Counterintuitive

Good American mystery writing????

2011-12-29T09:50:00.000-08:00

A Cold Day for Murder by Dana Stabenow

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Having started my mystery/detective reading with the Scandanavians has (I'm afraid) set me up for disappointment as I now attempt some Americans. I didn't hate this book but, to give a sense of my overall engagement, I actually couldn't remember if I had finished it.

Overall I do like the Kate Shugak character--strong female, enigmatic, non-conforming--but at times the novel felt more like a trite romance novel than a mystery. While it had a few nods to the deeper issues of discrimination of the Aleut tribe, none are satisfyingly explored.

View all my reviews

Just Good-E-nough: The tie the BINDS

2011-12-28T14:57:00.000-08:00

The Tie That Binds by Kent Haruf

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Not my favorite Haruf novel (see Plainsong and Eventide) but often compelling although also quite depressing. I don't mind depressing yet struggle when the depressing stuff happens even before I can care about the characters and then just continues throughout. Still an interesting narrative structure with a first-person account from one of the main characters, Sanders Roscoe; also, innovative while also frustratingly the mystery introduced at the beginning of the novel is not fully explained until the very end (though it's fairly easy to guess). I suppose that's Haruf's point that you can't fully understand a person's life, in this case Edith Goodnough, until you experience all the details. As the narrator says about trying to understand Edith's actions and lack of action, "well, that was their business, because when you know people all your life you try to understand how it is for them. What you can't understand you just accept."

When all is said and done the theme and title of the book, "The tie that binds," slams you like a sledge hammer--bind indeed. The reader is left to decide if Edith was quite GoodEnough in the end.

View all my reviews

Finally: A Room with a View (the book)

2011-12-28T12:45:00.000-08:00

A Room With a View by E.M. Forster

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I loved this book, even more than I thought I would. I've seen the film a half dozen times over the years; it was actually the first film Alison and I watched together. I think she had borrowed it from her father so I could see it. I can still see the kitchen/living room area in the on-campus BYU housing: Heritage Halls. Her building, Bowen Hall, was actually torn down this last year--many good memories at Bowen. And it was significant that Alison wanted me to see this film, a story about Lucy Honeychurch, a woman engaged to marry a man who did not know her, who saw her as a painting to adore. Yet a tall order to live up to George, the young man who continues to pursue Lucy even when she is engaged, proclaiming his belief in love and beauty.

So I already knew that I would enjoy the story, but didn't realize how much philosophical depth the book would convey. I should have known having read Forster's "A Passage to India" some years ago. The center of this depth is George's father, the aptly named Mr. Emerson.

When Freddy (Lucy's brother) and Mr. Beebe (the reverend) go to meet the Emerson's, Freddy impetuously asks them to have a "bathe" (i.e. swim in the pond) which leads to Mr. Beebe giving a dig to Mr. Emerson who has declared that the sexes are equal. To which Mr. Emerson replies, "I tell you that they shall be...I tell you they shall be comrades." Then Beebe asks if we are to raise them (women) to our level and Mr. Emerson continues his defense but raises it to a philosophical argument larger than gender: "The Garden of Eden which you place in the past, is really yet to come. We shall enter it when we no longer despise our bodies." In one fell swoop he undermines literal religious ideology, gender stereotypes and the western Cartesian dualism of mind and body.

Of course this exchange and others sets up George's critique of Lucy's engagement to Cecil Vyse as he declares that Cecil does not see her as a woman, in fact is incapable of knowing a woman. And then these words Lucy repurposes later in order to get out of the engagement. Near the end Mr. Emerson is the "saint" who understands Lucy's troubles and helps her follow truth (I can hear some of today's feminists disparaging how the Truth is brought to Lucy through the Emerson men--it was the turn of the century though) and finally admit to her love for George.

With a focus on Mr. Emerson the book is as much a love story as a philosophical declaration of the goodness of the body, of the fraud of the western duality of mind and body. As Mr. Emerson declares to Lucy in both the film and book, "You love the boy body and soul."

View all my reviews

Cities: An almost satisfying end to the Border Trilogy

2011-12-14T12:09:00.000-08:00

Cities of the Plain by Cormac McCarthy

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I found myself at home again in the life of a young romantic cowboy (John Grady Cole) after having read both "All the pretty horses" and "The Crossing" some years ago. While I do not think this ending-trilogy-novel is as good as the first two, it still did not disappoint...well, until the last 20 pages. Three key scenes will stick with me: John insisting on stopping to help a truckload of Mexicans with their blown out tire; a vicious tracking and roping (yes, roping, where one dog is split in half) of wild dogs that are killing the cattle, ultimately leading to John returning to the scene to recover the puppies left without a mother; John's stylized and ritualized (think Tarantino) knife fight with the pimp (though I won't want to remember this last one).

But I also, surely to the chagrin of many high-brow reviewers, fell for John and his young epileptic Mexican whore (a word I do not use lightly, but is necessary), Magdalena. That's right I did; I read for plot, wanting badly for John to be able to bring her back to the cabin he had fixed up all the while knowing that there was no way in hell that either character, in the hands of McCarthy, were going to make it through alive.

I think the novel unravels at the end because it's supposed to be, ultimately, about Billy Parham, the young boy of "The Crossing" who beautifully and paradoxically harnesses a she-wolf (one of the only dynamic female characters in the trilogy according to one critic) in order to take her back across the border to the mountains of Mexico. Billy's life, who is now older in "Cities...", is supposed to make us to reflect over the entire trilogy and this novel ends with a homeless Billy and 20 pages of ontological philosophy spewed by a fellow homeless Mexican. But McCarthy let's this larger trilogy-ending-move escape him as the reader cares much more about John and his romantic refusal to let the violence (also witnessed in "All the Pretty horses") the old world Mexico derail his pursuit of what *should* be. Because of this I tend to agree with Ruth Gray in her Yale Review of books:

"Other than an esoteric recounting of a dream-within-a-dream at the end of the novel, McCarthy seems to have abandoned the story-telling project altogether...But after providing so much for us to ponder on our previous journeys through his literary world, McCarthy leaves us with little more than an entertaining story."

I might not take it quite this far, it's still more than a merely entertaining story; yet somewhere the wheels come off near the end. It is a shame that the book and the trilogy do not end with John dying in Billy's arms; instead McCarthy preserves the relic of the cowboy seeing Billy to old life and hitting us upside the head with a philosophical treatise.

View all my reviews

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

2011-12-14T09:10:00.000-08:00

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John le Carré

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

It's been on my bookshelves for almost 20yrs. Guess it's time to read it--serendipitously it looks like a new movie based on book is about to come out.

I could never quite get full-on into this book. Some sections really engaged me and I thought it was going to work for me, but it was tenuous and I'd lose it for 20 or so pages. Too cerebral? Too at a distance? Too much assumed knowledge about the British spy world? I don't know for sure.

Still, as with the other le Carre I've read you get much more than a mere spy novel. Take this reflection, near the end of the novel, as Smiley considers on the conspiracy he has helped to uncover:

"Like an actor, he had a sense of the approaching anti-climax before the curtain went up, a sense of great things dwindling to a small, mean end; as death itself seemed small and mean to him after the struggles of his life. He had no sense of conquest that he knew of. His thoughts, as often when he was afraid, concerned people. He had no theories or judgments in particular. He simply wondered how everyone would be affected; and he felt responsible...he wondered if there was any love between human beings that did not rest upon some sort of self-delusion...It worried him that he felt so bankrupt; that whatever intellectual or philosophical precepts he clung to broke down entirely now that he was faced with the human situation" (327).

It kind of reminds me of Eastwood's "Unforgiven" where as we root for the main character to win over his adversaries, the narrative itself pulls the rug out from us, forcing us to see that there are no conquests really, only people. Of course "Unforgiven" is much darker.

View all my reviews

Ubiquity: from sand piles to history

2011-11-30T06:47:00.000-08:00

Ubiquity: The Science of History . . . or Why the World Is Simpler Than We Think by Mark Buchanan

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Physics all around--also watching the three part Nova series with youngest son about the fabric of the cosmos.

I'm most intrigued by Buchanan's discussion of instability, that many systems build up pressure of some sort and exist on what he calls the knife of instability. This critical state lends itself to occasional upheavals (an earthquake, massive extinctions, a war) with one small shift in the system. That is big events do not have big causes--how marvelously counterintuitive. His overriding metaphor is a sand pile which, surprisingly, physicists have spent much time playing in. And even more surprisingly, they have found that there is no "typical" size of an avalanche in a sand pile--sometimes only a few grains of sand, sometimes hundreds, sometimes thousands. The avalanches appear to be completely random.

Yet if this is the case then it is nearly impossible, then, to predict these upheavals. Of course this is akin to chaos theory but he moves beyond early chaos theory to describe power laws which describe the "patterns" of upheavability. These power laws do not allow us to predict one particular event; instead they demonstrate that across many systems both geological and biological there is a correlation between the number of small events (e.g. small earthquakes) and the number of large upheavals (e.g. massive earthquakes).

So while these power laws do not have much practical value at this point, they do, as physics often does, point to an underlying system which is not random yet is also not predictable. Finally he uses these theories to (which will undoubtedly disturb some) history where he argues against the great person or genius theories of history. Of course, as he admits, many historians have already questioned this analysis of history. What Buchanan adds is that nonequalibrium physics is the proper field to describe what will happen--not just in sand piles and earthquakes but in the most complex of human systems.

And why should we care about all this? Two reasons I think. One, because it points to the wonders of the universe--complex non-Newtonian patterns which do not rely on god. It gives us the in-between chaos and structure. Two, because these "patterns" still do not allow us to predict upheavability. And hence catastrophe, geological, historical, and personal, is not worth worrying about; it's no one's fault, no one CAUSE. Instead it is simply the working and pressure of a complex system much vaster and grander than we can currently imagine or keep track of.

View all my reviews

Self-destruction: Amsterdam by Ian McEwan

2011-11-28T17:27:00.000-08:00

Amsterdam by Ian McEwan

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I'm not sure how I feel about this novel. It's a book about two friends, Vernon, a editor of a newspaper, and Clive, a semi-famous composer. The novel explores their friendship in the aftermath of the death of Molly, a woman who had, at some point, been a lover to each of them.

I was quite engaged with several of the themes--what binds us to others? and the ruminations on death and randomness where Clive, in a moment of despair, calls the questions the integrity of the wilderness by calling it a "gigantic brown gymnasium."

Throughout the novel, I was hoping to like both or at least one of the friends, but by the end I didn't care for either--surely McEwan's point. In fact I didn't like them at all. And to end the novel on that note made me feel let down. In a sense the novel deconstructed itself until in the last few pages the characters were remote, estranged, even silly, the novel itself withering with the last page into nothingness.

Pre-read note:

Needed something to read during LDS stake conference, so picked this up since I just finished Saturday by the same author and because I knew I couldn't follow the other novel I'm reading with the background of LDS doctrine and testimony, Le Carre's "Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy", because the plot is too convoluted.

A descent read so far.

View all my reviews

Saturday

2011-11-25T08:53:00.000-08:00

Saturday by Ian McEwan

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Has sucked me right in--read 100 pages already without really even trying.

And it kept clipping away with a startling climax. A compelling concept to focus on one day, not just any day, but a Saturday, the day when we take a break from routine, when we allow ourselves small luxuries. The novel takes us through various incidences which are discrete and yet, as we move along, interconnected.

Most of all the relationships, built through short incidences and remembrances, stuck with me: a close relationship with his dropout, musician son; a confident and solid relationship with his wife, whom we rarely see in the present-tense; a difficult relationship with his poet father-in-law; and as a sort of center: the relationship with his poet, liberal, strong, and more sympathetic to war protests daughter. All of this is pulled off with the backdrop of the pending Iraqi war.

View all my reviews

A good read in two sittings or less

2011-06-11T12:10:00.000-07:00

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

An engagingly plotted book, a mystery of sorts which I don't see a lot on children's lit for younger readers, at least not done well. After the first few chapters I raced to the end, finishing it in basically two sittings. While Rebecca Stead does rely on tried and true plot devices used in adult fiction (ones I won't give away here), she gives them a fresh twist. And Stead's book keeps giving as half way through you realize it is, in part, an homage to A wrinkle in time; also, the understated issues of race and difference are expertly handled. A great read--the Newberry committee, if they are listening :), did a fine job picking this one.

View all my reviews

A surprisingly good book

2011-05-18T10:06:00.000-07:00

Rules by Cynthia Lord

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

One of the few books I've ever read about dealing with disability--daring, hopeful, humanizing. And there are many interesting themes like borrowing another's words or speaking for the other. This theme plays out in many ways, most compellingly as the main character, Catherine, creates communication cards for a boy she meets when taking her autistic brother to therapy.

View all my reviews

In time of cholera: a sorry review

2011-05-18T10:03:00.000-07:00

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez

My rating: 1 of 5 stars

I almost read it but soured on it one hundred pages in. It's my second go at Gabriel Garcia Marquez and it simply fizzled as did 100 years--I can already hear the disbelief. I feel guilt about this (everyone loves this book, he did win the Nobel Prize etc etc) but in the end I'm not a fan. It felt overwrought and overdone. In a few pages I tired of Florentino's passionate love for Fermina. And maybe that's the point Marquez is making--to have a us tire of him and to question the simplicity of romantic love. If so I only needed a page or two instead of an entire novel.

I'm very sorry to any/all who love this book.

View all my reviews

A review of Disgrace: "No country, this, for old men"

2011-05-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

Another tour de force by Coetzee. As in Slowman, Coetzee takes a man and strips him of all pretense while asking bare-boned, honest questions about our existence. A man who loses his job after an ill-fated affair with a student because he refuses to engage the religiously constructed language of his tribunal. Language makes no sense when his full acceptance of guilt is construed as obfuscation. This theme continues, shaped by the post-colonial South Africa, as he attempts to help his daughter living next to and among Africans with new rights. The gap runs parallel between the old and young, the Africans and whites: "It's not a country, this [playing off Yeat's poem] for old men." And Coetzee means it, does not shirk from the difficult task of facing the truth, as his narrator later explains (and could stand as a summation of the book): "By the time the big words come back reconstructed, purified, fit to be trusted once more, he will be long dead."

Review: Into the Forest by Jean Hegland

2011-04-02T18:56:00.000-07:00

A powerhouse of a read, something I didn't expect from a book I'd never heard of with tulips on the front cover; a deeply daring feminist, in contrast to so much politicking and wannabes, novel.

The story of two sisters living at the edge of the woods as the world disintegrates. Through flashback we learn of about their lives and parents, a stark contrasts to their current increasingly difficult lives.

While I felt on familiar ground at times, the ground of post-apocalyptic fear and gut-wrenching decisions, I was happily surprised time and again. I found myself realizing how much of SF, in general, and post-apocalyptic, specifically, fiction is told through the male gaze and experience; refreshing to imagine other ways to deal with pain, death and hunger.

Unfortunately, and this was confirmed while reading comments about the book in Goodreads, I won't be recommending this book to many people, nor will I choose it for my book club--it's too daring, too outside the box and I personally couldn't emotionally handle those who would judge it as weird.

370 and counting

2011-03-23T11:42:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure how it happened but I'm currently addicted to entering books on Goodreads. I've had an account for several years never thinking much of it even though I do have a long (as in decades) held desire to know how many books I've read in a year and to be able to keep track of which books I've read overall. Maybe I'd finally had enough of it, enough not knowing. Or maybe I'm reaching out for some sort of meaning, to construct something which says, "I've lived" or "I'm here!" or "My life counts--see how many books I've read." Whatever the deeper fucked up psychological reason, it doesn't really matter much why. I enjoy inputing the books, sometimes scanning a book I haven't touched in years, seeing my notes at the beginning (e.g. "1998 Thanksgiving Rexburg," "Book club 11/2008"), remembering my motivations for reading.

And I'm noticing patterns. There is a small spike in more serious nonfiction titles in 1999, which didn't make sense to me at first. But then, duh, I realized I finished my master's degree in 98 and then all of sudden had all this intellectual curiosity and also some time. That curiosity led me to many books (Kozol's Amazing Grace, Cahill's How the Irish Saved Civilization, Rodriguez's Hunger of Memor) and eventually led me out of teaching high school and to SLCC where I'm at now.

