This one is serious, and may be a bit too Stuart Smalley-esque for the squeamish. Proceed with caution.
The other day, I mentioned that I was forced to change my plans to observe the recording session on campus because Dwight was present. That is only part of the story.
Last Sunday, as I drove from my home to the Performing Arts Center, I was really beginning to look forward to the occasion of seeing Bruce and hearing the group record again as they used to. I had been anticipating this since mid-December, so I had plenty of time to get excited.
As I walked in the stage door, I could hear several voices bouncing down the backstage hallway. Seemingly random numbers and not-so-random comments about the performance on stage were interrupted by the occasional laugh. I had missed that sound.
I turned right from the hallway into the dressing room area. When I began my immediate left into the green room, I realized that I was in mixed company. Christine, exactly how you remember her, was nearest the green room door watching the goings on in the center of the room. Dwight was further inside wearing his typical green and blue rugby shirt, which has gone from snug to loose to somewhat snug over the last decade or so.
Over the years, I have gotten pretty good at making a turn at the slightest sign of their presence. Though I have lately been a bit out of practice, my reflexes did not fail me. I pulled out of the turn without thinking about it, and continued my purposeful walk down the dressing room hallway. I made my first available turn right, in an attempt to get into the restroom through the shower room door. I encountered several pieces of furniture that had been removed from the green room to make way for the recording equipment. The obstacles were no match for my desire to get the hell out of that situation, as I climbed over a chair, a coffee table, and a custodian’s cart without any hesitation or thought of going around.
I forced the shower room door open, locked the door from the restroom into the shower area, and slumped on a bench. My heart was beating well into my throat, my breath way too fast and way too deep. I sat and attempted to calm myself while trying to construct a way out that would most likely avoid any encounter with Dwight.
After thinking for quite some time, I decided to go back into the hallway and hide behind a corner to wait to hear them leaving before entering the green room. A couple of disappointed peeks into the room and several minutes of silence from the enemies convinced me that this wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I considered calling Meghan, Bruce, or one of the people I believed to be in the green room. I realized that I wouldn’t be able to make that call without being detected. Furthermore, I didn’t know what I would have asked them to do should I have gotten anyone on the phone.
The longer I stayed hidden back there, the greater became the possibility of my being seen hiding. That would be the only outcome worse than running into them on my way out the door. Some twenty-five minutes or so after arriving, I made my way back into the shower room, through the restroom, and quickly into the main backstage hallway. I was out the door in ten seconds.
I waited outside in my car to see if I could catch them leaving the building, but the futility of the entire afternoon quickly sank in. I called Meghan and headed home. Defeated.
I was depressed for the rest of the day. I dusted off all of the old explanations of how Dwight had wronged many, myself included. I preached a sermon or too on the tragedies that resulted from his indiscretions. I sulked about not being able to hear the band and visit with Bruce, as I had been planning for nearly two-and-a-half months. My day was shot.
Since then, I have begun to realize how pathetic the events of that entire Sunday afternoon were. I have become sickened at the thought of my going to such great lengths to avoid anyone who is supposedly unarmed. I have become disgusted that my heart and lungs involuntarily reacted as though there was some sort of danger.
Because of the weakness I exhibit as it relates to him, there are some things that I have to remind myself about my experience with Dwight. This person was my professional mentor in whom I had placed the exceptional trust of an eager student – a trust that is surrendered with the promise of learning without reservation, but at the risk of being manipulated sharply and used carelessly. I had a friendship with Dwight and his wife that was a close to a familial relationship as any I had ever had, with the exception of my actual family. Both of those very sensitive relationships, and the nearly blind loyalty that came with them, were viciously betrayed. When someone gets that close to you and then hurts you badly, it is natural to respond to encounters with them as though you are being attacked. You are.
But it has been over five years since Dwight was removed from the band area. Five years! Since that time, I have been in no hierarchy that included him. I have not been asked to speak to him, to sit in a room with him (unless the entire faculty was there), to cooperate with him or to act under his authority. Yet still he is a topic of conversation, a source of anxiety, and a destroyer of an otherwise perfect Sunday afternoon.
So I have been asking myself, “Why is that?” Why are his words, his presence, or his influence any concern of mine?
I guess I have realized that Dwight continues to influence me because I haven’t let go of 2002. I haven’t gotten over what he did to the band, what he did to others, or what did to me. I haven’t stripped him of his duties as they relate to me, or truly realized that what appeared to be a vibrant teacher-student relationship was actually a waste of my time. I have been continuing to harbor this resentment toward him for ruining something that seemed so great, when I needed to have realized that there was nothing there to ruin. I have failed to realize that any memories I have of a good friend, a committed professor, or an invested mentor are completely fraudulent.
I understand that I am probably the last one of those involved to do this, but I have decided that it is past time to put it to bed. There simply isn’t any reason to avoid him anymore. There’s no reason to worry, no reason to change my plans because of him. There is no need to get anxious when I happen upon him.
I’m not sure if this is forgiveness or not. I think forgiveness is what you do out of love or kindness – what you do when you need to start over, or what you do when someone has damaged something of yours and you need to find a way to move on with life. I don’t think that’s what this is.
I think this is the realization that he simply isn’t anything anymore. He doesn’t wield influence, doesn’t control the money. He isn’t a father figure, a friend, an important professor, or a worthy mentor.
In fact, he probably never was.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
The Garth Brooks Juice Diet
Up until a few hours ago, the "legitimate" news sources on the internet would have had you believe that Patrick Swayze would be dead before Tax Day. Major news outlets (most of whom have apparently realized and attempted to remove the egg on their collective face by removing the original story) reported today with a line very similar to the following:
Actor Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer and is not expected to survive through the spring, according to a report today from The National Enquirer. - suntimes.com (Chicago Sun-Times), March 5, 2008
Wait. Did you just cite the National Enquirer in a legitimate news story? On terminal cancer? Of a public figure?
Reminds me of a scene from So I Married an Axe Murderer:
Charlie: Hey Mom, I find it interesting that you refer to the Weekly World News as The Paper. The paper contains facts.
Mom:This paper contains facts. And this paper has the eighth highest circulation in the whole wide world. Right? Plenty of facts. "Pregnant man gives birth." That's a fact. (Source: IMDB)
This makes David Hasinski's much-debated suggestion that input from "citizen journalists" should be regulated seem a little premature (among other things). Standards, Professor? How about standards for legitimate news gatherers first. Perhaps we can save just one desperate soul from attempting to lose weight on the Garth Brooks Juice Diet.
Actor Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer and is not expected to survive through the spring, according to a report today from The National Enquirer. - suntimes.com (Chicago Sun-Times), March 5, 2008
Wait. Did you just cite the National Enquirer in a legitimate news story? On terminal cancer? Of a public figure?
Reminds me of a scene from So I Married an Axe Murderer:
Charlie: Hey Mom, I find it interesting that you refer to the Weekly World News as The Paper. The paper contains facts.
Mom:This paper contains facts. And this paper has the eighth highest circulation in the whole wide world. Right? Plenty of facts. "Pregnant man gives birth." That's a fact. (Source: IMDB)
This makes David Hasinski's much-debated suggestion that input from "citizen journalists" should be regulated seem a little premature (among other things). Standards, Professor? How about standards for legitimate news gatherers first. Perhaps we can save just one desperate soul from attempting to lose weight on the Garth Brooks Juice Diet.
Yazz Band
Some fifteen-and-one-half years after beginning to play in the group, I have recently found myself in front of the University Jazz Band.
This all began last November, just before I took my trip to Nashville with Steve. It was a particularly slow time in terms of work (as the fall usually is). Steve asked if I would have some time to write a couple of "head charts" for the band. Head charts are basically arrangements that contain a main melody (the "head"), an open section for solos, and a return of the head. My formal education in jazz arranging has been virtually non-existent, so I tend to jump at a chance to write in a style that I really enjoy but in which I have little experience. I accepted, and quickly finished my first chart a couple of days later.
That couple of head charts expanded on one January afternoon, when Steve called seemingly just to chat. As the conversation continued, he eventually revealed that he anticipated needing one or two more charts. He also revealed that the reason for this need was that there was a possibility that the Jazz Band may have been going to China for a week in conjunction with the governor's opening an economic development office in Beijing. In order to fill the required amount of time, they would need a lot of easy vocalist-compatible music quickly.
The band has accepted the invitation. They have four rehearsals left before they depart. The arrangements have long since been written. I now find myself at the school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, rehearsing the band in preparation for their trip in a month. I also find myself giving "voice" lessons to the wonderful vocalist who will be performing with the group. And, of course, I am still on call to write for the band again should the need arise. I have, once again, become the utility infielder for a portion of the School of Music.
The more things change...
This all began last November, just before I took my trip to Nashville with Steve. It was a particularly slow time in terms of work (as the fall usually is). Steve asked if I would have some time to write a couple of "head charts" for the band. Head charts are basically arrangements that contain a main melody (the "head"), an open section for solos, and a return of the head. My formal education in jazz arranging has been virtually non-existent, so I tend to jump at a chance to write in a style that I really enjoy but in which I have little experience. I accepted, and quickly finished my first chart a couple of days later.
That couple of head charts expanded on one January afternoon, when Steve called seemingly just to chat. As the conversation continued, he eventually revealed that he anticipated needing one or two more charts. He also revealed that the reason for this need was that there was a possibility that the Jazz Band may have been going to China for a week in conjunction with the governor's opening an economic development office in Beijing. In order to fill the required amount of time, they would need a lot of easy vocalist-compatible music quickly.
The band has accepted the invitation. They have four rehearsals left before they depart. The arrangements have long since been written. I now find myself at the school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, rehearsing the band in preparation for their trip in a month. I also find myself giving "voice" lessons to the wonderful vocalist who will be performing with the group. And, of course, I am still on call to write for the band again should the need arise. I have, once again, become the utility infielder for a portion of the School of Music.
The more things change...
Monday, March 03, 2008
Ears
For many years beginning in 1997, I was privileged to work annually with a recording engineer at the university named Bruce. This is Bruce, with his default non-farting expression. After Dwight was shipped off to the Siberia that is the second floor in late 2002, Bruce's services at UGA were discontinued in the interest of a clean break with the past, fiscal caution, and perhaps compliance with the Clean Air Act Amendment of 1990.
In case you aren't aware, Bruce farts a lot.
In every occasion I had to work with Bruce, I learned more than I ever learned in a classroom. It wasn't always necessarily Bruce that taught me those things, but the circumstances of our association were always quite informative. Bruce's personality was one I always enjoyed - generally very positive, but brutal when negative. He appreciated the people as much as the music and the experience as much as the money.
After Bruce stopped coming to Athens, I began making it a point to see him in Chicago every December. The conversations were always too brief, but very valuable to me.
This past December, Bruce told me that he would be returning to Athens this winter for the first time in six years. He invited me to come to the sessions, for the purposes of visiting and observing a different way of recording than that to which I was accustomed. The first session was yesterday, but my visit was aborted by an encounter with Dwight and Christine. More about that later.
Today's visits were much more pleasant. I was reminded of some of my favorite memories of being a part of the production process. More importantly, I was reminded of great memories of working around people of whom I still think fondly, more frequently than they probably know. You know who you are.
In case you aren't aware, Bruce farts a lot.
In every occasion I had to work with Bruce, I learned more than I ever learned in a classroom. It wasn't always necessarily Bruce that taught me those things, but the circumstances of our association were always quite informative. Bruce's personality was one I always enjoyed - generally very positive, but brutal when negative. He appreciated the people as much as the music and the experience as much as the money.
After Bruce stopped coming to Athens, I began making it a point to see him in Chicago every December. The conversations were always too brief, but very valuable to me.
This past December, Bruce told me that he would be returning to Athens this winter for the first time in six years. He invited me to come to the sessions, for the purposes of visiting and observing a different way of recording than that to which I was accustomed. The first session was yesterday, but my visit was aborted by an encounter with Dwight and Christine. More about that later.
Today's visits were much more pleasant. I was reminded of some of my favorite memories of being a part of the production process. More importantly, I was reminded of great memories of working around people of whom I still think fondly, more frequently than they probably know. You know who you are.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
A blog about blogging
It is an internet cliché to apologize for not blogging, so I won't. But I hereby acknowledge my virtual truancy of late. It really is a shame, because there is a lot going on.
To remedy this, I am imposing a quota on myself. I will write something of meaning in my blog every day for the next week. Topics may include, but are not limited to:
- Today's brush with Dwight, and my somehow still growing disgust for him.
- Today's brush with an old friend and boss, who I have missed since "Bloody Friday."
- My recent visits to the doctor, or "It isn't that funny when you put on a rubber glove, and then say, 'Just Kidding.'"
- Pants: Yay or Nay?
- God.
- Golf with my Dad.
So, if I have been disappointing you with my lack of output lately, you can rest assured that I will provide you with some substantive material with which to be disappointed every day for the next seven.
