First I stole the title from a Stevie Wonder song of the same name. Listen HERE.
This being the first Christmas season that I've celebrated with some distance between me and Momma it's been a much easier time for me.
I'm sure that sounds mean, but really it's not. She celebrates much differently than I do, and it's difficult for me to just be throughout as she sees what seems to be me not getting into the whole thing. That's truly a shit rendering of the portrait, but it's close enough.
I'm happy to roll through Christmas. I'm happy to peruse the wish lists the boys craft so perfectly and sometimes leave leaned just so against the computer screen where they're still not sure I saw it.
I'm happy to not get them the things on their list, but I'm quite happy to get them things they will love nonetheless. Both boys will absolutely love The Simpsons Hit and Run I got them for the PS2 their uncle gave me a few weeks ago. And it's not the exact Lego thing they might have asked for, but they'll be happy.
And that's where Momma steps in. She's already got them the lesser huge Lego thing they wanted and plans to get them the other huge Lego thing that turned into THE toy this year and would be available for a buck and a half at the store if it weren't gone to ebay and up to an even five hundred. She's not planning to pay that much for it. Her idea is to give them a picture of what they'll soon be getting. I kinda want to talk her out of it. I think she does too much, but I love that she loves it so much. It's how she does Christmas.
Tomorrow it's off to the local super awesome used book store where I'll satisfy that family tradition of the pile of books under the tree. That's my favorite of our traditions, and I'm looking forward to what I'll find. The best part? Momma gave me her store credit she earned by taking in a pile of stuff we'd collected over the years. Really it's our store credit. She just did the work of actually boxing it up and offering it to them.
Christmas for me is an entirely secular celebration. I get what it means and signifies to others. Momma and I shopped together today and left the boys at Great Grandmother's house. At some point between then and picking them up she told them that Christmas is Jesus' birthday.
The Boy told me about the Jesus birthday thing, and that led to a short conversation about the number of celebrations that happen to occur at this time of year because of the variety of belief systems that exist which then led to my pointing out that many people celebrate similar holidays, different holidays or even the same holiday for a different reason. Later we watched part of a show about Buddha, he told me he believes in the god that's called god and that he thinks Christmas Eve is Santa's birthday.
I celebrate the fact that people really might one day be capable of the things they claim when they are thinking Christmas. I love the ideals we echo and hear echoed back by Charlie Brown and some woebegone sitcom dad-as-Santa right after he fails his family yet again, but gosh they love him anyway.
I've let so much of my anti Christmas cynicism go over the years. I built up this anti Christmas-as-religious-holiday hatred for the whole of the holiday seasonbecause that's all I'd ever known it as and wasn't then able to separate the Christian beliefs from the holiday as a thing unto itself. My faithlessness prevailed to the point that I went to the other extreme and wanted to reject this whole end of the year thing. The kids have been a big part of me pulling back from the edge.
And now this year has been nice. I don't have Momma's endearing if incessant barrage of cheeriness. I also don't have a tree. I do miss the lights and the smell. I miss those keepsake ornaments that are special because of their forced rarity. Momma wants me to spend Christmas eve at her house so I'll be there for the usual Christmas morning thing. I can do this, and it will be good, though I'll bitch about sleeping arrangements. The boys will want to tear into Christmas while I'll want to slink into a cup of coffee, but that's just another tradition.
Next year may well be different, and we'll look back from there and then look forward. Another truth? I've been using this holiday as the end of year celebration it's becoming to me. I've been taking an honest look at some aspects of areas, and I'm finding some things I don't like, some paths I need to work my way off of, some edges I need to be done peering over, some cliches I've worn to nubs and need to dispose of.
I want to build up a nice supply of desire-to-do-better that I can use to help power me over the course of what I'm going to call Twinnyleven. I'm sure I'm not the only one. And this time next year, as it's all been sucked out of me, I'll be somewhere not unlike this (in a good way) refilling my tanks.
btw, if you're in my neck of the woods Christmas day let me know. Momma and I are working yet another tradition where we do our family thing and then start cooking for friends and other family that want to come by and make a time of it. You're welcome to bring kids and booze.
p.s. just read a bad review of the other PS2 game I got them, but for five bucks I aint about to complain.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
no, seriously
For full context go HERE and watch the video of Alex Nicholson (homosexual) who was booted from the military because of being homosexual and DADT versus Peter Sprigg, professional sayer of lies about homosexuals. It's some CNN show where the host doesn't take sides but instead introduces some sort of information and follows with a question. Hat tip for this nugget to Towleroad.
Peter Sprigg says the most outrageous things about homosexuals, and Alex Nicholson answers his questions with reasoned responses. They aren't asked the same questions, and it's arugable that the CNN guy chose questions for Peter Sprigg to point out the folly of his ways, but then he mostly sits back and lets the loony go.
When I first watched the clip I found myself getting irritated as Peter Sprigg was allowed to talk uncontested. Thinking about it now I wonder if that wasn't part of the plan from the beginning. The only way to fight these people is to let the world know exactly what it is they are suggesting that America do to its sons and daughters.
Also when first watching the clip I found myself doing this thing that I sometimes do that sometimes annoys the people around me. I correct people's language. I don't just do it about homosexual sometimes. But I do because I do think it's helpful overall to worry about our words. I had a discussion recently with a coworker in which he mentioned that he'd stopped using gay as a pejorative because of me calling him on it. I know other people who at least don't do it around me anymore, and I hope they've stopped doing so in general.
There needs to be that voice, saying things like, "Is the knife really gay or is it that you need to sharpen it so that it works right? I don't think knives have the ability to be gay or not gay." fwiw, I work in a kitchen, so knives are a huge part of my day.
When I hear "same sex marriage" I want to just loudly enough say, "marriage equality." When Peter Sprigg tries to say "sexual assault, molestation," I just want to ask for proof and for stats for both same gender and opposite gender sexual assaults. When I hear "preference" I say "orientation." Sometimes it's almost involuntary, but I'm also kind of an ass apparently.
And whenever Peter Sprigg opens his lying mouth at a camera that is in the on position there needs to be the counter point. There needs to be someone else on camera saying to him, "No, seriously. How does the presence of out homos make it more likely that you will lose a leg in combat?" at which point I'd follow up with, "and does my presence here today next to you increase the odds that you will lose at leg during this interview?" and that would possibly end my career as the voice.
And you know, it's not that I really want to control people's language. What I really want is for us all to think about our words. Peter Sprigg flat out lies. He makes words do bad things, and he never really comes out and says what he means. He hits around the whole more than a suck up playing golf with the boss. fwiw, the "w" in "whole" is accidental. I mean to put "hole" but then I liked the way it sorta worked. Let's pretend I did it on purpose.
p.s., homosexuals on CNN should never say, "That's a good question," when in fact it really isn't that good a question.
Peter Sprigg says the most outrageous things about homosexuals, and Alex Nicholson answers his questions with reasoned responses. They aren't asked the same questions, and it's arugable that the CNN guy chose questions for Peter Sprigg to point out the folly of his ways, but then he mostly sits back and lets the loony go.
When I first watched the clip I found myself getting irritated as Peter Sprigg was allowed to talk uncontested. Thinking about it now I wonder if that wasn't part of the plan from the beginning. The only way to fight these people is to let the world know exactly what it is they are suggesting that America do to its sons and daughters.
Also when first watching the clip I found myself doing this thing that I sometimes do that sometimes annoys the people around me. I correct people's language. I don't just do it about homosexual sometimes. But I do because I do think it's helpful overall to worry about our words. I had a discussion recently with a coworker in which he mentioned that he'd stopped using gay as a pejorative because of me calling him on it. I know other people who at least don't do it around me anymore, and I hope they've stopped doing so in general.
There needs to be that voice, saying things like, "Is the knife really gay or is it that you need to sharpen it so that it works right? I don't think knives have the ability to be gay or not gay." fwiw, I work in a kitchen, so knives are a huge part of my day.
When I hear "same sex marriage" I want to just loudly enough say, "marriage equality." When Peter Sprigg tries to say "sexual assault, molestation," I just want to ask for proof and for stats for both same gender and opposite gender sexual assaults. When I hear "preference" I say "orientation." Sometimes it's almost involuntary, but I'm also kind of an ass apparently.
