedi successfully fixed me. My ears are clean and clear and my pounding headache has subsided. Definitely got a little motivation to quit smoking. They had one of those "The consequences of smoking" posters hanging in the room and the lung of the smoke looked pretty nasty. If I had to spend one more moment imagining how similar my lungs were, I would have taken my pack and threw it out the window.

I dropped off Jack at the kennel today. Everytime I put him up for a week I get serious heart pangs. The new kennel I took him to made me a bit nervous. It's no Pooch's Palace. The guy who took him was gruff and grizzly. If I get any indication that Jack was hurt during his week, I will never bring him back to that place. He was so scared when they led him to the back. He was literally shaking. It made me really sad. I can never lose him.

I went back to New Orleans today to pick up Jack's vaccination papers for the vet and I must say that the city is back in full force. I've never seen it so busy. Every street was packed with traffic. The medians are littered with 12" by 12" info-mercials. One of those happened to be advertising the services of the one and only Kenya Rounds, the attorney I had met a few weeks prior at the Hookah Cafe. Small coincidence. Or is it? Maybe I need an existential detective.

I'm starting to get giddy about going home. Going to live it up with Jocelyn in the city for her birthday Saturday night. I plan on having lunch with Sarah on Sunday and sprinkle some Mossberg wherever I can get a piece. Monday night I'm going to the Sixers game with pops. It should be a hoot. They're playing really well right now and it's helping take my mind off the tragedy of the Eagles. Coincidentally (again) they are to play the New Orleans/Oklahoma City Hornets. Oklahoma City just shouldn't be a part of the equation. No offense to those kind folks, and frankly I've never been within a hundred miles of Oklahoma, but they just don't seem like the kind of town to have a professional sports team. I dare you to prove me wrong. Just you go ahead.

I'm getting a digital camera in a few days and I can't wait to begin photodocumenting all this crazy stuff ravaging around me. I lost my old one in the natural disaster whose name I will not speak. I'll be able to post pictures of Jack, my school, New Orleans etc. the possibilities are endless. Plus I'm feeling a desire to be creative.

I feel like a poem...

Blood pumps through the veins and over the pot-holes of a cancerous city.
Strangers smile and talk about the ghost that leaves reminders in the medians and on the sidewalks.
The old familiar smells begin to reclaim their places at the street corners.
An old man walks slowly to his mark and brings his trumpet to his lips on South Claiborne Ave.
Streetcars still hibernate or maybe they're bannished to a greater infrequency.
The stray beads of past Mardi Gras have receded with the waters.
Ageless trees become modern art and priceless ruins.
Police sirens are oddly silent.
Fresh horse shit fertilizes the streets of the French Quarter.
Tourists arrive looking for horror and leave with guilt and a Katrina novelty T-shirt.
I'm locked outside the gates of a two A.M. curfew, looking in.

Old Friends and Dirty Jersey

Hi! How are you doing today? I'm fine, thanks for asking. I just got a fucking ear ache that's driving me insane! To make a long story short, I couldn't hear much on Tuesday and this morning my ear hurt pretty badly. Naturally, I hit up the local emergency room. After filling out the necessary forms (the receptionist personally asked me what religion I was, I answered Jewish, and she gave me an odd sort of look like I was from a different planet, which is true down here) I sat patiently in ER #1. I felt like all the hype of the ER is completely overrated. The room did not look particularly sanitary and the doctor seemed lathargic, but I guess that makes sense when you're in there to treat someone with an ear infection. He was generally a nice guy though, and didn't seem too busy anyway. He filled up a syringe with warm water and tried to clear out my ear to no avail. I've got an appointment tomorrow with a good ear guy. I hope it works out, because I'm supposed to fly home Saturday, and the pressure could really screw things up. I won't be able to handle being stuck in La Place over Thanksgiving.

When I got home after the doctor visit, I took some advil and watched the movie "Sideways" again. I didn't like it nearly as much as I had the first time I watched it. Even though Paul Giamatti(I think that's his name) is eerily similar to my best friend Mossberg, the movie is too damn depressing and slightly ambiguous at the end. I realize that is the point, but I just didn't enjoy it this time around. It also reminded me of an article from the New York Times I had read a few months back regarding what sort of outings are socially acceptable for two male friends to embark on. Not that I subscribe to social tenets for fear of being categorized as oh my god "homosexual'! Gasp! but it's funny how there are some outings men just inevitably feel completely awkward in. Sports games, bars, business related affairs, movies (has to be a guy movie though), strip clubs are all satisfactory. Art galleries, walks with no purpose, dinners at nice restaurants fall into that other category. The movie centered on a week long excursion to wine country with two male friends. True, I would not take a walk with a guy for no purpose or at least haven't at this point. Usually the purpose would be getting high. I have gone to Art galleries or nice restaurants. I've ocillated (like a fan baby) in my life from having a majority of female friends to male friends and back again countless times. I frequently switch friends often and I'm not sure as to why this is. Even though I am still in touch with friends from High School and college, I have a difficult time keeping in touch with anybody. I don't email my friends for some reason. I'll randomly call friends when I have time to kill. I'll just scroll down my contacts list and find folks I haven't talked to in a while. Sometimes the calls will go on forever, catching up on the big events in our lives, but it's hard to do that when you're not there, in the general location of your buddies. I had a philosophy for a while that it's hard to stay close with people when you don't know what is important to them in their lives. As time passes, people change and their priorities change. But then there are the friends that it doesn't matter how long it's been, you can always pick up right where you left off.