To remedy this, I am imposing a quota on myself. I will write something of meaning in my blog every day for the next week. Topics may include, but are not limited to:
- Today's brush with Dwight, and my somehow still growing disgust for him.
- Today's brush with an old friend and boss, who I have missed since "Bloody Friday."
- My recent visits to the doctor, or "It isn't that funny when you put on a rubber glove, and then say, 'Just Kidding.'"
- Pants: Yay or Nay?
- God.
- Golf with my Dad.
So, if I have been disappointing you with my lack of output lately, you can rest assured that I will provide you with some substantive material with which to be disappointed every day for the next seven.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Improved Covers
I don't mean to piggy-back off of Kit's occasional "The List" feature. But if you've known me for a while, you may be aware that I have a bit of a list problem myself.
The following is one that I have been mulling for awhile.
The list is of popular songs of which a cover version is seemingly more famous or beloved (EDIT 2/19 8:39PM: Not necessarily "better"...) than its original recording. I am going for performances with reasonable separation of time or style, so a "What Hurts the Most" wouldn't be on my list. I will begin the list by naming (to the best of my ability) the song, the original artist, and the cover artist.
- "Hound Dog" - Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton; Elvis Presley
- "Hard to Handle" - Otis Redding; The Black Crowes
- "I Swear" - John Michael Montgomery; All-4-One
- "I Can Love You Like That" - John Michael Montgomery; All-4-One
- "Bless the Broken Road" - The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band; Rascal Flatts
- "Callin' Baton Rouge" - New Grass Revival; Garth Brooks
- "Shameless" - Billy Joel; Garth Brooks
- "To Make You Feel My Love" - Bob Dylan, Garth Brooks (see a trend?)
- "Hurt" - Nine Inch Nails; Johnny Cash
- "I Will Always Love You" - Dolly Parton; Whitney Houston
- "On Broadway" - The Drifters; George Benson
- "Blueberry Hill" - Gene Autry or Glenn Miller; Fats Domino
- "Wind Beneath My Wings" - Roger Whittaker (!!!); Bette Midler
You can add to the list if you like by commenting, but for the love of God don't blow it.
The following is one that I have been mulling for awhile.
The list is of popular songs of which a cover version is seemingly more famous or beloved (EDIT 2/19 8:39PM: Not necessarily "better"...) than its original recording. I am going for performances with reasonable separation of time or style, so a "What Hurts the Most" wouldn't be on my list. I will begin the list by naming (to the best of my ability) the song, the original artist, and the cover artist.
- "Hound Dog" - Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton; Elvis Presley
- "Hard to Handle" - Otis Redding; The Black Crowes
- "I Swear" - John Michael Montgomery; All-4-One
- "I Can Love You Like That" - John Michael Montgomery; All-4-One
- "Bless the Broken Road" - The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band; Rascal Flatts
- "Callin' Baton Rouge" - New Grass Revival; Garth Brooks
- "Shameless" - Billy Joel; Garth Brooks
- "To Make You Feel My Love" - Bob Dylan, Garth Brooks (see a trend?)
- "Hurt" - Nine Inch Nails; Johnny Cash
- "I Will Always Love You" - Dolly Parton; Whitney Houston
- "On Broadway" - The Drifters; George Benson
- "Blueberry Hill" - Gene Autry or Glenn Miller; Fats Domino
- "Wind Beneath My Wings" - Roger Whittaker (!!!); Bette Midler
You can add to the list if you like by commenting, but for the love of God don't blow it.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The Past
I'm not really sure what this is about...
It goes without saying, since she loves me and all, that Meghan is not your typical woman. One way in which this is true may seem insignificant to anyone who isn't intimately acquainted with my particularly potent brand of nerdiness and my need for a sustained immersion in the familiar. But it is most certainly not insignificant that Meghan likes to watch old band videos. At the end of dinner tonight, she said she would like to see the 2004 video (that of my last year with the band). I immediately sought out a waiter for a box.
From the second the video started, I was amazed at those people and how they oozed with personality and uniqueness. That little hint started this chain reaction of thoughts and recollections of all of these people from even further back. This separation I had finally achieved between myself and one million things about that group of people instantly disappeared. I had forgotten about several old friends, some of the traditions, and selected mental pictures and recordings I had made in wise moments of realizing that it wasn't going to last forever. At thirty frames per second, the past seems perfect.
I really did love the moments that were worthy of the highlight reel. That's why I stayed around for so long.
But the more I reflected, the deeper I crept into the memories of those days. I began to remember feeling behind, all the time. I started remembering the frustrations... pulling teeth to get support, managing varying levels of proficiency in those around you, choosing what to do poorly in order to be able to do everything, trying to wash the day away with a Jack and Dr. Pepper, being owned.
There were moments in those days that I hope I never forget - moments that, when recalled, continue to make me smile my honest smile and to summon a tear of fondness
But there were many more hours of film on the cutting room floor. Much of that footage wasn't very pretty.
It goes without saying, since she loves me and all, that Meghan is not your typical woman. One way in which this is true may seem insignificant to anyone who isn't intimately acquainted with my particularly potent brand of nerdiness and my need for a sustained immersion in the familiar. But it is most certainly not insignificant that Meghan likes to watch old band videos. At the end of dinner tonight, she said she would like to see the 2004 video (that of my last year with the band). I immediately sought out a waiter for a box.
From the second the video started, I was amazed at those people and how they oozed with personality and uniqueness. That little hint started this chain reaction of thoughts and recollections of all of these people from even further back. This separation I had finally achieved between myself and one million things about that group of people instantly disappeared. I had forgotten about several old friends, some of the traditions, and selected mental pictures and recordings I had made in wise moments of realizing that it wasn't going to last forever. At thirty frames per second, the past seems perfect.
I really did love the moments that were worthy of the highlight reel. That's why I stayed around for so long.
But the more I reflected, the deeper I crept into the memories of those days. I began to remember feeling behind, all the time. I started remembering the frustrations... pulling teeth to get support, managing varying levels of proficiency in those around you, choosing what to do poorly in order to be able to do everything, trying to wash the day away with a Jack and Dr. Pepper, being owned.
There were moments in those days that I hope I never forget - moments that, when recalled, continue to make me smile my honest smile and to summon a tear of fondness
But there were many more hours of film on the cutting room floor. Much of that footage wasn't very pretty.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Boobs! (and other far less significant bullets)
• I was sick for most of last week with what I would once have called "Strip Throat." If I have to be sick, that's about the best I can hope for... no puking, no grody pooping, little fever, and a sore throat.
• When I went to the doctor to check on my condition, I received a bit of a shock. The only things a doctor has ever told me to do were to stop a habit that I quit long ago, manage a habit which I recently began to manage, and to exercise. That changed last week. He told me two things, one of which was to lose weight. I am still a little blown away by this, since it was the first time I had heard it.
The other thing will be something I'll keep an eye on. I'll let you know if you need to know.
• Meghan is slated to be a bride's maid at a wedding this July. She went to Atlanta today with the other members of the wedding party for the second attempt to find dresses. As a part of the day, they all went to Intimacy for bra fittings.
Meghan reports a very unfriendly experience at the Atlanta branch of Intimacy, which is located at Phipps Plaza in Buckhead. After working with her "customer service" representative and sharing her opinions regarding this first couple of items she was given to try, the employee more or less left her in a room with twelve bras without offering further assistance. The employee could also be overheard telling another customer that she would prefer to work with her than Meghan, which the employee made apparent by not returning to the fitting room. That's about the time Meghan walked out.
• And in other news, I'm getting worried about Munson.
• When I went to the doctor to check on my condition, I received a bit of a shock. The only things a doctor has ever told me to do were to stop a habit that I quit long ago, manage a habit which I recently began to manage, and to exercise. That changed last week. He told me two things, one of which was to lose weight. I am still a little blown away by this, since it was the first time I had heard it.
The other thing will be something I'll keep an eye on. I'll let you know if you need to know.
• Meghan is slated to be a bride's maid at a wedding this July. She went to Atlanta today with the other members of the wedding party for the second attempt to find dresses. As a part of the day, they all went to Intimacy for bra fittings.
Meghan reports a very unfriendly experience at the Atlanta branch of Intimacy, which is located at Phipps Plaza in Buckhead. After working with her "customer service" representative and sharing her opinions regarding this first couple of items she was given to try, the employee more or less left her in a room with twelve bras without offering further assistance. The employee could also be overheard telling another customer that she would prefer to work with her than Meghan, which the employee made apparent by not returning to the fitting room. That's about the time Meghan walked out.
• And in other news, I'm getting worried about Munson.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
If you would like to witness the collapse of one part of the music industry as it happens, follow this story. The way I see it, the outcome of this will be the end of the major labels as we know them or the end of the songwriting profession as we know it. I'm sure you know what side I'm on.
(HT - Hagood)
(HT - Hagood)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
What?
You mean to tell me that UGA hasn't taken sexual harassment seriously in the past? I have never heard of such a thing.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
And in other news...
... a Starbuck's is closing. The cause of death was said to be a combination of the consumption of shitty coffee and an exploding head. (Ht: Lefsetz)
Monday, January 28, 2008
Sick Day
I've been in the bed all day with a bug or imagined disorder related to one of the following causes: fatigue, strep throat, football withdrawal, Epstein-Barr Virus, Amazing Race withdrawal, the common cold, LOST anticipation, or avian flu. I'm not really sure, but I think it's probably a combination of all of the above.
Regardless of the cause of my incapacitation, it has left me with a lot of time to think. And that's not always a great idea...
• I have been enjoying a late bit of productivity in the songwriting department. Over the last year or so, I got into the bad habit of waiting to have a new idea before I wrote. Having finished the book to which I referred recently, I sat after the beginning of the year and began to focus more intently on my work. After several small victories, I realized once again that, by not writing every day, I rob myself of the benefit of my accidents. The results of my newfound productivity have made me smile.
• When I moved back to Athens in August, I decided that I was going to enjoy myself as much as possible while I was here. Because of this, I was paying very little attention to what I was eating, confident that I would be able to get back on track at a not-too-distant yet unspecified point in the future. After college football season ended, Meghan and I made a flexible pact to exercise and watch what we eat during the week, in exchange for looser guidelines on weekends.
Naturally, I have gained weight as a result. I have begun to notice that my old pants don't fit like they used to, and had considered buying new ones. Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, I decided to weigh myself (which I don't do very often). I volunteered to Meghan that, if I weighed as much as a weight rhyming with schmoo-hundred-and-fifteen pounds, then I would immediately join a gym.
I stepped on the scale, and holy crap there was no way it said what it did. But it sure looked like it did. I was shocked.
I checked it again later, and realized that I had read it as being ten pounds more that it actually was. Nevertheless, it is still about fifteen pounds more than I feel is acceptable for me. Looks like I have some work to do.
• I did attend Geee-em-ee-YAY once again this year. It was, however, the shortest visit I have ever made to the conference. I left Athens at abut 6:30 on Friday morning, and was back by 4:30 on Saturday afternoon. I got lots done, and got just a little bit of time with friends. I did, however, get a very good book recommendation from a friend.
• I finally have pics of synchronized swimming. Enjoy.
Regardless of the cause of my incapacitation, it has left me with a lot of time to think. And that's not always a great idea...
• I have been enjoying a late bit of productivity in the songwriting department. Over the last year or so, I got into the bad habit of waiting to have a new idea before I wrote. Having finished the book to which I referred recently, I sat after the beginning of the year and began to focus more intently on my work. After several small victories, I realized once again that, by not writing every day, I rob myself of the benefit of my accidents. The results of my newfound productivity have made me smile.
• When I moved back to Athens in August, I decided that I was going to enjoy myself as much as possible while I was here. Because of this, I was paying very little attention to what I was eating, confident that I would be able to get back on track at a not-too-distant yet unspecified point in the future. After college football season ended, Meghan and I made a flexible pact to exercise and watch what we eat during the week, in exchange for looser guidelines on weekends.
Naturally, I have gained weight as a result. I have begun to notice that my old pants don't fit like they used to, and had considered buying new ones. Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, I decided to weigh myself (which I don't do very often). I volunteered to Meghan that, if I weighed as much as a weight rhyming with schmoo-hundred-and-fifteen pounds, then I would immediately join a gym.
I stepped on the scale, and holy crap there was no way it said what it did. But it sure looked like it did. I was shocked.
I checked it again later, and realized that I had read it as being ten pounds more that it actually was. Nevertheless, it is still about fifteen pounds more than I feel is acceptable for me. Looks like I have some work to do.
• I did attend Geee-em-ee-YAY once again this year. It was, however, the shortest visit I have ever made to the conference. I left Athens at abut 6:30 on Friday morning, and was back by 4:30 on Saturday afternoon. I got lots done, and got just a little bit of time with friends. I did, however, get a very good book recommendation from a friend.
• I finally have pics of synchronized swimming. Enjoy.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Synchro de "Oh, My!"
Meghan, her father, and I went to a synchronized swimming meet today. Not in a million years did I ever think I would do this but I did.
