The writings

Speaking of school and Vonnegut and victories and defeats, I've let myself indulge in some personal writing lately -- mostly during spring break since I was bored beyond the ability to be productive otherwise. My two books ("the memoir" and "the young adult novel") remain in motion. The memoir is still a mess. In fact, I can't see it as ever being finished. And, as a joke on myself, it's working title is now Sepuku for Dummies. Still, it functions well as a distraction if not a future source of fame and fortune. The YA book, meanwhile, has been massively rewritten and is no longer recognizable as ever having had anything in common with the 30,000 word test-run friends were kind enough to comment on over a year ago. I'm pleased with the book's evolution, and theoretically, if I had some discipline, I could finish a complete draft by the end of the summer. Not that I'm setting that as a deadline for myself. My point is that I can really see the book now -- it's twists and turns and crooks and nannies and, most importantly, I can almost (almost!) see it's end. It would be something to finish it. Even if it sucks, it would feel good to know it was done.

You know what I just realized? As a nod to Geoff Dyer (as well as a joke on myself), the working title of my memoir should be Sepuku for People Who Can't Be Bothered to Do It. That's awesome. Victory!

"Everything was beautiful. Nothing hurt."

Kurt Vonnegut is up in Heaven now.

Victories and defeats

Today I received an A on a paper that I was terrified (literally was having nightmares) that I'd get a C on. I'm psyched because I consider it the first major grade of my graduate education. On the flip side is that, for that same class, I've basically stopped reading the assigned novels. And I think most of the class has, too. A novel a week (on top of all my other work, which includes other novels for other classes) is just too much -- at least in terms of the densely formatted 500-pagers the prof chose for the semester. The real shame is that the books are excellent and I'd really enjoy reading and speaking about them with a class.

Back to the upside, I have done a shitload of reading this semester in spite of slacking off for that one class. Textbooks, novels, graphic novels, class readers... It would be interesting to count just how many pages in total. Maybe I'll do that at the end of the semester.

Defeat: This blog entry is taking the place of sleep. By which I mean I can't sleep right now, even though I got up early (after little sleep) so I could observe classes at BOCES. I was really looking forward to hitting the sack early. But for some reason I'm wired. However, that leads me back to victory [the structure of this entry is way out the window]. I got to help some kids with math (of all subjects) today, and I realized I really like working with the "difficult" kids. (For those who don't know, BOCES is basically a place for nothing but "difficult" kids.) I'd gotten a sense of this while I was at Huntington Learning Center, but somehow being at BOCES really brought it into focus for me. So I am now seriously considering get dual certified for special ed. And one of my profs is working on navigating the TESOL minefield to see if she can find a shortcut for me to get certified in that, too. So that would be triple certification. Yikes! Unfortunately [this part falls under the category of defeat], I don't know if special ed kids respond to the kind of teaching methodology that I've been learning about in my classes. What I need to find out is, do "special" students require "special" methods, and, if so, how do those methods differ from the kind of teaching I want to do?

The BOCES kids are nuts (literally and figuratively), and there are times (more-so than in a regular classroom) when the teachers really are nothing more than babysitters. But how much of that is because of the students, and how much is because of the educational system? The nice thing [victory!] is that I should get to learn a lot about it next semester because BOCES is desperate to get me on their sub list. (I wish I could say this was because I'm such an amazing teacher, but really they're just desperate for subs, and as soon as they heard I had an interest in special ed they practically started offering me a signing bonus.) So, if that works out [defeat?], it would be pretty cool [victory!].

Monotheism is lame

Just got done with family Easter dinner. We basically ignored Passover this year, but most of the family has been here most of the week, which has been a lot of fun. I don't get to see my siblings as often as I'd like. And, basically, I blame God for that. It's because he insists on us having no other gods before him that we don't get to have family dinners more often. What a selfish asshole. He should get over himself and start a little God family (and, no, that Holy Trinity nonsense does not count) and then we could have all sorts of holidays. Mr. and Mrs. God's anniversary, God Junior's bar-mitzvah... It'd be awesome. And I'd get to hang out with my fam more often.

Blog blog blog

Blog blog blog. Blog blog blog blog. Blog blog blog blog blog blog. Blog blog. Blog blog blog. Blog blog blog. Blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog. Blog blog blog blog blog. Blog blog blog blog. Blog. Blog blog. Blog blog blog blog blog blog.

Spring Break and I'm already bored

At 4:30 I will leave for my last class of the week. After that, Spring Break commences.

I have no idea what to do with myself.

I was planning (and should still plan) to do a lot of homework. But I really don't want to spend my whole break working. I just can't think of anything else to do. I'm dependent on my classes to create the illusion of having a life. Maybe I can make a short road trip to somewhere. See the sights; pick up whores. I don't know. There's got to be something worth doing around here. Or anywhere.