I have two main friends from High School that I still keep in touch with on a regular basis: Alexa and Krishna. I've known Alexa since I was two years old, so she is more than a High School friend. I still remember being three years old and walking out of the movie theater after seeing E.T. I was balling my eyes out that Elliot and E.T. couldn't stay together, and she was repeating her favorite phrase from the movie over and over, "Penis breath." She was a very precocious tot. Krishna and I became close friends in 8th grade and went through our incredibly awkward stages together. If that doesn't facilitate bonding, I don't know what does. He is easily one of the most brilliant individuals I've ever met. He's stylish, confident, and genuine. He's never on time. He pursues all his interests with an admirable passion and if I were gay, our friendship would be very awkward and mysterious...My dad is still close with all of his friends from High School. They practically all still live in New Jersey or Pennsylvania. I think it's pretty cool to have had close friends for such a long period of your life. My friends are definitely what potentially will draw me back to the northeast. Tangent: I also watched Harold and Kumar go to White Castle last night. Which leads me to my epic conclusion of this post.

Top Three New Jersey based movies in no particular order:

Clerks
Garden State
Harold and Kumar go to White Castle

All three embrace the gritty Jersey. Jersey is indescribable, yet each of these movies nail a tone that cannot be explained in words. I'll still attempt to do so...It's just a feeling you get when you're driving down the turnpike or if you're lost in Newark or Trenton. It's hanging outside the Circle K. It's affluent suburbia and ghetto suburbia side by side. It's locking your car doors in the parking lot of Quakerbridge Mall, but not at MarketFair down the road. It's the anthrax that was found in the same Post Office as the one in the zip code of my Dad's office that washed him into an FBI interrogation room. It's the flora and the fauna (as my mom always says). The fauna being the deer or opossum or cat or rat that tragically leaves a red stain on the late night backroad under a curtain of fog and a swerve of tire tracks. It's being eight years old and seeing your older cousin Michael turned into a piece of paper at a David Copperfield show in Atlantic City. It's a place you either never leave or never go back to. Would it be tacky or a symbol of dirty love to get an outline of such a maligned state on my upper arm? This is my year long contemplation. Never had a tattoo, but I might be due. It just means I won't be able to be buried in a Jewish cemetary. My sister burned that bridge years ago. If she's going to hell, can I go with her?

Stay Clear...I be whining

Attention: If you want to avoid me bitching about my job for a while, stop reading this post now! I've held my job out of this as much as possible but soon enough there will be a term equivolent to "going Postal" for the public school system. (that is extreme and not true, just trying to sprinkle in humor)