My actual reviews (if I enter one at all) are quite short but are less review, more reading autobiography. I've less interested in evaluated the books than of marking what the book meant to me at the time of reading. For example Kozol's Amazing Grace made me aware of poverty in a way I'd never been aware of before, made me feel in in my bones. Under my review for The Roadless Traveled, a book I'm unsure (maybe even afraid) how I would respond to now, I clearly situate the book in my life history:

"For a long time this was my personal Bible, my bulwark against Mormonism and religion. The section on love had a profound effect on me and continues to come to mind as an adult: real love is always based on the concern for another person's spiritual growth. e

My mom gave me this book, an amazing insightful move."

Having entered hundreds of books over the last few weeks, the supposed big events (graduations, LDS mission, girlfriends, jobs, houses) of my life grayscale into the background, allowing defined book covers into the foreground, which knit together my emotional and intellectual shifts and development.

It's an episodic, much less linear, representation of my life. For the moment it is a representation I intend to indulge in, savor, squeezing out the supposed milestones. I rather like seeing my life as stitched together passages about love and spiritual growth from the Road Less Traveled (read in 1986) with Kabat-Zinn's (read in 2009)ideas on mindfulness and accepting where one is. On one hand the two readers of these books, separated by 23 years seem impossibly distinct and distant; on the other hand both readers--the 17 year old unsure about his desires and the 40 year old unsure about anyone defining his desires--clearly come from the same self, the same self who has now for years found such pleasure and discovery through reading.

Pesthouse: A post-apocalyptic reshaping of the American Dream

2011-03-15T09:45:00.000-07:00

The second paragraph of the prologue made me pause, gave me hope in that I was about to experience something BIG:

"But there are always some awake in the small times of the morning--teh lovemakers, for instance, the night workers, the ones with stone-hard beds or aching backs, the ones with nagging consciences or bladders, the sick. And animals of course."

What a lovely, spot on passage, BIG passage. And overall this post-apocalyptic tale did not disappoint as we watch the unlikely pairing of Franklin and Red Margaret, Franklin tenderly pulling the sickness out of Margaret as she suffers abandoned in the pesthouse.

Yet the journey is devastating, in several ways more violent and less hopeful than McCarthy's harrowing The Road. Here too they travel on a road towards the ocean and hope. But this is a world fraught with illness, fear, and calculating marauders who slaughter and laugh. America has been brought down to its knees; there is no liberty or freedom or American Dream.

Crace courageously tries to at once deconstruct the American Dream through fire and pain...and I wanted embrace his new dream built out of the ashes but, ultimately, stood back--book at arm's length--and watched, unable to completely embrace it.

Still, the impossible romance--the tenderness, the humanity amongst hopelessness, the understated understanding--between Franklin and Margaret will remain with me.

A sprinkle of grading

2011-03-14T15:51:00.000-07:00

Spring break is wonderful even with a sprinkle of grading to finish up the day:

first bike ride of the year with Ali yesterday (she did take crash but recovered and got back on the horse)
reach 200 books on my Goodreads account though I cheated by adding 30 Three investigator books from my youth--but hey I loved these books and they had to go on the list
Read a good sized chunk of The Pesthouse by Jim Crace, a post-apocalyptic journey novel. Kind of similar to The Road in content though not style.
finished Waltz with Bashir, an intriguing/disturbing animated film about a Jewish soldier who has lost his memories of serving in Lebanon

I will leave you with one of the most compelling/haunting images from Waltz...

Soaking up the sun at Snow Canyon and Zions

2010-12-29T14:17:00.001-08:00

A little amateur photography by the youngster at Snow Canyon: Long stick of wheat grass against rocks...or something like that.

Less known yet just as beautiful Snow Canyon.

Mini-desert lakes: Snow Canyon

Resting on the first set of switchbacks towards Angel's Landing and only photo we got of Hana hiking.

We are actually heading down here, but forgive the chronology: the last section of switchbacks before it really got steep.

Gives me goosebumps and shivers, both the good and bad kind: that's not merely a beautiful landscape behind us; it's the trail we just came up.

Last half of Angel's Landing: aren't trees amazingly resilient?

This was a good idea, right?

On top of Angel's Landing there was just enough snow to make one nervous.

Seth on top of Angel's Landing gaining a few more feet of elevation than the rest of us.

Sun, what else?

2010-12-27T16:26:00.001-08:00

Impossible to express how much I'm enjoying the sun aand 50+ degrees of St. George. Just got back from hiking Angel's Landing in Zions with the family--little ice and snow but not bad. Heading to the Pasta Factory which offer great build your own pasta options. Yum.

Why, I ask, did it take me so long to figure out this simple equation:

sun + christmas break + warmth + travel = a much, much happier Ron

Last year Vegas and St George--from here on out I will travel somewhere warm and sunny EVERY winter break. No doubt.

It's Wonderful Christmas Eve

2010-12-24T20:15:00.000-08:00

I'm watching George Bailey walking through the snow, staring into the water, contemplating a jump to end it all. It's all very familiar... Over-warm because Andrew, my youngest, insisted on the once-a-year traditional fire which moves the temp squarely into the 80s. All of us watching a film together--a rarity. A night of Santa-Clausing ahead though, now with two teens, much scaled down as there are no big toys to assemble, no big surprises really. Left-over Chinese food in the fridge from our Christmas Eve dinner.

How many views? A dozen at least. Even I have some of the dialog mostly memorized:

"I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet"

"A flaming rum punch?...Look mister we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast"

"She's an old maid. She never married." (haunting music playing)

And I start to notice details I've overlooked: a squirrel on uncle Billy's desk; a skull on Potter's desk when he offers George Bailey a job; Christmas masks George's children are wearing (btw how did anyone think it was a good idea for a child to run around in a old man Santa mask? creepy!).

And so tonight I celebrate ritual and tradition where life slows and repose is found if but a moment.

Lotsa books III: The end of faith by Sam Harris

2010-12-08T05:46:00.000-08:00

I had a fair amount of context I brought to this book: had always meant to read something by Sam Harris once I was aware of him several years ago, had heard him debate Chris Hedges on Truthdig and was impressed with his clear reason in the debate though ultimately sided more with Hedges, had first read Richard Dawkins'The God Delusion as my introduction to the New Atheists.

What I liked:

Harris attacks the right and left with vigor, even more so the left especially in chapter 4, "The problem with Islam" which caused me to question every apologetic word I've uttered in defense of moderate Islam.
He is much much more readable than Dawkins
He, unlike Dawkins, doesn't try to simultaneously take on religion and any "unscientific" discourse like postmodernism (at least he doesn't in this book)
So many provocative quotables--I will give you a few:

"Religious moderates are, in large part, responsible for the religious conflict in our world, because their beliefs provide the context in which scriptural literalism and religious violence can never be adequately opposed" (45)

"The only thing we should respect in a person's faith is his desire for a better life in this world; we need never have respected his certainty that one awaits him in the next" (225)

"We have, in response to the this improbable fact, declared war on 'terrorism.' This is rather like declaring war on 'murder'; it is a category error that obscures the true cause of our troubles. Terrorism is not a source of human violence, but merely one of its inflections" (28)

In homage to lotsa books

2010-12-06T18:25:00.000-08:00

Having books all around your house leads to 67% more reading though does not, according tot he experts, necessarily lead to actually finishing books; therefore, a celebration is in store every time I actually finish a book:

From the last page of the simply, yet fully explanatory, Bodies by Susie Orbach

"Our struggle is to recorporealise our bodies so that they become a place we live from rather than an aspiration always needing to be achieved"

"We need bodies sufficiently stable to allow us moments of bliss and adventure when, sure that they exist, we can then take leave of them"

NOTE: neither of these quotations was underlined though the previous reader of this book carefully, well not so carefully, underlined many insightful passages. My guess is once said reader hit the last two pages she was too excited, yet tired, to mark anymore. That, or I have no sense of a good quote.

Orbach also offers several critiques of postmodernism's insistence on performing our bodies in an effort to celebrate multiplicity and fluidity, but I won't bother with those quotations as certainly both sides overstate.

Time taken to read this simple, straight-forward, 200 page book: Several months, maybe more.

Context: book got lost amongst amazon and half.com purchases...and I think my wife borrowed it for a bit.

Lotsa books

2010-12-06T16:58:00.000-08:00

The good thing about ordering lots of books online is that you get a package every day or two and, because you ordered so many and can't remember which book should be arriving, you get surprised each time you tear through that incredibly tough plastic crap they wrap them in; the bad thing is they cost money and take up space to the point of bookshelf and office overload which threatens to cover every free space (but maybe that's a good thing too because now everywhere I look I see a book and I like books; except I also, then, feel a bit overwhelmed because I have so much to read--possibly a tie between the good and the bad).

Off to open my two packages, the ones I've been eyeying as I typed each of these words.

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance

2010-11-25T08:07:00.000-08:00

A hilarious memoir by Elna Baker. As always I'm probably late to the party, but if my ex/non/less active mormon friends haven't read this you should because you will laugh and most certainly find connections with her struggles to be a "faithful" mormon; and my anti/non/living in utah friends should read her memoir because it should help humanize mormons who seem to do crazy things (like not having sex until they are married).

It's certainly the most rukous, honest, over-the-edge writing I've ever read by a practicing mormon. For example while staring into those funky amusement park mirrors, ones which made her look 80lbs skinnier, she says, "For the first time, I had a sweet spirit and a sweet ass." Now that's the best double entendre of the Mormon "sweet" that I've ever read.

Other highlights:

*Comparing a patriarchal blessing to Keannu Reeves visiting the Oracles in the Matrix

*A description of how she used the "Fascinating Girl" (a book it seems many young Mormon girls were given which instructs them on how to please men through submission; my wife received a copy from her grandmother but I don't think it worked) to help her get a mormon boyfriend

*while getting hot and heavy with her atheist boyfriend she suddenly, unintentionally whispers in his ear "you need to pray and find out if god exists" which she later subscribes to her struggle with God Tourette's syndrome.

BSG is over

2010-11-23T11:33:00.000-08:00

I just finished the last 14 minutes of Battlestar Galactica as I ate my lunch--the last 14 minutes of the entire series. And let me tell you my friends that I am sad, sad of heart and mind. How can it be over already? What will happen to Admiral Adama without Roslin? Will the Cylons attack again? How will the humans and Cylons live together?

Rarely have I been so caught up in a series. And, sadly, I'm sure it will be a long long time before I find something as good. Thanks to Dr. W and Middlebrow for hooking me up though now you are responsible for my withdrawals.

BSG you were so frakking good!

FUN

2010-09-25T15:18:00.000-07:00

Last week we went to some U of U musical festival (aka spend lots of student fee money type event). We did not go for the event but for the middle group FUN, a group my oldest son introduced us to while we drove oh the many miles to Pacific Ocean and Redwoods. Growing to like FUN, the wife and I were IN when we found out about the concert.

Little did we know that there would be NO-body over the age of say 27 at the concert and NO-body under the age of say 18. So we were both the oldest at 40 or so and the youngest at 15 and 16 (the friend Seth took). I knew I was an outlier when they handed me a pamphlet on unintended pregnancies while waiting for a free snow cone. With three intended pregnancies completed and one vasectomy between us it didn't seem we were prime candidates for this literature. I guess we could have given one to my son and his friend-girl but we didn't want them to think of such things.

Other than feeling a bit old (yet also hip) it was a great concert. We were able to get quite close without getting down in the mosh-pit where we could see our son and friend bobbing around (their lack of age didn't scare them away from moshing). FUN was indeed very fun. An fairly new indie pop/rock band: check out their music video and other songs (especially The Gambler). And if you like come enjoy some FUN with us at The Venue on October 16th.

Surely there will be some older folks (like say 31) at the Venue, right?

shout out

2010-08-31T19:28:00.001-07:00

I rarely do this but I must I must: if you missed or if you don't read his blog, check out Signifying nothing's disc golf movie posted a couple of weeks ago. I had a full-body, all out laugh.

p.s. also watching this video might lessen any lingering anger you have about dogs or about my views concerning dogs.

An open letter to dog owners

2010-08-30T17:07:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I hate dogs. There you go. I've said it. Sorry dog lovers but it's mostly true. Sometimes it seems safer to criticize the sancrosanct halls of religion than the glorious cultural institution of dog ownership.

It's not that I hate any one dog in front of me panting or chasing a stick or one I'm petting. In fact I find dog faces and actions to be charming (except the nose-in-crotch-move), even cute. And I'm perfectly willing to put up with the nose-in-crotch or even the dog-shit-on-shoe. Unfortunately dogs also bark and whine. And this I hate.

Of course most dog owners think those annoying dogs are the other guys, but I'm pretty sure that can't be true. Those barking dogs all over must be owned by some of the people who think their dogs rarely bark. BARKING DOGS REALLY STRESS ME OUT. And this makes me wonder why people love dogs so much given that they bark, given that they know they will annoy their HUMAN neighbors, keep them up, put them on edge. How does one justify impacting 20 people who live around you so you can once in awhile walk your dog or rub his head???

Annoy isn't quite the right word though; it under-sales the annoyance. It's about more than just an annoyance. Example: Often these days I can't go out in my back yard to pick a tomato because...a stupid dog, one I've tried to make friends with no success, barks wildly at me. This makes me feel like I lost ownership of my back yard and my garden, enjoyments I deserve but are now taken away from me because someone believes owning a dog is vital to their lives.

Yet if the dog is vital why do I hear the owner yelling constantly at the dog to shut-up? I do not understand dog ownership. I simply do not. That's ok but if someone wants a dog please don't share the negative aspects of such a purchase with me, your neighbor. I didn't choose to buy a dog and I don't get any of the benefits (face licks? companionship? goofy looks we anthropomorphize?).

Nervously awaiting attacks from readers.

OR Coast and CA Redwoods

2010-08-21T19:23:00.000-07:00

2275: miles driven

7: national forests visited

2: national parks seen (Crater and Redwood)

4: state parks entered (two amazing ones just outside of Coos Bay)

3: P & B sandwiches eaten

22: couples traveling 101 with bikes heavy laden gear

Thousands: redwood trees experienced

1: redwood trees driven through

2: helpings of fish and chips

0: things left in hotels

3: things left in hotel 2 weeks ago in Cedar city

3: visits to the hot tub

1: motel dives stayed at

3: gracious, mostly curious, kid-teen travelers

2700: feet gained on hikes

9: hikes taken

4: motels/hotels stayed in

3: bike rides with the wife

80: miles cycled

1: dangerous cycle ascent and descent on highway 101 into the deliciously dark redwoods

thousands: rocks on the ocean hopped with youngest son

2: days before I must return to work

If I were sane

2010-07-31T09:46:00.000-07:00

I should really get ahead today but I won't. Instead we biked nearly 50 miles (and I think it counts for 50+ as it included the very long, steep ascent to the LDS Bountiful temple). Now will shower (yes I am sitting in my office chair and writing in my unwashed stinky cycling jersey--had to ice my hip man!), then go eat at the Buddhist Temple (yes they do have a Buddhist Temple in Layton), then eat some ice cream and berries because everything will taste delicious after our 3 hr ride this morning (one of THE reasons I exercise), then will think about reading something like the Icelandic novel HighTouch recommended but I won't because I will be so tired (or maybe I will read 2 pages before my eyes...start....to....slowly...shut), then I'm not sure what I will do--certainly it won't be of the getting-ahead nature though as by then I will be too tired to do anything worky (btw the reason I should get ahead is because the work, ah the work of grading and the hiring committee, will come crashing down on monday so if I were sane I would try to get just a little bit ahead but I won't).

The Sloughing off of desire

2010-07-11T15:13:00.000-07:00

I'm not writing in my own or reading many blogs these days. It was not a conscious decision; rather, instead, a slow sloughing of desire for inside/computer things and an increase in desire for outdoor/cycling/hiking/gardening activities.

Still, I do check into the blogging world on occasion--just read (though didn't comment) a great post from HT Mega and the Cold cold north.

Maybe I will get revved up about blogging or possibly it will fade into that distant past of "things I used to do." Either way, I am certainly glad I started a blog several years back.

