It's been a while since I have written an entry to this blog.
My story is the same: New technologies in my day job, new opportunities in my part time gigs, new deadlines in my supposed vocation ("Thomas, the deadline is Friday. The editor needs your MSS!") and old, repeat reminders that I need to upgrade ("Dad, when you are going to replace your flip phone?"). So the mental musings of this minor player in a minor Southern Capital, a minor cog in what may prove to be a minor machine in a minor corner of the Universe isn't too much of a priority. My vanity (or lack thereof) doesn't address that.
But today I had to write.
Last night at 7 PM, under a clear, warm Florida sky, I saw the full moon. Slightly above and to its left was (I think) Mars. Years ago, when I wanted to be an astronaut, I dreamed (dreamt?) of the day I would walk on their surfaces. According to the most conservative Science Fiction Classics, we were to be on Mars by now. So much for secular prophecy.
Still...there has to be a lesson in this. Perhaps by reaching for the outer planets or the stars, we will reach our closest neighbor. We already have. Perhaps by having B.H.A.G.s - Big, Hairy, Audacious Goals - we will reach some of the easier targets. Perhaps the act of simply reaching, working and striving will put us in a better place than at the beginning.
Yesterday I drove to and from work. Today I am biking. The beautiful nightscape that becons me will - at least for now - be the backdrop of the fitness program I have been neglecting over the last few weeks.
Weather permitting, look at the Moon tonight and let it inspire you!
Always B Positive!
Showing posts with label Education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Education. Show all posts
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Attack of the Zombies (a true story...somewhat!)
"WATCH OUT!"
The creature shuffled toward us steadily, its glazed eyes targeting us like a hawk hunting his next meal. From just a glance I could tell that he was beyond sick. His clothes were but rags. His feet were filthy and his hands were covered with blood. His eyes were crusted over with infection.
"Dad, what are we going to do?" my young teen son asked. I looked at him; he wasn't ready to this. For the first time I felt ashamed at the safe, comfortable, middle class lifestyle I had given him.
Deftly, I snatched the axe from the corner of my garage. The creature had begun to charge and I knew I had one shot. I placed my right hand near the top of the axe (my left was at the bottom), placed the head over my shoulder, lifted the blade straight up and hurled it forward. As if in slow motion, my right hand slipped to the bottom of the handle. The razor sharp edge, hurled by my strength and Newtonian physics, hacked into the zombie's cranium. His skull split open, revealing a mass of rotting, grey and red brain matter. The axe, finding little resistance in the weakened flesh, continued downward through the neck and halfway into the chest. I pushed. The monster fell backward, away from me. I yanked out my weapon and beckoned to my son, who was in shock.
"Come on" I said. "Let's find some more!"...
Actually, I didn't kill anybody. The axe in question does sit in my garage, but I only use it for chopping firewood. I'm good for 10 minutes before my testosterone fails; then I go buy some wood from the old man selling on the side of the road.
And the zombies...they're real. In real life they're called: Christians, Atheists, Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses, Baptists, Methodists, Democrats, Republicans, Right to Lifers, Pro-Choicers, Independents, Northerners, Southerners, African Americans, Whites, Asians, Native Americans, citizens, aliens, educated, uneducated, Gun Lovers, Gun Controllers, Anarchists, etc. If I have neglected to name at least one group of which you are a member, then please feel free to fill in the following blank (offense intended): ________________________.
Now it is time for my disclaimers: I believe that most people are basically good, and that we have the right to have our own opinions and affiliations; however, I also believe that we each transform into The Walking Dead when we take the lazy way out. I receive robocalls from both Liberal and Conservative Candidates who blame all of this country's problems on their opponents. I have friends who swallow everything that comes from their pastors, including (philosophically) things that belong in his toilet. I have friends who are so vehement in their atheism, that their anti-religiosity has become a religion unto itself. I know citizens who think illegal aliens picking fruit are stealing their MBA-level jobs.
I know myself. I postpone decisions. I extend deadlines. I table serious discussions until later, which often never comes.
Perhaps we are all creatures of bad habits. Perhaps we all need to kill off our lazy selves, the unproductive tendencies, the waste. Perhaps we need to whet the edges of our axes, by improving our skills, getting additional certifications, expanding our knowledge base and leaving our comfort zones. Perhaps we need to challenge our leaders and organizations when they fail to "practice what they preach."