The past two weeks at school have been beastly. I am struggling to find a solution to my dilemmas in classroom management. I am not one to cry from the tribulations that I've encountered, but I'm pretty damn close. Don't get me wrong, it is in no way comparable to my experiences last year with my special ed students. But this year, I am going it alone without the aid of a seven year teacher veteran. I have twenty-six students with a variety of personalities that seem on the verge of spontaneously combusting. Ten of the students are pure angels. They work hard, follow directions, and generally carry themselves with a positive demeanor that helps me drive through those days that I want to just pack up my shit and say fuck it. Before eight students were added to my roster, I could handle the challenges that my misbehaving students posed. We were developing a chemistry that made teaching more than enjoyable. The eight new students are like the darkside of the force and are converting one more fence sitter everyday. My major drama right now consists of students instigating each other and the overreactions that ensue. Many of my students are typical bouncy children that cannot control their physical "ejaculations." The problem arises when they pierce their fellow classmates' bubbles. Instead of immediately apologizing or saying excuse me, they just continue on their way as if nothing has happened. Because a contingent of my kids constantly feel like targets of insidious actions, they react with misguided anger. They make harsh interjections like "You're fat" or "Your momma." If I don't intercede in time the result can be a contentious battle of words or worse, fists. Now I've only had one fight in my presence this school year, but the possibility exists every single day and this keeps me on my toes. Sometimes, they can be quite sneaky and whisper a derogatory remarks into their classmates ear. This creates the problem of me not knowing who was the instigator and who is the reactor. I end up punishing both. The problem becomes confounded since, when they do alert me of the transgressions, they will sometimes lie about what has happened and take no responsibility in their part of the altercation. Thus, like the boy who cries wolf, I never know which students I can believe. This lying issue is so bad that I will watch students commit an act that violates my behavior policy and they will continue to deny their actions. Even after I advise them that I saw them, they STILL say they didn't do it. Why don't you get the parents involved? I do call parents and they will admit their lack of control over their children, or they'll deny that their child is capable of this type of behavior. I had one parent this year already threaten to seek legal counsel and call the school board because I wrote up her daughter for fighting when I witnessed the fight. Her daughter was suspended. Even though I have the support of my principal, who thinks I'm doing a fine job, I'm petrified of the threat that hovers over my head daily. Here I am in a job where I work constantly, hours after the job is over and I am treated with disrespect and a lack of appreciation. It all just makes me sad. I spend my own personal money on classroom resources and rewards for positive behavior (pencils, stickers, candy). I can understand why these last few weeks have been tough. The kids I aquired have not been working for six weeks and are having to play catch up. Four of them were not well behaved to begin with. I empathize, but I am having the hardest time finding solutions. I try moving students into different seating arrangements, but this leads to new disruptive tandems and I only have two seats that are isolated from the other students and they are filled with good reason. I know I'll figure it out. I do not wish to resort to constant write-ups, but if that is what it takes...I know I can solve this. I just need some good faith. It's days like this that I wish I believed in God, or Allah, or Jesus, or Buddha, or Superman.

Okay...that felt cathartic. I apologize for the vent session. But today was one of those days. Two days till Thanksgiving break. I'll be back. Refreshed and ready for the three weeks between now and winter break. Send me some good vibes or a "keep up the good work", cause teaching is a pretty fucking thankless job. Comments are welcome.

Anne you are amazing and I love checking to see what you're thinking. It makes me excited to check the blog.

One more note, transitioning from Football to Basketball...hope it's not premature...go Sixers.

I can't spell Corey without a Y

Jack once again has sabotaged my powerbook. After clamoring for attention he has ripped the "y" button right off of my keyboard. How am I still able to type such essential words as today, dichotomy, and Yukon? I expertly applied my basic knowledge of computer keyboard technology and reassembled the disrupted key. Success! I just need to press a little harder when I wish to use the dysfunctional letter.

I forgot to update everyone on my exhilerating weekend and plan on accomplishing this in three seconds... Friday night included a two hour car ride to Lafayette, Louisiana. I had plenty of time to reflect on the next few weeks ahead as I sat in traffic under the metropolis street lamps of Baton Rouge, listening to Saves the Day and sipping on a chilled coffee. Upon arrival at the Marriott Courtyard, I drove to the Blue Moon cafe to meet up with the scattered leaves of Teach For America. We enjoyed small talk and the repeated question of "What the hell have you been up to the last two and a half months?" We didn't really ask each other how we were doing because we already knew the answer: disjointed, compromised, misunderstood, estranged. It brought a sense of joy and sadness to see everyone together for the first time since our upheaval. Many of the folks who had been relocated to Houston had driven three hours, only to spend four hours with their friends and then return to the city of concrete highway. We danced under the neon Blue Moon sign to the rattle of Zydeco. I drank Pabst Blue Ribbon with a longing for those old college days of cheap beer. I smoked my throat raw with too many cigarettes. Afterwards I escaped with Bridget and her friend Deena across the street to the Atmoshpere restaurant unknowlingly ordering the best Tomato Bisque I've ever had in my life at 2 am. It was thick with a cornicopia of savory vegetables and unnamed spices. The restaurant had a stylish demeanor that only added to the nuanced treat. After a cold dead sleep of six hours, we drove another half an hour to Opelousas Junior High for a full day of professional development. I feel developed. Usually the Teach For America workshops feel like a waste of time, but the information that saturated our morning had purpose and direction. I learned how to incorporate my Teach For America experience into my resume with applombe. They indicated the precise way to utilize the mission statement in order to elicit comprehensive inquiries from future potential bosses. They even engineered ways to highlight the implications of returning to teach from the hurricane. The importance of the dedication and self-sacrifice must not go unnoticed in each interview. After a lunch of Papa Johns pizza, we had learning teams where we discussed how to implement centers into the classroom. I don't want to to go into what centers are, so just trust that they are an efficient teaching strategy and let sleeping dogs lie. That night I travelled back to New Orleans for a night on the town. The ten of us that returned hit up Molly's on Decateur Street. Molly's is a bar of locals that lacks pretention. We then went over to Pat O's a glorious bar on Bourbon that has the confounding flaming fountains; giant water fountains that have blue and orange flames eminating fron the center. Don't ask me how they work. I spent sunday finishing the third season of 24 and watching football. Good times.