And whenever Peter Sprigg opens his lying mouth at a camera that is in the on position there needs to be the counter point. There needs to be someone else on camera saying to him, "No, seriously. How does the presence of out homos make it more likely that you will lose a leg in combat?" at which point I'd follow up with, "and does my presence here today next to you increase the odds that you will lose at leg during this interview?" and that would possibly end my career as the voice.
And you know, it's not that I really want to control people's language. What I really want is for us all to think about our words. Peter Sprigg flat out lies. He makes words do bad things, and he never really comes out and says what he means. He hits around the whole more than a suck up playing golf with the boss. fwiw, the "w" in "whole" is accidental. I mean to put "hole" but then I liked the way it sorta worked. Let's pretend I did it on purpose.
p.s., homosexuals on CNN should never say, "That's a good question," when in fact it really isn't that good a question.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
or is it cuz my glass is half empty
I'm still not convinced about DADT repeal. I know it's essentially happened, but there's the whole other part where it doesn't really take affect until the military has thought about it a little bit more and figured out how to go about it.
It really shouldn't take more than to rewrite some passages in whatever written guides/codes/manuals they use to make their rules clear to the people in the military. The rules aren't changing at all as far as members of our military should be concerned. The only difference that anyone should really notice is that more gay people are able to be out and honest about themselves, and that's just good for everyone.
I can't imagine that should take too long to figure out, and then you actually train people. I don't know if it would be a sensitivity training class or a video. I suppose it would more likely be a DVD these days, but still.
Really, all it should take is for everyone to sit down and reread the rules rewritten to include reality as concerns sexual orientation and individual gender recognition. The rules aren't changing, they're just recognizing everyone now.
And I know how a Republican can spin some shit, and I fully expect enough of them to band together and try to make this study/implementation process take two years while their brothers and sisters in the party continue to bombard Obama with obstinacy and rhetoric. I should hope that the American people finally begin to recognize the shenanigans on both sides and push us in the direction of a third party that isn't spoiled by the big time guvment jobs.
I know it's a done deal, and I'm not concerned for the actual repeal of DADT as much as I am the hurt that could be done to too many people if this thing continues to drag on. What you have to understand is we're gay, and we're not going back in the closet, and we're going to keep being out and open so that we can one day close the useless and finally empty closet because no one is going into it anymore.
It really shouldn't take more than to rewrite some passages in whatever written guides/codes/manuals they use to make their rules clear to the people in the military. The rules aren't changing at all as far as members of our military should be concerned. The only difference that anyone should really notice is that more gay people are able to be out and honest about themselves, and that's just good for everyone.
I can't imagine that should take too long to figure out, and then you actually train people. I don't know if it would be a sensitivity training class or a video. I suppose it would more likely be a DVD these days, but still.
Really, all it should take is for everyone to sit down and reread the rules rewritten to include reality as concerns sexual orientation and individual gender recognition. The rules aren't changing, they're just recognizing everyone now.
And I know how a Republican can spin some shit, and I fully expect enough of them to band together and try to make this study/implementation process take two years while their brothers and sisters in the party continue to bombard Obama with obstinacy and rhetoric. I should hope that the American people finally begin to recognize the shenanigans on both sides and push us in the direction of a third party that isn't spoiled by the big time guvment jobs.
I know it's a done deal, and I'm not concerned for the actual repeal of DADT as much as I am the hurt that could be done to too many people if this thing continues to drag on. What you have to understand is we're gay, and we're not going back in the closet, and we're going to keep being out and open so that we can one day close the useless and finally empty closet because no one is going into it anymore.
Monday, December 13, 2010
what links are for
Now for a semi homeschooling post. From Towleroad we get the link to dlisted, and from there we go to the actual interview at the Telegraph. The story is about a young girl whose parents are actors in movies. Her father's initial rise to fame was as a rapper.
Towleroad tells us that her, "parents would rather put their ten year old child to work rather than give her an education." fwiw Towleroad, minus point for redundant rather.
dlisted asks, "who needs math anyway?"
And the Telegraph is the source for all this. The first two sources listed here quoted from the story, but they picked little nuggets of what the young girl said and inflated them with their own issues.
If you didn't follow the links just yet I'll give you the story. Will and Jada Smith have kids, and those kids may be embarking on their own careers as stars of things. Their daughter Willow has acted and done voices and now has a song about giving herself neck problems because she's head banging to pop music that she creates.
I really don't feel like disecting it all, so I'll try to summarize. In the Telegraph article/interview Willow mentions that her peers are ahead of her in math and that she often misses classes and tutoring sessions due to being on set or whatever it is ten year olds in her situation go to to perform/work. Someone read the interview and assumed negligence and ignorance, and they blogged it where someone else read and assumed ignorance and negligence and they added malfeasance.
I did read the "anti" stories first, and of course I disagreed. I believe that this family and this child are fully capable of achieving learning in a variety of situations. And as I read the Telegraph article I noticed that she seems like a really bright young lady. She seems to speak with candor and understanding and seems like a smart kid, and I think that's more important than "education" or book learnin' as we say down here in the south. If you aren't forced into one educational model you can take what you need from all the sources around you, find what you need when you need it.
I feel that this just proves the idea that we need variety in our education models. More than that though we need for people to break out of the idea that it's school or nothing, because schools need to be a part of the model that I think works best which is that whole variety thing, but we need more than just typical brick and mortar schools.
I really didn't mean to write two posts back to back dealing with education, but they did both feed off each other. I read the stories about Miss Smith and got irritated, but then there is no finer place than the internet to find some douche referring to a ten year old with the sort of bile you can only find here. And who doesn't love when people damn children based on the perceived sins of the parents?
I wouldn't recommend it, but if you don't know about the whipping about of hair and the too adorable Willow Smith you can go HERE. fwiw, the video is from Ellen. You do get a fairly shitty video with the color all kinds of busted, but the option is her Vevo and having to watch that damn cotton ad.
Towleroad tells us that her, "parents would rather put their ten year old child to work rather than give her an education." fwiw Towleroad, minus point for redundant rather.
dlisted asks, "who needs math anyway?"
And the Telegraph is the source for all this. The first two sources listed here quoted from the story, but they picked little nuggets of what the young girl said and inflated them with their own issues.
If you didn't follow the links just yet I'll give you the story. Will and Jada Smith have kids, and those kids may be embarking on their own careers as stars of things. Their daughter Willow has acted and done voices and now has a song about giving herself neck problems because she's head banging to pop music that she creates.
I really don't feel like disecting it all, so I'll try to summarize. In the Telegraph article/interview Willow mentions that her peers are ahead of her in math and that she often misses classes and tutoring sessions due to being on set or whatever it is ten year olds in her situation go to to perform/work. Someone read the interview and assumed negligence and ignorance, and they blogged it where someone else read and assumed ignorance and negligence and they added malfeasance.
I did read the "anti" stories first, and of course I disagreed. I believe that this family and this child are fully capable of achieving learning in a variety of situations. And as I read the Telegraph article I noticed that she seems like a really bright young lady. She seems to speak with candor and understanding and seems like a smart kid, and I think that's more important than "education" or book learnin' as we say down here in the south. If you aren't forced into one educational model you can take what you need from all the sources around you, find what you need when you need it.
I feel that this just proves the idea that we need variety in our education models. More than that though we need for people to break out of the idea that it's school or nothing, because schools need to be a part of the model that I think works best which is that whole variety thing, but we need more than just typical brick and mortar schools.
I really didn't mean to write two posts back to back dealing with education, but they did both feed off each other. I read the stories about Miss Smith and got irritated, but then there is no finer place than the internet to find some douche referring to a ten year old with the sort of bile you can only find here. And who doesn't love when people damn children based on the perceived sins of the parents?
I wouldn't recommend it, but if you don't know about the whipping about of hair and the too adorable Willow Smith you can go HERE. fwiw, the video is from Ellen. You do get a fairly shitty video with the color all kinds of busted, but the option is her Vevo and having to watch that damn cotton ad.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
hs to ps
My family will soon join the normal world, as, after this winter break, when the public school kids return to school, Big Brother and The Boy will be joining them.