All I know is that the zombies are coming, along with the life-sucking / monster-creating force that creates them. So get your axe ready and join the hunt!
Always B Positive!
The creature shuffled toward us steadily, its glazed eyes targeting us like a hawk hunting his next meal. From just a glance I could tell that he was beyond sick. His clothes were but rags. His feet were filthy and his hands were covered with blood. His eyes were crusted over with infection.
"Dad, what are we going to do?" my young teen son asked. I looked at him; he wasn't ready to this. For the first time I felt ashamed at the safe, comfortable, middle class lifestyle I had given him.
Deftly, I snatched the axe from the corner of my garage. The creature had begun to charge and I knew I had one shot. I placed my right hand near the top of the axe (my left was at the bottom), placed the head over my shoulder, lifted the blade straight up and hurled it forward. As if in slow motion, my right hand slipped to the bottom of the handle. The razor sharp edge, hurled by my strength and Newtonian physics, hacked into the zombie's cranium. His skull split open, revealing a mass of rotting, grey and red brain matter. The axe, finding little resistance in the weakened flesh, continued downward through the neck and halfway into the chest. I pushed. The monster fell backward, away from me. I yanked out my weapon and beckoned to my son, who was in shock.
"Come on" I said. "Let's find some more!"...
Actually, I didn't kill anybody. The axe in question does sit in my garage, but I only use it for chopping firewood. I'm good for 10 minutes before my testosterone fails; then I go buy some wood from the old man selling on the side of the road.
And the zombies...they're real. In real life they're called: Christians, Atheists, Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses, Baptists, Methodists, Democrats, Republicans, Right to Lifers, Pro-Choicers, Independents, Northerners, Southerners, African Americans, Whites, Asians, Native Americans, citizens, aliens, educated, uneducated, Gun Lovers, Gun Controllers, Anarchists, etc. If I have neglected to name at least one group of which you are a member, then please feel free to fill in the following blank (offense intended): ________________________.
Now it is time for my disclaimers: I believe that most people are basically good, and that we have the right to have our own opinions and affiliations; however, I also believe that we each transform into The Walking Dead when we take the lazy way out. I receive robocalls from both Liberal and Conservative Candidates who blame all of this country's problems on their opponents. I have friends who swallow everything that comes from their pastors, including (philosophically) things that belong in his toilet. I have friends who are so vehement in their atheism, that their anti-religiosity has become a religion unto itself. I know citizens who think illegal aliens picking fruit are stealing their MBA-level jobs.
I know myself. I postpone decisions. I extend deadlines. I table serious discussions until later, which often never comes.
Perhaps we are all creatures of bad habits. Perhaps we all need to kill off our lazy selves, the unproductive tendencies, the waste. Perhaps we need to whet the edges of our axes, by improving our skills, getting additional certifications, expanding our knowledge base and leaving our comfort zones. Perhaps we need to challenge our leaders and organizations when they fail to "practice what they preach."
All I know is that the zombies are coming, along with the life-sucking / monster-creating force that creates them. So get your axe ready and join the hunt!
Always B Positive!
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Spots
By day I am Clark Kent. But by night, I am...
....Actually, I am just Clark Kent without the suit. I specialize in doing what other people can't or won't do. Whether in media/stage production or making sure some pretentious know-nothing has the right wine or scaring little kids while wearing a mascot suit, I do it all. I like to think of myself as an opportunist; however, I am just a spotted hyena of the African plains, seeking opportunity.
For over ten years I was a teacher. With assignments ranging from Kindergarten through University I earned the derision of administrators who could not see past their next accreditation review or Friday night football game. Vision is in short supply these days. Yet my most rewarding years were spent in the midst of the Forgotten Ones: Juvenile Justice. I taught for over two years at a Residential Facility and one in an Alternative School.
These were the Statistics. The Rejects. They were told by the Establishment that they were Learning Disabled, which gave them justification for dropping out, chasing fast money, and abusing everyone in their paths. Some would return to public school. Some were waiting until their eighteenth birthday, whereupon they would be transferred to one of Florida's many Vice Factories and N-word Universities (a.k.a., prisons). But some had dreams.
He was a quiet young man. He was intelligent. He was probably middle class, but based on his street cred the other kids knew not to mess with him. In quiet, calm tones he said that he said he wanted to be a fire fighter.