I'd like to step back and address the depressing notion of Thanksgiving that I painted yesterday. After a brief conversation online with my sister, she helped me to put it in perspective. She said that her feelings regarding holidays had been negative for the longest time. Now, she feels blessed and excited to return from college to a family that she is excited to be around. I love you Corey. Sometimes when distance acts as a massive barrier between us, your insight helps ground me and break through the miles of confusion that separate us. It's hard being a big brother and not being able to protect you, even when the whole world seems to be a loaded gun. I know I wouldn't be able to control it anyway. You would let me, and that independence is an asset. You are the greatest impact on the path of my future. Deciding to move back to the northeast would have a lot to do with being closer to you. I can't wait for the days when our families unite for holidays, playing football in the back yard. The only question will be, who can cook the turkey? For some reason, I think I'd be a more likely candidate, but maybe we should just burn the roast together.

I want to roast marshmallows. I want to catch fireflies. I want to read a new novel. I want to fly a kite ( I may do this with my students on Friday). I want to wear a suit. I want to see the stars. I want to go to the zoo. I want to go to Dave and Busters. I want to hit that. I want to mix five different flavors of slurpees. I want to play softball and volleyball and soccer. I want to see my dad. I want to smoke pot. I want have the best dream of my life and remember it. I want it to snow. I want to think of a cocktail when I hear the word hurricane. I want to see my name in the newspaper and on TV. I want some more coffee. I want to fall in love. I want to start over and over and over and then never start over again.

nostalgia of a thanksgiving lost

This weekend seemed to be a reminder that only one week remains before Thanksgiving. I plan on detailing the story of the pilgrims to my students this week. I'm interested to see if they know anything about the voyage to plymouth rock. At this point the story of Thanksgiving seems like a fairy tale. I guess it always has been. When you think about the possible reality of the situation and the eventual reprocussions of the event it's hard not to desentimentalize the holiday. The Native Americans were victimized and exploited while the puritans set the stage for the paradox of sin and virtue that envelops the modern day state of our country. I don't want to deconstruct the poweful tradition that has developed over time: time spent with the family eating our turkey dinner, watching professional football, giving thanks. However the nuclear family has become a thing of the past and holidays, including Thanksgiving become a more ambiguous celebration. These thoughts come to me with the passing of my Grandfather over the past summer. This will seem a bit of a lonely event. I will be breaking bread with my mother, step-father and sister. I may travel over to my Aunt's house to be with my father's family for dessert, but his recent altercations with her and my Uncle regarding Starr will make things complicated. Don't get me wrong, I treasure the time I spend with my family, but traditions are fragile and where do we begin creating new ones. I always thought that these occasions would continue on as each matriarch or patriarch of the family takes up the reigns of him or her before them, but the world is growing bigger and the distance between loved ones grows. I know that if I had a significant other, I would have no qualms accompanying her and her family traditions, but there would remain a great deal of sadness in abandoning my own. But soon there will be nothing less to abandon and that affords affectations of sadness in itself. The point I'm trying to make is, can a spark be forced to establish new traditions or does it need to be born out of spontaneity? Either way, when does it establish significance and is that significance genuine? If I feel sadness in the loss of a tradition, then I guess the genuity speaks for itself. There must be a tie between the act and emotion. Nostalgia plays a large role in the emotion. Psychologists say that repetition and familiarity develop positive feelings . So I'd conclude that the repetition of tradition leads to positive feelings and the loss of those feelings comebined with their memory produce nostalgia. Noastalgia has then a intersecting quality of the positive remembered feelings and the sadness of the loss of those feelings. Nostalgia then can be a catalyst for creating similar feelings to those that were lost but existed and must be regained. My resolve is to strengthen the tradition of Thanksgiving with my family this year, but also to add to it. Go out and start a tradition today, you'll be rewarded ten fold in nostalgia.

Where do we go from here?

Since I am documenting all the crazy opinions and ideas I've been feeling over the last month, I would like to continue with a few predictions I have for the near future. We will all be able to come back to them and see how right I am. Some will be safe bets, others a bit more daring.

1) There will be a black male president before a woman or hispanic. Give Barak Obama (spelling?) ten years.

2) Nobody will ever figure out what to call the decade from 2000-2010. Aughts? Zeros? First Decade of the 21st Century?

3) Blue will become the new black.

4) The movie going experience will become extinct in the next 15 years.

5) Skynet will become independent at 1:31 pm August 7th 2085.

6) Someone will create a computer virus that actually infect Macintosh computers.

7) McDonalds will become synonymous with good nutrition after a 200 million marketing campaign that gets its food established as a public school cafeteria staple.