Roller Girl Regret

Yesterday, my little brother and I went to a BBBSLI free roller skating event. It was tons of fun. I tried roller skates for the first time and slipped and slid around the oval for two hours, terrified the entire time that I would fall and break my wrist. Sponge Bob Square Pants was supposed to be there but wasn't. This was disappointing because I wanted to see some dude in a Sponge Bob costume do laps on skates. However, the Long Island Roller Rebels DID show up. They were very cool. I was giving one of them The Eye, and she came over to give me advice and encouragement: "Try bending your knees. This is your first time on skates? You're doing great!" So I had the opportunity to chat her up a bit, and to find out the answer to the question that was most on my mind: Can this girl kick my ass? (I suspect yes.) Sadly, I blew it.

The moral of this story (which, let's face it, doesn't have any real flow to it -- no rising action, no climax, no descending action, no real narration at all, actually, and barely any organization; I guess mostly it's just voice -- my tired, after-class, procrastinating before doing homework voice. and watch how often I start sentences with a conjunction) is that, these days, I seldom meet someone I really want to ask out. I encounter the occasional Opportunity Girl -- someone who unexpectedly flirts with me during class or whatever -- and I think about asking them out, but it's more about seizing the opportunity than any real initial desire on my part to go out with them.

This Roller Girl was different. I saw her and I immediately wanted to date her. It was an unexpected feeling. And a good one since I was beginning to suspect I was never going to have it again. The last time I really felt it was with Emily. And I've met and dated several very cool people since then, but the whole time I've been waiting for that feeling -- I don't even know what it's called. Is it a crush? Or just a want? I have no idea. It's a specific type of desire and excitement, and I've been missing it for a long time now. And there's no telling what brings it out in me. Roller Girl was not my usual type -- blonde (whereas I prefer brunettes) and tall (whereas I prefer short to petite). Maybe it was the nose ring, or the way she didn't dye her eyebrows to match her hair, or how she would skate on one foot, ballerina style, before body checking "Shania Pain." It's a mystery. And it's a damn disappointment I didn't seize the moment.

All I can do now is stalk her via the Internet and then go to a few matches and hope to bump into her at one of them. Who knows? Maybe she'll kick my ass with her skates on.

Side note: roller skates are much easier to use than ice skates or roller blades.

Lance Armstrong

I'd like to run a half marathon. I don't know where or when a local one might be, and I don't know how to train for one, so these are things I'll have to research. But I do know that Lance Armstrong ran the New York Marathon in about three hours, and I can run six miles in about one hour, which means I can probably run 12 in two and a half to three (assuming I'm gradually slowing down). In comparison to someone with seven consecutive Tour de France victories, I think this is respectable.

Step one (get it? step?) is going to be getting in the car and measuring out some mileage. Step two is buying new running sneakers (to avoid shin splints). Step three is going to be a test run (ha!) to see how far I can go before I feel like dying. And step four will be to then research an actual training regimen. With luck I'll be in full training mode by summer, when the weather is nice and classes slow down.

I love you

Have I told you lately that I love you? Because I do. I woke up this morning and my heart was full of blue birds, Velveeta, and maple syrup. Who wants a hug?

More wants

Chinese food
Chinese finger traps (not a double entendre)

Also:
The new Nine Inch Nails album
Complete Mage (for the D&D)
Sunny days and warm breezes
Sailing
Motorcycle superiority
A tax refund
Drunken karaoke

Had to put one of the cats to sleep

Totally sucks. He was 17, and his name was Happy, which he totally lived up to. Great cat. But he got sick really fast and we just found out he had cancer and kidney problems and was anemic and was having a hard time breathing, so it looks like this was for the best. But it's fucking sad. I kind knew it was coming for a long time, just cause of how old he was getting, and lately he'd gotten very thin, and we took him to the vet thinking it was his teeth hurting too much to eat the dry food and they'd recommend a diet of canned food for him. Fucking sucks.



I have an hour and a half to get my shit together before class. I only get one absence a semester, and I haven't used it yet, but somehow it feels wrong to use it on this. Like people would say, "It's just a cat." Like it's weak to miss class for this. Motherfuckers.

The L Word

I've been watching the L Word on DVD. It's awful. First, it's soft-core lesbian porn, which raises the lingerie debate, which is, does one prefer to be teased, or does one want to cut straight to the uncensored version? I've never been good at answering that debate. In fact, I prefer to have it answered for me. Which the L Word does. Which leaves me wanting more but regretting when I get it. Second, everyone on the show is hot -- their entire community is hot: the taxi drivers, the anonymous extra coughing in the background, everybody. It makes me wonder how I wound up in such an ugly place. But even that's not the awful part. That's standard Hollywood, only here it's amplified by an all-female, dominantly lesbian cast of characters. Also not the awful part is that one of the actresses, in a broad-brushed sort of way, reminds me of Emily. She humps people and I'm inside a cement mixer. But even that's not the worst of it. The worst, most awful part of the show is how easily people move from relationship to relationship. Pain dies and new love blooms so quickly for these people. And I wonder about the relationship between life and art. Is this unbelievable, or is this how everyone but me functions? Is the audience suspending its disbelief for the sake of drama, or do they see an accurate reflection of their own lives? Am I the alien in the audience, or are the aliens on screen? I have know idea. All I know for sure is that I'm not the only one who likes to watch soft-core lesbian porn.