Meghan's cousin is a member of the team that was coming to town to compete with Georgia's team (which is a club team). If the recap would have made the paper, the headline would have been something stupid like "Synchron-Ass-Kicking." Here's their version of the story.
It's totally boring to watch on television. And I don't suspect that you will find me becoming a season ticket holder. But it's definitely a much more demanding activity than it is often credited for being. And watching someone who knew what they were doing was more impressive than I thought it would be.
Still, during the weaker performances (all of which were by our club team) I couldn't help being reminded of this video.
Meghan's cousin is a member of the team that was coming to town to compete with Georgia's team (which is a club team). If the recap would have made the paper, the headline would have been something stupid like "Synchron-Ass-Kicking." Here's their version of the story.
It's totally boring to watch on television. And I don't suspect that you will find me becoming a season ticket holder. But it's definitely a much more demanding activity than it is often credited for being. And watching someone who knew what they were doing was more impressive than I thought it would be.
Still, during the weaker performances (all of which were by our club team) I couldn't help being reminded of this video.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Here's a short article in The Tennessean about the songwriting workshop I have mentioned here before. Sounds about right... ish.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Death of The Cool
If you're interested in the music business, you should read Bob Lefsetz. He is loud and keenly aware of the ineptitude of the major music labels. I don't know if anyone who matters is paying attention, but I hope someone is.
In one of his recent offerings, Bob compares the sales of the top ten albums of 2000 with the sales of the top ten of 2007. After showing (among other things) the disproportionately high drop in sales of the top albums versus the drop in total sales, he makes, and then develops, the following point:
People still want music. In prodigious amounts. They just don’t all want the same thing.
I find something marginally frightening and very interesting in the numbers and the conclusion he draws. I agree with him, and anyone who is paying attention knows that this isn't just happening in music.
Here is a list of the 100 top-grossing films of all time based on their box office gross and adjusted for inflation. You have to get all the way down to #19 before you hit a film (Star Wars: Episode I) that was released in the last ten years, and that was part of a franchise that is thirty years old. The next one? Shrek 2 at #29. A kids' movie! Next? Spider-man, based on a character that was created forty-five years ago. The reception of original material at the box office in the last ten years hasn't been nearly what it was before that time.
You can argue that that's a skewed way of looking at things. For a couple of bucks, you can get a crystal clear version of your favorite movie without moving your butt off the couch. So one would naturally think that people aren't going to the movies. But box office receipts reportedly have continued to trend up and outpace inflation for quite some time. People are going to the movies. They're just not going to the same movies as everyone on their block.
If you consider the changes over the last ten years in how we receive information, this should come as no surprise. I'm not telling you anything you don't know when I remind you that, ten years ago, you couldn't sneeze without finding a channel that played music videos. Flip channels for the next twenty-four hours and see if you can find an entire music video. If you were an Atlantan ten years ago, you listened to one of eight or nine major FM stations or a CD player when you were looking for music. Between the possibility of satellite radio (over 70 music channels on XM) and your iPod, your choices are far more numerous and customizable then they were back when. If you happen to hear a (or should I say "the") song by Starland Vocal Band on your radio, you can find similar material and own it virtually effortlessly, virtually immediately, from virtually anywhere. If you were bored in 1998, you may have rented a movie, or watched a VHS you owned. If you don't like anything on television this week, why not rent an entire season of an interesting series you have missed in the past? As of today, you will be able to do that from the comfort of your couch (which, if you're like me, is a couch that you did own ten years ago). Or you could, of course, watch any of the material you may have recorded with the touch of a button in perfect quality on your DVR on any of your 100-or-so television channels.
The point is not so much to be amazed at how much technology has changed as it is to realize how many more choices we have about the content we absorb.
Furthermore, there is a very good chance that you spend much more of your day isolated than you did ten years ago. I don't have the numbers to prove it, but I know that the number of phone conversations I have is a fraction of what it was ten years ago because of the ability to communicate by email, web site, IM, or text message. I know that I am much more likely to bury myself in my iPod on an air travel day than I would have been to haul around a significant portion of my CD collection. And long gone are many of the accidental conversations, the small talk, the word of mouth, and the shared impressions of our common experiences. I will listen to my Steely Dan and scarcely notice you and your Shins, Imogen Heap, Kenny Chesney, or Soulja Boy.
How many of this week's Top 10 singles do you know? My money says less than three for anyone who reads this, simply because no one is telling you what is cool.
We are as isolated from each other and as free to choose what content we absorb than at any time since the rise of the cities. Because of this, we share fewer common influences than at any time in memory. Ubiquity in media rides off into the sunset. For most everyone except the lonely middle-schooler trying to get some attention, "Cool" is dead.
So, what does all of this mean? I don't know. You can read Bob for some opinions. Or your can read Alvin Toffler, who said he saw this coming. I think the bottom line is that we live in a time in which I can more or less do my thing, and you can do yours. Hopefully, that's good enough for the people calling the shots.
In one of his recent offerings, Bob compares the sales of the top ten albums of 2000 with the sales of the top ten of 2007. After showing (among other things) the disproportionately high drop in sales of the top albums versus the drop in total sales, he makes, and then develops, the following point:
People still want music. In prodigious amounts. They just don’t all want the same thing.
I find something marginally frightening and very interesting in the numbers and the conclusion he draws. I agree with him, and anyone who is paying attention knows that this isn't just happening in music.
Here is a list of the 100 top-grossing films of all time based on their box office gross and adjusted for inflation. You have to get all the way down to #19 before you hit a film (Star Wars: Episode I) that was released in the last ten years, and that was part of a franchise that is thirty years old. The next one? Shrek 2 at #29. A kids' movie! Next? Spider-man, based on a character that was created forty-five years ago. The reception of original material at the box office in the last ten years hasn't been nearly what it was before that time.
You can argue that that's a skewed way of looking at things. For a couple of bucks, you can get a crystal clear version of your favorite movie without moving your butt off the couch. So one would naturally think that people aren't going to the movies. But box office receipts reportedly have continued to trend up and outpace inflation for quite some time. People are going to the movies. They're just not going to the same movies as everyone on their block.
If you consider the changes over the last ten years in how we receive information, this should come as no surprise. I'm not telling you anything you don't know when I remind you that, ten years ago, you couldn't sneeze without finding a channel that played music videos. Flip channels for the next twenty-four hours and see if you can find an entire music video. If you were an Atlantan ten years ago, you listened to one of eight or nine major FM stations or a CD player when you were looking for music. Between the possibility of satellite radio (over 70 music channels on XM) and your iPod, your choices are far more numerous and customizable then they were back when. If you happen to hear a (or should I say "the") song by Starland Vocal Band on your radio, you can find similar material and own it virtually effortlessly, virtually immediately, from virtually anywhere. If you were bored in 1998, you may have rented a movie, or watched a VHS you owned. If you don't like anything on television this week, why not rent an entire season of an interesting series you have missed in the past? As of today, you will be able to do that from the comfort of your couch (which, if you're like me, is a couch that you did own ten years ago). Or you could, of course, watch any of the material you may have recorded with the touch of a button in perfect quality on your DVR on any of your 100-or-so television channels.
The point is not so much to be amazed at how much technology has changed as it is to realize how many more choices we have about the content we absorb.
Furthermore, there is a very good chance that you spend much more of your day isolated than you did ten years ago. I don't have the numbers to prove it, but I know that the number of phone conversations I have is a fraction of what it was ten years ago because of the ability to communicate by email, web site, IM, or text message. I know that I am much more likely to bury myself in my iPod on an air travel day than I would have been to haul around a significant portion of my CD collection. And long gone are many of the accidental conversations, the small talk, the word of mouth, and the shared impressions of our common experiences. I will listen to my Steely Dan and scarcely notice you and your Shins, Imogen Heap, Kenny Chesney, or Soulja Boy.
How many of this week's Top 10 singles do you know? My money says less than three for anyone who reads this, simply because no one is telling you what is cool.
We are as isolated from each other and as free to choose what content we absorb than at any time since the rise of the cities. Because of this, we share fewer common influences than at any time in memory. Ubiquity in media rides off into the sunset. For most everyone except the lonely middle-schooler trying to get some attention, "Cool" is dead.
So, what does all of this mean? I don't know. You can read Bob for some opinions. Or your can read Alvin Toffler, who said he saw this coming. I think the bottom line is that we live in a time in which I can more or less do my thing, and you can do yours. Hopefully, that's good enough for the people calling the shots.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The Week In Reverse, some commercial music, and a quote
• Meghan and I saw Charlie Wilson's War this evening. I thought it was quite good, and thought-provoking in an all too familiar way. Having seen it, I am an even bigger fan of Philip Seymour Hoffman than I was before.
• At the beginning of the film, the trailer for Cloverfield appeared. This is one of those films that I don't think I would watch at home, but that I would watch at a theater. I am betting that I will be seeing it alone.
• Last night, Meghan and I made our way to the Stegosaurus for Georgia's basketball victory over Georgia Tech. This is the first time I have been to a men's basketball game since I worked at the university ending in 2005. Little has changed.
Meghan frequently accuses me of approaching the camera poorly. Pot. Kettle. Black.
The Hoop Dawgs had a good night in a season that has been better so far than prior ones, but not quite what many had been hoping for. I often wonder if we'll ever have another great season.
Remember '95-'97? "The Tub?" Taking out the 8 and 1-seeds in the NCAA tournament, just before losing (in double overtime) a game we should have won in Denver? Playing in the final game of the conference tournament? I miss looking forward to almost every night at the coliseum, and I hope days like that return.
• On Tuesday, we finally saw Jesus Camp. It was extremely interesting. It was particularly interesting in light of activities that took place over the weekend (which I may discuss at a later date).
• Monday was obviously the B(C)S title game. I had a great time watching the game, but whatever. I'll bet Fox isn't just real thrilled, considering this.
• Many of you know that there are some instances of commercial music that simultaneously freak me out and attract me. I have found yet another example, which happens to be minimalist (or just repetitive) and the longest commercial in history.
It also contains some really encouraging information. < /sarcasm>
• I have been reading Jimmy Webb's book Tunesmith. It's been a fantastic read, and has me excited again about my druther occupation after a period of time when I had asked myself whether or not it was worth it. Nearing the end of the book, my favorite passage is in reference to an advertising agency, and follows:
Their creative staff (fine arts executives) will come up with the "pitch," the storyboards, "lyrics" (they insist on calling them "copy") and a handful of musical concepts. These are the guys who can get tears in their eyes telling you about a new name they have come up with for a douche. - from Tunesmith by Jimmy Webb. © 1998, Jimmy Webb
• At the beginning of the film, the trailer for Cloverfield appeared. This is one of those films that I don't think I would watch at home, but that I would watch at a theater. I am betting that I will be seeing it alone.
• Last night, Meghan and I made our way to the Stegosaurus for Georgia's basketball victory over Georgia Tech. This is the first time I have been to a men's basketball game since I worked at the university ending in 2005. Little has changed.
Meghan frequently accuses me of approaching the camera poorly. Pot. Kettle. Black.
The Hoop Dawgs had a good night in a season that has been better so far than prior ones, but not quite what many had been hoping for. I often wonder if we'll ever have another great season.
Remember '95-'97? "The Tub?" Taking out the 8 and 1-seeds in the NCAA tournament, just before losing (in double overtime) a game we should have won in Denver? Playing in the final game of the conference tournament? I miss looking forward to almost every night at the coliseum, and I hope days like that return.
• On Tuesday, we finally saw Jesus Camp. It was extremely interesting. It was particularly interesting in light of activities that took place over the weekend (which I may discuss at a later date).
• Monday was obviously the B(C)S title game. I had a great time watching the game, but whatever. I'll bet Fox isn't just real thrilled, considering this.
• Many of you know that there are some instances of commercial music that simultaneously freak me out and attract me. I have found yet another example, which happens to be minimalist (or just repetitive) and the longest commercial in history.
It also contains some really encouraging information. < /sarcasm>
• I have been reading Jimmy Webb's book Tunesmith. It's been a fantastic read, and has me excited again about my druther occupation after a period of time when I had asked myself whether or not it was worth it. Nearing the end of the book, my favorite passage is in reference to an advertising agency, and follows:
Their creative staff (fine arts executives) will come up with the "pitch," the storyboards, "lyrics" (they insist on calling them "copy") and a handful of musical concepts. These are the guys who can get tears in their eyes telling you about a new name they have come up with for a douche. - from Tunesmith by Jimmy Webb. © 1998, Jimmy Webb
Saturday, January 05, 2008
New year, same old damn bullets
• School begins for Meghan this coming Monday. This would mark the official end of the holiday season, and that bums me.
• Speaking of the end of the holidays, I went toCumming Forsyth County yesterday to help Mom and Dad remove and store the Christmas decorations. For those of you who have never been to my parents' house, you should know that Christmas items are to their home during the holidays as cuss words are to a federal prison. It took a little over five hours to get everything down and packed away.
That is, by far, the most depressing thing about the holidays - putting Christmas in a box, and putting that box in the basement.