Momma and I have had to face the we haven't been doing the job right recently, oddly enough for the last couple of years. We haven't really focused our attention with all we've been up to, if you know what I mean. We discussed over the summer putting them in to start the year, and in retrospect we probably should have, but I argued for one more chance. I really believe in the idea of homeschooling, but I also argue more than anything for a variety of options when we think about educational models.
A huge part of my desire to continue homeschooling, I have to admit, is that I've allowed homeschooler to define my identity to such an extent. I can kinda invoke the closet again here, though I hope that I'm not just continuing to blame the closet. But part of my whole thing here is to try to understand the power of the closet even if this isn't really the blog post for it.
Having said that, I keep losing my identities and keep not figuring out how to get/form new ones. Having said that, I keep finding that it sorta happens sometimes when you're not looking. It's like that whole homeschooler thing. I don't really think that I'm losing the identity or becoming not a homeschooler, I'm becoming more, maybe?
We've visited both their schools, and while The Boy seems excited, Big Brother is his usual calm and somewhat impassive self. The Boy's school is on the route we drive daily to get to most places we go, and Big Brother's is on a common route to some place we don't go as often, but we have used their field as a practice field a few times over the years during soccer seasons. They've been pointing out their schools as we've been driving past.
And while we think of school for them I kinda think maybe I could think about school for me. I think I can't imagine what I would study, and this time it wouldn't be about getting a career like last time. I'd have to only study things I enjoyed learning, or it wouldn't be worth it. And fwiw, look for a post soon that might be a clue.
I'm excited for them. I've kept them too close to the rut I'm in for too long, and if I were honest I've been worried for their sake. I put my own fears onto them and worry that it'll all be too much, the lines, the crowds, the noise.
It's a part of a journey inside the journey I suppose, and it's time for it to happen. I'll tame my distrust of the man, and I might even try to get involved. I'm sure the schools can find something I can do. I could always be a lunch lady.
Momma and I have had to face the we haven't been doing the job right recently, oddly enough for the last couple of years. We haven't really focused our attention with all we've been up to, if you know what I mean. We discussed over the summer putting them in to start the year, and in retrospect we probably should have, but I argued for one more chance. I really believe in the idea of homeschooling, but I also argue more than anything for a variety of options when we think about educational models.
A huge part of my desire to continue homeschooling, I have to admit, is that I've allowed homeschooler to define my identity to such an extent. I can kinda invoke the closet again here, though I hope that I'm not just continuing to blame the closet. But part of my whole thing here is to try to understand the power of the closet even if this isn't really the blog post for it.
Having said that, I keep losing my identities and keep not figuring out how to get/form new ones. Having said that, I keep finding that it sorta happens sometimes when you're not looking. It's like that whole homeschooler thing. I don't really think that I'm losing the identity or becoming not a homeschooler, I'm becoming more, maybe?
We've visited both their schools, and while The Boy seems excited, Big Brother is his usual calm and somewhat impassive self. The Boy's school is on the route we drive daily to get to most places we go, and Big Brother's is on a common route to some place we don't go as often, but we have used their field as a practice field a few times over the years during soccer seasons. They've been pointing out their schools as we've been driving past.
And while we think of school for them I kinda think maybe I could think about school for me. I think I can't imagine what I would study, and this time it wouldn't be about getting a career like last time. I'd have to only study things I enjoyed learning, or it wouldn't be worth it. And fwiw, look for a post soon that might be a clue.
I'm excited for them. I've kept them too close to the rut I'm in for too long, and if I were honest I've been worried for their sake. I put my own fears onto them and worry that it'll all be too much, the lines, the crowds, the noise.
It's a part of a journey inside the journey I suppose, and it's time for it to happen. I'll tame my distrust of the man, and I might even try to get involved. I'm sure the schools can find something I can do. I could always be a lunch lady.
Friday, December 10, 2010
now where were we?
This post is alternately title, Bruce Springsteen's voice kinda makes me wanna take my clothes off.
The local college rock station has been playing a really cool song lately, one I hear and think to myself, Is that Bruce Springsteen?
I used to like him, and I think I do again. I should rephrase that, but rather I'll explain. After breaking away from the fundamentalism with the help of a friend I found myself in a place I didn't then recognize, but I was trying to earn some sort of something with this new friend, or maybe I was trying to find a way to fit in. I gave up a lot of what I'd been into in order to be the punk I thought I was supposed to be, and I'd just gotten through giving up a lot in terms of beliefs and related whatnot.
So I started not liking things I perceived were perceived as being uncool by my new friend/s. I wasn't then trying to find myself as much as I should have been, but that doesn't really matter. I gave up a lot of music, some of which has remained gave up.
Bruce Springsteen may be back, and here's why.
This song is just loads of awesome. I'd been hearing the song every now and again. I usually listen to the local college radio station at work, but the KM hates hip hop, and the local college radio station sprinkles it in liberally during the day. I personally love the station even when I hate the song they're currently playing, but I digress.
Of course hearing Springsteen makes me think of older Springsteen. Yes, that first song is older, but because it's new to me it's essentially new. It's probably at least newish to you as well, so get off me.
I remember the song that should have been a bit of a warning, but I didn't see it then. Listening now and remembering then, if I'd had even a slight clue about myself as a person this song really could have been yet another early clue about my actuality, aka that whole gay thing. It was then one of my favorites, but listening to that voice now I think I just didn't realize then that I wanted him singing it to me rather than me projecting those ideas outward. Or perhaps my young mind just hadn't discovered the same sex just yet.
And here that one is. fwiw, I include this particular video version because of the randomly gay picture that essentially is the video.
The local college rock station has been playing a really cool song lately, one I hear and think to myself, Is that Bruce Springsteen?
I used to like him, and I think I do again. I should rephrase that, but rather I'll explain. After breaking away from the fundamentalism with the help of a friend I found myself in a place I didn't then recognize, but I was trying to earn some sort of something with this new friend, or maybe I was trying to find a way to fit in. I gave up a lot of what I'd been into in order to be the punk I thought I was supposed to be, and I'd just gotten through giving up a lot in terms of beliefs and related whatnot.
So I started not liking things I perceived were perceived as being uncool by my new friend/s. I wasn't then trying to find myself as much as I should have been, but that doesn't really matter. I gave up a lot of music, some of which has remained gave up.
Bruce Springsteen may be back, and here's why.
This song is just loads of awesome. I'd been hearing the song every now and again. I usually listen to the local college radio station at work, but the KM hates hip hop, and the local college radio station sprinkles it in liberally during the day. I personally love the station even when I hate the song they're currently playing, but I digress.
Of course hearing Springsteen makes me think of older Springsteen. Yes, that first song is older, but because it's new to me it's essentially new. It's probably at least newish to you as well, so get off me.
I remember the song that should have been a bit of a warning, but I didn't see it then. Listening now and remembering then, if I'd had even a slight clue about myself as a person this song really could have been yet another early clue about my actuality, aka that whole gay thing. It was then one of my favorites, but listening to that voice now I think I just didn't realize then that I wanted him singing it to me rather than me projecting those ideas outward. Or perhaps my young mind just hadn't discovered the same sex just yet.
And here that one is. fwiw, I include this particular video version because of the randomly gay picture that essentially is the video.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
it's so like the thing I'm not referencing more than now
On the middle finger of my right hand is the end of a blister. Sometime tomorrow it's likely to become the shiny spot of new skin that was fairly recently under the blister.
I've made hollandaise sauce before, but I haven't made it often, and when I did before I just stood and beat while someone else told me what I was supposed to be doing. It just never happened to become my job, and because I likely heard often enough how hard it was to make I never bothered to try.
But finally I've made it once or twice, and I've realized that it really isn't that hard, and I've now gone on the internets and googled and read about it here and there. I've checked Escoffier, and when I have time on my day off this week I'll check Julia and James.
It is time consuming, and I suppose if you don't know how to lift your bowl off the heat once in a while, or if you can't tell when something becomes a different color and consistency, well, sure it's scaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrry!