Fast forward a few years. I was working as a drone in a bureaucracy that I hated. One day while walking through the basement (a short-cut to the back parking lot), I saw him; he was my coworker. He looked the same, albeit a bit more mature. We exchanged pleasantries, and he let me know that he still wanted to be a fireman. In this day and age of budget cuts I knew his dream was unlikely, yet I kept my doubts to myself.
"You'll get there!" I said.
I changed employers and have exchanged my cage for one far more interesting. Recently I went into a convenience store and there he was, all decked out in his firefighting gear. As serious as ever, he smiled. And I said that I was proud of him.
I have never seen a fire company with a dog, other than in Norman Rockwell paintings. But when I met my former student, I felt like I had exchanged my hyena's spots into those belonging to a much nobler creature: The Dalmation on the fire truck.
We rats have to race, always. But I believe we find the most satisfaction when we take time to encourage others.
Always B. Positive!
....Actually, I am just Clark Kent without the suit. I specialize in doing what other people can't or won't do. Whether in media/stage production or making sure some pretentious know-nothing has the right wine or scaring little kids while wearing a mascot suit, I do it all. I like to think of myself as an opportunist; however, I am just a spotted hyena of the African plains, seeking opportunity.
For over ten years I was a teacher. With assignments ranging from Kindergarten through University I earned the derision of administrators who could not see past their next accreditation review or Friday night football game. Vision is in short supply these days. Yet my most rewarding years were spent in the midst of the Forgotten Ones: Juvenile Justice. I taught for over two years at a Residential Facility and one in an Alternative School.
These were the Statistics. The Rejects. They were told by the Establishment that they were Learning Disabled, which gave them justification for dropping out, chasing fast money, and abusing everyone in their paths. Some would return to public school. Some were waiting until their eighteenth birthday, whereupon they would be transferred to one of Florida's many Vice Factories and N-word Universities (a.k.a., prisons). But some had dreams.
He was a quiet young man. He was intelligent. He was probably middle class, but based on his street cred the other kids knew not to mess with him. In quiet, calm tones he said that he said he wanted to be a fire fighter.
Fast forward a few years. I was working as a drone in a bureaucracy that I hated. One day while walking through the basement (a short-cut to the back parking lot), I saw him; he was my coworker. He looked the same, albeit a bit more mature. We exchanged pleasantries, and he let me know that he still wanted to be a fireman. In this day and age of budget cuts I knew his dream was unlikely, yet I kept my doubts to myself.
"You'll get there!" I said.
I changed employers and have exchanged my cage for one far more interesting. Recently I went into a convenience store and there he was, all decked out in his firefighting gear. As serious as ever, he smiled. And I said that I was proud of him.
I have never seen a fire company with a dog, other than in Norman Rockwell paintings. But when I met my former student, I felt like I had exchanged my hyena's spots into those belonging to a much nobler creature: The Dalmation on the fire truck.
We rats have to race, always. But I believe we find the most satisfaction when we take time to encourage others.
Always B. Positive!
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Breaking and Braking the Morning
There were no birds singing. In fact, the sky was still dark as I tried (unsucessfully) to force myself to go back to sleep. No dice. Instead, I swung my feet onto the floor and got up from the sofa where my family had abandoned me after we finished watching a movie (Netflix rules!).
I had the perfect plan: Go to the "water closet", then go bed. After all, it's Saturday and I would be able to sleep in for a change. But then I noticed the time: Four thirty. Should I go back to bed or should I stay awake?
I have a full day today. My oldest is going out of town. I have to clean up the garage and haul yet another load of "stuff" to the dumps; I say "dumps", because Tallahassee takes household trash and hazardous waste at one place but machines and metal 15 miles away, at a privately-contracted site. (Southern Politics!). This morning I will go to a surplus auction, where I will skillfully scare away other bidders by pretending to have more money than I actually have. Later I will attend the Florida State Film School's screening of it's 2011 MFA Thesis films, one of which contains a performance by a certain local actor and blogger...
And so, I stayed up. I read, studied, edited, researched, planned and cleaned. And yes, eventually the birds woke up too.
Sometimes it is good to break free of our rituals (or ruts), and actually get something done.
Always B Positive!