It was at a crucial moment for me--negotiating and constructing an identity not tied to the rules and regs of Mormonism. But that main purpose is now less pressing and, for all my good intentions, I doubt I will every fully develop a blog for the people as some of my friends have done. Seems I am in the majority of bloggers who ebb and flow according to personal needs and circumstances; a rare blogger it is who creates a robust consistent public persona like HT Mega or Signifying Nothing.

Most of us our content with the ebb and flowing, personal rants, lists and occasional deep reflections. Which is fine too (i.e. no criticism intended). Merely interesting to note, for me, our different motivations for making our writing public. In intend no hierarchy of blogging. I could now go all scholarly here with a bit of work but I think not. If I did I might contradict the entire tenor of my post--the sloughing off of desire.

Stop the insanity

2010-06-15T19:17:00.000-07:00

I'm walking on the sidewalk in the cul de sac where I live, toward the house which has been vacant for over a year. My errand is improbable: to retrieve a political door hanger recently deposited. Walking over, barefoot with the images--the sun shaving away, the alpenglow--of Dillard's "Total Eclipse" still washing over me, I feel the calm sureness of my meditative walking of last summer. Yet deeper, I'm rattled, heart quickens remembering the charged emotions of minutes ago.

"Can I give you one of these?" a young man of maybe 20 asks approaching my swing, stepping on my grass, entering my space.

"What is it?" I ask in a friendly tone; I'm pretty sure he won't give a sales pitch as he has been quickly leaving his hangers on each door.

"Tim Bridg...."

"No, I'm not interested in that." He turns and walks to the next house.

But to my surprise I'm not through with him: "Too bad you are wasting your time on that." He walks quickly up to the next house cutting across the lawn. I watch.

When he turns to come back to the sidewalk, I heckle: "So we need someone more conservative huh? That's what we need? More business. Less concern for the everyday guy?" He does not proffer even a turn of the head.

As he moves to the next house, my boys come out from the living room, wondering about the commotion. I tell them that young man is supporting a lunatic and I won't have it on my lawn. I'm kind of grinning but their faces tell me it may be a sinister grin. The young man sneaks a quick peak back at us. I wonder what is going through his head: "another crazy liberal--should have known it with that earring" or maybe he was silently singing a hymn, a tactic learned on his LDS mission, to fight his impulse to break my face.

I almost start to chastise myself: could have talked to him...should have engaged him. But no; I'm angry and I'm not apologizing. Could have been much worse: I fantasize imagining door hangers accidentally falling to the ground, my hose unfortunately dousing them...very sorry for that.

And now I'm walking, walking barefoot with beautiful descriptions of an eclipse in my mind to retrieve these political rantings. I want to assure myself that I wasn't overreacting. I first notice "race between....business man....lawyer" then "Stop the insanity" and almost panic: "maybe it's are actually critical of the the upcoming race, the whole thing." Relieved, yet profoundly disappointed, I see it is clearly a spot for Tim Bridgewater.

When Bob Bennett isn't conservative enough to make it out of the republican caucus you know you are in trouble. I'm angry. Knew I was peeved about all this but had no idea how angry. Tired of these rich people who tell us we should stop needless wealth distribution. How could this get a guy making 30K with no insurance to vote for Tim? But it will. And that guy will feel safer at night because he will believe that spooky Obamacare won't ruin our nation now that Tim is on the job.

Imitations

2010-05-17T07:57:00.001-07:00

Why we should walk (actually meant to post this yesterday)

2010-05-07T18:00:00.001-07:00

I almost asked my wife to follow me in the van down to my local mechanic; I’m so glad I didn’t. On the short half mile walk home I was amazed at what I saw that I miss each day as I drive the same route to work: the refreshing brisk breeze, a mother goose with six tiny goslings, a enormously fat robin, the sound of a beautiful whistling bird which tellingly I do not know the name of, the presence of the wooded land somehow not developed along our neighborhood’s one and only country road.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m abundantly thankful for a cheap efficient car which moves me from place to place in comfort, but I was struck by the unseen, often unfelt price we pay if we unmindfully take advantage of this luxury.

Not grading

2010-05-07T17:57:00.000-07:00

My plan was to grade 10-15 portfolios today--I've graded exactly zero. Still, I did give detailed feedback on a student essay being submitted to a national contest and one colleague's CCCC proposal; also, I finished my own proposal to NASPA, a conference for student affairs folks. And, of course, I attended the SLCC graduation (at least most of it). The question is do I have the wherewithal, at this point, to grade at least one student portfolio??? Unfortunately, I think not.

Wordpress down

2010-04-30T10:20:00.000-07:00

and why is this important? well my students are submitting their portfolios today which are hosted on wordpress. I'm supposed to be grading--not that I was mucho excited about that as grading sucks and I'm not feeling so great either. still I feel I'm being held captive by wordpress. WORDPRESS GODS PLEASE FIX YOURSELF!!!

What to do, what to do???

*eat lunch--definitely

*keep reading new YA SF novel by corey doctorow about cyber hacking teens fighting a police state in SF--definitely

*worry about not grading and the state of wordpress--unfortunately

*read blogs and other sundry Internet material--I don't think so it makes my head hurt

*ride my bike--probably not as it is lightly snowing and my head is increasingly hurting

*write a thoughtful blog post on something--neh, I'm too tired

*clean the house/do some laundry etc--probably since the wife is working full-time for the census and I promised I'd pick up the slack

Nifty, innovative idea to have students post final portfolio in off-campus Internet site seems now kind of lame.

A most audacious request

2010-04-27T06:08:00.001-07:00

This morning I was met with a request which defies belief. I blinked several times, shook my head, and then focused carefully to see if the student was actually requesting admission to my summer class. No the student was not. Next, I rubbed my eyes and checked the date and reread carefully. Sure enough the student writes:

"I know that there is only one week or so of school left in this semester but if there was anyway I could some how add your class I would be enternaly greatful."

Yes indeed this is a student wishing to add my class with actually less than one week left of classes. The student assures me that he has already purchased all the class texts, read them and is willing to spend 10 hours day everyday until the end of the semester in order to pass. How does one respond to such a request? I have no idea. In fact I'm not even sure how I should write about it in my blog.

I could approach it through questions:

Seriously you read all of the class texts? All three novels? And all 1242 pages of our anthology?

Do you think I'm stupid?

Did you really think I'd say yes?

But this starts to sound repetitive. Instead maybe I could approach this writing task with potential challenges for the student:

If you have indeed read all 1242 pages of our anthology and all three novels, please submit by tomorrow a 30 page summary and analysis of your reading. Please include detailed references to every short story in the anthology and each chapter of every novel.

Of course I won't send either of these responses to this student. In fact I don't plan on replying at all. But I will say here, if being completely honest, that I'm quite grateful to this student. I now carry with me and will retell hundreds of times the MOST audacious student request I've every received. And for this I say, thank you.

Go forth and teach

2010-04-02T15:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I want to completely throw off the shackles and restraints of textbook teaching. I'm so absolutely tired of wadding through the dreary quasi-academic prose of textbook-talk--not too difficult for students yet learned enough to impress the profs; always the same chapters on the same topics; always the bulging move to cover enough of everything to placate everyone while not perfectly pleasing anyone.

Student clones reading textbook clones writing essay clones to turn into instructor clones.

I'm gripped by the desire to declutter my classes, to remove all SUPERtexts--all things extraneous to students engaging ideas and then writing. An intellectually honest proposal to students: We will read and write and talk and then we will help each other to see what we don't yet know and then we will work hard to learn something more. That's it.

But...I know there would be problems. I know there does not exist some idealized learning situation where all SUPERtexts are removed. I, the teacher, the prof, the one who knows and grades, will always and forever be the SUPERtext, the one who must be relied on even if she knows nothing and wants nothing to do with anything SUPER.

Still I dream, dream of time where professors and students can engage language and idea without a METAplan of action, without a proscribed set of outcomes which mean nothing in practice, without glazed stares from students only wanting a pass. Why pander to the middle, to the lower middle, in order to pretend we are all learning something in an organized and outcomy kind of way? Why create structure and detailed, self-important plans at the expense of meaning?

Because we must. Because even in the best case scenario of educational contexts, there would be failures and confusion and frustration. And if we must have failure, confusion, and frustration it must, the SUPERtext tells us, be orderly failure. Because orderly failure can masquerade as success, can be rejiggered and then sent out in the President's email to the college to prove our on-going success as THE PREMIER community college of America. Because orderly failure can be reduced to a system which needs tinkering with, which needs a few more outcome goals, a little more hard work, a bit more commitment from students.

Orderly microchange is the answer! Go forth and teach: mark papers, prepare syllabi, crack textbooks, shift the curriculum, form committees. At least this way we won't lose any students in any untoward upheaval and confusion. Certainly some students will fail and class, at times, may feel dull, but at least we have a big official book and a PLAN.

The energy of the youth

2010-03-25T09:36:00.000-07:00

I am so so so so tired. Somehow the gods of airplanes and conferences and teaching have decided to descend on me today. It's not that I don't feel good emotionally; I do. In fact I feel quite good but very very very tired.

Maybe it was the two weeks of in-person student conferences before I went to my conference in Louisville--which were wonderful but draining.

Maybe it was the having something early every morning at my conference (plus a penchant for staying up late each night to watch march madness, then read, then finally look over the conference workshops for the next day).

Maybe it is because I rushed that last week and the days before the conference to be ready for our presentation on Thursday.

Maybe it was the cop who pulled me over (ostensibly because I didn't stay in my lane and didn't allow for three seconds after signaling to change lanes) on Saturday near midnight after my long flight who then made me do the entire drunk test thing because he saw a small prescription bottle in my glove box.

Maybe it's because I took an oral steroid (which totally perked me up and allowed me to sleep less) on Monday and Tuesday for a knee-biking-injury-thing and now I am steroidless.

Maybe because today is the first day in like a month when I haven't been behind the 8 ball to get all kinds of things done--much to do but none of it is quite yet urgent.

OR Maybe it's because I am facing our taxes, a letter of recommendation, and sundry little things I've been putting off.

I'm not sure what it is, but I'm so unbelievably tired yet strangely jovial. A mood that shouldn't be, but I will take it. And later tonight I will full-out veg as I watch the NCAA tourney while I eat popcorn, make small talk with the family, and occasionally yell over quips for the oldest son's use who will probably again be defending Obama and healthcare reform on FB--ah the energy of the youth.

Off Grid

2010-02-18T08:52:00.000-08:00

He'd been down this trail before, a trail which at first passes through mountain valleys and high pine-laden passes, soaring heights and deep dark pure river waters. Beautiful. Intriguing. Meaningful. There is no end, he is tempted to believe. But later, as always, the trail comes back down into a new valley in the city, one strewn with beer bottles and broken down old buildings. He will, as in the past, try to turn around, even frantically flipping a U-turn; unfortunately he merely encounters more run-down streets as if in a maze--they have multiplied as he was traveling, seemingly filling up the space behind him even as he was moving.

On occasion he will happen to take a turn and find a park, a few trees, even a small stream; yet the mountain vistas and earlier adrenaline of steep climbs and whizzing descents will remain forever allusive, these wispy simulacra giving brief reprieve but also pangs of unfulfilled desire. Soon he will stop peering high above the buildings; his neck hurts and his soul can't afford another "almost." So soon, very soon hopefully, he will readjust his focus, averting the impossible vistas, returning instead to the two feet forever, one at a time, moving forward...or at least moving somewhere comfortably past the same familiar, peeling sign each day.

Imitation is...reality and now I will extend my arms in front of me, palms upward, wrists together. Please God, plug me back in.

Winter

2010-02-10T16:16:00.000-08:00

I think winter is almost gone, the sun has definitely been out more, the air is much less gunkier. Yet when the wind hit me as I mojoed it from car to office early this morning, winter seemed to say, Not so fast you fair weathered wimp. Ah geez, I screamed. And then there's the 38 and clouds and snowflakes on my I-google app. C'mon already--warm it up! I want 5s followed by 4s and 8s turning to 6s followed by 3s. A 6 followed by anything would be grand. Sun in my face while eating my lunch in front of MY window office, I effectively pretended there were 6s out there, 6s followed by sweet 8s.

I'm absolutely Fucked

2010-02-06T07:54:00.001-08:00

NOTICE: Not surprisingly this post contains strong language, sarcasm, full puppet nudity...wait, no, that was in the play I saw last night, hyperbole, and dark humor. If you are not up for such things (mother!!!!) then please by all means do not read another go**am word.

***

I'm absolutely Fucked

Yet realizing, fully admitting, this fact has, on this very morning, Counterintuitively given me a certain sense of peace.

Realization #1: I will have to dedicate every minute to completing the work I have in front of me until after the 4Cs conference in Louisville this March

Realization #2: This means (which is merely reiterating #1 but I'm thick skulled) I must work all weekends and all evenings without feeling sorry for myself--I chose (mostly) to be this busy and I like my work...really I do.

Realization #3: In order to work all weekends and evening (again I'm repetitive but I need it) this means I can't watch an episode of House every night or take 3 hour long snow hikes...i.e. I have to make some drastic changes.

Work to be done (Readers: this section can be skipped as it is really a process in convincing myself that I am indeed fucked and, to most, will seem a skimpy amount of labor at best):

Complete 4 Cs presentation and retention study: transcribe about 6hrs of recorded focus groups and interviews, do research, write up a draft of reports, decide with Sig-No and Antistrophe what the fuck we will say during our presentation
Read and lead book discussion on Life as we know it by M. Berube for English conference on Disability
Read Oliver Sack's amazing book on neurological disorders: The man who mistook his wife for a hat for personal book club
Finish grading first set of response papers for my SF class, grade 2nd set next week
Grade memoirs for 2010 course
Grade out midterm portfolios for all 70 students in 2010 the week before I go to Louisville--why oh why....oops I'm in no complaint mode
Review a new textbook on writing in the disciplines, one which is very thick
Submit report to TETCY on best TETYC article of 2009
Continue meeting with School curr committee which is in the throes of redefining itself
Support the Writing and social justice conference on Disability by shepherding a flock of students to submit proposals, complete their projects, and show up
Amidst all this try to respond in a timely and professional manner to the zillion student questions and inquiries which will surely come over the next 6 weeks
Continue developing English 2010 curriculum for my newly minted tech-enhanced course/ new textbook
Meet with and read carefully read work of the incredibly passionate and intelligent independent study student I'm working with

New rules and regulations governing the life of Ron:

Limit communication to children: "Do that now!" or "Do that now before I kick your ass!"
House viewing: 5 minutes per night as I do my core exercises
Sexual activity: A 3 minute quickie every week, one bonus 5 min session for following all rules and regulations for one week (will have to run this by significant other)
No silly blogging once I'm finished with this post--and don't even consider logging onto FB
Discontinue meditation and Yoga practices for 6 weeks--peace and serenity certainly won't help me get anything done!!!!
No useless conversations/emails with students about questions and concerns about assignments and their writing. New standard line: "You are so full of shit; just do you work and get back with me when you are done."
Lean Cuisine-It for all lunches--sandwiches and fruits are overrated anyways and peeling/cutting fruit is WAAAYYY too time consuming
Drive 95mph to work: this is 15 mph faster than I currently drive so that means I will travel 15 mph further each hour I drive. And since I spend about an hour driving every day that should save me... ah who the fuck knows and I don't have time to figure it out. Suffice it to say that it will save me time. P.S. I will kick it up to 105mph if I see flashing lights.
Only read and grade every other paper giving the all missed papers a B- grade--no one will notice and odds are every student will eventually get an honestly graded paper eventually

I will probably have to make other adjustments, maybe tweak a few I've listed here, but this is a good starting place. Wow, I am feeling a lot better about being totally fucked. Lots of peace. All right. Time to sign-off, time to get down to it, time to Zen-like, fully embrace me being absolutely Fucked.

An eight year old learning to chat

2010-01-20T19:32:00.000-08:00

Last week I helped Andrew set-up a gmail account...I never imagined how much fun it would be. Here are some of my favorites:

Over chat while avoiding american idol by working:

hey what you doing? american idol is almost over well see you crazy

In an email:

hi dad what are you doing . It sucks that you have school. get home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (these go on for a whole page but I figure my readers get the effect)

While I was at a performance for my oldest son he chatted me:

get home please (note that I do not have cell phone which connects to the Internet)

In another email:

stop doing your lowsy work???!!!! (note rhetorical use of combined question mark and exclamation point...what a kid)

Ending on a somber note, through these little exchanges I've realized he is often wishing that I wasn't working so much...I had no idea. My lousy work???? But Andrew I'm a teacher!!!! Somehow I don't think he will care.