8) The moon will go missing for two weeks and return with a very nice tan.

9) All babies will have computer chips implanted into their skin at birth.

10) Intelligent design will become a standard in the curriculum of ten states.

11) Many forms of cancer will be cured, many new forms will emerge.

12) The CIA will become a beuracratic causalty and FEMA will become as powerful as the NSA.

13) Spanish will become the primary language of the United States.

14) There will be CGI movies in the next decade made of Fraggle Rock, the Smurfs, Rainbow Bright Thundercats and Full House( Produced by the Olsen Twins). * Side Note- all actors will be replaced by CGI.

15) There will be a male form of birth control created that will be marketed by a post-mortem Bob Dole.

16) We will make contact with another alien lifeform but become frustrated when we realize that their technology is not as advanced as what we had in the eighties. We will still treat them like gods.

17) There will be dinosaur zoos like in Jurassic Park.

18) Nobody will ever discover Time Travel, but I will always believe in Marty McFly.

19) There will be significant progress made in pornographic technology.

20) Women will figure out technologically what it takes to reproduce without males and then proceed to exterminate us from the planet. Oprah will also be exterminated.

21) Louisiana will secede from the Union and then get more money from the federal government than they got for Katrina.

22) The following hollywood actors and actresses will become powerful politicians: Kevin Spacey, Samuel L. Jackson, Vin Diesel, Scott Bacula, Reese Witherspoon-Phillipe, Renee Zelwegger and Natalie Portman.

23) Madonna will make another bad movie.

24) I will save the world and you will never know about it.

That sounds about right...we'll wait and see.

Zydeco and Scurvy

I feel light, like wonder bread. Humor is my choice elixir. Can somebody explain to me the idiocy of television commercials that claim to have a better picture by displaying it in a commercial? This just doesn't make any sense to me. I guess the marketing team is just expecting us to trust them, because the picture they are claiming to be superior to the one on my television screen is being broadcast on MY TELEVISION SCREEN! If I am watching the commercial on a 1970 brown box with the static competing for incompetence with dials that are falling off, how am I supposed to see the crystal clear picture of a plasma television? Don't mock my intelligence television commercial! Shame on you!

Let me tell you why it's better to be a teacher than a pirate. Pirates get scurvy; Teachers get migraines. Pirates have to fend off sharks and other pirates; Teachers have to fend off students and administrators. Pirates might lose an eye or a leg; Teachers lose the will to live. Pirates have to clean up the poop deck; Teachers have to clean up a students vocabulary. Pirates get to search for buried treasure in exotic locations; Teachers get to search for students who don't show up to class three days in a row. Pirates get cool pets like Parrots; Teachers get fish or hamsters that keel over the first weekend they go home with a student. Arrr, you win this round pirates!

Red tinted light are so damn sexy. I remember after I saw the movie Run Lola Run I decided I needed a red tinted light bulb for my room. Some of the most erotic moments in my life have occurred in the presence of a red light. Lighting sets a mood like no other. I suggest this because this weekend I am taking a mandatory excursion to Opelousas, Louisiana. I have a professional Saturday. The first since the hurricane. I'm looking forward to reuniting with the scattered souls of the Teach For America clan. Friday night we will be meeting for a social event at the famous Richard's (pronounced Ree-Shards.) This sanctuary in the middle of Southeast Louisiana is a hot nightclub highlighted by it's toe-tapping Zydeco bands. For those of you who are not familiar with Zydeco, it is a creole originated, musical genre that features an accordian, drums and a laundry washboard. The name Zydeco comes from the french expression "Les haricots sont pas salés" ( The beans are not salty), a phrase that appears in many old creole songs. It is also a metahpor for "difficult times." The high paced music is a kick to dance to and seems like a veritable soundtrack of rural Louisiana life. I've been to Richards once before over a year ago. The night was hot and the lights were red. I must've sweated a gallon of water, but I haven't had that much fun in long time. It should be a hoot. Plus, this time, the weather is a little bit cooler.

Introspection and Aggressive Tendencies

I was beginning to believe in a friedsters conspiracy. Missing blogs, with the latest one being focused on my criticism of the President, raised the proverbial heat and I have no doubt that there were between six and ten high profile meetings with the top execs of the Friendster Corporation. Only after they discovered about my past rendezvous with the anti-internet revolutionary leaders was I placed in a secret underground holding cell. They tried to elicit names and future meeting dates with a variety of tortures, mostly psychological. After bringing in my sister, I gave them one name that basically led them on a ghost hunt. Finally they traced it all back to the anti-internet revolutionary mastermind, my puppy. I think he might of been jealous that I was giving the internet a little too much attention. When they realized he was a minor the let him go but put him on probation untill he turns two.