I had the perfect plan: Go to the "water closet", then go bed. After all, it's Saturday and I would be able to sleep in for a change. But then I noticed the time: Four thirty. Should I go back to bed or should I stay awake?
I have a full day today. My oldest is going out of town. I have to clean up the garage and haul yet another load of "stuff" to the dumps; I say "dumps", because Tallahassee takes household trash and hazardous waste at one place but machines and metal 15 miles away, at a privately-contracted site. (Southern Politics!). This morning I will go to a surplus auction, where I will skillfully scare away other bidders by pretending to have more money than I actually have. Later I will attend the Florida State Film School's screening of it's 2011 MFA Thesis films, one of which contains a performance by a certain local actor and blogger...
And so, I stayed up. I read, studied, edited, researched, planned and cleaned. And yes, eventually the birds woke up too.
Sometimes it is good to break free of our rituals (or ruts), and actually get something done.
Always B Positive!
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Square One and a Half
I have nothing to write.
Tuesday finds me at this "dumb screen" (my Luddite wife's term) trying to find a way to procrastinate. I have other work to do: Yard work and household chores. I have washed the morning's dishes. Later on this week I will go back to work, to tackle the never-ending paperwork that lines the halls of bureaucracy.
Yet the ceaseless job of the wordsmith remains. I call this being back to square one and a half, wherein one has the resources, time and ability but no objective, no goal. Every realm of existence has this dilemma. Sometimes our tendency toward ritualism dulls us to the fact that our minds must be active, that our choices must be conscious, that our lives must be lived.
Between the last paragraph and current one, twenty four hours have passed. I decided to wash the exterior of our house, finish this week's yard work, clean the gutters, apply bug poison, and wash and fold three loads of clothes. Today will be easier. I want to pick at least two buckets of blackberries from out back (which my family members love to eat, even though none of them will help me pick. They say they are afraid of the snakes, the lazy bums!)
But once I am in, the ongoing work will remain: Drawing up a workshop syllabus; editing something that I allegedy finished; identifying my next project; moving beyond Square One and a Half.
Next stop for me (and hopefully you): Square Two!
Always B Positively Positive!
Tuesday finds me at this "dumb screen" (my Luddite wife's term) trying to find a way to procrastinate. I have other work to do: Yard work and household chores. I have washed the morning's dishes. Later on this week I will go back to work, to tackle the never-ending paperwork that lines the halls of bureaucracy.
Yet the ceaseless job of the wordsmith remains. I call this being back to square one and a half, wherein one has the resources, time and ability but no objective, no goal. Every realm of existence has this dilemma. Sometimes our tendency toward ritualism dulls us to the fact that our minds must be active, that our choices must be conscious, that our lives must be lived.
Between the last paragraph and current one, twenty four hours have passed. I decided to wash the exterior of our house, finish this week's yard work, clean the gutters, apply bug poison, and wash and fold three loads of clothes. Today will be easier. I want to pick at least two buckets of blackberries from out back (which my family members love to eat, even though none of them will help me pick. They say they are afraid of the snakes, the lazy bums!)
But once I am in, the ongoing work will remain: Drawing up a workshop syllabus; editing something that I allegedy finished; identifying my next project; moving beyond Square One and a Half.
Next stop for me (and hopefully you): Square Two!
Always B Positively Positive!
Monday, May 23, 2011
What are your mentors saying?
Mr. John L. Motley passed away on Sunday, April 23, 2011.
Mr. Motley was the long time former conductor of New York City's All City Chorus. I was privileged to sing in the Bass section under him from 1975 to 1979. In addition, I was a member of his various off-shoot affiliations, the All City Concert Choir and the United Nations Singers. He was an intriguing man: Demanding, disciplined yet also funny and kind. At all times he displayed a respect for music and the arts that was unparalleled. His resume showed it. My own feeble memory touches upon only some of his past accomplishments: He was a student / friend of the late Hall Johnson, the composer/arranger of Negro spirituals; accompanist to Marion Anderson; friend to Dizzy Gillespie; associate of Peter Wilhousky; one of the heads of the music division of the New York City School Board of Education.