Waiting on the teens

2010-01-09T22:12:00.000-08:00

I'm actually watching SNL, something I haven't done, other than off of You-Tube, for years. Why you might ask? Because I'm waiting for our almost-teen, Hana, and teenager, Seth, to get home. Alison has long been asleep so I'm on-call solo.

We don't really do this late night thing too well. Slowly chipping away at my late-night habits over the years, Alison has made 10:45pm seem late even on the weekend. I had to laugh when I read HTM's blog today where she mentioned staying up later because her 20 something son was out late. Many times we have--sorry to admit this in a public forum--fallen asleep while our teen was out and about. I guess we just suck as parents. Or maybe I just suck.

I have multiple distinct memories making a promise I am no longer keeping:

Groggily pleading out of a young parent haze, "Hon.... please... I promise. If you get up with the babies when they are you, I will stay up every weekend waiting for every one of our kids when they are teens. This is a good deal; it will just take some...."

"Ok, whatever."

"I love you...I love sweet sleep at 2am in the morning."

It seemed like a good plan at the time, but I didn't count on the fatal blow 14 yrs would have on my abilities to stay up, nor my waning worry about where they are. Well, here's my daughter, home from the movies. Should I call Seth at his friend's or simply go to sleep and figure his friend's parents will bring him home? It would be kind of fun not to call just to see how Seth would respond (while we have gone to sleep while he was out, we've never done it without a plan for his return). Would Seth worry about us? I highly doubt it. Would he come home earlyish, like midnight? Even less likely. Would he thank me in the morning for letting him stay out late? Probably.

Oh, shit guess I will go get him. Can't wait for a blast of 10 degree air. How in THE hell am I going to make it through another decade of this?

Parental Interview

2010-01-04T14:24:00.000-08:00

Sunday afternoon: Seated on the couch when the oldest son enters and sits down, placing his hands on his knees:

"So you guys know your bed squeaks, right?"

"Does it?" he says with intentional nonchalance.

"Squeaks, huh?" she says with a little apprehension.

"Yes, it does. You know (breaking into song)... 'Making love in afternoon with Celia up in my bedroom'"

Floored and turning a shade of pink he says, "Oh, I see what you are getting at."

"Just so you know. It squeaks and has for some time."

"Wow, you are really sockin' it to us, aren't you?" he says.

"Just sayin'"

Out-of-Office-Reply

2010-01-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

I was feeling pretty good about myself this morning: I'd found what I think will be a great little "memoir" piece on disability which I can use in my English 2010 courses to call attention to this year's writing conference theme on disability; also, found an online copy of "Speech sounds," a short story where a disease of some sorts has caused everyone to have a speech disability to use in my SF class to also support the writing conference theme (btw this took some searching dexterity as I had to locate the publishing history of Speech Sounds and then look up several of the books on Google books till I found one which allowed access to the story--just sayin).

And I fleshed out the first month of my new 2o10 schedule which is going to use Odell's updated textbook, now called Writing Now and my newly conceived methodology--basically, to spend more time with fewer genres allowing students to make their "choices" within each genre rather than choosing amongst genres for their final portfolio. For the non-writing teachers reading, don't worry if this last paragraph made no sense at all.

So, I was feeling pretty good about my accomplishments until I sent an email to the Writing and Social Justice committee to share the reading I found on diversity--almost everyone's email bounced back "Out of office Autoreply." WTF???!!! Seems most everyone is still partying and I'm sitting here, on the last Saturday morning of the break, working. I mean I don't even know how to set up an "Out of office" reply because I don't think I've ever been away from my email for long enough to worry about it. Is something wrong with me? Should my life, outside of my job, be more compelling so as to take me completely away from my work?

Well, I worried about these tough existential questions for about 2 seconds and then settled down to get a bit more work done. I'm done vacationing and I vacationed hard (as hard as a non-drinking dad of three can): trip to vegas with family, many xmas family engagements, chinese for xmas eve, night at the Anniversary in with my wife, lotta movies (Avatar, Blind Side, The Road, The Brother's Bloom--an excellent comedy btw, Watchmen, Valkyerie, Paper Heart--not so great), several snow/ice hikes.

So, to all those out-of-office folks, I'm officially ok to be getting some work done--it brings me peace to do some thinking about the spring, to have a foundation laid before I jump full on into work on Monday.

Let us scratch: Cameron's missed opportunity in Avatar

2009-12-25T16:44:00.000-08:00

In response to a reporter James Cameron agreed that Avatar was based on Dances with Wolves amongst other moves and then added, "It's almost comfortable for the audience – 'I know what kind of tale this is.' They're not just sitting there scratching their heads, they're enjoying it and being taken along." If only he had allowed more scratching of heads and less taking along, this would have been one of the best movies of all time.

I thoroughly enjoyed the first two-thirds of the movie. An amazingly new world and context never written about or filmed before. I could say much about the imaginative beauty of these "alien" creatures--the flying is superb, the native's cosmogony intriguing. But then the movie gives into the inevitable story arch pressure to produce purely good and evil characters battling out to the bitter end. So pathetic given the amount of money, time, and talent spent on this film. I thought up five better endings while driving the 10 minutes home from the theater--and, yes, I shared each one to my children's chagrin.

I'm still glad I saw the film because I like the questions I've been wrestling with even as the film was winding down. And ultimately I'm more interested in these big questions, than with any final evaluation of the film. Why do smart, talented people insist that a movie end in a battle to the end between the arch enemy and hero? Are these archetypal surges coursing through our veins? Or is it just laziness? Or, as the liberal conspiracy theorist wants to believe, is it the false consciousness of the masses which demand such easily digested endings?

Whatever it is, I will--hope against hope--continue to demand better. Cameron could easily have done better and still connected with the deep psyche of his audience. What a lost opportunity to truly engage the complexities of our current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. There were several allusions--shock and awe, pre-emptive war--but these are thin critiques of war because they are cast in an arena where our hero is pure goodness, our villain--the rampaging, hard-ass military commander--pure evil. It's impossible to compare the characters in Avatar to the characters playing out our own wars; real life always has an element of ambiguity, no one is pure evil.

I find it supremely ironic that those (many I think) who would disagree with my critiques of the movie would be the same who supported the war in Iraq. How can this be? I believe it is because the content--fighting native people's in their country or world--is not the real issue. The issue is seeing war as THE way to find peace. In this story arc war is the only possible option to defuse the tension and tip the scales back. Certainly there can't be any other options.

But wait. Maybe if we took a few minutes, slowed down the pace for a second, checked the escalating emotions. We have many good examples: Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke comes to mind. A similarly themed story in many ways--the native animals are under attack by the westernized and militarized industrial complex--yet the the conclusion is so different. Instead of two-dimensional evil doers we get Lady Eboshi, a woman who hires prostitutes and lepers to work in Irontown. She is not pure evil; she cares about her workers even as she works to denude the land. And our heroes are even more complex: Ashitaka, the boy-warrior, is infested with an evil curse; San, the supposed "princess mononoke," is a vicious, bloody faced girl. The traditional action ends as the "evil" men shoot the spirit of the forest--a huge elk--and take its head. Later, the head is returned in order to avoid total destruction. In the end there is both destruction and rebirth; there are no clear winners or losers, no one is demonized. And Ashitaka chooses to remain in Irontown to help rebuild it. The "answers" are complex, multilayered, human.

If only Cameron had enough confidence in his audience, enough confidence to lose a few viewers along the way. If only we, as an audience, were willing to reject simplified revisions of past injustices. I'm all for rewriting (rerighting) the past but it doesn't take much imagination to realize that a revitalized, re-envisioned, remetaphorized past requires new rules, not merely a reversal of the winners. The natives lost the battle in American history and in Cameron's world they win; yet both narrative arcs require extreme hatred, caricature, and violence in order to bring the story to a close. To steal a phrase from Donna Haraway's "Cyborg Manifesto," Avatar's ending (opposed to its compelling explorations of the embodied Avatar, the Cyborgian mix of human and alien) "generates antagonistic dualism without end (or until the world ends)," relying yet again on our Apocalyptic mythology which refuses partial/hybrid/faulty integration and paradox--all big words for the human condition.

To my students (or grading avoidance skill #123)

2009-12-18T14:20:00.001-08:00

If only I could communicate this to more of my students. At least one student got it who wrote this line in his self-assessment essay:

"Unlike my other English classes I feel that what I’ve learned in this class will stick with me outside of college classes. Prior English classes had only taught me situational writing skills where a teacher told me what I had to do."

Yes, yes, yes!!! That's why I don't tell you exactly what to do. It's not to frustrate you, it's not because I don't know how to make detailed scripted assignments, it's not because I'm lazy: it's because I want you to learn something so we can engage in something real. That's all.

Getting to the skin

2009-12-15T12:23:00.000-08:00

We end my SF course with presentations about how SF works to engage issues of diversity. One students did a most daring change of apparel, especially given he had never openly discussed his sexual orientation up to this point. See the video below (watch from 1:30; video taping not so hot). In the process the student makes a pointed criticism of diversity classes and seminars: they often create only skin-deep categories of human beings.

I have to say this is one of the best classes I've ever had. We had tough, open, dangerous conversations about gay rights, the LDS church, religion, and gender with a very mixed group of students. On the last day three students just stayed in the class even though we'd already gone over; I don't think they could quite pull themselves away from what they had created.

A better life?

2009-12-09T14:08:00.000-08:00

I wrote this last week, then forgot about it. Since I'm still trying to figure out the holidays, I thought I'd throw it out there. Maybe there are others who have similar struggles or maybe I'm alone in both longing for and yet also hating my long xmas break. Also, it's high time for a long, depressing, trying to "say something deep" post on CI--that's what I'm known for and I wouldn't dream of disappointing.

***

What does it mean to live a better life? Often when this idea is invoked it seems to me people mean "to do more." Do more stuff, be better, give more, engage more. I have my doubts about this construction of a better life. Even beyond the level of the rationalization, "Well, I must take time for me so that I will be better engaged with my kids when I'm home." To me this still says more is better. The "stuff for you" is merely a means to being more, doing more. Why can't that stuff for you be an end in itself?

I'm probably thinking about these kinds of issues because yet again I am facing another christmas break. Generally I have not faired so well on these breaks. I give lip service, "Yeah, it's great being a teacher; lots of time to read, get together with my kids..." But in reality, and this is increasing with age, a part of me dreads the break, is afraid of the inescapable struggles I have.

I generally start off a break with a zillion little goals--more hiking, more reading, more studying, more creativity, much more of the most difficult of tasks (reading theory, catching up on academic journals, difficult novels). No surprise, then, that after a few days of NOT meeting these goals, I begin to feel heavy, lethargic, miserable.

How does one short circuit such a process? I've tried many things--pretend I have no goals, but this is lie to myself; be more active; wake up early each morning maintaining a schedule; healthy winter projects like hiking and photographing the local canyons; make goals about reaching out to others.....All of these have offered some semblance of hope but have often been short-lived.

I've noticed that I often do not feel at ease with a break until I've been on break for a couple of weeks. Then I finally can settle in and enjoy it. But this is after depression, frustration, and erratic desire.

Should I do something different this break? It seems I must consider it but what and will I even follow through with it? I don't know. I've thought of the following:

*meditation each morning

*exercise daily

*at least a couple of one on one dates with each child

*retreat, maybe to the monastery in Huntsville

*do something different as a family for christmas, like a show in vegas (we are seriously considering the Fab 4 Beatles tribute vegas show for a family trip the week before christmas)

But is this merely another reiteration of the "more" cycle? Maybe it is better to do nothing, to have zero goals, no expectations--live the break one day at a time and allow myself to do whatever it is I want to fill my day. One day I might read all day; another I might watch several films; another I might do absolutely nothing. But even this list can easily become a matter of more. More reading, more films checked off my list, more of nothing which is a goal in my mediation class. Freakin goals. Stupid goals. If only I could focus on doing "differently" instead of doing "more."

Yet...god I have no idea but I know that already I suffer in advance for the "wonderful" vacation I will start in a few weeks. I might be better off working at the local maverick or the mall selling something in one of those kiosks--maybe some lotion or beanies. Wait, I hate malls. But while I might hate it, at least I'd keep busy and have some extra money in the end. Reasoning: I will probably get down no matter what I do so why not do something that I can measure with dollars? Oh hell, I'm back to more.

One day on the wagon

2009-11-27T09:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I took a break from the Internet and learned the following:

1. I got much more reading done--reading by the fire sans laptop was peaceful, even idyllic.

2. Much harder than I imagined: many times I caught myself, without explicitly thinking about it, wandering in my office to check email or the Netflix queue or....

3. How much I miss having 4 or 5 books out all at once, reading some from one, then another: intertextual connection equals paper-textual bliss.

4. How much I miss reading BOOKS with pages I feel and turn with my hand, books I write in, books I caress

5. Felt strangely disconnected from all my Internet friends--what if someone emailed me? what if someone posted a comment on my recent FB update? (which many people did, which I saw on my sister's laptop at Thanksgiving because she had posted a comment on my update, at which point I had to tear myself away so as to not check FB) what if someone made a nifty Thanksgiving post I should be paying attention to? what if my Netflix queque is out of order and they send me some movie I don't want? what about this thing I'm reading about (like the reference to Sir Gawain and the loathely lady in Kabat-Zinn's book on parenting) that I need to Google?

6. How my ideas for blog posts, FB updates soars, and ideas I want to email to others when I know I am forbidden from being online

7. That make-up online-connection is almost as good as make-up sex--I've had an orgasmic flow of online energy all morning.

8. That even with a day off and the euphoria of make-up connection this morning, I still feel a wee bit guilty about the two hours lost with my electronic mistress.

The happiest man in the world

2009-11-18T15:53:00.000-08:00

In articulating his sense of what happiness Matthieu Ricard (a French scientist who become a monk), a renowned Buddhist monk, says:

"And also, [mere pleasure is] something that basically doesn't radiate to others, you can experience pleasure at the cost of other's suffering. So it's very vulnerable to the change of other circumstances. It doesn't help you to face the other circumstances better. Now, if we think of happiness as a way of being, a way of being that give (sic) you the resources to deal with the ups and downs of life, that pervades all the emotional state (sic), including sadness."

I was struck by his notion of happiness as a way of being and a resource, one that pervades all emotional states. From this perspective our traditional ideas of happiness are turned on their head. Instead it's the overriding emotion of well-being which supports and allows most other emotions and actions; it's not a fleeting state we strive for, a bliss we hope to keep a hold of as long as possible.

A further discussion of this can be found on NPR's Speaking of Faith, "The 'happiest' man in the world."

Coetzee Serrendipity

2009-11-14T13:30:00.001-08:00

I'm reading a compelling novel, Slow Man, by J.M. Coetzee: how is it that I missed this genius of writer, who won the Nobel Prize for lit in 2003, until now? No idea.

Disturbingly enough, I had Elizabeth Costello, another one of his novels (side note: the character of Elizabeth plays a major role in his novel Slow Man) sitting on my shelf for several years until my father-in-law picked it off the shelf while passing through to Alpine, read it in two days, returned it, and proclaimed he was going to read all of Coetzee's stuff. How many times did I hunt for a good book and not even give a second glance to this novel? Further I do not have any recollection where I got the book from.

I'm also going to read everything he has. And, for those who are lucky enough to be English college teachers, his books are Penguins which means you can get them for free.

Hell House

2009-11-09T06:45:00.000-08:00

Finally I'd gotten around to updating the many podcasts (TAL, Fresh, TBK, TOF) I have not been listening to over the last two months and amazingly enough I was actually listening to a recent episode of This American Life (TAL) when I heard this:

It's fun to make hell on earth...

A Columbine reenactment with real guns....

At the tryout: "I want to play the abortion girl." (turns out everyone wants to play the "bad" guys)...

In one scene:

"Do you believe in God?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe in God?"