• In more positive news, Georgia is slated to play Georgia Tech in basketball in Athens this Wednesday. Officials are hopeful that there will still be five eligible players enrolled at the university at tip-off.
• I was in line at a fast food restaurant this afternoon. The gentleman who was delivering the food through the second window had a large visible tattoo on his bag hand. And that, to me, was just strange. In my mind, I imagine people who get tattoos as very proud individuals. To plunge in stature from one worthy of tattoos to fast food employee seems like a significant fall to me. I don't know. Whatever.
• It seems like I have to trim my fingernails every other day. The frequency has begun to bug me so much that, after realizing today that it was time once again, I whined audibly about it. To make matters worse, this will theoretically continue for the rest of my life. That prospect is a little more overwhelming to me than it should be.
• If you're a fan of Lost, then you may know that the (probably strike-shortened) fourth season begins on Jan. 31 at 8/7c on your local ABC station. You may not have been aware that billboards for Oceanic Air have been popping up in certain key cities. If you are as crazy about this show as I am, you may enjoy visiting the site mentioned at the bottom of the boards, when/if you have time. I never thought I would like this show as much as I do.
• Speaking of the end of the holidays, I went to
That is, by far, the most depressing thing about the holidays - putting Christmas in a box, and putting that box in the basement.
• In more positive news, Georgia is slated to play Georgia Tech in basketball in Athens this Wednesday. Officials are hopeful that there will still be five eligible players enrolled at the university at tip-off.
• I was in line at a fast food restaurant this afternoon. The gentleman who was delivering the food through the second window had a large visible tattoo on his bag hand. And that, to me, was just strange. In my mind, I imagine people who get tattoos as very proud individuals. To plunge in stature from one worthy of tattoos to fast food employee seems like a significant fall to me. I don't know. Whatever.
• It seems like I have to trim my fingernails every other day. The frequency has begun to bug me so much that, after realizing today that it was time once again, I whined audibly about it. To make matters worse, this will theoretically continue for the rest of my life. That prospect is a little more overwhelming to me than it should be.
• If you're a fan of Lost, then you may know that the (probably strike-shortened) fourth season begins on Jan. 31 at 8/7c on your local ABC station. You may not have been aware that billboards for Oceanic Air have been popping up in certain key cities. If you are as crazy about this show as I am, you may enjoy visiting the site mentioned at the bottom of the boards, when/if you have time. I never thought I would like this show as much as I do.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
"... a stupid idea thought up by intellectual midgets trying to protect greedy college presidents..."
I am so late to the show with my novice Sugar Bowl commentary, but I still can't get over what a horrible game the BCS caused to take place.
The first thing that comes to mind is how poorly the players of both teams have been treated in this situation. The Georgia players earned the right to play a competitive game against someone whose opposition would give them a chance to test their own mettle and prove their own greatness. They were robbed of that opportunity by:
- a BCS that required Hawaii to be chosen for one of its games, and...
- either the Sugar Bowl or Rose Bowl administration which could not get far enough past now meaningless traditions to create one compelling game.
The Hawaii players have also been mistreated by being allowed to participate in the Football Bowl Subdivision (puhhhhlllllleeeeaze... can't we call a spade a spade?). The FBS is far too crowded by fiscally elite institutions to accommodate the inclusion of schools that don't have the ability to compete. Players who should be at this level don't go to schools where they don't have soap in the shower. Whoever is leading kids to Hawaii to play football with hopes of a D-1 national title is either greedy or stupid.
The media's poor-mouthing for the Hawaii program is charming and all. But it fails to take into account that the NCAA makes accommodations for schools who don't have huge budgets. There is no room for whining about resources at the highest level. I have absolutely no sympathy for a university which puts its students in this position, nor do I pity students who decide to play for one (Besides... you live in effing Hawaii... you have nothing about which to complain).
I know that sounds elitist, and I hate that. But the fact is that the division is so big that we can't even come up with a consensus champion in most years. In its excessive size, the NCAA includes far too many schools that simply do not have the money, fan bases, or available talent to compete consistently with the fleet afoot. The NCAA should honor the intent of its divisions and reduce the size of the FBS so that all of its student-athletes participate in meaningful and compelling activities, rather than by continuing to sanction the misleading of its supposedly most valued associates into unrewarded excellence and empty victory.
Next, Fox announcer Thom Brennaman's commentary about Georgia's continuing to play football in the fourth quarter was short-sighted and inappropriate. (This is, of course, no surprise. Let's see, what did I call the Fox Broadcast of last year's title game? Oh, that's right... bush league.) When you're playing a team with an offense that is as potent as Hawaii's was most of the season, you can't score too many points. Plus, when you consider a few of the immodest margins Hawaii hung on its opponents this year, no two-digit winning score is too much - especially when it is brought about by players from the second and third string offense.
Oh, and Fox... let's not forget that you or your parent company brought us "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire," "When Animals Attack," "COPS," "The O'Reilly Factor," and "American Idol." Your moral indignation is, to put it mildly, misplaced.
In spite of all of these whining points, there are very bright spots among all of the shit the college presidents and television networks have left us. The young men who represent our school have done so as well as I could ever have hoped they would. Our coach has led with class (yes Florida, class) while refuting the notion that admirable people must allow themselves to be pushed around. Our team is in great shape for what could potentially be a most memorable season.
But that taste... I can't get that taste out of my mouth. That disgusting taste that James Carville (with whom I frequently disagree) tastes as well. Greedy, small-minded "leaders" are sacrificing my favorite sport for their own gain. And I am over it.
The first thing that comes to mind is how poorly the players of both teams have been treated in this situation. The Georgia players earned the right to play a competitive game against someone whose opposition would give them a chance to test their own mettle and prove their own greatness. They were robbed of that opportunity by:
- a BCS that required Hawaii to be chosen for one of its games, and...
- either the Sugar Bowl or Rose Bowl administration which could not get far enough past now meaningless traditions to create one compelling game.
The Hawaii players have also been mistreated by being allowed to participate in the Football Bowl Subdivision (puhhhhlllllleeeeaze... can't we call a spade a spade?). The FBS is far too crowded by fiscally elite institutions to accommodate the inclusion of schools that don't have the ability to compete. Players who should be at this level don't go to schools where they don't have soap in the shower. Whoever is leading kids to Hawaii to play football with hopes of a D-1 national title is either greedy or stupid.
The media's poor-mouthing for the Hawaii program is charming and all. But it fails to take into account that the NCAA makes accommodations for schools who don't have huge budgets. There is no room for whining about resources at the highest level. I have absolutely no sympathy for a university which puts its students in this position, nor do I pity students who decide to play for one (Besides... you live in effing Hawaii... you have nothing about which to complain).
I know that sounds elitist, and I hate that. But the fact is that the division is so big that we can't even come up with a consensus champion in most years. In its excessive size, the NCAA includes far too many schools that simply do not have the money, fan bases, or available talent to compete consistently with the fleet afoot. The NCAA should honor the intent of its divisions and reduce the size of the FBS so that all of its student-athletes participate in meaningful and compelling activities, rather than by continuing to sanction the misleading of its supposedly most valued associates into unrewarded excellence and empty victory.
Next, Fox announcer Thom Brennaman's commentary about Georgia's continuing to play football in the fourth quarter was short-sighted and inappropriate. (This is, of course, no surprise. Let's see, what did I call the Fox Broadcast of last year's title game? Oh, that's right... bush league.) When you're playing a team with an offense that is as potent as Hawaii's was most of the season, you can't score too many points. Plus, when you consider a few of the immodest margins Hawaii hung on its opponents this year, no two-digit winning score is too much - especially when it is brought about by players from the second and third string offense.
Oh, and Fox... let's not forget that you or your parent company brought us "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire," "When Animals Attack," "COPS," "The O'Reilly Factor," and "American Idol." Your moral indignation is, to put it mildly, misplaced.
In spite of all of these whining points, there are very bright spots among all of the shit the college presidents and television networks have left us. The young men who represent our school have done so as well as I could ever have hoped they would. Our coach has led with class (yes Florida, class) while refuting the notion that admirable people must allow themselves to be pushed around. Our team is in great shape for what could potentially be a most memorable season.
But that taste... I can't get that taste out of my mouth. That disgusting taste that James Carville (with whom I frequently disagree) tastes as well. Greedy, small-minded "leaders" are sacrificing my favorite sport for their own gain. And I am over it.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
What's going on
My trip to Chicago was very nice. In case I haven't told you, I was the tour escort for the orchestra from this school. It was not a terribly work-intensive job, so I had a fair amount of time to venture down to the Hilton and participate in the sober portions of the Midwest festivities.
The time available to spend with dear old friends was woefully insufficient. But I was able to get a lot of very good information about a new musical pursuit that I have been considering. I will fill you in on that as it develops. Just know that I'm very excited.
After way too much time away from my woman, I returned to Athens for way too little time with her. Then I was off to Forsyth County for time with my folks.
Christmas has changed quite a bit since my brother has had kids. It has changed more drastically since he moved his family to Nashville. For the first time I remember, there were no gifts exchanged on Christmas Eve (or "Christmas Eve Day" as my Granny would say) or Christmas Day. It was very nice to spend no-pressure time with my parents and grandmother. I miss them very badly, and have realized more as I age how good they have been to me. I hope I give them a bit of that back.
Meghan came to Forsyth County moments after my brother and his family arrived. The "stuff" portion of Christmas ensued, along with all of the pandemonium that typically accompanies it. Between my renewed appreciation for my folks and the joy of being with Meghan, it really was the best Christmas I remember. I am hoping for many, many more like that one.
"Stuff-wise" (which seems increasingly insignificant every year), it was also very nice. My folks gave me an 80 Gb iPod to replace the one that has been tits up for about a year. They also gave me a portable tailgating grill, which I know will get a great deal of use in the coming years, and a cool rolling laptop desk for the den. I also got some great clothes and some arranging/theory texts, which are to me as a stuffed toy is to a dog. My brother and sister-in-law gave Meghan and me a gift certificate to Farm 255, where we have really wanted to eat but haven't wanted to finance. Two dear friends also gave me a framed print of "Seven Tubas," which I have wanted for years. More gifts to come soon.
I've got friends in town now for the new year, and I can't wait for the Sugar Bowl. I also have a turkey sandwich sitting beside me that isn't going to eat itself.
The time available to spend with dear old friends was woefully insufficient. But I was able to get a lot of very good information about a new musical pursuit that I have been considering. I will fill you in on that as it develops. Just know that I'm very excited.
After way too much time away from my woman, I returned to Athens for way too little time with her. Then I was off to Forsyth County for time with my folks.
Christmas has changed quite a bit since my brother has had kids. It has changed more drastically since he moved his family to Nashville. For the first time I remember, there were no gifts exchanged on Christmas Eve (or "Christmas Eve Day" as my Granny would say) or Christmas Day. It was very nice to spend no-pressure time with my parents and grandmother. I miss them very badly, and have realized more as I age how good they have been to me. I hope I give them a bit of that back.
Meghan came to Forsyth County moments after my brother and his family arrived. The "stuff" portion of Christmas ensued, along with all of the pandemonium that typically accompanies it. Between my renewed appreciation for my folks and the joy of being with Meghan, it really was the best Christmas I remember. I am hoping for many, many more like that one.
"Stuff-wise" (which seems increasingly insignificant every year), it was also very nice. My folks gave me an 80 Gb iPod to replace the one that has been tits up for about a year. They also gave me a portable tailgating grill, which I know will get a great deal of use in the coming years, and a cool rolling laptop desk for the den. I also got some great clothes and some arranging/theory texts, which are to me as a stuffed toy is to a dog. My brother and sister-in-law gave Meghan and me a gift certificate to Farm 255, where we have really wanted to eat but haven't wanted to finance. Two dear friends also gave me a framed print of "Seven Tubas," which I have wanted for years. More gifts to come soon.
I've got friends in town now for the new year, and I can't wait for the Sugar Bowl. I also have a turkey sandwich sitting beside me that isn't going to eat itself.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Overheard at Midway (by many)
||: "The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... The moving walkway is ending... " :||
Unpacking, laundry, recovery, and packing today. Home tonight.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
December Demons
This complaint is two-pronged, and really silly. I suspect it is born out of a little-self confidence issue that comes from not being formally trained in my current occupation, along with a tendency in some to find fault easily and in others to find sources of amazement easily.
I recently have been writing an arrangement for a saxophone ensemble (and three, two, one, snicker at a volume of your choosing). As I began, I thought carefully about the key in which I would write considering the range of the melody versus that of the instruments for which I was writing, the intonation tendencies of the family into which those instruments belong, and the form of the arrangement (which in this case would include a significant modulation). Without too much effort, I chose the key of F Major - a key that any decent wind arranger will use on a frequent basis.
As I began writing, I began thinking about the key of F. And it occurred to me that even "F" wasn't a great choice, as the notes F and C are terrible notes on the E-flat and the B-flat horns respectively. On the other hand, the notes A and E are wonderful notes on the same instruments, and they would play key functions (no pun intended) in the arrangement because of its jazz style and the frequent occurrence of major-seventh chords therein. Thus I began looking for another key that would fit the guidelines that I set forth at the beginning, including the presence of a nice key a minor third above the tonic for the modulation.