BOO!
No really, it's tiresome at it's worst. I didn't even notice the blister till after work. I forgot that I needed to head home sooner than later and sat down at the bar for a quick gin and tonic. I didn't know I was sitting down for a gin and tonic till I sat down and was reminded that we run decent liquor specials for brunch, so I opted in.
I did soon go home, but that isn't really a story other than the part about going home. I needed to and was reminded via a text, so I then did.
It was while I was enjoying the gin and tonic that I saw the blister and was stuck on it for a moment. I had to think how I'd gotten it. I knew it wasn't a burn. It was big enough to remember if it had been a burn. And as I thought I remembered the hollandaise and the whisk. While beating the yolks find that I switch back and forth between gripping the handle fully with my hand and holding it more like writing with a pencil. It's what the hand does I suppose. The holding it like a pencil part gave me a blister on the second finger of my right hand.
Actually, this isn't really much of a story either.
Finally, to end this not really much of a story on a whole other but still hollandaise related note. Nearly anything is better dipped in hollandaise. Roasted potatoes are of course lovely. The fatty end of a strip of bacon is marvelous. Perhaps the most decadent of all and surely one of the most delightful is the simple potato chip. But these are only ideas. There's a world of food waiting to be dipped into hollandaise, for hollandaise is the new ranch . . . up to a point.
p.s. ranch is still awesome
p.p.s ranch and hollandaise are probably equally awesome
p.p.p.s maybe I should make up my own super awesome ranch recipe
p.p.p.p.s. damn, now I want some wings
I've made hollandaise sauce before, but I haven't made it often, and when I did before I just stood and beat while someone else told me what I was supposed to be doing. It just never happened to become my job, and because I likely heard often enough how hard it was to make I never bothered to try.
But finally I've made it once or twice, and I've realized that it really isn't that hard, and I've now gone on the internets and googled and read about it here and there. I've checked Escoffier, and when I have time on my day off this week I'll check Julia and James.
It is time consuming, and I suppose if you don't know how to lift your bowl off the heat once in a while, or if you can't tell when something becomes a different color and consistency, well, sure it's scaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrry!
BOO!
No really, it's tiresome at it's worst. I didn't even notice the blister till after work. I forgot that I needed to head home sooner than later and sat down at the bar for a quick gin and tonic. I didn't know I was sitting down for a gin and tonic till I sat down and was reminded that we run decent liquor specials for brunch, so I opted in.
I did soon go home, but that isn't really a story other than the part about going home. I needed to and was reminded via a text, so I then did.
It was while I was enjoying the gin and tonic that I saw the blister and was stuck on it for a moment. I had to think how I'd gotten it. I knew it wasn't a burn. It was big enough to remember if it had been a burn. And as I thought I remembered the hollandaise and the whisk. While beating the yolks find that I switch back and forth between gripping the handle fully with my hand and holding it more like writing with a pencil. It's what the hand does I suppose. The holding it like a pencil part gave me a blister on the second finger of my right hand.
Actually, this isn't really much of a story either.
Finally, to end this not really much of a story on a whole other but still hollandaise related note. Nearly anything is better dipped in hollandaise. Roasted potatoes are of course lovely. The fatty end of a strip of bacon is marvelous. Perhaps the most decadent of all and surely one of the most delightful is the simple potato chip. But these are only ideas. There's a world of food waiting to be dipped into hollandaise, for hollandaise is the new ranch . . . up to a point.
p.s. ranch is still awesome
p.p.s ranch and hollandaise are probably equally awesome
p.p.p.s maybe I should make up my own super awesome ranch recipe
p.p.p.p.s. damn, now I want some wings
Thursday, November 04, 2010
circles, always damn circles
How do you go about doing everything differently? How do you look deep into yourself and accept finally that you are more often than not the reason you are not making any progress anywhere at all?
How do you decide what is an excuse and what is a reasonable concern?
How do you stop being that scared and confused little boy that you've always been in spite of all the shit you talked then and still talk now?
Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something. Maybe it's a clue as to how to move to the next part, or maybe it's a part I need to figure out how to fix or replace.
I want to do all of the above, but it feels like every time I step outside I get hit by something, so I've begun to go outside a lot less, and being a nervous recluse doesn't seem to help me do much of anything.
There's more, something about bursting out, being reborn as a phoenix or something, but I just stared into space and nearly dozed off a moment ago, and I really do need to get to bed. I've got a world of making sense of my world to do.
How do you decide what is an excuse and what is a reasonable concern?
How do you stop being that scared and confused little boy that you've always been in spite of all the shit you talked then and still talk now?
Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something. Maybe it's a clue as to how to move to the next part, or maybe it's a part I need to figure out how to fix or replace.
I want to do all of the above, but it feels like every time I step outside I get hit by something, so I've begun to go outside a lot less, and being a nervous recluse doesn't seem to help me do much of anything.
There's more, something about bursting out, being reborn as a phoenix or something, but I just stared into space and nearly dozed off a moment ago, and I really do need to get to bed. I've got a world of making sense of my world to do.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
a story
We were in the gym waiting for the school building to open, and in walked one of my "friends." He was closer in age to my next younger brother, and if any of us were friends it was them. We were within the years considered middle school probably.
The typical schooling segments always throw me off as we only had elementary and high school, the first downstairs in the school building and the latter upstairs in the school building. In elementary you stayed in the same classroom throughout the day with the one teacher while highschool was the normal lockers and walking to classes. Both elementary and high school did share the same paddling room, though the high school teachers shared a different paddle than the elementary. Kindergarten was in the basement of the church building, and the paddling room there was in a room that was unused during the day. The principal and coaches had the option of paddling in their respective offices.
Anyway, this kid walked in, and he was wearing some new jeans that were probably quite fashionable, and on the flap over the fly, in very bold white on the denim background was a word. I have to assume it was the brand for these fresh and/or fly new jeans, but it struck me as odd that they chose to make this statement and that this particular kid chose and was allowed by his parents to make this statement.
And my too slow to think before I speak self asked what was written on his penis. Even now I still can't think what I did that was so wrong. Apparently it was just awful. I think he cried. I had to apologize and probably had detention for multiple days.
The typical schooling segments always throw me off as we only had elementary and high school, the first downstairs in the school building and the latter upstairs in the school building. In elementary you stayed in the same classroom throughout the day with the one teacher while highschool was the normal lockers and walking to classes. Both elementary and high school did share the same paddling room, though the high school teachers shared a different paddle than the elementary. Kindergarten was in the basement of the church building, and the paddling room there was in a room that was unused during the day. The principal and coaches had the option of paddling in their respective offices.
Anyway, this kid walked in, and he was wearing some new jeans that were probably quite fashionable, and on the flap over the fly, in very bold white on the denim background was a word. I have to assume it was the brand for these fresh and/or fly new jeans, but it struck me as odd that they chose to make this statement and that this particular kid chose and was allowed by his parents to make this statement.
And my too slow to think before I speak self asked what was written on his penis. Even now I still can't think what I did that was so wrong. Apparently it was just awful. I think he cried. I had to apologize and probably had detention for multiple days.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
yellow pen
Do you ever reach a point where you realize that you may in fact be doing absolutely, everything wrong? Do you wonder what things you should stop doing and which you should start doing the opposite of how you've always done them?
Maybe I exaggerate a tiny bit with the everything and the completely, but so often lately life seems to feel as if I really must be doing at least nearly everything wrong, and perhaps that's why things seem like they always seem to seem.
And sadly that's just a knee jerk reaction to my real issue which is that I never really do much of anything. I convince myself that I'm making great strides and trying and pushing/pulling my share.
But more often I'm actually busy watching the ass end of opportunity fade in the distance. I'm really good at thinking about things, and that ought to be good for something.
Maybe I exaggerate a tiny bit with the everything and the completely, but so often lately life seems to feel as if I really must be doing at least nearly everything wrong, and perhaps that's why things seem like they always seem to seem.
And sadly that's just a knee jerk reaction to my real issue which is that I never really do much of anything. I convince myself that I'm making great strides and trying and pushing/pulling my share.