I've been watching too much "24."

Last night I went and saw the movie Jarhead. I expected something along the lines of Forrest Gump for some reason, but that was not the case at all. It was really funny yet the points it was making were subtle. It focused on the reality of the Desert Storm situation but was very narrative based. In no ways was it a typical war movie. Discreetly, it philosophized on the fantasy of war for a confused youth and the different reasons for pursuing life as a marine. The imagery captured a beauty of the desert in the midst of destruction. There was no real sense that it was a wasteland as much as an open emptiness which submits itself to various metaphors. Some of the coolest images involved areas of sand that were covered in black ash and oil that became clean white with each footstep of the marching soldiers. At one point it seemed to rain oil with towering infernos of oil burning in the background, which led me to a thought about beauty in destruction. I thought about what it meant to find beauty in such catastrophe like that of the Hurricane. Is it problematic to appreciate the magnetizing and perfect ashteticism of a tragedy? Do we stop to look at a car crash as we pass by because there is a beauty in it or because it's merely laced with mystery and curiosity? Is there something inherently psychopath in finding this beauty or do we all share it? Ultimately, pure aggression and bloodthirst can be attributed to a desire for power in my opinion. The first time a child kills an insect or animal, it may be curiosity, but it quickly evolves into something else. I guess this aggression is most scary when it is accompanied by intelligence. I can understand a primal impulsivity that leads to bloodshed, but when it is premeditated and carefully thought out it has stronger and more dire implications. I'm not writing this because I myself have been influence by these feelings, they just seem to intrigue me.

The change in scenery and lack of a sense of home that I had before Katrina has been providing me with various excuses not to pursue the routines and extracurriculars that I had adopted before everything changed. I haven't been working out at all even though I could probably find a gym in La Place or even just begin going out for a job after school. I haven't painted or played my guitar. I could go to a music store and get some new strings to replace the ones that had been broken in the flood. I don't know why I can't push myself to do these things. I don't think it is out of laziness because I've been writing consistently and working very hard on my classroom and my students. I keep putting it off till Thanksgiving. I just hope that when I get back I don't continue to push it off until winter break. I need to snap out of it. I feel like I'm in a daze. I wonder if it's a manifestation of how I'm reacting to the events of the past two months. Yet time is going by and nothing is changing. I feel like I'm handcuffed to a cement block that sinking in the flood waters. I'm not unhappy. I was on the verge of happiness before Katrina. Everything seemed to be going right. My class was going really well and I was facing many of the demons that had been created from my experience last year. I felt good about myself. I was in the best shape I had been in a while for my mother's wedding right at the end of the summer. I was meeting new people(and girls) with exciting possibilities. My house was perfect. It's easy to say that I'm going to take control and at the time I was doing it. But I've fallen into the same sort of helplessness I had from senior year of college. I hate these phases of control and the lack thereof. They are starting to piss me off. I'm due to regain control. I just hope I don't continue to put it off indefinitely.

Grrrrr...

For some reason four of my blog submissions are missing in action. If friendster lost them I'm going to be very upset because I really liked the debate on Katrina and the Halloween contribution. I'll keep ya updated with what I hear.

You never know when the government will read your emails...

Today a variety of e-mails from the desk of Michael Brown, ex-FEMA director, were released and I'm pissed. It's difficult not to get angry when so many lives are affected by this sniveling piece of crap. Not only does he completely ignore many critical details, he still has the time to worry about his appearance, his reputation, and finding a dog sitter. I have a dog, and I understand the importance of man's best friend, but when you are the most important official responsible for the support of hundreds of thousands of victims of a the largest natural disaster in US history, I'd imagine that maybe someone else can worry about it. I felt extremely skeptical of his capabilities to begin with, especially as I found out more about his background and lack of experience. These e-mails just seal the deal. He did not respond to information about the breach and also instead of acting on the information he did have, he chose to assume it was faulty. I nearly laughed out loud at his remarks regarding his choice of tie. My question is, if this guy was such an inept choice for FEMA director, should Bush be held responsible? There are suggestions that Brown got the post because he was friends with the president in the first place. And still, the slow release of documents continues to impede congresses investigation of the post-hurricane response. When will the country wise up and stop giving the president so much slack in these significant situations? Does having the most power in the free world excuse you from any culpability? I personally believe that this is unacceptable. If anything, he should be scrutinized intensely and constantly. The flooding of my house may have been averted had the government acted quicker qith the information they were provided. Under President Clinton, FEMA had a position in the cabinet and plenty more funding. When Bush came into the White House, much of the funding was cut and the organization became a joke, bogged down by bueracracy. For these reasons I find that I am more partial to the cause of both Mayor Nagin and Governor Blanco. They should not be exonerated either, but I find more fault with the federal level. Their contributions were delayed and inefficient. The tragedy is that many more lives could potentially have been saved. On a brief tangent, this president has resided over one major aspect of the future of America. He has been given the power to deliver the nominations for not one, but two supreme court justices. Does this scare anyone else besides me? And yet we live in a democracy that chose to vote him into office not once, but twice. I did my part in trying to deny his entrance, but that was all I could do. I also wonder if Michael Brown personally has a gulty conscience regarding the scenario or does he have his morning cappucino without a glimmer of remorse for his actions? This may seem harsh, but I hope he goes to bed crying every single night. Somehow I doubt it. If you get a chance, check out the emails over on cnn.com.