Fail

On the down side, I did not finish reading In Cold Blood by Wednesday. I also have not finished Bodega Dreams. My work load is pretty fucking retarded, and the first place I slack is on the readings because there's nobody checking to make sure I've done them.

On the up side, I'm half finished with Stoner and Spaz (a quick read) and I finished the first section of Joan Didion's The White Album (highly recommended).

On the annoying side, I am not receiving much feedback from my teachers. My first two graded assignments have come back A and A-, which is nice, but the comments on my work in general are frustrating. Mostly it's scattered, generic praise, like "Good!" and "Nice effort!" What could be more demoralizing than "Nice effort!" even when it's attached to an A paper? And this from a teacher who just that class ran a discussion on not giving empty praise when responding to student assignments.

I feel as if the work I'm doing is unremarkable, and I don't want (or think I'd deserve) an A just for "trying hard." I don't mind it being known that I've worked hard to achieve excellence, but it's the excellence I'd like to be known for more than the effort. Or perhaps I'm just so blazingly smart that my teachers are paralyzed and unable to comment.

Gas Station Observation

My dad noted the other day that "Full" has become the opposite of "Self." The existential implications of this cannot be underestimated.

Wants by Philip Larkin

Beyond all this, the wish to be alone:
However the sky grows dark with invitation-cards
However we follow the printed directions of sex
However the family is photographed under the flagstaff—
Beyond all this, the wish to be alone.

Beneath it all, desire of oblivion runs:
Despite the artful tensions of the calendar,
The life insurance, the tabled fertility rites,
The costly aversion of the eyes from death—
Beneath it all, desire of oblivion runs.





[I've probably posted this before. I just love it. Love it to death.]

Status report

Americana: finished
Vineland: finished
The House on Mango Street: finished
Intelligence reframed: finished (in a blur, don't remember much)
Universal Baseball Association: half finished (ETA Sunday)
Bodega Dreams: started (ETA next week)
Go Ask Alice: half finished (ETA tonight)
In Cold Blood: not started (ETA Wednesday)
School and Society: one-quarter finished (text book; ETA late April)
Weight: 211 pounds
Salsa dancing: Wednesdays, biweekly
Love: absent
Student loan status: pain in the ass
Motorcycle: in the garage, finally, post $3800 wipe-out; doctor advises no more riding until I'm off the meds
California: possible trip this summer
Little Brother: weird; uncommunicative
Ghost Rider: Better than Dare Devil; Worse than Spider-Man
Friday: no classes
Casual sex: cancelled indefinitely
Staples: better than Office Max
Office Max: hotter employees than Staples
Bowling: coupon for one free game at Centereach Lanes/AMF
Apple iMac "hockey puck" mouse: better than many defective Kensington mouse and trackball products
Howl's Moving Castle: 119 min
Harlem Globetrotters: Yes
Electric Six: Dance Commander
Tonight's homework: printed

Update: Go As Alice: finished; Universal Baseball Association: finished

$30,000

I have in my hands a check for $30,000. It's loan money. And it's supposed to get me through at least the next year of school. $30,000. I can't imagine I'll ever see a check this big again in my life.

This moment

The downside to this moment is that I have a cold. The upside is that I sound like Barry White.

Dear Roger,

Roger and Annamarie (students at the tutoring center) are 14 and 12 respectively. They have been flirting with each other. In the looks department, Roger ranges between geeky and plain; Annamarie is quite cute. Cupid has armed Annamarie with a machine gun. By the time she is 16 she will have an alligator for a heart. I want to tell Roger to get her phone number now, to go wherever it is that relationships between 14- and 12-year-olds go (an awkward conversation, maybe even an awkward movie) because unless there is a change in Earth's axis, and the magnetic fields that bind Americans together shift North and South to East and West, a girl like Annamarie will never flirt with him again once high school starts. Grab the memory while you can. If you're lucky, it will change your future.

Thanksgiving

It takes the boredom of Thanksgiving to bring me back to the blog. Which is not to say that I am bored of the blog, but that I am otherwise too busy to find my way here. Today has been quiet. It's the first day in many days where I don't feel compelled to do some sort of work. The only person working today around here is my mom who is busy cooking all the grub. Anyway, I was thinking about mom while clicking around Craig's List, and that's when it occurred to me that a smart chef would offer his services to cook meals for people on Thanksgiving. And a REALLY smart chef would put his services up for bid on ebay. I bet people would go crazy for something like that. Home cooking is grand, but having a home-cooked meal cooked by a pro chef in your own home would be pretty killer.