But more often I'm actually busy watching the ass end of opportunity fade in the distance. I'm really good at thinking about things, and that ought to be good for something.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
garbled message
The third comment to a blog post I just read suggests that the people in my state are illiterate. The post discusses a town being told that their school has to stop broadcasting Christian prayers and the fact that the townspeople are not happy or at least one woman.
It's a trainwreck already, and then the dude in the comments suggests that whole thing about us Tennesseeans, and I don't know whether to comment and then post or ignore the comment section and just post. There was a time I would have commented, would, in fact, have barged in with all my guns blazing.
But anymore I just can't bring myself to do it, so I backspace a bunch and clicked back over here so I could just talk shit at my own place.
But even before dude-bro posted his jab I'd nearly thought about posting because of a single line at the very end of the post.
Okay, the post is at Friendly Atheist and also discusses something about a monument and a Christian flag. I don't really remember, because it's that last line that I think needs to be addressed to be able to understand this whole thing that many Christians do.
Those of us who are nonbelievers see just how pervasive religion is even in so "enlightened" an age as our twenty first century. Those of us who both nonbelieve and live in a smallish and possibly southern place see it all too well. Don't get me started on the gay thing cuz omg ya'll.
And the last line of the post, that juicy tidbit that keeps on giving:
It's part of a playing the victim meme that seems to have grown stronger lately, or perhaps it's just being used more often. Christians who insist their religious views keep the rest of us from progressing as humans will always hate it when they lose because they put so very much into the fight for their moral superiority. And because they are morally right according to their own faith they must necessarily be right for everyone because theirs is the one true faith.
And really, you just can't force people to step outside of their belief system and look at it from a different p.o.v. Atheists have already done that for the most part, or many, if not most, of us would still be locked in a similar faith based way of life. Too many questions can make you waver in your steadfastness.
So we have to keep reminding people that forcing others to even passively participate in your faith rituals is not okay. It's wrong to force your religion and the trappings of your faith system onto others.
You do still have freedom of speech and religion, but I also deserve freedom from your religion.
It's a trainwreck already, and then the dude in the comments suggests that whole thing about us Tennesseeans, and I don't know whether to comment and then post or ignore the comment section and just post. There was a time I would have commented, would, in fact, have barged in with all my guns blazing.
But anymore I just can't bring myself to do it, so I backspace a bunch and clicked back over here so I could just talk shit at my own place.
But even before dude-bro posted his jab I'd nearly thought about posting because of a single line at the very end of the post.
Okay, the post is at Friendly Atheist and also discusses something about a monument and a Christian flag. I don't really remember, because it's that last line that I think needs to be addressed to be able to understand this whole thing that many Christians do.
Those of us who are nonbelievers see just how pervasive religion is even in so "enlightened" an age as our twenty first century. Those of us who both nonbelieve and live in a smallish and possibly southern place see it all too well. Don't get me started on the gay thing cuz omg ya'll.
And the last line of the post, that juicy tidbit that keeps on giving:
This is a kind of Christian extremism — assuming that government neutrality on religion is somehow anti-Christian.There is of course the whole for-us-or-against-us thing, which is mentioned in the comments, but this whole mentality actually comes from the biblicaly based idea that Christians are supposed to suffer, and one of the best ways to suffer, as mentioned in the book of John, is to be despised and hated as people of faith. Often they tell themselves that this is because none of us want to hear what we must know is the truth, ants and grasshoppers and long lost sons returning home.
It's part of a playing the victim meme that seems to have grown stronger lately, or perhaps it's just being used more often. Christians who insist their religious views keep the rest of us from progressing as humans will always hate it when they lose because they put so very much into the fight for their moral superiority. And because they are morally right according to their own faith they must necessarily be right for everyone because theirs is the one true faith.
And really, you just can't force people to step outside of their belief system and look at it from a different p.o.v. Atheists have already done that for the most part, or many, if not most, of us would still be locked in a similar faith based way of life. Too many questions can make you waver in your steadfastness.
So we have to keep reminding people that forcing others to even passively participate in your faith rituals is not okay. It's wrong to force your religion and the trappings of your faith system onto others.
You do still have freedom of speech and religion, but I also deserve freedom from your religion.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The moon has risen to that point between the trees where it's perfectly visible as I stand out on the porch smoking. It's a cool night, but it's not really the night that's cool. The cool is on the breezes that are blowing, that occasionally kick up to nearly a light wind, nearly rustling my hair as I turn my back to it. And the moon staring down at me looks cold, so bright white and silver. And it wears such a halo on such a clear night.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
come out wherever you are!
You're most likely familiar enough with Facebook, but what you may not be aware of is Fabulis. It's sort of a Fb for gay men. So far it's not a hook up site, and that's nice. It's still in it's early stages, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it or how I feel I fit in there, but over all it seems like a potentially delightful resource.
All of that is to explain the fabulis questions which are questions you can post to other members and that other members might post to you. They're sometimes interesting and thought provoking, and sometimes they're just nonsense which is as it should be. One I got today, and I imagine all members got today, from one of the founders, was this, followed by my answer:
Q: Today, October 11, 2010 is National Coming Out Day in the U.S. (It's also celebrated on the 12th in the UK). We'd like to know, what does OUT mean to you?
When I think of being out I can't help but think of it in levels of outness based on the situation you are in at the moment.
My family knows, but we don't talk a lot, and they're very Baptist for the most part, but it's a really big southern family, and there's a lot we don't talk about. Plus they live in a different state, though close enough to visit sometimes.
At work and in my social life I'm completely out. I see no reason not to be. I don't have a problem being gay, and I don't have a problem if some people with opposite sex attractions choose to live that lifestyle. It's not for me, and I want to make sure that straight people know that I'm gay so that if they have a problem we assert from the beginning that it's going to have to remain their problem. I don't really have room in my life for it.
Each spring and fall for the past few years I've coached my oldest son's soccer team. I coached both of my boys till we realized soccer wasn't for the youngest. I'm not out even a little bit there. When we started this whole soccer thing my oldest was five, and for all intents and purposes we were a fairly normal family, mom and dad with two young sons. I was even a stay at home dad at that point while my wife followed her career.
I'd love to feel like I could be out at soccer, but I'm not sure how they'd take it. While our social life involves that part of our town that's the hipper and closer to town part, soccer takes us north to the more socially conservative part of our town.
Also, it doesn't come up. I kind of want to say it doesn't matter, but I lied for so long in the closet that I just feel dishonest sometimes. And it kind of feels like the closet all over again.
Really, coming out is a never ending process. People tend to assume you're not gay and don't really even think about the fact that they've already made a judgment about you. It isn't necessarily a big deal except that you are consciously making judgments because you are gay. And I know in my case that I'm always looking for an ally or, better yet, a fellow homo.
I want to think that there will be a day when being out isn't a big deal, that we'll one day be accepted as normal people, that it won't even be a curiosity that we are also gay. But I can't help but think there will always be some sort of coming out process.
All of that is to explain the fabulis questions which are questions you can post to other members and that other members might post to you. They're sometimes interesting and thought provoking, and sometimes they're just nonsense which is as it should be. One I got today, and I imagine all members got today, from one of the founders, was this, followed by my answer:
Q: Today, October 11, 2010 is National Coming Out Day in the U.S. (It's also celebrated on the 12th in the UK). We'd like to know, what does OUT mean to you?
When I think of being out I can't help but think of it in levels of outness based on the situation you are in at the moment.
My family knows, but we don't talk a lot, and they're very Baptist for the most part, but it's a really big southern family, and there's a lot we don't talk about. Plus they live in a different state, though close enough to visit sometimes.
At work and in my social life I'm completely out. I see no reason not to be. I don't have a problem being gay, and I don't have a problem if some people with opposite sex attractions choose to live that lifestyle. It's not for me, and I want to make sure that straight people know that I'm gay so that if they have a problem we assert from the beginning that it's going to have to remain their problem. I don't really have room in my life for it.
Each spring and fall for the past few years I've coached my oldest son's soccer team. I coached both of my boys till we realized soccer wasn't for the youngest. I'm not out even a little bit there. When we started this whole soccer thing my oldest was five, and for all intents and purposes we were a fairly normal family, mom and dad with two young sons. I was even a stay at home dad at that point while my wife followed her career.