In this quest, what I found was that there isn't any great key. I could find a significant amount of problems in every key I considered. That brought me back to the spring in which I was writing for a grade six high school band, and the director wanted to rid the arrangement of the two B-naturals in the tuba part (I almost always write them up when I encounter them) which where not at huge moments in the show. And as I thought about this, I grew even more frustrated at the complications of the horribly imperfect tonal system that we have, and began to be convinced that I simply didn't know what I was doing.
Last evening, I was in a discussion with an undergraduate student who studies music at a university within my region of the country whose Director of Bands is an arranger of note (again, no pun intended) and someone whose work I have admired since I was in middle school. The student was talking about taking the arranging and orchestration course with this professor, and I became pleasantly jealous of the opportunity has we was receiving.
As this student continued to rave, he was using large words - strong words like "unbelievable," "amazing," and "mind-blowing." As he did so, my jealousy began to fade just a bit. I can count on two hands the "amazing" musical or academic experiences I have ever had. And short of the discovery of new buttons on an instrument or a groundbreaking-ly effective system of making students able to implement the complexities of interesting tonality in a simple manner, I found it very hard to believe that the course was that amazing.
And then, the Midwest Demons crept in. And they began to tell me what they tell me every year at about this time. You have no idea what you're doing. There is a world of information that everyone but you possesses, and you can not have it. You're a fraud.
It happens every year. And I hate it.
At the end of the day, I know it isn't true. There are handshakes and pieces of paper that lend instant credibility to some, whether they actually warrant it or not. Though I realize this, I often find myself unable to stop thinking about how some components of my professional life might be different now if I had focused more diligently or chosen a selected mentorship or two more carefully.
It happens every year and I am far too young, even still, to be asking questions like this.
I recently have been writing an arrangement for a saxophone ensemble (and three, two, one, snicker at a volume of your choosing). As I began, I thought carefully about the key in which I would write considering the range of the melody versus that of the instruments for which I was writing, the intonation tendencies of the family into which those instruments belong, and the form of the arrangement (which in this case would include a significant modulation). Without too much effort, I chose the key of F Major - a key that any decent wind arranger will use on a frequent basis.
As I began writing, I began thinking about the key of F. And it occurred to me that even "F" wasn't a great choice, as the notes F and C are terrible notes on the E-flat and the B-flat horns respectively. On the other hand, the notes A and E are wonderful notes on the same instruments, and they would play key functions (no pun intended) in the arrangement because of its jazz style and the frequent occurrence of major-seventh chords therein. Thus I began looking for another key that would fit the guidelines that I set forth at the beginning, including the presence of a nice key a minor third above the tonic for the modulation.
In this quest, what I found was that there isn't any great key. I could find a significant amount of problems in every key I considered. That brought me back to the spring in which I was writing for a grade six high school band, and the director wanted to rid the arrangement of the two B-naturals in the tuba part (I almost always write them up when I encounter them) which where not at huge moments in the show. And as I thought about this, I grew even more frustrated at the complications of the horribly imperfect tonal system that we have, and began to be convinced that I simply didn't know what I was doing.
Last evening, I was in a discussion with an undergraduate student who studies music at a university within my region of the country whose Director of Bands is an arranger of note (again, no pun intended) and someone whose work I have admired since I was in middle school. The student was talking about taking the arranging and orchestration course with this professor, and I became pleasantly jealous of the opportunity has we was receiving.
As this student continued to rave, he was using large words - strong words like "unbelievable," "amazing," and "mind-blowing." As he did so, my jealousy began to fade just a bit. I can count on two hands the "amazing" musical or academic experiences I have ever had. And short of the discovery of new buttons on an instrument or a groundbreaking-ly effective system of making students able to implement the complexities of interesting tonality in a simple manner, I found it very hard to believe that the course was that amazing.
And then, the Midwest Demons crept in. And they began to tell me what they tell me every year at about this time. You have no idea what you're doing. There is a world of information that everyone but you possesses, and you can not have it. You're a fraud.
It happens every year. And I hate it.
At the end of the day, I know it isn't true. There are handshakes and pieces of paper that lend instant credibility to some, whether they actually warrant it or not. Though I realize this, I often find myself unable to stop thinking about how some components of my professional life might be different now if I had focused more diligently or chosen a selected mentorship or two more carefully.
It happens every year and I am far too young, even still, to be asking questions like this.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Dan Fogelberg exits.
David D0ver introduced me to his music. While it was a bit on the soft side, I liked it more than I ever admitted. Rest in peace, and thanks for the tunes.
David D0ver introduced me to his music. While it was a bit on the soft side, I liked it more than I ever admitted. Rest in peace, and thanks for the tunes.
I'm off to Chicago, with an entire football season's worth of unwritten blog entries awaiting attention. I am really hoping to get some of these out during my travels.
For those of you who are Chicago-bound: I will be there, but will working for the travel company. So I won't be around a whole lot, and I most definitely will not be participating in our traditional downstairs-bar-tomfoolery... until Friday. I'll be over around 9pm Friday night. I hope I catch you there.
For those of you who are Chicago-bound: I will be there, but will working for the travel company. So I won't be around a whole lot, and I most definitely will not be participating in our traditional downstairs-bar-tomfoolery... until Friday. I'll be over around 9pm Friday night. I hope I catch you there.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Adjudication Sheet - NHHS
Music - I (Comments on tape)
Visual - I (Comments on tape)
General Effect - I (Comments on tape)
Arrangements - III (Comments reviewed every night when I cry myself to sleep)
Interview - II ("Found someone?" Where? In a shoebox? Didn't T. Nichols find something in a shoebox once?)
Visual - I (Comments on tape)
General Effect - I (Comments on tape)
Arrangements - III (Comments reviewed every night when I cry myself to sleep)
Interview - II ("Found someone?" Where? In a shoebox? Didn't T. Nichols find something in a shoebox once?)
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Helluvah Mayor of Norcross
In case you haven't heard, there will soon be a new mayor of Norcross. And yes, it most certainly is that Bucky...
... and not this Bucky...
.
... and not this Bucky...
.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
The B(C)S
I am sure that Georgia will get its title in the not too distant future. And I am sure that I will be excited when it happens. I will unfortunately have to pinch myself before I get too many drinks into the celebration. I will have to remind myself that there is no national championship.
The "Football Bowl Subdivision" is too big to determine a champion, which is exactly why it is the only sport and division in which the NCAA does not recognize a champion. So we're all, myself included, getting worked up over something that doesn't exist.
But I did take a few things from this weekend:
- Kirk Herbstreit and ESPN are both whores.
- LSU made a mistake by giving Les Miles an extension. They caved and they will regret it. Les Miles sold his soul to the Devil, and he should begin feeling a special warmth in his ass-area any minute now.
- Georgia has every motivational item they will need for the Sugar Bowl, and every game next year (especially the LSU game). I am not the first to say that I hope they associate the disappointment they feel tonight with the way they played on October 6.
- I would be remiss if I didn't say that the BCS is bullshit. Ask a Mizzou fan.
Mark Bradley says it better than anyone in a column that insures that I will continue to read him for some time to come. It took me four words of Terence Moore's column to remind myself why I am not, however, a subscriber.
The "Football Bowl Subdivision" is too big to determine a champion, which is exactly why it is the only sport and division in which the NCAA does not recognize a champion. So we're all, myself included, getting worked up over something that doesn't exist.
But I did take a few things from this weekend:
- Kirk Herbstreit and ESPN are both whores.
- LSU made a mistake by giving Les Miles an extension. They caved and they will regret it. Les Miles sold his soul to the Devil, and he should begin feeling a special warmth in his ass-area any minute now.
- Georgia has every motivational item they will need for the Sugar Bowl, and every game next year (especially the LSU game). I am not the first to say that I hope they associate the disappointment they feel tonight with the way they played on October 6.
- I would be remiss if I didn't say that the BCS is bullshit. Ask a Mizzou fan.
Mark Bradley says it better than anyone in a column that insures that I will continue to read him for some time to come. It took me four words of Terence Moore's column to remind myself why I am not, however, a subscriber.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Trash talk
On my way home this afternoon from the Thanksgiving weekend with family, I spoke with Meghan briefly to let her know that I was on my way back to Athens. I stopped at a local Wendy's for a bite. I stopped at the QT as I often do for a tankful of cheap gas and a cupful of convenient coffee. And then I was on my way.
As I approached the Athens Perimeter, I took a brief detour to the Oconee County Kroger for a couple of toiletries that had begun to run low over the weekend. I scooped up the paper remnants of my coffee and meal stops, and crushed them in my hand as I lifted myself from the car. On my way into the Kroger, I stuffed the trash in the can outside the entrance thinking little of what was in the bag.
After shopping, I returned to my apartment and began the errands that follow a return home. I put a new trash bag in the Gigantic Trash Can of Death. I emptied my pockets and suitcase of coins and deposited them into the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love, put dirty clothes in the hamper, replaced newly unused luggage in the closet where it belongs, and retrieved the new computer from its hiding place.
I sat for a moment wondering when I might see Meghan tonight, and realized that I hadn't heard from her in quite a while. I began looking for my cell phone, and realized that I had, at the very least, not put it in one of its two normal resting places. I popped onto G-Chat to see if I could find Russell, and I sure enough did. We did the good old call-and-listen drill to no avail.
It was at about this time that I began to get that sinking feeling that the Wendy's bag I put into the container outside Kroger may have contained my phone. Because Meghan was still out of town, there was no one to accompany me who could call the number to avoid my having to swim through the garbage bag of a public trash can. Via G-Chat, Russell talked me out of going and buying a new phone. Instead, he proposed to call me five times at exactly 3:30 pm. I accepted.
I arrived at the Kroger at 3:10, with little plan other than to wait around for his call. Just to avoid an uncomfortable situation, I went ahead and spoke to the man at the customer service counter. He made sure there had been no phones turned in, and assured me that it would be fine if I dug through the garbage in front of their store in case Russell's call confirmed my suspicions. For the record, if this had been Publix I am relatively sure that employees would have been lining up to dig through the can for me.
I went back outside at about 3:20 pm and stood in front of the store without any apparent purpose, trying my damnedest not to look like I was getting tricky. I listened carefully, in spite of the fact that it was not yet 3:30 pm. In moments, sure enough, I heard the unmistakable ringing of my own phone muffled by other people's shit and the shell of a plastic garbage can. Having thought better of the idea of sifting through garbage in the rain in front of Kroger, I explained myself to the employee who was collecting shopping carts and asked if he cared if I took the garbage bag home. He shrugged his shoulders.
I opened the can, pulled the bag out, and tied the top, already seeing a Wendy's bag that I believed to be mine inside. I traipsed through the parking lot, protected from embarrassment by a cold windy rain that made everyone just want to be at home under a blanket. I threw the bag in the trunk, entered the car, and turned the key. As I left the parking lot, I noted the time on my clock (3:27) and began to expect a series of phone calls through the back seat.
As expected, I heard the phone ring behind the whistle of the wind and the white noise of the rainfall as soon as I hit the bypass. The combination of sounds continued almost all the way home. It made me giggle a bit, but in truth I was really happy not to have to shell out another hundred dollars or so for a phone that I probably won't like. It doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is for someone who finds himself attempting to undo the often costly effects of his clumsiness more frequently than he cares to admit. I was just a little happier about this than I probably should have been.
I arrived at home, opened the back door, and opened the garbage bag just outside. Protected by gloves, and tempted to don a condom just in case, I went straight for the Wendy's bag, opened it, and found my phone inside. After a nice rubdown with a Lysol wipe, I was on that phone with Russell thanking him for his help.
This makes two Sundays in a row on which I have had to manually search a used garbage bag for an item of value. I am going to try to buck the trend this week.
As I approached the Athens Perimeter, I took a brief detour to the Oconee County Kroger for a couple of toiletries that had begun to run low over the weekend. I scooped up the paper remnants of my coffee and meal stops, and crushed them in my hand as I lifted myself from the car. On my way into the Kroger, I stuffed the trash in the can outside the entrance thinking little of what was in the bag.
After shopping, I returned to my apartment and began the errands that follow a return home. I put a new trash bag in the Gigantic Trash Can of Death. I emptied my pockets and suitcase of coins and deposited them into the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love, put dirty clothes in the hamper, replaced newly unused luggage in the closet where it belongs, and retrieved the new computer from its hiding place.
I sat for a moment wondering when I might see Meghan tonight, and realized that I hadn't heard from her in quite a while. I began looking for my cell phone, and realized that I had, at the very least, not put it in one of its two normal resting places. I popped onto G-Chat to see if I could find Russell, and I sure enough did. We did the good old call-and-listen drill to no avail.