On a completely unrelated note, I've been joining the girls volleyball team for practice the last two days. It's been so satisfying to get out on that court. Not only is it great excercise, but it brings back great memories. I remember spending the summer after my sophmore year of High School on Venice Beach in LA playing beach volleyball for hours on end. It also makes me realize that I need to get back on the tennis court before I turn forty. My dad was a tennis player in college and actually played professionally for about two weeks. He travelled to Europe and was in a tournament where if he had won one more match, he would have played John McEnroe. Unfortuantely he lost and now his great story is how he almost played John. Come to think of it though, he hasn't told that story in a long time. Another fun random tidbit of info, his father Gil Sussman, was a professional ping pong player. He was ranked number two in the country, but made his name playing doubles with the number one player. I never met him, but I wish he could have taught me a thing or two about ping pong. I always wondered if that was something my dad just made up, but I'm pretty sure it's true. I just haven't taken the time to look it up on my own. I'll let the mystery and intrigue simmer for a few more years and then check it out.

Fuck Michael Brown. Goodnight.

Delta...Gamma...Crap

I am debating whether or not it is the right time to finally discuss my opinion on the way everything was handled with Katrina. I feel like there are so many facets I would like to address, but I guess that is the luxury of having a blog I contribute to everyday. This all comes to mind because the last few days at school have been incredibly hectic. I got my eight new kids from the teacher who went back to her New Orleans school. I also have been thinking about the rebirth of the city after talking to Rachel regarding her upcoming Katrina relief project.

It has come to the point where Katrina doesn't come up in conversation more than ten times a day and I'm a little bit more able to put the whole mess in perspective. The first thing I'd like to discuss is the evacuation before the storm. There has been harsh criticism of Mayor Nagin, the Louisiana government and the Federal government. Did Mayor Nagin do everything he possibly could to avert the casualaties of over nine hundred New Orleans citizens? No. Was his response a complete and utter failure? No. I would like to initially give him credit for his competant overhaul of the "contraflow." In 2004, Hurricane Ivan was threatening the fish bowl city and people were given a voluntary evacuation. There are essentially three main evacuation routes out of the city. One could either take I-10 East or West or 55 North. The I-10 West route tended to be the most utilized due to the projected path of both Ivan and Katrina. The storms were predicted to move east so it made sense to head out west. Even though Ivan completely missed the city to the east, hundreds of thousands of people were stalled in hours of traffic on I-10. Contraflow's purpose was to reverse the three lanes of the interstate, making all six lanes go westbound. The undertaking of cutting off the exit ramps and guiding vehicles in an orderly fashion was a substantial task. In 2004, there was minimal communication between the police officers and the local government officials who were placing this plan into action. The mistakes made during Ivan, led to the successes of Katrina and in turn allowed anyone who had access to transportation and chose to leave the city could. I give Nagin and great deal of credit for making this mass exodus possible.

The problem with the way he handled the situation was his inability to aid those without transportation a means to get out of the city. His excuse for not using the three thousand public school buses at his disposal was two fold. He claimed that he didn't have anywhere to take the people and he didn't have anyone to drive the buses. I find the first part of the excuse unacceptable. Whether or not you have anywhere to deliver the folks seems inconsequential to the perrogative of getting those individuals to safety. The second part seems complicated, but with proper planning I believe that problem could have been averted.

While he did announce that those who went to the Superdome would need to bring their own supplies, this is another case where I believe proper planning could have allowed for necessary supplies to be ready for use during such a tremendous crisis.

My psychological diagnosis is that nobody could possibly be prepared for the devestation this Hurricane was capable of bringing. Wise people say that one should always prepare for the worse, but sometimes the worse is far worse than we can imagine. This is especially true when the mentality for the last fifty years or so has been that "the big one will come next year, not this year." No storm has ever submerged eighty percent of the city under water, so why should it happen now? Even though we had more warning for Katrina, I believe that 9/11 was a similar situation as would be any furture terrorist events. Even for Rita, Houston was not completely ready and they had just seen what had happened with Katrina. They are lucky that Rita did not grow and hit their city head on, becuase the results would have been just as disaterous. Houston, however, is not receiving the same criticism as New Orleans though because the storm didn't hit.