I'd love to feel like I could be out at soccer, but I'm not sure how they'd take it. While our social life involves that part of our town that's the hipper and closer to town part, soccer takes us north to the more socially conservative part of our town.
Also, it doesn't come up. I kind of want to say it doesn't matter, but I lied for so long in the closet that I just feel dishonest sometimes. And it kind of feels like the closet all over again.
Really, coming out is a never ending process. People tend to assume you're not gay and don't really even think about the fact that they've already made a judgment about you. It isn't necessarily a big deal except that you are consciously making judgments because you are gay. And I know in my case that I'm always looking for an ally or, better yet, a fellow homo.
I want to think that there will be a day when being out isn't a big deal, that we'll one day be accepted as normal people, that it won't even be a curiosity that we are also gay. But I can't help but think there will always be some sort of coming out process.
Monday, October 11, 2010
totally could if
I don't really hate straight people. I don't know what you may have heard, but it's not hate. Sure, I think you're all a bunch of filthy, craven animals, but I don't hate you.
Okay, sometimes I do get a little irritated with you. You have no idea how it looks to watch you do your little courtship dances and fumble around and act like idiots.
I could have your girl in seconds flat by telling her all the things I wish someone would tell me, and I can understand her in a sense that you may never figure out. But as pretty as she is she has those same icky, squiggly bits that all girls have, and she's probably not too many places removed from the big sister I never had once we get a couple of beers in us.
Honestly I'm just in a place. I'm in the hole where I see a lifetime of loneliness, unwanted and unnoticed in the sea of much younger and ache free fodder.
I wish I had a dollar for every time the phrase, "I'm not really looking for a relationship," was spoken at the local gay bars. I'd open my own gay bar with that kind of money, and I'd fill that lonely pit of despair I call my heart with all the pretty boys wanting free and/or discounted drinks.
I'd need a good bit more than a dollar for every time that line has been directed at me to open that same gay bar, but I'd probably ruin it by trying to do something. And it's not like I haven't been hit on, just so you know, and often without the desire for more than an evening's encounter.
Which is not to say I always do.
And I really am just in a place. I'm seeing all the horses of some sort of mini apocalypse bearing down on me, and I may not be able to outrun them this time. They seem bigger this time, like the draft horses of the apocalypse freed of their yokes and heavy burdens. And we can further mix metaphors into a stew of a rut of unsightly proportions.
I looked into a mirror that reflects my life and see that all along I've been doing almost everything completely wrong, and I'm going to have change almost entirely if I'm going to insist on wearing that one particular piece. And that one piece sort of makes the whole outfit, so I really do kind of need that particular one.
And just so you know, I didn't really mean that part about your girl. I'm just kinda in a place, and I spoke without really thinking.
Okay, sometimes I do get a little irritated with you. You have no idea how it looks to watch you do your little courtship dances and fumble around and act like idiots.
I could have your girl in seconds flat by telling her all the things I wish someone would tell me, and I can understand her in a sense that you may never figure out. But as pretty as she is she has those same icky, squiggly bits that all girls have, and she's probably not too many places removed from the big sister I never had once we get a couple of beers in us.
Honestly I'm just in a place. I'm in the hole where I see a lifetime of loneliness, unwanted and unnoticed in the sea of much younger and ache free fodder.
I wish I had a dollar for every time the phrase, "I'm not really looking for a relationship," was spoken at the local gay bars. I'd open my own gay bar with that kind of money, and I'd fill that lonely pit of despair I call my heart with all the pretty boys wanting free and/or discounted drinks.
I'd need a good bit more than a dollar for every time that line has been directed at me to open that same gay bar, but I'd probably ruin it by trying to do something. And it's not like I haven't been hit on, just so you know, and often without the desire for more than an evening's encounter.
Which is not to say I always do.
And I really am just in a place. I'm seeing all the horses of some sort of mini apocalypse bearing down on me, and I may not be able to outrun them this time. They seem bigger this time, like the draft horses of the apocalypse freed of their yokes and heavy burdens. And we can further mix metaphors into a stew of a rut of unsightly proportions.
I looked into a mirror that reflects my life and see that all along I've been doing almost everything completely wrong, and I'm going to have change almost entirely if I'm going to insist on wearing that one particular piece. And that one piece sort of makes the whole outfit, so I really do kind of need that particular one.
And just so you know, I didn't really mean that part about your girl. I'm just kinda in a place, and I spoke without really thinking.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
accepting the fact of who exactly you won against
The pizzas are in the oven, and the kids are putting together Big Brother's newest Star Wars Lego toys. Soon enough we'll turn on a movie that should get all the kids to relax enough to fall asleep so that I can then go to bed.
Not so long ago, however, we were at Laser Quest, and in the two games we played before and after the cake and present opening I came in second and then first.
I have to admit that by win I mean I took my own amount of experience and age and ruthlessness into a maze filled with a few friends and kids of friends and a bunch of rowdy kids I do not at all know. I kept my back to the wall and kept my eyes moving for those red lights.
I shot withering barrages of laser blasts into small masses of children, many of whom were not only wearing the lights but also white shirts that glowed beckoning in the blacklights.
I posted up at windows as I heard the squeals of terror approaching in the dark sending red burning death into the group trying to slink past, heads low.
I ran reaching over walls to blast blindly at sounds that may well have been solely products of my over active senses.
Everyone was an enemy unless I needed a friend for a moment. Everyone was a target for my blinding rage.
And I beat them all.
Not so long ago, however, we were at Laser Quest, and in the two games we played before and after the cake and present opening I came in second and then first.
I have to admit that by win I mean I took my own amount of experience and age and ruthlessness into a maze filled with a few friends and kids of friends and a bunch of rowdy kids I do not at all know. I kept my back to the wall and kept my eyes moving for those red lights.
I shot withering barrages of laser blasts into small masses of children, many of whom were not only wearing the lights but also white shirts that glowed beckoning in the blacklights.
I posted up at windows as I heard the squeals of terror approaching in the dark sending red burning death into the group trying to slink past, heads low.
I ran reaching over walls to blast blindly at sounds that may well have been solely products of my over active senses.
Everyone was an enemy unless I needed a friend for a moment. Everyone was a target for my blinding rage.
And I beat them all.
hardship
Today's soccer game was the absolute epitome of a rough game, but it was also a game we could have won.
I haven't really discussed soccer in a while, and part of that is just the general writing malaise, but part of it is the injustice of this season. I've had a roster of ten at an age level at which they play eleven on a side. My team has played a person down each game this season, and last week saw us playing two down.
I'm not going to write a post bitching about the unfairness of it all. I don't know how the kids on the team feel about it, though they have to see the unfairness. The thing is they don't seem affected by it. They go out every week and give everything they have. They take it and turn around and keep trying. Even on the roughest day playing against a team with seven subs they didn't stop. Even when one of my girls told me she just couldn't run anymore she turned around and kept going.
Today was especially rough. We once again had nine players show, and the opposing team was nice enough to play only ten, so it was a little even. It was still an all boys team versus my coed, and while I feel like that can't help but be a factor you wouldn't think it has any bearing when you see my two girls play. Also, I don't want to suggest that my female players are any less capable than their male teammates or any of the boys they've played against this season.
I should mention here that I'm not the overly comptetive coach that some coaches are. I do want to win, and I do want my team to win, but more than that I want them to learn the game and to fall in love with the game, to have fun. If they've given everything they have to give then I'm satisfied, and I'm proud.
I also make a point throughout the season starting with the very first practice to let them know my priorities regarding injuries. My list of things I need them to know are true is that it is just a game, that they are always more important than the game and that their safety and health are more important than the game.
One of the girls entered the game with a minor hamstring issue. I kept an eye on her and whenever I was able I asked her how she was doing. She's tough and spent too much of the game fighting for the ball often against two opponents at once. Another of my players also pulled his hamstring slightly while playing defense, then in the second half after being moved to goal keeper he stopped a shot that bent his hand too far back but didn't do any damage beyond hurting.