It was at about this time that I began to get that sinking feeling that the Wendy's bag I put into the container outside Kroger may have contained my phone. Because Meghan was still out of town, there was no one to accompany me who could call the number to avoid my having to swim through the garbage bag of a public trash can. Via G-Chat, Russell talked me out of going and buying a new phone. Instead, he proposed to call me five times at exactly 3:30 pm. I accepted.
I arrived at the Kroger at 3:10, with little plan other than to wait around for his call. Just to avoid an uncomfortable situation, I went ahead and spoke to the man at the customer service counter. He made sure there had been no phones turned in, and assured me that it would be fine if I dug through the garbage in front of their store in case Russell's call confirmed my suspicions. For the record, if this had been Publix I am relatively sure that employees would have been lining up to dig through the can for me.
I went back outside at about 3:20 pm and stood in front of the store without any apparent purpose, trying my damnedest not to look like I was getting tricky. I listened carefully, in spite of the fact that it was not yet 3:30 pm. In moments, sure enough, I heard the unmistakable ringing of my own phone muffled by other people's shit and the shell of a plastic garbage can. Having thought better of the idea of sifting through garbage in the rain in front of Kroger, I explained myself to the employee who was collecting shopping carts and asked if he cared if I took the garbage bag home. He shrugged his shoulders.
I opened the can, pulled the bag out, and tied the top, already seeing a Wendy's bag that I believed to be mine inside. I traipsed through the parking lot, protected from embarrassment by a cold windy rain that made everyone just want to be at home under a blanket. I threw the bag in the trunk, entered the car, and turned the key. As I left the parking lot, I noted the time on my clock (3:27) and began to expect a series of phone calls through the back seat.
As expected, I heard the phone ring behind the whistle of the wind and the white noise of the rainfall as soon as I hit the bypass. The combination of sounds continued almost all the way home. It made me giggle a bit, but in truth I was really happy not to have to shell out another hundred dollars or so for a phone that I probably won't like. It doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is for someone who finds himself attempting to undo the often costly effects of his clumsiness more frequently than he cares to admit. I was just a little happier about this than I probably should have been.
I arrived at home, opened the back door, and opened the garbage bag just outside. Protected by gloves, and tempted to don a condom just in case, I went straight for the Wendy's bag, opened it, and found my phone inside. After a nice rubdown with a Lysol wipe, I was on that phone with Russell thanking him for his help.
This makes two Sundays in a row on which I have had to manually search a used garbage bag for an item of value. I am going to try to buck the trend this week.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
• I am really glad that we got out of Saturday alive. The relatively flat play of the first half is something about which a lot of people were rightfully worried. Between the Celebration against Florida and the Blackout, I was becoming afraid that CMR would have to slaughter some type of live animal in order to maintain that kind of enthusiasm. Fortunately, they were capable of surviving even when the coach was out of carrots.
• When it became apparent on Saturday that Georgia would have some difficulty winning without dancing girls or fireworks, I began thinking a lot about the responsible motivation of young people in significant pursuits. I had already been thinking about this in light of Alan and Michael's discussion of the raison d'etre of each of their programs. The flat first half only confirmed my feeling:
The only sustainable reason for the pursuit of any activity that requires significant dedicated time and effort is the activity itself. Put another way, "If playing football for a school with a very compelling 115-year football tradition in front of 93,000 raving fans in America's greatest college town in the most competetive league in your sport isn't enough to get you excited enough to play with the greatest enthusiasm of which you are capable, then nothing will consistently motivate you." Audiences (whether professional or novice) can be and often are fickle, trendy, or simply absent. You, on the other hand, will be present for most of the things that you do. It's probably a good idea to make sure you enjoy whatever that activity is. If you're lucky, maybe someone else's opinion will be similar to yours.
• A little utility trip to the Mall of Georgia this evening turned into a lovely dinner and pre-holiday mall-strolling. I found myself reviewing the past year of my life as I thought about the upcoming festivities.
I don't think it has ocurred to me before how much I truly treat the holidays as an inventory period. It can be a little sad, because it reminds you that those who are slowly slipping away from you are doing so. It can also be downright beautiful when you compare a walk through the lights and the scents of the mall alongside someone you love against your rushed marches of the past.
I don't know. This time of year just makes me think a lot.
• Without posting his full Googlable name, can anyone identify the person to whom this ass belongs?
(Note: I most certainly didn't take this picture.)
• When it became apparent on Saturday that Georgia would have some difficulty winning without dancing girls or fireworks, I began thinking a lot about the responsible motivation of young people in significant pursuits. I had already been thinking about this in light of Alan and Michael's discussion of the raison d'etre of each of their programs. The flat first half only confirmed my feeling:
The only sustainable reason for the pursuit of any activity that requires significant dedicated time and effort is the activity itself. Put another way, "If playing football for a school with a very compelling 115-year football tradition in front of 93,000 raving fans in America's greatest college town in the most competetive league in your sport isn't enough to get you excited enough to play with the greatest enthusiasm of which you are capable, then nothing will consistently motivate you." Audiences (whether professional or novice) can be and often are fickle, trendy, or simply absent. You, on the other hand, will be present for most of the things that you do. It's probably a good idea to make sure you enjoy whatever that activity is. If you're lucky, maybe someone else's opinion will be similar to yours.
• A little utility trip to the Mall of Georgia this evening turned into a lovely dinner and pre-holiday mall-strolling. I found myself reviewing the past year of my life as I thought about the upcoming festivities.
I don't think it has ocurred to me before how much I truly treat the holidays as an inventory period. It can be a little sad, because it reminds you that those who are slowly slipping away from you are doing so. It can also be downright beautiful when you compare a walk through the lights and the scents of the mall alongside someone you love against your rushed marches of the past.
I don't know. This time of year just makes me think a lot.
• Without posting his full Googlable name, can anyone identify the person to whom this ass belongs?
(Note: I most certainly didn't take this picture.)
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Why I Haven't Been Blogging
HT: DawgPost via Georgia Sports Blog
I just erased a four-paragraph writing about my enjoyment of last Saturday's blackout. The more I obsessed over the entry, the more I realized that I couldn't begin to tell the story that my memory recalls, so I will let it remain a memory. Kudos to those who have been able to make it make sense in text.
As I began to revisit the failed attempt, I noticed that it had yet again been over a week since I wrote in my blog. There was a point in time in which my blogging habits were the internet equivalent of Old Faithful. That has most definitely ceased to be the case since I moved, and I don't apologize for it.
If you haven't figured it out, life has changed quite a bit for me lately. If you had told me in January that I would find myself living in Athens, Georgia again for a year, I would have told you that I would be as attentive and appreciative as possible during that year. If you had told me back then that I would find the person I have found, I would have told you that I would be spending my time learning what I needed to learn about her and enjoying the time I had with her.
I distinctly recall one year ago. I had just had a wreck in Nashville. I was terribly lonely, and I wanted to be in Athens. Somehow I now find myself happy, very far from lonely and seven minutes from downtown Athens.
By the time I blink twice, my daily time with Meghan will be more scarce and I won't be living in Athens. And just as I found myself loving the moments in which I found myself on Saturday, I have recently felt that it has been best for me to spend less time writing about the experience I am having and more time having it.
It has been a very wise use of my time.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Back in Bullets
• First and foremost, many of you know that my dad is in the hospital with heart concerns once again. No need to comment with thoughts, prayers, etc. I already know. Regardless, he had tests today and will undergo heart catheterization at St. J0seph's tomorrow. More when I have it.
• Meanwhile, I am scheduled to go to Nashville with Steve on Thursday. We toyed with the idea of going to the CMA's on Wednesday. And then we semi-jokingly agreed that we would be there at some other point anyway. Thursday it is, assuming all in the first bullet is going well.
• I am some two weeks into my ownership of this. I am very happy to be recording again, and am repeatedly amazed at how much generally happier I am when I can do so.
• Are you wearing black Saturday? I absolutely despise the idea, but I'm totally in because the players asked. Although I'm not fond of the requested attire, I am completely jacked about the game.
• Speaking of the game, it would be really really cool if the Athletic Association wouldn't interrupt the Georgia-Bulldogs Cheer at an important point in the game with one of the Chrysler commercials disguised as a Bulldog Music Video (Georgia vs. Troy, 4:34 First Half).
Like really cool...
In fact, if they do it again, there is no way in hell that I well ever buy a Chrysler. Come to think of it, there is no way in hell that I am buying one anyway.
• Meanwhile, I am scheduled to go to Nashville with Steve on Thursday. We toyed with the idea of going to the CMA's on Wednesday. And then we semi-jokingly agreed that we would be there at some other point anyway. Thursday it is, assuming all in the first bullet is going well.
• I am some two weeks into my ownership of this. I am very happy to be recording again, and am repeatedly amazed at how much generally happier I am when I can do so.
• Are you wearing black Saturday? I absolutely despise the idea, but I'm totally in because the players asked. Although I'm not fond of the requested attire, I am completely jacked about the game.
• Speaking of the game, it would be really really cool if the Athletic Association wouldn't interrupt the Georgia-Bulldogs Cheer at an important point in the game with one of the Chrysler commercials disguised as a Bulldog Music Video (Georgia vs. Troy, 4:34 First Half).
Like really cool...
In fact, if they do it again, there is no way in hell that I well ever buy a Chrysler. Come to think of it, there is no way in hell that I am buying one anyway.
Monday, October 29, 2007
When are these Tech grads going to learn? Say it with me people: When you go to a strip club always, always, always, always use cash. HT - Meghan
Sunday, October 28, 2007
My vitals
I have been thinking about my health a lot lately.
With a couple of friends fighting their way out of serious long-term illnesses, I am reminded that I am as mortal as they come. I have recently experienced some extremely minor health nuisances that could have been signs of a greater problem had they become chronic (They have, for the record, subsided as expected). In addition, I will be forced to change health insurance as of my birthday due to my move to Georgia.
The pessimist in me worries about the worst imaginable product of all of these circumstances. In the back of my mind, I worry that I may have contracted Mad Cow Disease, and that the new policy won’t cover the necessary treatment because it would be a pre-existing condition. I then worry that the illness will present as horribly as possible, and that my friends will be forced to hold car washes to help defray my medical costs. Unfortunately, these car washes will be shut down due to the drought. As a result, an unattractive nurse will walk into the Mad Cow Ward of the local hospital, lift me into her excessively flabby arms, and carry me out of the hospital. Once outside, she will deposit me into a ditch from which my friends will walk with their heads down and shaking, wishing there was something else they could have done.
I know.
Seriously, though. The combined traits of worrier and dreamer that I possess have the capacity to make my worst medical fears seem very real, especially when my health coverage is in flux. I can worry myself into an amazing frenzy over a cough or a canker sore, and every little itch, bump, creak, tingle, or asymmetrical fart will further convince me that something is wrong… bad wrong. At some point, reason returns, and I become calm once again.
This has happened before, but this time is different. It is different in that I now value my life in ways that I have not valued it before. I am rather sure that this is because I am sharing much of it with someone else. It is no secret that I endured a bit of self-destructive behavior in my twenties, and that remnants of that behavior splashed into my early thirties. Though I have often made the statement that “the leading cause of death is life,” there are decisions that I made back then that I would change if I could. Every time I get a chest cold, I regret every drag from “back when” because I know I inhaled as a result of a lower valuation of my life than I now acknowledge.
Fortunately I do have my health (*knocks on wood*), and I am lucky (really?) enough to have realized how much I love being alive under circumstances which allow me to do something about it.
I guess I tell you all of this to get to a point. I clearly haven’t been updating you on every piece of minutiae in my life lately. That is largely because I have been spending a lot of time enjoying it and not very much time thinking about it. Things are wonderful. I am very happy. And I am awake and doing my best to appreciate every moment.
With a couple of friends fighting their way out of serious long-term illnesses, I am reminded that I am as mortal as they come. I have recently experienced some extremely minor health nuisances that could have been signs of a greater problem had they become chronic (They have, for the record, subsided as expected). In addition, I will be forced to change health insurance as of my birthday due to my move to Georgia.
The pessimist in me worries about the worst imaginable product of all of these circumstances. In the back of my mind, I worry that I may have contracted Mad Cow Disease, and that the new policy won’t cover the necessary treatment because it would be a pre-existing condition. I then worry that the illness will present as horribly as possible, and that my friends will be forced to hold car washes to help defray my medical costs. Unfortunately, these car washes will be shut down due to the drought. As a result, an unattractive nurse will walk into the Mad Cow Ward of the local hospital, lift me into her excessively flabby arms, and carry me out of the hospital. Once outside, she will deposit me into a ditch from which my friends will walk with their heads down and shaking, wishing there was something else they could have done.
I know.
Seriously, though. The combined traits of worrier and dreamer that I possess have the capacity to make my worst medical fears seem very real, especially when my health coverage is in flux. I can worry myself into an amazing frenzy over a cough or a canker sore, and every little itch, bump, creak, tingle, or asymmetrical fart will further convince me that something is wrong… bad wrong. At some point, reason returns, and I become calm once again.