"Yes," she says screaming for her life as he points a gun at her head.

"Why?" and then he shoots her...

At the awards ceremony for Hell House actors: "I want to thank my rapists."

***

As the documentary film makers ask, who are the good church going adults who sponsor this event?

To steal a phrase from HighTouch's recent blog post and put it in a much darker context, a little piece of me died hearing this story. I was stunned at the inanity of it all, stunned that people would create such "theater" for young teenagers in order to convert them, stunned they didn't see how they were inviting the very things they say they are against, stunned that humanity could stoop so very low.

Even now, writing/reflecting/re-listening to the episode, I'm incredulous--surely well-meaning adults did not subject their teens to this in the name of a God? Unfortunately it seems to they did.

Old man

2009-10-07T03:36:00.000-07:00

Finally my oldest son and I met toe to toe in the only arena open to such a meeting: The unofficial Adam's Canyon sprint to the waterfall.

We warmed up, we stretched, we checked out the competition (that would be each other), and we were off. After the long stretch of steep switchbacks I had a slight lead because said son was too proud to speed walk the steepest hills instead of running them, "Efficiency the old man cried."

About half way up (it's about 2.5 miles) I remembered I hadn't stretch my back so I stopped briefly, son passed me a got a lead. When I caught back up to him, after much suffering given the stretching caused my back to seize up, he said:

"Old man you're killing me."

And that made all the pain worth it, even pleasurable.

Cyclist on freeway: This really happened

2009-09-26T07:25:00.000-07:00

As we were driving on I-15 into SLC last night to see Jim Gaffigan, we saw a cyclist riding on the side of the freeway. In of itself this is strange and crazy and, actually, illegal but not worthy of a CI blog post.

Thankfully there were other details which made this experience post-worthy: he was only riding on his back tire (doing a wheelie) AND, holy shit I still can't believe this, adjusting something on his front wheel while riding down said freeway, while riding a continuous wheelie, while riding about a foot away from cars passing at 85mph.

I did a triple take as we passed him. I'm still stunned, still wondering if we didn't enter some sort of carnavalesque imaginary world for a few seconds. Now I have a small inkling of what it must have felt like to look up in 1974 and see Phillipe Petit crossing that thin wire between the Twin Towers. Must have been magical, hilarious, incredible.

The written language

2009-09-23T06:14:00.000-07:00

Attempting to help my son switch his new watch from military to regular time, I found these very clear and concise instructions concerning the 12/24 hour reversal option:

"You have the possibility to change from 12 to 24 hour system, when adjusting the hours of the normal time one after the other the hours are displayed in the 12 hour system, then in the 24 hour system and then again the 12 hour system, i.e., please push S2 so many times, that the hour is displayed in the required system."

Well, it is now absolutely crystal clear what I need to do.

Thing 1 and Thing 2

2009-09-05T12:29:00.000-07:00

I have this Thing and this other Thing—Thing 1 and Thing 2. Thing 1 is absolutely necessary but Thing 2 merely costs lots of money.

What should I feel toward Thing 3? I’ve had it since I was 14; it was my grandfather’s but I never knew my grandfather and would gladly give up Thing 3 to speak with him for a few minutes. Thing 4 has passed from one office move to the other since my very first teaching job—that’s six moves—yet I’m unsure I’ve ever used Thing 4.

Fuck Thing 2; I don’t care how much it cost—to the garbage it goes.

All my Things are just Things. They don’t breathe or think but it seems I hope many of them will remind me of my own breathing and living. Thing 5 I got during our family trip to San Francisco; what a lousy reminder of that amazing trip.

Why so many goddamn Things? I can’t keep track of my Things. When I want to use Thing 6, it’s never around; instead I make do with Thing 23 but it’s not really my size. I start to fill suffocated by Things, things over here, in there, on the cabinet, in the garage—too too many Things!

But I do like Things; in fact I like my neighbors’ Things and Things in stores much more than my Things; unfortunately even when I adore a Thing someone else owns, its glimmer wanes as soon as it nestles amongst my Things.

I just got a new office and decided to fill it with a few Things as a commemoration of my window and my commitment to this office. I saw the Things colleagues had in their offices; many smart things. Andrea had pretty, rich matching Things but I’d never figure out such a complex layout of Things; another had intellectual old Things but he also has a degree from Yale. I want those Things, I said, so when I happened to be in Walmart (a very rare thing indeed) I decided to hunt for some Things. But before I made it through the front door I was tired and hot; I pushed on but once inside the King of Things, I was overwhelmed by Things. Why would people by such stupid freakin’ Things? I look at lamp Things but I think I want a lamp Thing from Ikea—not the king of Things but much better to say I bought an office Thing from Ikea than Walmart. But soon the new Things I buy will seem old a wary, Things I no longer want.

What is left when we have no Things? We are alone in a thing, yet alone without our things. Are we a thing or something more? I want Things to mean.

A Thing goes up, a Thing goes down. I pick a Thing up and save it; I throw another Thing away, yet that other Thing I caress and save never to revisit the Thing again. Things will haunt me till death and then my children will fight and scream over my Things. Sometimes I wish I owned no Things at all.

Guess who finally got into Cs?

2009-09-04T08:02:00.000-07:00

That'd be ME with my two wonderful colleagues: Antistrophe and Signifying nothing. I have been part of a proposal for 4Cs (a major composition conference) every year for the last 6 years.

I tried many combinations: submitted with two new SLCC colleagues, Middlebrow and The cold cold north; submitted again with Middlebrow but brought in the experieinced 4C's ringer, Hightoughmegastore; submitted alone with little collegial feedback; several times had experienced colleagues read over and help rewrite proposal.

Finally this one stuck. And amazingly a fellow greeny (Antistrophe), as they say in the Mormon mission field, and I planned it out and I headed up the actual writing. Also thanks goes to Signifying nothing who, very last minute, allowed us to use his star-studded writing center presence to round out our panel and hooked me up with solid writing center research.

Somehow I feel like I've arrived. I know it's silly but indulge me. So many revisions of the proposal and it was our (Antistrophe's and mine) writing, not writing majorily tweaked by my more experienced, mentoring colleagues. Of course without said mentoring, I would never have arrived at such great heights. After the presentation I will be ready to die and go to heaven; my work will be done on earth.

p.s. if you have inside information that the committee accepted the proposal because they somehow found out Signifying nothing, the world leader of student writing centers, was on the proposal OR because our issue--student retention and writing--is a hot issue this year, keep it to yourself. I want to believe I've arrived.

Summer Vacations

2009-08-14T07:48:00.000-07:00

We spent this week in Colorado Springs. Certainly satisfying to pull off this trip as the idea came to us in 2004 while in CS when I ran the Pikes Peak Ascent, a gruelling 13 mile jaunt up to 14k elevation. The surrounding area seemed a perfect spot for a family vacation.

Here are the highlights:

Thrilling drive on the highest highway in the US up over the Rockies and across the continental divide
Amazing rock formations at Garden of the Gods (and it's free!)
Amusement park-like experience of a waterfall at 7 Falls
Great variety of eating experiences: local mexican place in Craig where the whole family ate fajitas for 25 bucks; old-style Italian in CS where the decour had certainly not changed in 50 yrs; grass-fed beef at Conway's Redtop burger joint--a step back into the 70s; and finally a little Hunan Chinese place in Evanston.
A hike to Barr Camp--actually a mile past it--on the famous Barr Trail up Pike's Peak with oldest son: 16 miles round trip. The only negative is that running several miles downhill has totally trashed my legs.
Lots of talk time with the kids--I love how trips create close-quarter situations which switch up the normal family relationships. We laughed at all kinds of things and enjoyed each of child's unique personality, something that seems to come out more on a trip like this.

Near catastrophes:

Lost brakes just outside of Craig, CO but it worked out--no crash and a local guy in a tiny station fixed it the next morning (note: Craig is a rather ugly town, almost impossible to walk anywhere)

Vacations with older kids have several advantages (and some disadvantages I won't mention): less fighting, more willingness to try new foods, easier to do difficult hikes, and when tired of them you can send them to the pool for some alone time.

Next year's trip: Grand Canyon or Highway 101 to see coastal redwoods

Born to run

2009-08-03T07:52:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Middlebrow and Dr. Write I started reading Born to run in earnest over the weekend. What an amazing book. So many things to like--exploration of the strangely exotic Tarahumara Indians, splendid little bios with juicy details on my ultramarathon heroes [a rush to hear details about events that I witnessed--the three Tarahumara Indians I saw racing the Wasatch 100 while helping at an aid station, Ann Trason who I saw while pacing someone at Wasatch) great writing, AND some kick ass passages, the kind you read and then kind of sit up, "Did he really just say that?"

For example McDougall describes the contrast between Scott Jurek (multi winner of the Western States 100--most popular/lucrative 100 in the states) and Mike Sweeney (a Badwater top runner--a 135 mile race in Death Valley) who are currently, in the story, running the Badwater race:

"Mike Sweeny was leading the field...Sweeney's crew was operating beautifully. As pacers, he had three elite ultrarunners, including a fellow H.U.R.T. 100 champion, Luis Escobar. As nutritionist, he had the perfectly named Sunny Blende, a beautiful endurance-sports specialist who not only monitored his calories, but hoisted her top and flashed her breasts whenever she felt Sweeney needed perking up."

I had to stop right there and share this passage with my wife. It's just too good to be true--Sunny Blende the nutritionist--and it's filled with the little details that make a story interesting. OR I merely liked it because the thought of a beautiful woman flashing her breasts at me at the end of a race sounded amazingly appealing.

Not to be beat, the next paragraph was another doozy:

"Team Jerker [they called Scott Jurek Jerker as a kid in part because he was so slow--he certainly got the last laugh] wasn't quite as well oiled. One of Scott's pacers was fanning him with a sweatshirt, unaware that Scott was too exhausted to complain that the zipper was slashing his back. Scott's wife and his best friend, meanwhile, were at each other's throats. Dusty was annoyed by the way Leah kept trying to motivate Scott by giving him fake pacing splits, while Leah wasn't too pleased with Dusty's habit of calling her husband a fucking pussy."

Shortly after this Scott starts to shake and vomit; he even takes time out to bathe in a giant cooler of ice. Still he winds up winning the race.

Lesson learned: A carrot, in this case breasts, is actually not nearly as effective motivation as a big stick in the form of crude playground taunting.

Mission accomplished: HP I thru HP VII

2009-07-29T19:34:00.000-07:00

Today we finished the entired HP series. I can't exactly remember when we started reading but it I believe it was either last summer or at the beginning of the school year 08-09. By the numbers:

4224 pages
7 books
6 AR tests--Andrew passed them all and surpassed his AR goal every term (he already asked if he should take a test on book #7 next yr)
countless hours reading
203 threats exactly: "if you don't hurry and get your teeth brushed, no Harry Potter" (How ever will I replace this threat?)
several reading marathons when we hit exciting sections
Many favorite memories: explaining snogging, various discussions attempting to figure out Snape's allegiance, talking about how much we loved the series

Reward for reading to the end: the much anticipated photo of my left ear (unfortunately it's not a great photo, but hey you get what you get). BTW I'm open to suggestions on what type of earring I should put in after my stud wearing time is over--stud! see I told everyone earrings were for men.

Going to Satan II: Responses to my earring

2009-07-21T13:12:00.001-07:00

Youngest son: Why did you do that? You are a boy.

Me: You do know lots of men have earrings.

Youngest son: I know but that doesn't mean you had to get one.

Sister: Are you going through a midlife crisis?

Mom: Why would you go and do something like that? You fool!

Wife: Shit, he actually did it (after she saw the piercing solution and earrings on the counter I'd intentionally left out so she could work through any issues before I got home from work--she'd been out of town)

Oldest son: Reaching up to pull it out, "You didn't. Come on. That's not real."

Daughter: What's that in your ear?

Me: an earring

Daughter: Why did you do that?

Me: I like the look.

Daughter: No you didn't.

Just about everyboy else: silence and nervous eye twitches looking away from ear

Going to Satan

2009-07-20T19:43:00.000-07:00

I stayed home from church yesterday so I could hit the grocery store and cook some lunch (ok, and so I could watch the Tour de France). As it is hard to prepare a mostly vegetarian meal, I was still preparing when the family got home. Immediately Andrew, our 8 year old, started in on me:

"Dad I'm worried about you. Didn't you used to teach that class in church?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you don't go to church very much anymore."

"Nope I don't."

"We talked about it today. If you don't go to church you will go to Satan."

"Oh, really. Where did you learn that?"

"In primary."

"Hmm."

"Yeah, you need to go to church so you don't go to Satan."

"Do you think I'm a good person?"

"Sure dad. I love you more than anything."

"Thanks. I think I will be all right then."

Biking the Legacy Parkway

2009-07-18T13:10:00.000-07:00

This year I bought my then 7 year old a $250 bike, something many think crazy. But I knew I'd want him on a good bike this year. Why? Because I knew he was willing to do what he did yesterday: wake up at 6am and pound out near 20 miles on the Legacy bike trail.

Here's take off at the Frontrunner Lagoon station:

Here's our first little break after about 7 miles:

And here's my cool looking self:

And here's a strange sight--cowboys and cyclists chattin it up:

Andrew liked the tunnels:

All and all a great little Friday morning ride. Only one tiny struggle in the last mile or so when Andrew's butt started to hurt him a bit, but he pushed it to the very end.

Our next cycling challenge? I'm not sure. He's in that in-between stage where he needs quite a bit for a challenge (maybe we will come back here and do the entire trail which would be about 25 miles) but where he can't really do true mt biking quite yet. We did a few miles on Antelope island which was a bit frustrating for him (the sand and long hills); still a good experience.

Soon, maybe this summer, I will take him on a short slightly downhill single track by Snowbasin. Probably should wait till next yr as I always tend to overestimate skill level--just ask my oldest son.

Two bits for magpie heads

2009-07-01T07:05:00.000-07:00

I love birds but I'm speedily going back to my childhood hatred of magpies. For whatever reason it seems our cul de sac has been invaded by these loud, ugly birds. I understand they are smart; I understand they are one of God's creature, but good hell could they shut up? And talk about agressiveness--I've seen them taking on our cats on several occasions. Magpies 3, Cats 0.

I find myself pining for the good ole days my dad has often described to me when the farmers would pay them two bits (that's a quarter for you unschooled in rural money talk) for every magpie shot.

Just for today, let me forget all that environmental, nature loving rhetoric--give me a gun and bless me with good aim.

Misc reviews

2009-06-18T13:12:00.001-07:00

Smart People (Dennis Quaid, Sarah Jessica Parker, Thomas Hayden Church, Ellen Page)

Wow, I stumbled upon this on the Netflix "watch now" online section. Just looking for a comedy the wife might enjoy, but got much more. I throroughly enjoyed this "romantic-comedy" which dared to show some real pain and confusion between the characters. Not only did we get authentic pain and confusion, making me feel physically uncomfortable for a brief moment, but many other qualities you rarely see in a comedy: the protagontist, Quaid's character, in full messy beard, is never completely likeable yet still I cheer for him; they paint Parker up to look less beautiful; Ellen Page gets drunk and kisses her 40 something adopted uncle which doesn't turn sexual; Church is brilliantly repugnant and cuddly.

Slumdog Millionaire

As always wishing I'd seen it earlier while everyone was discussing it but this will have to do. Luckily I waited for my teenage son to catch up to me and then we finished it together--we both will remember this one. Solid movie but I do understand some of the criticisms about the unrealistic nature of the film which was strangely highlighted with the singing and dancing in the streets and airport after it was over. Unimportant item I loved: the announcer's pronunciation of "Who wants to be a Millinare"--I smiled everytime.

Kent Haruf's Where we once belonged.

I love Haruf; his characterization of the Mcpheron brothers in Plainsong and Eventide was superb. And I quite enjoyed this book too, but the ending tore my fucking heart out. I generally do not bemoan depressing books or endings; still this one caught me off-guard. I get it intellectually--the book is about a town football hero who has always taken advantage of the townspeople and so it must end with him reeking havoc to illustrate the sins of the town. But, man oh man, it hurt. Maybe, in my somewhat depressed state I just couldn't face the reality Haruf left me with.