And then a defensive player went down and didn't get up. As the players on the field took a knee I jogged across to check on him. He stayed down for a few more moments and actually apologized for, "letting you down." I could almost cry sitting here now thinking about it. Of course I immediately let him know that he in no way let me down.
He insisted that he could play as he got to his feet and took a tentative couple of steps. He was wobbling and unable to put any weight on the knee but insisted he could play. If I'd let him he would have tried and would have made the injury worse, so I had to tell him no. Even then he tried to walk off the field by himself until he finally realized that he did need my shoulder just then.
My team got back into the game and, if anything, began to play even harder. We'd entered the final quarter when I lost another player.
It was my girl with the hamstring pull, and this time I ran onto the field. I knew immediately it was gonna be bad, and as I reached her I saw she was crying. She'd hit the ground and was covered in grass. The referee and I knelt next to her and took her hands. We helped her to calm down and start breathing normally while her mom also arrived to help.
The game was over. I couldn't ask any more of these guys at this point. We were down enough goals that we couldn't come back, and this was just the last straw.
We have a week off for fall break. I think we could all really use the time off. I told them that practice is sorta optional because of fall break but that I'd be there even if we only screw around and have fun rather than actually practice. But then that's one of the beauties of soccer that even when you're just messing around you're somewhat practicing.
We might have lost on goals, but I and all the parents won by watching the heart and determination we saw in our kids. I hope that my team got the win of having persevered in spite of the blows they took, that they learn to keep fighting no matter what. And I want every single one that is eligible back on my team next season.
I haven't really discussed soccer in a while, and part of that is just the general writing malaise, but part of it is the injustice of this season. I've had a roster of ten at an age level at which they play eleven on a side. My team has played a person down each game this season, and last week saw us playing two down.
I'm not going to write a post bitching about the unfairness of it all. I don't know how the kids on the team feel about it, though they have to see the unfairness. The thing is they don't seem affected by it. They go out every week and give everything they have. They take it and turn around and keep trying. Even on the roughest day playing against a team with seven subs they didn't stop. Even when one of my girls told me she just couldn't run anymore she turned around and kept going.
Today was especially rough. We once again had nine players show, and the opposing team was nice enough to play only ten, so it was a little even. It was still an all boys team versus my coed, and while I feel like that can't help but be a factor you wouldn't think it has any bearing when you see my two girls play. Also, I don't want to suggest that my female players are any less capable than their male teammates or any of the boys they've played against this season.
I should mention here that I'm not the overly comptetive coach that some coaches are. I do want to win, and I do want my team to win, but more than that I want them to learn the game and to fall in love with the game, to have fun. If they've given everything they have to give then I'm satisfied, and I'm proud.
I also make a point throughout the season starting with the very first practice to let them know my priorities regarding injuries. My list of things I need them to know are true is that it is just a game, that they are always more important than the game and that their safety and health are more important than the game.
One of the girls entered the game with a minor hamstring issue. I kept an eye on her and whenever I was able I asked her how she was doing. She's tough and spent too much of the game fighting for the ball often against two opponents at once. Another of my players also pulled his hamstring slightly while playing defense, then in the second half after being moved to goal keeper he stopped a shot that bent his hand too far back but didn't do any damage beyond hurting.
And then a defensive player went down and didn't get up. As the players on the field took a knee I jogged across to check on him. He stayed down for a few more moments and actually apologized for, "letting you down." I could almost cry sitting here now thinking about it. Of course I immediately let him know that he in no way let me down.
He insisted that he could play as he got to his feet and took a tentative couple of steps. He was wobbling and unable to put any weight on the knee but insisted he could play. If I'd let him he would have tried and would have made the injury worse, so I had to tell him no. Even then he tried to walk off the field by himself until he finally realized that he did need my shoulder just then.
My team got back into the game and, if anything, began to play even harder. We'd entered the final quarter when I lost another player.
It was my girl with the hamstring pull, and this time I ran onto the field. I knew immediately it was gonna be bad, and as I reached her I saw she was crying. She'd hit the ground and was covered in grass. The referee and I knelt next to her and took her hands. We helped her to calm down and start breathing normally while her mom also arrived to help.
The game was over. I couldn't ask any more of these guys at this point. We were down enough goals that we couldn't come back, and this was just the last straw.
We have a week off for fall break. I think we could all really use the time off. I told them that practice is sorta optional because of fall break but that I'd be there even if we only screw around and have fun rather than actually practice. But then that's one of the beauties of soccer that even when you're just messing around you're somewhat practicing.
We might have lost on goals, but I and all the parents won by watching the heart and determination we saw in our kids. I hope that my team got the win of having persevered in spite of the blows they took, that they learn to keep fighting no matter what. And I want every single one that is eligible back on my team next season.
Friday, October 08, 2010
experimenting
I'm still awake quite later than I should be, but I haven't had a single beer tonight either.
And it's sad that that says as much as it does. But I know that I drink too much and that I should at least cut back even though I don't drink nearly as much as plenty of people.
It's one of the things that keeps helping me hold myself back.
I'm not convinced I need to give up drinking altogether, but perhaps at least for a time I should. I've tried cutting back, and that just never seems to work. I'll sometimes even think that I am, but then I look back at the recycling pile growing next to the trash can and realize nothing has changed.
But I don't want to quit. There's that thing right there, and along with it comes even more justification.
I'm about to go to bed, and I will have gone an entire day without a beer. I'll feel better in the morning while at work and hopefully will have a good soccer practice. I'd like to think now that I can go another day without a beer, but the random aches of my post soccer practice evening will make it difficult. Maybe I'll drink a beer, and maybe I'll try again Saturday.
And it's sad that that says as much as it does. But I know that I drink too much and that I should at least cut back even though I don't drink nearly as much as plenty of people.
It's one of the things that keeps helping me hold myself back.
I'm not convinced I need to give up drinking altogether, but perhaps at least for a time I should. I've tried cutting back, and that just never seems to work. I'll sometimes even think that I am, but then I look back at the recycling pile growing next to the trash can and realize nothing has changed.
But I don't want to quit. There's that thing right there, and along with it comes even more justification.
I'm about to go to bed, and I will have gone an entire day without a beer. I'll feel better in the morning while at work and hopefully will have a good soccer practice. I'd like to think now that I can go another day without a beer, but the random aches of my post soccer practice evening will make it difficult. Maybe I'll drink a beer, and maybe I'll try again Saturday.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
dang YT's gettin in my bidness
He did that head thing and gave me such a look when I accidentally used the word boyfriend at the table in front of his mom.
I kept the Marilyn Monroe tshirt he gave me for years, and while it slowly deteriorated from use and time that hole in the front was always there. We were smoking his sisters pot, good pot, and he'd rolled a good size joint. We were both done before the joint was too far gone but kept insisting on passing it till I couldn't hold it. I tried not to take it, but he was insistent as only a pothead can be. I dropped it, and before I realized it had started to burn my stomach through the hole it had already burned in the shirt.
I've been listening to random mashups over at the YouTube, and I came across this song, and it's put me in a sort of retrospective mood.
Both these songs meant something to me then, the Nirvana song because of the time and my place in it and the Dead or Alive song because he loved it and played it and found a seven inch copy of it one day when we were hanging out. The song always reminds me of him.
He shared the same name as another guy I'd kind of been hanging out with. We'll call them C1 and C2, C1 being the one mentioned above.
C1 was younger but had obviously figured out he was gay much earlier in his life than I or C2. We were fumbling along trying to figure stuff out while C1 rolled his eyes that we still didn't know. I never really was able to deal with either of them in an intelligent way because I just didn't know how at the time, and before I was ever able to make sense of it I was gone.
I got a chance to leave Atlanta and took it. Charlotte was far enough away so that I could be myself, or so I thought. And it was a number of quite random happenings that even opened the door for me to take the sudden flight to NC in that maroon Volkswagen that day.
Thinking back now it's almost as though I had competing sides, the long term punk rock me that was into something not unlike the personal punk rock nihilism I'd grown to think was cool versus the wanting so to emerge me that was gay and just wanted to be. He didn't see much sunlight for a long fucking time.