This has happened before, but this time is different. It is different in that I now value my life in ways that I have not valued it before. I am rather sure that this is because I am sharing much of it with someone else. It is no secret that I endured a bit of self-destructive behavior in my twenties, and that remnants of that behavior splashed into my early thirties. Though I have often made the statement that “the leading cause of death is life,” there are decisions that I made back then that I would change if I could. Every time I get a chest cold, I regret every drag from “back when” because I know I inhaled as a result of a lower valuation of my life than I now acknowledge.
Fortunately I do have my health (*knocks on wood*), and I am lucky (really?) enough to have realized how much I love being alive under circumstances which allow me to do something about it.
I guess I tell you all of this to get to a point. I clearly haven’t been updating you on every piece of minutiae in my life lately. That is largely because I have been spending a lot of time enjoying it and not very much time thinking about it. Things are wonderful. I am very happy. And I am awake and doing my best to appreciate every moment.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Blandard What's Up Entry
I am, once again, on the literal and proverbial couch, watching the 1983 Sugar Bowl (the flea flicker to Herschel just happened) and telling you what little I have in my head that is appropriate for universal consumption.
From my relative absence of late, you may have reasoned that I have become no less busy since I wrote recently about the strangeness of working in the band room once again. That "two weeks only" is now in danger of becoming a month. The nostalgic fuzziness of returning to a place that holds the memories of nearly half of my life has worn mostly off.
I am now working just enough hours to make sure that operations continue, and working little enough that it is in the personal best interest of those in charge to hire someone permanent. In the meantime, the school is basically paying the money that my insurance company wouldn't pay for my computer.
Serendiptous as the temporary gig is, I am ready (as Dwight once said) not to be a shepherd anymore. More pressing matters await.
From my relative absence of late, you may have reasoned that I have become no less busy since I wrote recently about the strangeness of working in the band room once again. That "two weeks only" is now in danger of becoming a month. The nostalgic fuzziness of returning to a place that holds the memories of nearly half of my life has worn mostly off.
I am now working just enough hours to make sure that operations continue, and working little enough that it is in the personal best interest of those in charge to hire someone permanent. In the meantime, the school is basically paying the money that my insurance company wouldn't pay for my computer.
Serendiptous as the temporary gig is, I am ready (as Dwight once said) not to be a shepherd anymore. More pressing matters await.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Boom...
Ok... Most of the world has been acquainted with this video for some time. But I am afraid that many, if not most, of my friends have not seen it in its entirety. This completely reminds me of numerous (but slightly less awkward) times when I have been forced to be the speaker when I was totally unprepared to do so. I feel horrible for this guy. But I love the very end when his co-anchor thanks him, and he manages a "hhyeah."
Enjoy.
SFW
Enjoy.
SFW
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Things that make me happy
In no particular order...
Hoodies (on me)
Butter (on my gir... nevermind)
Candlelight
Learning new stuff
College football
Having a coach who doesn't put up with shit
Typing with a beer in one hnad
Fall weather
Neck rubs
Scalp rubs
My girlfriend
Sandals
My girlfriend's accusations of "mushy blogging"
Finishing a song, and doing it well
Salty mashed potatoes
Calm
Using the phrase "the hell" in the middle of any sentence
Learning that Teflon was once used on missile noses
Brown paper packages tied up with string
Morning
Grandparents
Made-up fight song lyrics
Checks written to me
Ceiling fans
I have been thinking lately that being cool may not be all that it is cracked up to be, and that maybe being giddy and simply tickled to be alive, well, and happy is. Perhaps I will try the latter for a while.
Hoodies (on me)
Butter (
Candlelight
Learning new stuff
College football
Having a coach who doesn't put up with shit
Typing with a beer in one hnad
Fall weather
Neck rubs
Scalp rubs
My girlfriend
Sandals
My girlfriend's accusations of "mushy blogging"
Finishing a song, and doing it well
Salty mashed potatoes
Calm
Using the phrase "the hell" in the middle of any sentence
Learning that Teflon was once used on missile noses
Brown paper packages tied up with string
Morning
Grandparents
Made-up fight song lyrics
Checks written to me
Ceiling fans
I have been thinking lately that being cool may not be all that it is cracked up to be, and that maybe being giddy and simply tickled to be alive, well, and happy is. Perhaps I will try the latter for a while.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
I have added a link to "Troy Kicks Cancer" so you too can keep up with the progress of an old friend.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Well, hell...
In the course of my second beer this afternoon, I have been trying to compare my disappointment from today's game to a similar one of the past. I have tried West Virginia 05-06. I've tried Tennessee last year, Auburn '97 and Tech 2000. But I just can't make the comparison. I can't come up with a good reason why this happened.
I really hope there is some growing up going on out there today. I am getting tired of hoping that is true.
Time for another beer.
I really hope there is some growing up going on out there today. I am getting tired of hoping that is true.
Time for another beer.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
The inmates and the asylum
It really is a strange night on Creek Stone Drive.
I am alone, which is certainly not the norm of late. Meghan is enjoying a date night with the girls, which theoretically includes none of the activities that some of you might hope would take place (I think it's a little "Grey's Anatomy," a little dinner, and a lot of girl talk). One supposes that a little independence and individuality are good things, and I suppose I agree. But I prefer here when she is in it.
I am watching the #8 Kentucky Wildcats play at the #11 South Carolina Gamecocks, and it's a good game. What has happened to football?
I am tired from work. Yeah, work... at UGA... sound familiar? You may have heard that Trina finally turned out the lights in the band room. Unfortunately, they didn't have anyone to hold down the fort as Trina left for greener pastures and more serene workdays. So I agreed to come in for two weeks (and two weeks ONLY) to help smooth the transition to the new Trina. Few experiences have ever been as surreal as the first morning on the bypass driving to campus dressed much like I used to be every (late) morning (or early afternoon.... or late afternoon). And within the confines of 116, life is new and strange. I'm not saying it's good or bad, better or worse. I'm just saying life is strange in yet another bizarro version of something I once knew far too well.
-------------------------------------------------------
P.S. - Hang in there, Troy.
I am alone, which is certainly not the norm of late. Meghan is enjoying a date night with the girls, which theoretically includes none of the activities that some of you might hope would take place (I think it's a little "Grey's Anatomy," a little dinner, and a lot of girl talk). One supposes that a little independence and individuality are good things, and I suppose I agree. But I prefer here when she is in it.
I am watching the #8 Kentucky Wildcats play at the #11 South Carolina Gamecocks, and it's a good game. What has happened to football?
I am tired from work. Yeah, work... at UGA... sound familiar? You may have heard that Trina finally turned out the lights in the band room. Unfortunately, they didn't have anyone to hold down the fort as Trina left for greener pastures and more serene workdays. So I agreed to come in for two weeks (and two weeks ONLY) to help smooth the transition to the new Trina. Few experiences have ever been as surreal as the first morning on the bypass driving to campus dressed much like I used to be every (late) morning (or early afternoon.... or late afternoon). And within the confines of 116, life is new and strange. I'm not saying it's good or bad, better or worse. I'm just saying life is strange in yet another bizarro version of something I once knew far too well.
-------------------------------------------------------
P.S. - Hang in there, Troy.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Yay, Russ([ell]ty)!
... and ...
Happy Birthday, Larry Munson!
Playing "Happy Birthday" for him five or six years ago is one of my favorite memories.
... and ...
Happy Birthday, Larry Munson!
Playing "Happy Birthday" for him five or six years ago is one of my favorite memories.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Stupid Question Day
I would like to warn all those I will see this Friday that I fully intend to celebrate Stupid Question Day. It's about damn time we had a holiday that celebrates one of the more common occurences in real life. Perhaps Congress will get on board and create more relevant celebrations. I propose:
- Walking Backwards In a Crowd Without Looking First Day
- Saying "Bring On the Gators" When the Game Is Still One Month Away Day
- Pulling Your Goaltender When You're Riding a Fifty-One Game Win Streak Day
- Smoking Marijuana Before A Court-Mandated Drug Test Day
I never appreciated the smartass advice of one too many self-amusing dads from my childhood when they would say, "There are no stupid questions, just stupid people." There are stupid questions, and my favorite is:
"Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"
- Walking Backwards In a Crowd Without Looking First Day
- Saying "Bring On the Gators" When the Game Is Still One Month Away Day
- Pulling Your Goaltender When You're Riding a Fifty-One Game Win Streak Day
- Smoking Marijuana Before A Court-Mandated Drug Test Day
I never appreciated the smartass advice of one too many self-amusing dads from my childhood when they would say, "There are no stupid questions, just stupid people." There are stupid questions, and my favorite is:
"Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"
Saturday, September 22, 2007
BamaDay Bullets
• I have been in a funk all week because of a minor but extremely painful medical hiccup. No, not hemorrhoids again. And no, I'm not having another outbreak. But it has left me in a bad mood, and when I'm in a bad mood nothing goes right. Fortunately for today, I am not in a bad mood.
• I wonder if they have HGTV in HDTV.
• I see no reason why clapper-activated audible alarms are not factory-installed in the following items to facilitate their easy location:
- Keychains
- Remote Controls
- Wallets
And now it occurs to me that the reason why is because it would create a cacophony at sporting and performing arts events.
• From dictionary.com:
cacophony - 1656, from Gk. kakophonia, from kakophonos "harsh sounding," from kakos "bad, evil" + phone "voice" (see fame). Kako- was a common prefix in Gk., and has often crossed over into Eng., e.g. cacography, the opposite of calligraphy (q.v.). Etymologists connect it with PIE *kakka- "to defecate."
I have long suspected that this was true, but never realized it until... well, just now.
• Now that my insurance company has paid me what they owe me, one of these is in my immediate future as well. It is long overdue.
• It's not really any big secret that I am not a fan of the press. Come to think of it I'm not a fan of a lot of things, including the press, government, or people in general really. Wow, I'm not really sure I'm not in a bad mood.
Aaaaaaaaanyway... My contempt for the press was further justified this week as I listened to ESPN report as fact that CMR was closing practice because he was worrying about Saban spying. He clearly stated that he was doing so more out of concern for revelations resulting from the reports of well-meaning observers, rather than because of any specific external threat. I'm not sure he's telling the whole truth, but I grew tired of ESPN offering editorial commentary regarding his true motivation as fact. But boy it sure does make for a much more interesting game, which happens to be on ESPN and ESPNHD at 7:45 ET tonight, now doesn't it?
And gosh, I don't see any reason why Coach Richt should do anything other than trust that Coach Saban is on the up and up.
Alabama has sold its soul. Rarely before have I wished this badly for the Dawgs to win and win big. Rarely before have I hoped this much that there is a Hell.
• I wonder if they have HGTV in HDTV.
• I see no reason why clapper-activated audible alarms are not factory-installed in the following items to facilitate their easy location:
- Keychains
- Remote Controls
- Wallets
And now it occurs to me that the reason why is because it would create a cacophony at sporting and performing arts events.
• From dictionary.com:
cacophony - 1656, from Gk. kakophonia, from kakophonos "harsh sounding," from kakos "bad, evil" + phone "voice" (see fame). Kako- was a common prefix in Gk., and has often crossed over into Eng., e.g. cacography, the opposite of calligraphy (q.v.). Etymologists connect it with PIE *kakka- "to defecate."
I have long suspected that this was true, but never realized it until... well, just now.
• Now that my insurance company has paid me what they owe me, one of these is in my immediate future as well. It is long overdue.
• It's not really any big secret that I am not a fan of the press. Come to think of it I'm not a fan of a lot of things, including the press, government, or people in general really. Wow, I'm not really sure I'm not in a bad mood.
Aaaaaaaaanyway... My contempt for the press was further justified this week as I listened to ESPN report as fact that CMR was closing practice because he was worrying about Saban spying. He clearly stated that he was doing so more out of concern for revelations resulting from the reports of well-meaning observers, rather than because of any specific external threat. I'm not sure he's telling the whole truth, but I grew tired of ESPN offering editorial commentary regarding his true motivation as fact. But boy it sure does make for a much more interesting game, which happens to be on ESPN and ESPNHD at 7:45 ET tonight, now doesn't it?
And gosh, I don't see any reason why Coach Richt should do anything other than trust that Coach Saban is on the up and up.
Alabama has sold its soul. Rarely before have I wished this badly for the Dawgs to win and win big. Rarely before have I hoped this much that there is a Hell.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
TV
Over the past several years, I have refused to participate in very much "appointment television" viewing. I have tried, with moderate success, to keep up with American Idol simply because its contents impact my field of business. I catch The Office when I can because it is hilarious and can be enjoyed without extensive knowledge of the events of past episodes. Otherwise, my tendency to travel a lot and the fact that I didn't have a DVR compelled me not to become engaged in any television series that required my regular viewing in order to enjoy it.
When I moved, I decided it was finally time to pay the extra few bucks a month for a DVR. Meghan and I also dove headfirst into prior seasons of two shows which the DVR would allow me to see, without fear of missing significant developments. We completed the first season of Heroes in about four days and loved it. We are currently halfway through season two of Lost (which she has already seen). I had beeen told that I would enjoy this show, but I had no idea.