Why I hate graduations

2009-06-05T11:53:00.000-07:00

Because they ask you to condense your experience (often years of experiences) into an hour and FEEL it: are you feeling it?

Because they are always caught up with flag waving and thanking our military for our peace—go tell the Iraqis about your fuckin peace. And, btw, what the hell does this have to do with a group of sixth graders moving onto junior high?

Because there is forced kitschy consensus

Because they bring the worst out in many people—a hyper uni-focus on their kid/grandkid, dads tripping over each other to get the right photos with video cams recording every precious moment, and that galling look of pride

Because they always seem to highlight the same kinds of kids: either the talented and extroverted who need no attention OR the sympathy cases like the girl with cancer asked last minute to sing in a trio even though she can’t sing

Because they package life into beginnings and endings, the big events where we pat ourselves and others on the back—of course life is actually a long day to day process with few endings and none we really choose

And lastly because they continue to multiply exponentially—kindergarten graduation, 6th grade graduation with pomp and circumstance and diplomas, one week music camp graduation with trophies, first level piano graduation with graduation photos…

Whew, I'm glad I got that off my chest--lots of downright nasty, pessimistic, cynical feelings on my part. Now I will be ready to face the next kid graduation when it comes. Thanks.

With my luck they will institute "Summer graduation" to start off the new year for all those children who successfully made it through the summer without their parents killing them. They can give awards to any child who did anything other than watch TV and play video games: like eat a veggie, make a bed, fold clothes, read a book, write a poem... And, if the budget allows, they can offer pins to any child who made it to Lagoon more than three times. And trophies, yes trophies, for children who made it up before 9am on 10 or more mornings.

The possibilities are limitless; our futures are so bright with glorious graduations on all the horizons.

Whiplash

2009-05-15T09:07:00.000-07:00

A strange new set of duties has infiltrated my life. After spending a couple of weeks totally focused on work (grading papers, revising a journal article, writing a conference proposal) I now find myself making french toast for breakfast, running youngest to the dentist, calling the plumber, making up a sauce for barbecue ribs while helping my daughter finish her math.

It's an odd, whiplash kind of shift but it's good. It's good to slow down, fitting my life into the patterns of my children and wife; it's good to speed up, less time to think and analyze.

Well, off to take Hana to school--she put her foot down on attending gym for the last month (it's on Friday mornings) and we just couldn't care enough to fight her. She also won't walk: "Dad, there won't be a crossing guard!" she says in near hysteria.

Crossing guards seem like good idea, of course, but now my almost 12 year old daughter doesn't dare cross the road without one. Always costs and benefits.

A family home evening on sex

2009-04-29T19:06:00.000-07:00

I think my last long post either was incomprehensible or was merely too long. Either way, I better move it down the line and post something new.

As a parent I've rarely nailed it but on Monday, during our unconventional Mormon family home evening, I think I did just that.

I'd been stewing (in a good way) about finding a way to open up more honest discussion about sex with our two oldest children, one teen and one soon-to-be teen. While listening to a great new podcast Middlebrow introduced me to (To the best of our knowledge), I heard a short piece on teens from David Bainbridge's A Natural History of Teens. It seemed the perfect little piece to break the ice on the sex discussion.

And it worked. Of course what made the discussion amazing were my two great kids. They were authentic, unembarrassed, forthright. The discussion was great. Our 11-year old daughter, often very quiet, had many specific questions tied to particular experiences with friends. If anyone has ever doubted this, my daughter's questions confirmed that kids are hearing all kinds of things and there is no way parents can hide them from the "evils" of sexuality.

It was one of the moments which represented to me what I always thought parenting could be, what I imagined it might be if I were lucky. Just thinking about it gives me hope in the next generation, in their ability to learn, think, and question.

p.s. my son came home tonight full of vigor since he had questioned his old-school health teacher repeatedly as the teacher tried to present strict gender stereotypes. He said he was shaking but would continue to express his views even if the teacher retaliated--gotta love that kid. He showed me the gender chart--more awful than I could have imagine. One of my favorites which reifies stereotypes I thought were nearly dead:

Males: Has the greater tendency to press the "pedal to the metal"

Females: Has the greater ability to stop the engine before it overheats

Good God almighty! We are still telling women they must be the ones to say no and that men can't control themselves.

And, according to his little chart, men focus on reproductive organs and women focus on the whole person. Please,

Unwanted disgust

2009-04-28T20:22:00.000-07:00

Awhile ago I was working with a student who seems to be transitioning from a man into a woman—I’m not certain. Others clearly have the same questions as I since many people kept staring. At one point another student blatantly continued to stare so I stared back even though “Faith” didn’t seem to notice either of us. It made me angry that the student was staring, even though I knew damn well I would have been sneaking peaks (though probably not staring) at Faith had I been seated where the student was.

After working with “Faith” I must admit that I had a strong desire to wash my hands; kind of perplexing since I’m not very germ wary. I tried to fight the feeling, recognizing it as irrational, but I couldn’t shake it. I gave in and washed my hands even as I was disgusted with myself. Biology or….something, at least, runs deep.

The experience reminds me of Ursula Le Guin’s Sci-Fi novel, Left hand of Darkness, where Genly Ai, an early explorer on Gethen, finds himself overwhelmed on many occasions as he tries to negotiate with the Gethenians who do not have gender as we know it. Instead they are, in some ways, sexless except for a couple of days a month which they call kemmer, where they move towards one gender or the other for mating. Not only does Genly struggle to communicate with the Gethenians because he does not know whether to use tactics for a male or female, but he also, even after a year or so, has a level of abhorrence. Twice he has an opportunity to see kemmer up close and personal and, even, to engage in sex with a Gethenian.

First, on a truck where they are prisoners and naked: a young “girl” is in kemmer and desperately needs to mate (as kemmer is similar to being in heat) but he can’t even look at her: “I saw the girl, a filth, pretty, stupid, weary girl looking up into my face as she talked, smiling timidly, looking for solace . . . The one time any one of them asked anything of me, and I couldn’t’ give it. I got up and went to the window slit as if for air and a look out, and did not come back to my place for a long time” (171).

Second, while crossing Dobrin ice with Estraven, the only true Gethenian friend he has made. They’ve been traveling on the ice for weeks when Estraven enters kemmer. Genly reflects: “We were both silent for a little, and then he looked at me with a direct, gentle gaze. His face in the reddish light was as soft, as vulnerable, as remote as the face of a woman who looks at your out of her thoughts and does not speak.

And I saw then again, and for good, what I had always been afraid to see, and had pretended not to see in him: that he was a woman as well as a man. Any need to explain the sources of that fear vanished with the fear; what I was left with was, at last, acceptance of him as he was. Until then I had rejected him, refused him his own reality. He had been quite right to say that he, the only person on Gethen who trusted me, was the only Gethenian I distrusted. For he was the only one who had entirely accepted me as a human being: who had liked me personally and given me entire personal loyalty, and who therefore had demanded of me an equal degree of recognition, of acceptance. I had not been willing to give it. I had been afraid to give it. I had not wanted to give my trust, my friendship to a man who was a woman, a woman who was a man.” Later Estraven warns Genly not to touch him during the kemmer phase.

I’m not suggesting that Genly should have had sex in either situation but maybe…maybe it could have transcended difference, or maybe, as Genly suggest, it would have merely reminded them of their difference, of their alien natures. More importantly Le Guin’s imaginative “What ifs” concerning gender creates situations where we can more fully explore our utter reliance on strict, clean definitions of gender. I guess this isn’t very surprising—gender is a powerful biological and social construct. But it is, even biologically, to a degree a construct. That is biological gender is not nearly as clear cut as we want it to be and doesn’t necessarily have to mean what we assume it must. Somehow we will need to move beyond this biological response of disgust. Without moving beyond, we will continue to have people, like the man in Lebanon I heard interviewed on NPR who said “I hate gay people; they are disgusting and evil. They will tear down the fabric of our society.”

Generally I don’t see any relation between myself and a someone speaking such vitriolic bullshit but somewhere, deep down in my biology, there is revulsion and disgust I can’t quite come to terms with.

"Seth is a sexy beast"

2009-04-21T07:48:00.000-07:00

I've been working on a post about breasts, but it may be a rhetorical challenge too risky for even Counterintuitive. Instead, on a lighter note (breasts are a serious issue for me), I'm trying to figure out how it is that my I-Pod is named "Seth is a Sexy Beast." Here's how it went down:

1. My son, Seth, got a Nano I-pod from grandma before we really understood I-Pods

2. Said Nano, early on, got mysteriously bent which caused a few minor malfunctions at times

3. Said bent created a plethora of complaints and deep remorse from son

4. Said complaints drove me to distraction

5. A year or so later I purchased a Nano, the new ones which can play videos

6. Said new Nano made son jealous but I didn't care

7. A year later, trying to get some work done (ok maybe I was blogging) and get him to stop bothering me about how he couldn't play videos on his I-Pod, I finally relented: "Yeah, whatever, I will trad you as long as you put my music on yours and you make me an excercise playlist of rockin songs." (I'd yet to make a playlist because I suck and spend most my I-Pod time downloading podcasts)

8. And now I have an I-Pod which is called "Seth is a Sexy Beast"

9. Unforseen benefits of son taking advantage of me: I can see the screen on this I-Pod with my
cycling sun glasses and I can change songs with gloves (most of my I-Pod use occurs with my rear in a cycling seat), neither of which I could do with the newer, "improved" one.

10. I know I could change the name with a click, but I kind of like it, makes me chuckle everytime I see it and it reminds me of how much I really like my son.

The Last Baptism

2009-04-10T19:18:00.001-07:00

A year ago I got so stressed about how to handle my youngest son's baptism that I couldn't get to sleep multiple times.

I worked through it which is good since the baptism is tomorrow. I came to terms with the paradox and contradictions with one key insight: I love my son and know he will be comforted by me baptizing him. It's that simple.

Now if I could only find a priesthood manual to check on the wording of the baptismal prayer. Seems I got rid of all those manuals. Lucky I have the Internet.

Taxes done

2009-04-08T07:45:00.001-07:00

By the numbers

1300 amount of federal refund (must decrease amount of money coming out)

267 amount owed to state

16 times I praised TurboTax

17 times I uttered "Fuck" under my breadth

1 stamp used

1 envelop used (I no longer understand how these work)

23 times I had to get up a look for some number or form

3 days to complete (not continuous of course)

10 days between completed taxes and actually printing payment coupon and sending in money to the state

26 times I reminded myself to send in state payment before I actually did it

1 utterance of joy--yipeee!!!!

Reading Life

2009-04-03T08:06:00.000-07:00

I heard Andrew Solomon interviewed a couple of weeks ago on NPR. The honesty and accuracy by which he discussed depression took me aback. I got to thinking that strangely I have never read any book directly addressing depression. Strange because I use reading to understand myself and what I think. I've read books about just about everything which makes up me and my life. Yet, I've never read anything on depression even though at times I've suffered from depression. So, I ordered his "definitive" book on depression: "The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression." I could do without the "an atlas" in the title and I would rather not know he attended Jesus college (he also graduated from Yale) but I'm going to give it a go. Here's an early passage which draws an insightful connection between love and depression:

"Depression is the flaw in love. To be creatures who love, we must be creatures who can despair at what we lose, and depression is the mechanism of that despair. When it comes, it degrades one's self and ultimately eclipses the capacity to give or receive affection. It is the aloneness within us made manifest, and it destroys not only connection to others but also the ability to be peacefully alone with oneself. Love, though it is no prophylactic against depression, is what cushions the mind and protects it from itself. Medications and psychotherapy can renew that protection, making it easier to love and be loved, and that is why they work. In good spirits, some love themselves and some love others and some love work and some love God: any of these passions can furnish that vital sense of purpose that is the opposite of depression. Love forsakes us from time to time, and we forsake love. In depression, the meaninglessness of every enterprise and every emotion, the meaninglessness of life itself, becomes self-evident. The only feeling left in this loveless state is insignificance."

I want to remember that love "cushions the mind and protects it from itself." I love the mind, the intellect, but the more living I do I'm convinced it needs to be protected against its extremes.

Do you know what girls look like down there?

2009-04-02T14:18:00.000-07:00

One post in March? Pathetic! I have reasons but I won't whine here; well, at least not too much.

I meant to blog about this conversation with my youngest (just turned 8) son:

son: Dad, do you know what girls look like down there?

dad: Umm, yeah, umm, why do you ask?

son: (lots of laughing)

dad: umm, what got you thinking about that?

son: her friend (pointing to 11yr old sister) showed me a picture.

dad: oh, really. Umm, what kind of picture?

son: ya know in that one book, that one about girls.

dad: oh (sudden relief) the one about maturation.

(pause)

son: Dad?

dad: yeah?

son: it was my bestest dream in the world to know what girls looked like down there.

dad: well, I can understand that....

An unwinnable argument

2009-03-18T18:24:00.001-07:00

On homosexuality:

B: I think they are like sexual addicts. They just need to stop doing acts that are immoral.

A: Don't you think that's unfair to say homosexuals have to give up sex? Could you do that?

B: Absolutely. I mean I could do without all that down there (points to what most would define as an erogenous zone) anyways. I'd be perfectly happy to live celibate. I've already got my kids.

Grading to the Beatles

2009-02-25T17:18:00.000-08:00

I'm grading papers (well I was) and can hear my 14 year old son playing the Beatles' "Let it be" on the piano and singing along. He's been working on it for a couple of days. Hearing him tears me up, somehow a symbolic representation of the hard work and sacrifice we've made over the years to raise him. And I don't mean some sort of reward for all the music lessons and money on drums sets etc. Instead that hearing him play confirms his individuality and separation from me: he is Seth, a budding adult, someone who will go off and do his thing out in the world. Beautiful.

Living Room Make-Over

2009-02-15T08:58:00.000-08:00

The images below tell part of the story but leave out one crucial detail: Alison, home remodler extraordinaire. This was her idea; her vision; her planning; her kick to my butt; her sweat, toil, and many hours painting, caulking, and moving me along.

Are we sure we want to do this??

Shit, I hope we can put this back together again.

How to get down the rest of these cinder blocks...they all came at once and just about crashed into our basement.

Two truckloads later we are done; if I see another brick, I will puke.

Hey, this looks like something. Thanks to John our contractor: the man with the know-how and the patience to talk through each detail.

How do you like that?

A Mantel! Sweet relief.

A few early knick knacks

For the love of story

2009-02-14T19:32:00.000-08:00

Over the last couple of weeks and especially on weekends, I've renewed my love for story without worrying so much about big ideas and lofty style. Over the last year the youngest son and I have worked through Harry Potter 1-3--now we are on 4 and picking up the pace because the plotting is exquisite. On my own I've been reading Stephen King's The Stand. The plot is good here too but it's the characters I love. If you've read it, you know there are like 1,000 (ok 100) characters rapidly introduced chapter after chapter. I fall for just about each one: Larry Underwood the selfish recent rock star, Fran Goldsmith the pregnant girl who has to bury her father, Nick Andros the deaf-mute boy who becomes the default sheriff... Amazing.

After having worked through many important books, it's nice to get sucked into a book, plot, character and line. In other words, as Stephen King put it while praising JK Rowling in a review of the HP series,"if the field is left to a bunch of intellectual Muggles who believe the traditional novel is dead, they'll kill the damn thing."

Counterintuitive note of the week

2009-02-01T07:35:00.000-08:00

I always intended this to be part of my blog, but I've failed miserably. Today I make up for my inattention with a counterintuitive note that will leave males scratching their head and females shaken to the core. Are you ready?

In a recent study on sexual arousal they found that females were sexually aroused by every kind of porn imaginable (heterosexual, men w/ men, women w/ women, and even bonobo monkeys). And I thought women didn't like porn. But wait. The sexual arousal was tested in two ways--physiologically by way of the classic bonermeter and the "vaginal photoplethysmograph probe" (ouch!) AND psychologically by just asking. Interestingly, overall males' physiological and psychological responses agreed with one another, whereas females' did not. Damn, females still don't really like porn. For example, most heterosexual females report that same sex and bonobo action did not turn them on, but the probe said otherwise.

One theory to explain the counterintuitive response of women: women's bodies have adaptated to unwanted penetration (read rape) because sexual arousal lubricates and lessens the damage. That's sobbering. Of course the other not-so-counterituitive idea here is that males indeed think with their penis: what they said turned them on was indeed manifested in their shorts.