Mr. Motley's foundations helped me to win a spot with the Fisk Jubilee Singers (directed by Mr. Matthew Kennedy; pretty good, considering the fact that I wasn't a music major). My other mentors have been Mr. Murray Braunstein (high school English and fiction writing), Dr. Gladys Forde (undergrad professor of Speech and Drama), Mr. Bruce Wright (undergrad Creative Writing and Journalism), the late Loften Mitchell (playwriting in graduate school) and the late Dr. Stuart M. Kaminsky (screenwriting in post-grad studies). Strangely enough, I can imagine all of these people asking the same thing: What's next for you, Thomas?
I have a finished novel that I need to get into the hands of a publisher. I have acting workshop students who are hungry to find their next project. I have media projects that are in pre-production. I have an audition coming up for a paid commercial. I am directing a vacation Bible school play. I have a dozen other stories - both secular and spiritual that need to be done. Sometimes the hardest thing is to maintain focus.
So what about you? Is there anything undone that you need to do? And are there any important people from your past - whether alive or deceased - who are cheering you on?
Imagine that they are standing before you right now. What are they saying? And what do you need to do right now?
Always B Positively Positive!
Mr. Motley was the long time former conductor of New York City's All City Chorus. I was privileged to sing in the Bass section under him from 1975 to 1979. In addition, I was a member of his various off-shoot affiliations, the All City Concert Choir and the United Nations Singers. He was an intriguing man: Demanding, disciplined yet also funny and kind. At all times he displayed a respect for music and the arts that was unparalleled. His resume showed it. My own feeble memory touches upon only some of his past accomplishments: He was a student / friend of the late Hall Johnson, the composer/arranger of Negro spirituals; accompanist to Marion Anderson; friend to Dizzy Gillespie; associate of Peter Wilhousky; one of the heads of the music division of the New York City School Board of Education.
Mr. Motley's foundations helped me to win a spot with the Fisk Jubilee Singers (directed by Mr. Matthew Kennedy; pretty good, considering the fact that I wasn't a music major). My other mentors have been Mr. Murray Braunstein (high school English and fiction writing), Dr. Gladys Forde (undergrad professor of Speech and Drama), Mr. Bruce Wright (undergrad Creative Writing and Journalism), the late Loften Mitchell (playwriting in graduate school) and the late Dr. Stuart M. Kaminsky (screenwriting in post-grad studies). Strangely enough, I can imagine all of these people asking the same thing: What's next for you, Thomas?
I have a finished novel that I need to get into the hands of a publisher. I have acting workshop students who are hungry to find their next project. I have media projects that are in pre-production. I have an audition coming up for a paid commercial. I am directing a vacation Bible school play. I have a dozen other stories - both secular and spiritual that need to be done. Sometimes the hardest thing is to maintain focus.
So what about you? Is there anything undone that you need to do? And are there any important people from your past - whether alive or deceased - who are cheering you on?
Imagine that they are standing before you right now. What are they saying? And what do you need to do right now?
Always B Positively Positive!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Don't START with me!
Last night I went to start my car: Click. Nothing. Keep in mind that I just replaced the alternator, timing belt, battery, etc. So at 10 PM I was under the hood, taking the starter out. But when I took it to Advance Auto this morning, the starter checked out fine, diagnostics and all. But the rep at Advance said that it was either the Master Starter Relay or something minor like a that. So, I'm about to reinstall this beasty (10 minutes), and do some spot checking to find out what's wrong.
No, I am not a mechanic. Not even a shade tree. I know more about refurbishing computers than I do about cars. Years ago, my veteran, mechanically inclined father wanted me to learn how to work on cars. I didn't, so I never learned until I was much much older.
He's retired now and lives out in the country. He has always kept 4 or 5 cars of different types (trucks, sedans, suburbans, etc.) all running, all registered. I once asked him why he kept so many cars. He said "In case one breaks down." I laughed then; I'm not laughing now.
Is there someone who can teach you something that you need to know? And are you willing to learn?
Always B Positively Positive!
No, I am not a mechanic. Not even a shade tree. I know more about refurbishing computers than I do about cars. Years ago, my veteran, mechanically inclined father wanted me to learn how to work on cars. I didn't, so I never learned until I was much much older.
He's retired now and lives out in the country. He has always kept 4 or 5 cars of different types (trucks, sedans, suburbans, etc.) all running, all registered. I once asked him why he kept so many cars. He said "In case one breaks down." I laughed then; I'm not laughing now.
Is there someone who can teach you something that you need to know? And are you willing to learn?
Always B Positively Positive!
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