But what if I'd stayed?
See? it just don't bear worrying about.
I kept the Marilyn Monroe tshirt he gave me for years, and while it slowly deteriorated from use and time that hole in the front was always there. We were smoking his sisters pot, good pot, and he'd rolled a good size joint. We were both done before the joint was too far gone but kept insisting on passing it till I couldn't hold it. I tried not to take it, but he was insistent as only a pothead can be. I dropped it, and before I realized it had started to burn my stomach through the hole it had already burned in the shirt.
I've been listening to random mashups over at the YouTube, and I came across this song, and it's put me in a sort of retrospective mood.
Both these songs meant something to me then, the Nirvana song because of the time and my place in it and the Dead or Alive song because he loved it and played it and found a seven inch copy of it one day when we were hanging out. The song always reminds me of him.
He shared the same name as another guy I'd kind of been hanging out with. We'll call them C1 and C2, C1 being the one mentioned above.
C1 was younger but had obviously figured out he was gay much earlier in his life than I or C2. We were fumbling along trying to figure stuff out while C1 rolled his eyes that we still didn't know. I never really was able to deal with either of them in an intelligent way because I just didn't know how at the time, and before I was ever able to make sense of it I was gone.
I got a chance to leave Atlanta and took it. Charlotte was far enough away so that I could be myself, or so I thought. And it was a number of quite random happenings that even opened the door for me to take the sudden flight to NC in that maroon Volkswagen that day.
Thinking back now it's almost as though I had competing sides, the long term punk rock me that was into something not unlike the personal punk rock nihilism I'd grown to think was cool versus the wanting so to emerge me that was gay and just wanted to be. He didn't see much sunlight for a long fucking time.
But what if I'd stayed?
See? it just don't bear worrying about.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
not even a card
In a comment to a recent post, JJ Ross links to a story from Florida about a hit and run victim. He was riding home from his job as a dishwasher, a job he'd held for ten years, obeying bicycle safety protocol when a car hit him.
It's a tragic story, but in my reading there's a whole other tragedy, and I honestly don't know what to think without more of the story. Whatever the rest of the story is though I can't help but get stuck at $7.25 and hour. That's absolute shit that he's making that little money.
As the article mentions, $7.25 is minimum wage. So ten years at the Crab Shack gets you minimum wage.
I kinda gagged in my mind when the manager mentioned that he was family. Does he treat all his family like that?
The article ends with the suggestion that the man was solitary and "lived within his means." Well, yeah, I guess you have to at that point.
And again, there's always more to the story. There's something or other that I don't know and might get if I heard the story, but it all just sounds too . . . Republican? maybe?
It's just this story of a man who died in such a horrid way, and he's solitary and doesn't really do much of anything and certainly never bothers anyone. He prefers the job of washing dishes and is likely very good at it, and he earns the smallest amount of money you can pay your hourly staff. But that isn't the point. He was poor, a noble savage perhaps. He did the best he could with that pittance he was allowed.
I didn't know the guy, and I'm parially bothered because I can almost see my future self in this guy. That could be me in ten years. Hell, I'm halfway there at the job I've got now if you leave out that solitary part. There is a lure sometimes in the dishroom when you're kind of away from it all, but usually I'm just trying to make a little sense of the mess in there as I grab whatever utensil or storage container I stopped in for and shove racks of dishes through the machine at the same time. Outside of the dishroom I'm kind of an ass but in a good way once you get it and realize it all sounded so funny in my head right before I said it.
Maybe he was happy exactly as things were. Maybe he'd found his point of balance.
But to pay the man, for ten years, the bare minimum amount of money that you possibly, legally can?
wow
It's a tragic story, but in my reading there's a whole other tragedy, and I honestly don't know what to think without more of the story. Whatever the rest of the story is though I can't help but get stuck at $7.25 and hour. That's absolute shit that he's making that little money.
As the article mentions, $7.25 is minimum wage. So ten years at the Crab Shack gets you minimum wage.
I kinda gagged in my mind when the manager mentioned that he was family. Does he treat all his family like that?
The article ends with the suggestion that the man was solitary and "lived within his means." Well, yeah, I guess you have to at that point.
And again, there's always more to the story. There's something or other that I don't know and might get if I heard the story, but it all just sounds too . . . Republican? maybe?
It's just this story of a man who died in such a horrid way, and he's solitary and doesn't really do much of anything and certainly never bothers anyone. He prefers the job of washing dishes and is likely very good at it, and he earns the smallest amount of money you can pay your hourly staff. But that isn't the point. He was poor, a noble savage perhaps. He did the best he could with that pittance he was allowed.
I didn't know the guy, and I'm parially bothered because I can almost see my future self in this guy. That could be me in ten years. Hell, I'm halfway there at the job I've got now if you leave out that solitary part. There is a lure sometimes in the dishroom when you're kind of away from it all, but usually I'm just trying to make a little sense of the mess in there as I grab whatever utensil or storage container I stopped in for and shove racks of dishes through the machine at the same time. Outside of the dishroom I'm kind of an ass but in a good way once you get it and realize it all sounded so funny in my head right before I said it.
Maybe he was happy exactly as things were. Maybe he'd found his point of balance.
But to pay the man, for ten years, the bare minimum amount of money that you possibly, legally can?
wow
Monday, October 04, 2010
random gripe with fun jabs
Myspace is so totally early 2000's. I walked away from that motherfucker soon after discovering Facebook, and I seriously never looked back.
I do take a quick peek back at the ol' page once in a while, but it usually only happens when I get an email that there's been some activity, and that doesn't happen very often.
Apparently I got a friend request within the past week, and I've seen the email several times and thought to myself that I should at least pop over and see who it is. You never know, it may be from someone that I'd be happy to connect or even reconnect with. Perhaps it's the man of my dreams discovering me.
I finally bothered to open the email, and it's none of the above. I didn't imagine it would be, but I had no idea what to expect, and apparently they didn't either. I got a friend request from Official NFL.
I didn't bother actually going to Myspace because it's a slow and clunky pile of too much glitter and crap, and I just don't want to sit and wait while all the glitter and crap make my computer slow down. I don't want to sit here impatiently waiting while frustration forces me to try to click on some other tab which further slows down the computer. So of course I don't know how truly official it is. I don't really care as I'm not a fan of the NFL and so won't be bothering.
But really? They asked me. Do they pay any attention at all, or do they send the friend requests out willy nilly and just hope that somehow they get something out of their foray into social networking? Perhaps a computer sends out the requests, but even a minor scan of my page there would yeild absolutely nothing to suggest that they should bother.
Maybe it's a real person who just thinks I'm soo cool from what I've put on my page that they just can't wait to get me on their side so they can parade me around like a prize stud horse and show the other sports that they got me.
Either way, I'm not bothering.
I do take a quick peek back at the ol' page once in a while, but it usually only happens when I get an email that there's been some activity, and that doesn't happen very often.
Apparently I got a friend request within the past week, and I've seen the email several times and thought to myself that I should at least pop over and see who it is. You never know, it may be from someone that I'd be happy to connect or even reconnect with. Perhaps it's the man of my dreams discovering me.
I finally bothered to open the email, and it's none of the above. I didn't imagine it would be, but I had no idea what to expect, and apparently they didn't either. I got a friend request from Official NFL.
I didn't bother actually going to Myspace because it's a slow and clunky pile of too much glitter and crap, and I just don't want to sit and wait while all the glitter and crap make my computer slow down. I don't want to sit here impatiently waiting while frustration forces me to try to click on some other tab which further slows down the computer. So of course I don't know how truly official it is. I don't really care as I'm not a fan of the NFL and so won't be bothering.
But really? They asked me. Do they pay any attention at all, or do they send the friend requests out willy nilly and just hope that somehow they get something out of their foray into social networking? Perhaps a computer sends out the requests, but even a minor scan of my page there would yeild absolutely nothing to suggest that they should bother.
Maybe it's a real person who just thinks I'm soo cool from what I've put on my page that they just can't wait to get me on their side so they can parade me around like a prize stud horse and show the other sports that they got me.
Either way, I'm not bothering.
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