Of coure the myriad details of sexual research will matter little to men unless the science leads to some form of female viagra. What more can you expect from a penis?

A Crowning Achievement (I couldn't help myself)

2009-01-31T07:07:00.000-08:00

I'm tempted to blog about all the negative economic woes, especially the hatchet job of cuts being handed down from on high at my job. But that would be really depressing and make my already paranoid self worry that somehow somebody might Google my rantings and then fire me. So, instead I will focus on yesterday's victory:

My wife and I successfully installed crown molding. Above isn't our crown molding as it still needs painting and looks kind of amateurish, but you get the idea. Well, maybe you don't.

In my storied career of house remodeling, I've installed a lot of baseboard. This is, if you didn't know, the grunt work of remodeling (i.e. anyone with a tape measure can pull it off). Finally I ventured into the unknown to finish off our living room. After viewing this and this and this, pausing and staring like a porn addict from every angle, I finally made some cuts. It was nerve-wracking knowing that a misstep would mean another trip to Loewes and another 20 bucks.

As I'm sure you know from viewing the previous videos, crown molding must be cut at an angle in the miter box and upside down--very easy to screw up. Amazingly our first corner was perfect; unfortunately we had a hell of a time fitting the last piece in. But all and all a successful evening with the saw and nail gun.

At 40 I rarely pull off something I didn't think I could do. Hopefully the hatchet job at work won't take my summer school money away which will pay for all this amazing home remodeling.

Obama finally got to me

2009-01-22T20:39:00.000-08:00

Obama's inauguration speech wasn't streaming too well in my class (I was teaching) so I didn't see it live, but I did hear most of the NPR rebroadcast on the way home. At one point my cynical body did something it rarely does anymore: I got a tingle from my head all the way down through my legs. I'm more trusting of that tingle as I like to think I'm a bit more immune to kitsch and overwrought patriotism (e.g. certainly Ronald Reagan, if he were alive, couldn't cause the kind of emotion he did when I heard him speak at BYU). Also, I was impressed by my friend's, in The Cold Cold North, proclamation of hop e. Finally, what brought me to the brink of hope, I listened to a This American Life podcast on the upcoming (at that point) inauguration. Even several conservatives expressed how they had softened and had more hope in Obama than they thought they would. And so....I've turned the corner (Note: I was almost derailed when on the same TAL program they discussed how Bush is STILL freakin more popular with the marines even though the VA representatives say the Bush administration hasn't supported any of their policies to support veterans). Drum role please..... I'm now officially prepared to say that I'm hopefully pessimistic.

Scheduling the minutes

2009-01-16T07:47:00.000-08:00

3:07 pick up oldest son a couple of minutes late for an orthodontist appointment

3:07-3:16 listen to son complain about new piano lessons

3:17 arrive at orthodontist

3:40 discuss progress of son's braces with orthodontist

3:50-4:20 get my 18 year old permanent retainer removed (drilling off 18yr old glue hurts like hell)

4:21-4:30 again listen to son complain about piano lessons and how he hasn't talked with his gf for 24hrs

4:30-4:55 arrive home; help frantic wife prepare dinner while explaining multiple times to youngest son why right now is not a good time to read the last chapter in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

5:05 help wife and two boys out the door for music lessons

5:05-5:10 finish eating dinner

5:10-5:30 rush daughter to orthodontist to fix a "pokey wire" (turned out all we needed to do was rotate the little spring thingy on her appliance--love that word, "would you like an appliance in your mouth?" Discuss her science project, realizing that she hasn't followed up on what we talked about two days ago; measure out an uphill mile to walk later for science project.

5:30-5:50 clean up kitchen

5:50-6 consult with contractor remodeling our living room

6-7 work with daughter on science project--How long would it take to walk around the earth on the equator? (at first we figured about 2yrs until we realized we were not allowing the walker anytime to sleep, eat or rest--any ideas on making this look cool would be much appreciated). Try multiple times to help daughter understand that you must divide the smaller number into the larger number to convert minutes to days and days to years.

7 chase away anxiety from being so busy with a mixture of mint ice-cream, broken up symphony bar, and crushed cookies (damn, just remember I forgot the caramel sauce)

7:15 wife and I sequester ourselves in my office (now piled high with crap from living room being remodeled) which requires various threats to children, particularly youngest who wants me read the last chapter of the HP book RIGHT NOW; I get an update on her mother's failing health and we try to decide if she should go up to Rexburg for the weekend

7:40-8:00 try desperately to finish up HP but son has many questions; very enjoyable to see him so excited about reading but by damn I will watch the Office

8:00-8:30 to my son's utter disbelief that we still haven't finished HP, I laugh ass off watching The Office--not sure if it was an amazing episode or if I just needed a release. Listening to Michael's convoluted explanation to the district manager in NY about what he does right, sends me over the edge.

8:07, 8:18, and 8:29: read a bit of HP to son during the commercial

8:30 deal with freaked out son who can't believe we are also going to watch 30 Rock

8:30-9 watch 30 Rock, finish HP during the commercials--we did it! HP out loud in about two months.

9-9:20 get youngest into bed, start....HP and the prisoner of Azkaban

9:20-27 clean up kitch again

9:27-9:40 check email since I left early from work, while scrapping tongue raw newly discovered surface, then fiddle with two teeth that are hella sensitive since retainer removal

9:45-9:55 think about reading French theory book but instead finish Irving Stone's Lust for life for bk club on Friday--godalmighty Van Gogh had it tough

9:55-10:05 blank out for a bit thinking about Van Gogh's depression, his inability to live a mediocre "happy" life, his legacy of great art; wonder about my own ability to stay sane for the next 30 yrs.

10:05 hear Seinfeld re-run from other room--talk to wife while she is painting in living room while realizing I have not seen this very early Seinfeld.

10:15-10:30 sit down and watch rest of Seinfeld with wife; realize I have seen some of the scenes in the last half: Russian cable guys, pregnant bitchy woman who knows the Kennedy's and George's chocolate cake shirt; on the commercials we revisit her mother's health and trip to Rexburg and I help oldest son with spanish homework

10:35 take cats out in the garage and lock up; consider reading for a bit but realize I'm exhausted

10:45 in bed

11 amazingly I actualy fall asleep without getting up to read

Location

2009-01-12T15:57:00.000-08:00

I feel like I have been plucked up and dropped into a different job. Instead of driving to work, I will be doing the train thing to our campus in the hood on M and W. I road Frontrunner, then Tracks, and then walked a mile. The walking was particularly strange as I'm just not used to walking much of anywhere, certainly not in the big city. On my return walk I went off the beaten path of State and 13th South--many boarded up stores, a few alleys, a big restaurant fan spewing crap onto the sidewalk, muchas palabras en espanol. A world out of sight but just blocks away from roads I've driven many times.

How easy it is to be absolutely isolated from anyone and anywhere Other. I'm quite confident that I did indeed go to work today, but I'm really not quite sure.

Holiday break's consumption of texts

2009-01-11T07:34:00.000-08:00

I started the break with, as usual, high expectations of rigorous study and viewing. Here's my review--not nearly as rigorous as I'd hoped (as usual) but not too bad:

I read MacNeil and Cran's companion book to their amazing PBS series, Do you Speak American. Overall a very reasonable accounting of the English language. I was again hit by the complexity and vibrancy of the English language and by how much people futily attempt to "sure up" the boundaries. The key false assumption which promotes this futility is that language reflects morality as witnessed in the post WWI "Good English Makes Good Americans" campaign which issued this "Pledge for Children":

"I love the United States of America. I love my country's flag. I love my country's language. I promise:

1. That I will not dishonor my country's speech by leaving off the last syllable of words.

2. That I will say a good American 'yes' and 'no' in place of an Indian grunt 'um-hum' and 'nup-um' or a foreign 'ya,' or 'yeh' and 'nope.'"

There are two more points to the pledge but I will stop there--what a delicious irony that the very phrases (ya, nope) which now convey the essence of blue-collardness and casualness, easily spoken by the very people who would raise alarms about the influence of the spanish language, are "foreign" phrases.

***
I read a couple of SF novels: Ursula K. LeGuin's the telling and Mcauley's Child of the River. The telling Hainish cycle, the same setup as her most famous novel, The Left Hand of Darkness. In LHD we follow an early explorer sent to test the waters on a new planet to see if they are ready to become part of the Ekumen (federation of planets); in this newer novel we follow Sutty, an Observer on a planet recently accepted into the Ekumen. Ironically Sutty leaves Earth, a religious fundamentalist state (can't every imagine that happening!), to work with Aka, a world controlled by fundamentalist materialist state which completely rejected any "backwards" religion. A novel which addresses the Chris Hedges debate we had earlier here about the new atheists.

"The telling" is what's left over from the religion which has been pushed out. Instead the god of reason is worshipped above all. The underground religion which Sutty finds defines the sacred simply as beauty and suffering. Le Guin seems to agree with Chris Hedges that a materialist secular funamentalist state is just as bad as a religious fundamentalist one.

Overall an interesting read, especially as a companion to LHD, but it doesn't even approach the rich complexities and gender bending of LHD.

***

Child of the River by Paul Mcauley also brought me back to the new atheist debate: "Most men are no different from beasts of burden, their spirits broken by fear of the phantoms of religion invoked by priests and bureaucrats." Confluence seems to be the left over garbage from a genetic experiment gone wrong. There are hundreds of bloodlines, almost all of them mixes between humans and animals, except for one: an orphaned boy named Yama. We follow Yama as he tries to discover his ancestral roots while at the same time uncover his hidden talents to control the many machines. I like Yama as a hero. He makes mistakes and has sex with Tamora who is from one of the animal bloodlines, a carniverous race his kills prey and eats them raw. Nothing like sex that leaves the hero with scratches on his flanks and nips out of his shoulder AND can't lead to pregnancy. SF at its best boyhood juvenile self.

The sex was in celebration of their victory over the merchant rogue star-sailor, a species which inhabits and then discards others' bodies. When I met this rogue, I immediately thought of Jabba the hut from The Empire Strikes Back:

Yama halted a few paces from him and bowed from the waist, but the merchant did not acknowledge him. . . the musicians played through the variations of their raga and the merchant ate a dozen pastries one after the other and stroked the gleaming pillows of the woman's large breasts with swollen , ring-encrusted fingers. Like her master, the woman was quite without hair. The petals of her labia were pierced with rings; from one of these rings a fine gold chain ran to a bracelet on the merchant's wrist.

Ouch! Can you say mysogynistic? As you might guess there's quite a battle to wrench power from the x-rated Jabba and finally kill him.

Hmm, I didn't mean to focus so much on sex; even though the book has a raw feel, there's not nearly as much sex as one might suspect from my discussion here.

***

Movies:

The Savages: loved every minute of Laura Linney's and Phillip Seymour Hoffman's performances.

Father Ted: Season 2 As always, hilarious.

Man on wire: Phillipe Petit's walk across the two towers was audacious, nerve-racking, and crazy yet beautiful. Absolutely astounded by the years of preparation it took.

The Squid and the Whale: While I love both Laura Linney and Jeff Daniels, I didn't believe in their characters for one second. If a rampaging terrorist burst on the scence and shot the entire family, I would have barely flinched. I have no idea why many critics liked this film.

Happy Valley: We made it through 30 minutes and I'm quite confident no one did any editing of that 30 minutes--too bad.

Factotum: Matt Dillon still has it.

Transiberian: A pleasant find I'd never heard of--kind of a return to the old Woody Harrelson from Cheers but better.

Mississippi Masala: Early Denzel I'd missed; not your normal, cliched cross-cultural affair.

Heroes (the last 3 episodes of season #1) excellent modern SF but I'm thinking I will pass on season 2, 3, 4... Still, what a brilliant move to cast the funny Masi Oka as Hiro Nakamura.

If you made it this far, thanks. Writing it down, remembering what I liked and didn't, helps me feel like maybe I did actually do something over the last month.

Brief

2009-01-06T07:48:00.001-08:00

Will be brief as contents of post will explain: must stop blog-fucking around as the beginning of all things forgotten, put-on-hold, and procrastinated start Friday. Now must stop editing previous sentence. Stop . . . now! like right now! Ok, now! Shit almighty.

Reflections on 40

2009-01-04T08:16:00.000-08:00

Wow, I'm officially 40. The actual day is anti-climatic (or would that be anti-important as I didn't expect a climax of any type). When I turned 39 I was nervous about 40. Seems silly now. It's just a number, a half-way point between 0 and 80 (80 the number I can't imagine living past). But I have been thinking more about how many years I have to work--probably 30 if I'm lucky which is sobering. Too bad there aren't graceful ways of slowly retiring. And I worry about the aches and pains in my back, hip and stomach. Naive idealism is mostly gone, worn away by the realities of my limitations and the constraints of social structures.

I have a good friend who also just turned 40; he's starting his second semester of law school. I'm impressed. At 40 I can't quite imagine starting much of anything. Long gone are my desires to pursue something completely new, to take a big risk. Of course, in part, this is because I'm relatively happy with my job teaching gig. But also it's because I feel a deep down tiredness and sensible desire to not overextend myself.

For example, while I like my job, I'm not that keen on living in Utah--not really a great place for someone like me, a retired Mormon. I'd like for my kids to grow up in a community where they could actually choose whether they wanted to attend LDS seminary or not; not doing so as a Mormon kid could be the kiss of death to friends and future dating. But I just can't imagine applying for jobs, putting myself out there, selling all my many important qualities and skills. I'm much more satisfied with surviving than I was at 20 or even 30.

In reflection maybe 40 does mean something. It gives me a definitive half-way number, the literal representation of a life which is now heading down toward its end. I'm now officially coasting, not striving or scraping for legitimacy or happiness. I have what I have: a tenure track position at a college in Mormonville, a 3,000 ft square house built in the 70s with three floors and low ceilings, a community which contains few if any of my ilk, a family with three children and a wife, a geography where it's sometimes 5 degrees and at other times a blistering 100 with only a swamp cooler for cooling.

Sounds depressing I guess, particularly in the context of heroic stories in movies and in the news which "inspire" us to believe we can do it all, we can become whatever we want at any age in this great nation. Ultimately, I'm relieved and excited to hunker down, to appreciate more what I have, to stop worrying about what might be... THIS IS THE PLACE so I might as well sit back and read a book or write a post in the winter OR dig around in my garden or go for mt bike ride in the summer. Finally I can fully begin to listen to what my genes have been telling me for years: while survival has costs, at least you are around to enjoy what's left over.

40 ain't too bad, maybe a much more important event than I realized.

Christmas Stats

2008-12-25T07:57:00.000-08:00

5 favorite Chinese dishes eaten: crab wontons, tangerine beef, pork and green beans in brown sauce, ham fried rice, vegetable lo mien with yummy noodles

1 useful gift I never would have purchased: Belkin laptop rest (currently in use)

5:56--the ungodly hour by which we were awoken

6 Present Stations: hidden locations throughout the house where gifts were placed and then found by deciphering clues

1 stupid idea: hiding most expensive electronic gifts in the washer (I-pod for daughter, MarioKart for youngest son, digital camera for oldest son); luckily only one of the boxes got a bit wet

1 more gift given to wife than she gave me: I won but had to rely on two last minute cheapo presents from Kings--"I didn't know I was in need of gloves"

5 chocolate oranges given in stockings as always

1 fire started in stove (THE fire of the year)

1 cat in the bag of wrapping paper

$3,000 which wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, spent on our Christmas but was by a woman in Clearfield for her three children whose gifts were all stolen last week

1 pair of Mountain Dew pajama bottoms given to oldest son which brought more joy than any other gift

6 books given and then ignored while kids setup/used/played electronic gifts

1 French Canadian children's book given: Little zizi by Stephane Poulin about how little boys worry about the size of their.... (hopefully perfect for youngest son who has always been quite focused on his "gorilla"--a mishearing of "groin")

Christmas Eve, demolition projects and chinese food

2008-12-24T14:55:00.001-08:00

Being Christmas (or should I say xmas) eve, I must move on to other "new" issues. I do love this time of year. I always struggle a bit at the beginning of break wondering where I should focus my energy, worrying if I don't feel like I'm accomplishing something. By now, the 24th, I frankly don't give a damn. Ironically, though, we started a demolition project this morning.