At a time when television is perceived to be getting worse, these shows in particular buck the trend and are totally worth the time I have spent watching them. The company doesn't hurt either.
When I moved, I decided it was finally time to pay the extra few bucks a month for a DVR. Meghan and I also dove headfirst into prior seasons of two shows which the DVR would allow me to see, without fear of missing significant developments. We completed the first season of Heroes in about four days and loved it. We are currently halfway through season two of Lost (which she has already seen). I had beeen told that I would enjoy this show, but I had no idea.
At a time when television is perceived to be getting worse, these shows in particular buck the trend and are totally worth the time I have spent watching them. The company doesn't hurt either.
Friday, September 07, 2007
I would hate to go an entire week without blogging, and I would be in danger of doing so if I didn't write within the next few hours. I guess I don't have quite as much time to write these days as I did a few scant months ago, and that is just fine with me. Things are good though... the dawgs are good, the tunes are good, the girl is good. And that, friends, means life is good.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wake up!
It's as though I have been asleep for eight months. And just this morning, that feeling in the pit of my stomach became something much more serious. Today is Friday, and tomorrow is Satidy. And - remember this phrase - not just any Satidy.
I have told you before how much this sport means to me, and if I care for you very much then you probably feel the same way. Somehow, I think in May or June of every year that I will somehow outgrow this obsession, and it never seems to happen... I don't think it ever will.
Here in Athens, traffic has stiffened over the last day-and-a-half. Here in Meghan's living room, the smell of her pre-gameday creations has exploded through the apartment (red velvet cupcakes with chocolate chips!). In Atlanta, friends are calling to finalize plans and the reponsibilities for tailgating supplies. Smiles, eyebrows, and pulses are raised all over town, and the normally quiet parts of the day have been replaced with non-stop frenzy. Athens is buzzing and so am I, with as much brilliance as in any year before.
It's as though I have been asleep for eight months. But tomorrow is Saturday, and now I am wide awake. I hope you are too.
I have told you before how much this sport means to me, and if I care for you very much then you probably feel the same way. Somehow, I think in May or June of every year that I will somehow outgrow this obsession, and it never seems to happen... I don't think it ever will.
Here in Athens, traffic has stiffened over the last day-and-a-half. Here in Meghan's living room, the smell of her pre-gameday creations has exploded through the apartment (red velvet cupcakes with chocolate chips!). In Atlanta, friends are calling to finalize plans and the reponsibilities for tailgating supplies. Smiles, eyebrows, and pulses are raised all over town, and the normally quiet parts of the day have been replaced with non-stop frenzy. Athens is buzzing and so am I, with as much brilliance as in any year before.
It's as though I have been asleep for eight months. But tomorrow is Saturday, and now I am wide awake. I hope you are too.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Bom Chicka What?
I realize that no one who reads this blog has ever viewed pornographic material. I am sure, however, that many of you know someone who has, and that most of that many are familiar with the cliche musical motive from the High Music that is pornographic film score.
During a "slow" moment at summer camp, someone presented a couple of commercials that parodied that motive. There are posted below for your pleasure (more or less safe for work, unless you work at a convent):
After viewing these and a European version from the same campaign which used a different version of this motive, a debate ensued regarding the exact spelling and pronunciation of the motive. Due to the inherent handicap in attempting to orally dictate (he he) the performance of an instrument, the debate has never been resolved. It has however resulted in some interesting, and often downright ridiculous, interpretations of the lick (he he).
I do not understand how I have gotten this far into the entry (he he) without using the word "seminal."
Aaaaaaaaaanyway...
At some point, someone with an idle mind and a bit too much free time wondered aloud what the version of the motive might sound like for specific styles of porn. Some of the answers are below. You may provide your own if you wish:
- Urologist Porn = "Bow Chicka Wee-wee"
- Cheerleader Porn = "Boom Chicka Rah-Rah"
- Belinda Carlisle Porn = "Bow Chicka Go-Go"
- Dog-lover Porn = "Bow Chick Chihuahua"
- Fozzy Bear Porn = "Bow Chicka Wocka Wocka"
- Georgia Bulldog Porn = "Bow Chicka Woof Woof"
K.
During a "slow" moment at summer camp, someone presented a couple of commercials that parodied that motive. There are posted below for your pleasure (more or less safe for work, unless you work at a convent):
After viewing these and a European version from the same campaign which used a different version of this motive, a debate ensued regarding the exact spelling and pronunciation of the motive. Due to the inherent handicap in attempting to orally dictate (he he) the performance of an instrument, the debate has never been resolved. It has however resulted in some interesting, and often downright ridiculous, interpretations of the lick (he he).
I do not understand how I have gotten this far into the entry (he he) without using the word "seminal."
Aaaaaaaaaanyway...
At some point, someone with an idle mind and a bit too much free time wondered aloud what the version of the motive might sound like for specific styles of porn. Some of the answers are below. You may provide your own if you wish:
- Urologist Porn = "Bow Chicka Wee-wee"
- Cheerleader Porn = "Boom Chicka Rah-Rah"
- Belinda Carlisle Porn = "Bow Chicka Go-Go"
- Dog-lover Porn = "Bow Chick Chihuahua"
- Fozzy Bear Porn = "Bow Chicka Wocka Wocka"
- Georgia Bulldog Porn = "Bow Chicka Woof Woof"
K.
Friday, August 24, 2007
If you don't think...
the Gators are bad for the SEC, bad for fashion or the future of taste in commercial music, and simply bad for America, then you clearly haven't seen this video. Before you listen/watch, have a trash can and a bottle of PediaLyte ready. It is a truly horrible combination of portions of Grease and the B-52's' "Love Shack," bred with the worst imaginable subject matter.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Kkhhhokay…
As mentioned below, I am in Athens and basically settled. I have moved into a duplex apartment in the same neighborhood in which I lived in my last five years in town.
There are some unusual sensations that have occasionally bubbled up in the early days of my return. Living here and not having an affiliation with the university is unusual if welcome. Living in a seemingly suddenly altered version of a town, to whose changes I previously had been too close to observe, scrambles my sense of space. And in perhaps the cheapest but most palpable sense, living in an apartment with the reverse floor plan of my old home sometimes makes this feel like a bit of a Bizarro Athens.
And I think Bizarro Athens is a fitting way to say it. For me, it is a version of Athens in which I am not so busy that I can’t think. It’s a version of Athens in which I can genuinely enjoy living rather than paddling with all of my might most of the time. This version of Athens contains a lot of history but few ties, a lot of potential but few demands. It is also the site, for me, of contentment rather than panic, and love rather than need. If it is Bizarro Athens, I prefer it in many ways to the original.
As I reread that, I realize that that is a bit unfair to suggest that I was lonely the last time I lived here. You know what I mean.
The longer I am alive, the more clearly I hear screams of testimony from those who know the truth that still sounds like a whisper to me: Life is too short not to do what makes you happy. That is exactly what I am doing. It seems to be working.
There are some unusual sensations that have occasionally bubbled up in the early days of my return. Living here and not having an affiliation with the university is unusual if welcome. Living in a seemingly suddenly altered version of a town, to whose changes I previously had been too close to observe, scrambles my sense of space. And in perhaps the cheapest but most palpable sense, living in an apartment with the reverse floor plan of my old home sometimes makes this feel like a bit of a Bizarro Athens.
And I think Bizarro Athens is a fitting way to say it. For me, it is a version of Athens in which I am not so busy that I can’t think. It’s a version of Athens in which I can genuinely enjoy living rather than paddling with all of my might most of the time. This version of Athens contains a lot of history but few ties, a lot of potential but few demands. It is also the site, for me, of contentment rather than panic, and love rather than need. If it is Bizarro Athens, I prefer it in many ways to the original.
As I reread that, I realize that that is a bit unfair to suggest that I was lonely the last time I lived here. You know what I mean.
The longer I am alive, the more clearly I hear screams of testimony from those who know the truth that still sounds like a whisper to me: Life is too short not to do what makes you happy. That is exactly what I am doing. It seems to be working.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Overdue Relief for the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love
Those of you who have been to my home at any point in the last seven years or so may recall the existence of some incarnation of what has most recently been known as the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love (which, incidentally, is the companion item to the Gigantic Trash Can of Death). When I moved to Nashville in 2005, the weight of the bucket was such that its relocation required a furniture dolly. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to moving it again.
Late on Saturday, M made a very welcome pseudo-surprise trip to Nashville to bring some semblance of order to my life and belongings as she helped me pack for my impending move back to Athens. After some discussion, we decided against a socially embarassing, financially costly, and potentially chiropractically disastrous trip to the local Coinstar machine. Instead, we counted and rolled the contents of the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love. I had estimated the value of the contents to be approximately four-hundred dollars U.S.
After approximately eight total hours of rolling coins, which was accompanied by the broadcast of approximately two Braves games and one episode of the Daily Show, the rollable payload of the vessel was calculated to be $417.50. After adding the one-dollar coins (to which I repeatedly insisted on erroneously referring as "Dollar Bill Coins"), the total booty came to $434.50.
Big plans are being made for the windfall, one of which involves food and one of which involves strings and country music (And no, I am not bringing back Jessi, the Sexually Ambiguous Gospel Puppet). Below is a photo of the bottom of the bucket in case you haven't seen it. It is unlikely that you will see it again for the next several years, so look while you can.
Late on Saturday, M made a very welcome pseudo-surprise trip to Nashville to bring some semblance of order to my life and belongings as she helped me pack for my impending move back to Athens. After some discussion, we decided against a socially embarassing, financially costly, and potentially chiropractically disastrous trip to the local Coinstar machine. Instead, we counted and rolled the contents of the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love. I had estimated the value of the contents to be approximately four-hundred dollars U.S.
After approximately eight total hours of rolling coins, which was accompanied by the broadcast of approximately two Braves games and one episode of the Daily Show, the rollable payload of the vessel was calculated to be $417.50. After adding the one-dollar coins (to which I repeatedly insisted on erroneously referring as "Dollar Bill Coins"), the total booty came to $434.50.
Big plans are being made for the windfall, one of which involves food and one of which involves strings and country music (And no, I am not bringing back Jessi, the Sexually Ambiguous Gospel Puppet). Below is a photo of the bottom of the bucket in case you haven't seen it. It is unlikely that you will see it again for the next several years, so look while you can.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
• My utilities have all been moved to the new residence. If you try to reach me at 615-VERMIN-7, you will get a disconnected message.
• I saw DCI Quarters last night in the theatre, and was mostly pleasantly surprised at the creativity and level of performance. Having never marched, taught, or judged the activity, here are my brief impressions:
- Crown is on the edge of competing for a title. I am thrilled to have watched its rise.
- I will be interested to see what is next for the Academy.
- I have personally grown tired of some of the more formulaic designs that repeated themselves this year.
- I think horn lines, as a rule, are not playing enough. I have felt this way since Denver.
- The Cadets show made me feel weird. I agree with pulling the corps for lines, and I think the booing was unacceptable and a bad sign for the future of drum corps.
• I am as happy as I remember being.
• After getting my oil changed and tires rotated, picking up some boxes and visiting with family, I am going to see this group at Russell's request. This means that I have to go to the Williamson County Fair, one of a type of event that I have always thought was inappropriately named in the same way that the abbreviation for Oklahoma "could be better."
• Knibb High School Football rules.
• I saw DCI Quarters last night in the theatre, and was mostly pleasantly surprised at the creativity and level of performance. Having never marched, taught, or judged the activity, here are my brief impressions:
- Crown is on the edge of competing for a title. I am thrilled to have watched its rise.
- I will be interested to see what is next for the Academy.
- I have personally grown tired of some of the more formulaic designs that repeated themselves this year.
- I think horn lines, as a rule, are not playing enough. I have felt this way since Denver.
- The Cadets show made me feel weird. I agree with pulling the corps for lines, and I think the booing was unacceptable and a bad sign for the future of drum corps.
• I am as happy as I remember being.
• After getting my oil changed and tires rotated, picking up some boxes and visiting with family, I am going to see this group at Russell's request. This means that I have to go to the Williamson County Fair, one of a type of event that I have always thought was inappropriately named in the same way that the abbreviation for Oklahoma "could be better."
• Knibb High School Football rules.
Monday, August 06, 2007
On my way back from lunch
Sorry (kinda) for the prolonged break. I am finished teaching for the foreseeable future, almost finished writing, and I'm getting ready to pack some boxes and back up the G*&*%$#@&*ed truck yet again. Life is as busy as I remember it post-RCB, and that's fine. But it will be nice to breathe for a moment in the near future.
Nashville tomorrow morning. Bouncing between Georgia and Tennessee after that for two weeks. Athens on 8/20.
Meaningful blog entry soon. Promise.
No, really.
Nashville tomorrow morning. Bouncing between Georgia and Tennessee after that for two weeks. Athens on 8/20.
Meaningful blog entry soon. Promise.
No, really.
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