Week by week, the city of New Orleans seems to be coming back to life. While no major construction has begun, and debris is still being removed from the side of the road, restaurants, stores, and bars are all reopening one day at a time. The french quarter is back to normal even if their daily revenue will take months to return to its pre-Katrina level. Uptown still has some traffic lights out, some debris, and some unopened stores, but it will not require and major rebuilding. The places that suffered the greatest are the residential areas that were flooded and the projects in the ninth ward. Now those will take more than a year to be rebuilt. The residential houses will be built at the pace of the insurance companies and the projects will be at the pace of the government. I don't believe that anyone one knows how the projects will be reimagined and if they will be open to those impoverished individuals who need housing or will become sacrificed to the moeny flowing into it and restored for the utilization of the wealthy or the corporate. Tourism will eventually return because this city is too damn great to forget. It will never be shoved under the carpet. The schools will come back next year with an opportunity to resolve many of the corruption that scathed it, but I remain pessimistic.

My major fear of all of this, and perhaps it is premature, is what happens when a hurricane of similar or greater magnitude hits again next year. I truly believe that this will become an annual situation. The environment continues to suffer and these growing hurricanes are a small fraction of the consequences. We had over twenty two hurricanes this season and their is still one whole month left. They've even run out of names in the alphabet and have progressed to the greek letters. Wouldn't it be apprapo for the ultimate hurricane to be Omega. Isn't that some sort of movie reference to the end of the world? Anyway, what are people going to say when the government goes to funnel billions of dollars back into the city with the knowledge that this event could repeat every year, every five years, every ten years? I am not a proponent to giving up on it, but I could understand outsiders' concerns. I hope I'm wrong, but we'll have to wait a few years to see. All I know is that as of right now I am not going anywhere and I will continue to make this part of the country a better place.

When I become a superhero, I hope my heart is still in the right place.

To be continued...

Gray Wolverines Vs. Blue Batallion

Coming soon, the technology infiltration. I am excited to announce that this week I will be prepped on a new technology that is entering my classroom. My class and the magnet class have been chosen to pilot a new program that provides each students with a remote control. I will prepare questions on a powerpoint and a set of multiple-choice answers. Each student will then press the button on their controller that is associated with the answer they believe to be correct. I can't wait to use it, because any opportunity my students have to think that they are using video games in the classroom will send participation through the roof. Not only will I be able to know who has grasped the material I am teaching, but they will also feel comfortable to participate. If they choose the wrong answer, nobody in the class will be aware of it except for me.

I miss my old sleepaway camp. I heard a song on the radio today, "Standing Outside the Fire" by Garth Brooks, that triggered memories of Cobbossee. We had a tradition there during Color War ( a great competition that runs camp wide towards the end of the summer) where the two teams would rewrite lyrics of powerful adrenaline boosting songs in order to create a fight song for the team. I remember that night that Yann and I stayed up past three writing the lyrics to the fight song for the Victorious Gray Wolverines.
The chorus was as follows:
As color war break and the two team collide
Batallion will fall and the Wolverines will rise.

The Wolverines will rise.
The Wolverines will thrive.
We'll jump into action enflamed by our passion.
The Wolverines will rise.

I spent seven summers there as a camper and two as a counselor. I would have gone back this past summer had the school year not started before camp had concluded. They were really effective at creating traditions and memories that were ingrained in my head. I can't explain what that camp has meant to me, but it was important enough that after a three year hiatus, I had returned. I guess one of my fantasies is to someday open up a sleep away camp of my own. We would steal many of the ideas from Cobbossee but also create our own traditions. We'd have Color War, Pillowmania, Hatchet Hunts, and the water carry. The water carry was my favorite, most pointless event. It basically consisted of the entire team lining up and taking turns attempting to cup as much water as they could in their hands, carry it about five feet and then drop it in a bucket. The team with the most water at the end won. Another perfect event was the bead call. Each camper and counselor was given a blue or gray bead that was on an elastic band. They had to where the band at all times. At any point during the day, the camp director could play the song "We Will Rock You" by Queen over the PA system. If you heard the song, you had to run from wherever you were in the camp as fast you could to the office and drop your bead in a bucket. You only had until the guitar solo, so it was about three minutes. I still get an initial urge to run when I hear the first few beats of the song. It makes it difficult to go to any professional sporting event.

Tonight I'm just stressing a little about my class. I realize it was the day after Halloween, but having an additional eight kids in my class from the teacher who had quit and went back to her school in New Orleans is exceedingly tough. I feel like it's the beginning of school all over again. Alright, that was my brief venting session. All is well, I'll survive. I mean honestly, it was ten times worse last year. Still can't wait for Thanksgiving though.