After our personal carpenter, John, sized up the last room in our house needing renovation, we couldn't resist getting started. Crowbar and sledge hammer quickly made slush of the 30+ year old brick wall/ mantle in our living room. Well, it's about 5% done and I only hit my hand once with the hammer.

Just as I chipped away at the brick, my wife has been working on me for a couple of years to get going on this project. Of course we don't have any saved up money but what the hell--we never will. Somehow it seems if we remodel this last room, the room we ironically spend the most time in, our lives will be made whole, we will have arrived. So, I've got a little work ahead of me during the break then I will hand off to our main man carpenter to do the finishing touches (that is everything but the demolition--design, cabinets, bookshelves, crown molding etc).

In about 45 minutes we will take off to Eastern Winds in Ogden, a slightly above mediocre Chinese restaurant where we eat every Christmas Eve--it's kind of homage to The Christmas Story movie. I wish I'd chosen a better restaurant to start this tradition but now we started the kids won't let us go anywhere different (like Dave's Kitchen on 33rd South in SLC. Actually we initially meant to go to the Mandarin in Bountiful but those slackers would rather be home with their families on xmas eve.

Now as long as none of our children barf up the Chinese food (this has happened twice) then we are set for tomorrow. Happy Christmas to all!

It mattereth not whether we believe or not for tomorrow we will all receive gifts we would have never gotten for ourselves and eat WAY too much food.

Religious indoctrination as abuse

2008-12-23T18:01:00.001-08:00

I'm almost off my "new" atheist kick but I did reread some of the God Delusion and finally fished the last two chapters. I knew the "childhood, abuse and religion" would be a tough chapter for me as I have ambivalent feelings about my own childrens' religious training. I can't go all the way with Dawkins and still believe there is a developmental element to religion, something one grows out of and/or into a deeper, less institutional faith. Dawkins would clearly disagree. Still, I am struck, as Dawkins points out, by how easily society allows and even encourages adults to indoctrinate children into a religion. Even knowing that this indoctrination will, for many, necessarily lead to a lot of pain and anger as the child questions the inconsistencies, guilt, hatred, fear etc. later in life. This problem is unintentionally highlighted by Nick Seaton, spokesman for a conservative religious group: "To present all faiths as equally valid is wrong. Everybody is entitled to think their faith is superior to others, be they Hindus, Jews, Muslims or Christians--otherwise what's the point in having faith?" (340 qtd in Dawkins). Yes, what an entitlement it is!!

But Dawkins goes much further than I can. He asserts several times in this chapter that religious indoctrination of children is as bad or even worse than sexual abuse of a child. That just doesn't make sense. For one, you can't untwine religious belief from culture, identity, and parental love--they are interrelated and religious faith is not all while sexual abuse is one thing. Two, even if parents do not bring up a child in a religion they will necessarily inculcate many values which are contradictory, ineffective, and certainly some immoral. We can't escape human weakness by crushing religion. Of course many of these familiar secular beliefs or practices won't be tied up with the institutional power of a church but certainly *some* mothers and fathers can encourage as much or more guilt concerning secular concerns as the worst of religions.

Again I agree with Hedges that these human tendencies (to control for example) are in the human heart and would exist without religious institutions. Not that institutions can't and do not often justify and give place for these tendencies to work; they most certainly do. Of course, this assertion by no means indicates that I'm completely at ease about my complicitness with my own children's religious upbringing. I continually wonder how far to push. But I am confident that expressing confidence in their ability to think for themselves is more important than jamming down their throats my version of how things work. No sense exchanging one indoctrination for another--parenting has to be rhetorical, right?

Ok, so I'm not quite off this topic; promise to discuss my current sci-fi readings next time.

The Gap

2008-12-20T12:17:00.001-08:00

I started this as a response to the comments on my last post but it go long and I have a goal of posting something each day during the holidays. Much more to say and think about. I have listened to 14 minutes of Harris here and find I agree with everything he says. Still need to listen to his debate with Hedges and need to find some of the more vitriolic stuff I've heard he has said. Must go to family xmas party, hence I'm sending out myy half-boiled ideas into the blogosphere.

***

Personally, Dr. W., your description of faith and doubt certainly reflects my life. I think I finally gave in to doubt because I was going crazy trying to hold both faith and doubt in my mind. Of course I still existed as a somewhat faithful Mormon for many years with much doubt. And I would consider many of my friends as "doubting" mormons though, certainly faith has the upperhand if you will.

But here, I think, we move away from Hedges' criticisms of the new atheists. Hedges' key point is that, as Lisa quotes, morality can both spring from faith or non-faith/doubt/science. Understanding/believing/using the scientific method doesn't guarantee moral outcomes. Partially this is true, must be true, because of the gap in what we actually know and understand. .

For me it's important to recognize that we as humans will employ different "ways of being" in order to work through/deal with this gap--the gap between what we know (can verify with the scientific method) and what we don't know OR what we don't know that we don't know. Humans will always need to humbly accept this gap.

But some of these new atheists give little credence to this gap. While I understand on a theoretical level that science can/could/maybe will slowly but surely fill in this gap in knowledge, there will always be a gap. Therefore we need a way of engaging this gap, speculating on this gap, comforting us because of this gap. For many this is religion which I can empathize with from this perspective even though it doesn't work for me. For many story and art help “fill” this gap, or at least contend with it.

To me postmodern theory does a lot of work with this gap but new atheists like Dawkins totally reject postmodernism as a critical vein of study--just a bunch of bullshit to Dawkins (see Postmodernism disrobed). That smacks me as pompous and dogmatic, a position that doesn’t respect the gap. Dawkins ends The God Delusion (I quite enjoyed the first half of this book) with “I am thrilled to be alive at a time when humanity is pushing against the limits of understanding. Even better, we may eventually discover that there are no limits.” Here I agree with Hedges that Dawkins ultimately tries to externalize what’s wrong with the world as religion. Once we get past that there are no limits. And my understanding is that Harris and Hitchens go way beyond Dawkins in this front—e.g. Harris’ support of torture and possible preemptive strike on the Muslim world.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) we will always be humans, we will always have gaps in our knowledge, we will always live in socially constructed narrative which will continue to impose limits.

Criticism of the "new" atheists

2008-12-19T11:37:00.000-08:00

Lisa B. asked for it so: My cousin turned me on to this podcast. It comes from a program called "Unwelcome Guests"--gotta to love that name. The first one is Christopher Hedges (guy who wrote War a force that gives us meaning), but I haven't listened to the second one.

Hedges nails what I find uncomfortable about the new atheists (Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens, and, though to a lesser degree, Dawkins). And he helps explain why I can't completely write off religion even though I do not believe in it and it tends to drive me crazy. To summarize my favorite criticisms of the new atheists:

*both the new atheists and right wing christians believe in collective salvation/ moral progress which is dangerous
*both believe in a utopia (which literally means "no place"; hence there ain't one)
*both condemn vigorously those that do not agree with them
*christians misuse the bible while these new atheists misuse Darwinism
*both want to make education about indoctrination
*both have a fundamentalist mindset

*new atheists forget some lessons worth keeping from religion. For example, "the wisdom of sin" as Hedges' explains we forget that we are always self-motivated and always imperfect.

I do, however, wonder about equating these two groups when one, the far right, is so much more mainstream and thereby has so much more power. Hedges addresses this but not adequately enough. One could argue that atheists or humanists are less accepted than any religion, race, or sexual orientation. Maybe I'm wrong but I know of more openly gay politicians than atheists.

I'd really be interested to hear what others think--SigNo? Lisa? Middlebrow? HappyHeretic? (even though I already know through email that HappyHeretic wasn't too happy about Hedges' criticisms)

Playing the intellectual

2008-12-18T14:25:00.000-08:00

Today I finally feel like I got down to some studyin.

First, I continued to reread Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse. Amazingly as it may seem *I* chose this book for our couples book club. It's a much more philosophical read than I'd thought and it's a bit confusing since it has three distinct sections, one a small print 20 page, almost unreadable, "Treatise on the Steppenwolf." What the hell was I thinking? I won't go into details. Suffice it to say that my criteria were the following: book in my house I hadn't read but had always meant to, book under 300 or so pages, one that caught my attention the first few pages (I think I was on something when I checked Steppen for this). Probably should have picked a Bend in the River by Naipaul.

So, anyways, since I gave Steppenwolf a very quick read over Thanksgiving, trying to assuage my nervousness about my pick (which was not accomplished), I decided to re-read the first half or so before book club on Friday. And I have to say I've enjoyed it much more than the first time (I actually like the middle section after the "guy" who finds Steppenwolf's manuscript, introduces said manuscript and before the pre-magical realism/ magical theatre stuff). As you may or may not know the main character, Harry Haller, can't stand the bougeious mentality but at the same time can't live without them. He's unhappy and contemplates suicide; kind of an older, more philosophical, Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye.

Here are some of my favorite sections, some stuff already "published" through email to my book club, emails which probably will only add insult to injury:

A central scene is the dinner scene with the professor and his wife (on pp. 84-89 in my book). Haller accepts the dinner invitation only to quickly realize his mistake upon seeing the Goethe portrait in their home: "Here fine Old Masters and the Nation's Great Ones were at home, not Steppenwolves." During dinner the professor criticizes and unpatriotic article that was, unbeknownst to them, actually written by Haller. Haller racks his brain for something "harmless to say" but like the rock in the road he finally lets loose on the Goethe portrait. Things go downhill from here. Haller leaves and then reflects: "I could not bear this tame, lying, well-mannered life any longer. And since it appeared that I could not bear my loneliness any longer either, since my own company had become so unspeakably hateful and nauseous, since I struggled for breath in a vacuum and suffocated in hell, what way out was left me? There was none" (89).

Even though this will surely to bring more scorn and ridicule on me, I can't help but connect in a deep way to his inability to leave with or without others.

***
One more then I will leave you alone:

Just found this passage I'd overlooked on the first read: "there was no power in the world that could prevail with me to go through the mortal terror of another encounter with myself, to face another reorganization, a new incarnation, when at the end of the road there was no peace or quiet--but forever destroying the self, in order to renew the self" (72).

Don't we all feel this at times? (maybe not this extreme). We get a new brilliant insight into our lives--how to be happier, more motivated, kinder--only to realize a week or a month or a year later that our insight was only skin deep. It crumbles in our hands, forcing us yet again to try and figure out what makes us tick.

***

I know that many of the passages are laughable--so very earnest--but I can't help but bring my own earnestness to them, couldn't help giving the book a second chance, couldn't help feeling a connection with another malcontent created almost 100 years ago.

I also studied up on Hesse's influences: Either/Or by Soren Kierkegaard which I take it argues against Hegel's dialectic by asserting that our choices still matter, that we choose between the ascete or ethical path; Goethe, who did a bit of everything--should actually read something by him; thought about reading up on the musical stuff but not that ambitious.

Second, I listened to Chris Hedges' criticism of the New atheists (Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens etc.) but I will have to flesh that out in another post.

Dog Days of Winter

2008-12-17T08:23:00.000-08:00

Saturday: High 9* Low -1*

This is a joke, right? Gotta be. Some Internet prank or something.

Happy Holidays

2008-12-16T10:46:00.000-08:00

As per usual, I've felt sick twice since I finished my grades. Somehow my good-for-nothing-body knows the day my grades are done. There's both good and bad in that.

Bad that I wasted an hour trying to fall asleep last night while my stomach boiled and gurgled. On the other hand I did read a section from Do you speak an American? waiting for my stomach to stop its convulsions. And this morning instead of doing one of the many difficult things I probably ought to do, I read again from Do you Speak... and I'm now watching Factotum. Maybe you've seen it; if not it's about a writer/bum/womanizer/socialist (Matt Dillon). Kind of a Leaving Las Vegas, with some philosophical voiceover, but not as dark.

In one of the early scenes he has an interview for a job at a pickle factory. Henry tells him he's a writer:

"What's your novel about?" the manager asks.

"Everything," Henry answers.

"So it's about cancer?"

"Yes."

"What about…my wife?"

"She's in there, too."

Dillon's dry delivery is hilarious. Many funny understated moments like early on, but as it meanders along the pain, alcohol, and depressing "fucks" suck the humor away.

Naming the most important jobs

2008-12-07T07:17:00.000-08:00

What do you call a person (usually the mother) who deals with the initial and most profuse barfing incidence of a child? Having played this role last night, my wife nailed the term this morning: barfmaid. Although this title may sound like a mere barf cleaner, I can only aspire to such high titles as last night I waited safely in bed till the herculean scraping and washing was done. But I did go on duty after that to take care of three bile throw-ups (really spit-ups) which allowed my wife go back to sleep. Still, a pale comparison to the duties of a true barfmaid, who faces one of the greatest challenges of parenthood.

Let us praise all barfmaids young and old: mothers who rushed to us as children, hand on our back while we wrenched up our guts, and women who hit the floor running before their mates gain consciousness.

Ricky Jervais on creationism

2008-12-05T18:39:00.000-08:00

I heard Jervais interviewed by Terry Gross the other day. Loved him in the British office (grittier than the American office) but then kind of forgot about him. Of course without him we'd have no Office viewing on Thursdays. What a brilliant character he has created.

This bit starts with him saying "I used to believe in evolution but then I found this dusty old book in the library..." About 6 minutes in there is great bit about ch 3 in Genesis and the talking snake, "perfect diction as well, not a mumbling snake." Hilarious.

The girlfriend

2008-12-05T17:22:00.000-08:00

My 13 year old son is downstairs with his girlfriend. It's kind surreal, just doesn't seem possible. I think she is a ghost.

The wife and younger kids went to the ward x-mas bash. The wife instructed me to head downstairs every once in awhile and say, "gotta get something from from the fruitroom" (actually my wife calls it a pantry but in cache valley we say fruitroom). So should I go down? It is kind of quiet right now. But what would I get out of the fruitroom? Some flour? Maybe some chips?

Again (see my earlier post on this subject) one half of me wants to maintain some boundaries while the other is kind of rooting for him. I mean who wouldn't want his son to experience the thrill of holding hands or the mountain-like accomplishment of a first kiss?

Whatever my own ambiguity, must be able to tell the wife I went down when she gets back. Guess I will go check out the canned goods.

When cleaning becomes a titillating temptation

2008-12-04T12:28:00.001-08:00

Funny how the things I never have time for (listening to music, blogging, writing emails to colleagues, cleaning) I immediately start doing as soon as wheelbarrow of papers comes in at the end of the semester.

Hell, I got time for anything right now--call me! I'll pick you up. I'd drive you to Vegas and I hate Vegas. I'd shovel snow if there were snow. I'd even do one of my wife's projects. Shucks, I'd help you clean out your attic. Even cleaning my office is a titillating temptation.

Ok...temptation indulged: must read three papers and then I will allow myself to caressingly filter through the piles crap on my office floor.

Heroes: Pleasurable manipulation

2008-11-16T11:51:00.000-08:00

Report: English 2010 Portfolio Assessment Pilot

My son and I have been watching season one of Heroes. We've knocked out 8 or so episodes during this last week. A romp of a show with almost as many cliffhangers as 24. Of course I feel manipulated but will allow such manipulations for pleasure and some time with my son for at least one season--not sure I can do more than that. The voice-over philosophical statements on agency, evolution, and ontology seem too serious considering the plot, but maybe I need to watch more episodes to find the meat underneath the action-packed veneer . . . not holding my breath.

More episodes will be watched as my son is begging me to watch two a day. Yesterday he watched one without me--how could he? He was reprimanded and made to watch the episode again while guiding me through it so we could ff through the slow parts (i.e. about 3 and half minutes).

With a fair amount of violence, gore, and tension (several squeamish demures while wondering, "can they show that on tv?") Tim Kring, the creator, made a brilliant move incorporating the Japanese odd couple who travel to America to help save the world. Hiro Nakamura, played by Masi Oka, is astoundingly funny which brings much needed breaks from the cranium lobotomies and regenerating, flayed body in the morgue.

Note to self: must figure out a way to discuss and watch Heroes episodes when I teach Middlebrow's scifi course next year. Certain to boost my evaluation scores.