Imaging and Mental Flash

I love listening to my grandpa because he tells me about when they used to read text on computer screens or even used to read books that they had to hold in their hands. He pulled one out of the attic for me to read for fun. It was called Watership Down. I did enjoy doing it for a while, but it was pretty heavy. My biceps were hurting within only a few minutes. I guess I haven't exercised much lately. Plus, even though it was interesting, I got rather impatient after a while. At the rate I was reading, it could'a took me like 6 or 7 hours to finish the thing. I downloaded it from Pandora and imaged it via mental flash in only 7 minutes. Although I admire them for taking so much time to absorb the old stories, I'm glad we have imaging and mental flash, to be honest.

Back in the Days of the Shuttle Craft

Feeling a little nostalgic today. Remember when we had to use shuttle crafts before there was transporter technology? I mean, we had to take at least 10 or 15 minutes to get from Phoenix to LA. Now, we just beam over in less than 5 seconds. I don't know. I guess I just miss the slower pace of life.

Life Before A.I.

What life was like before A.I.? I heard that a long time ago, they had this thing called Google. You used your fingers to push buttons and they wrote your question. It was called a search engine. Unfortunately, you couldn't have a conversation with it to narrow your search to the item you needed. It was inanimate. It gave you like billions of possibilities. How tedious.

/ph/ Revolution

Who ever came up with the "ph" spelling for Steven? I know it's Greek, but I just don't get it. I'm talkin' a whole "ph" revolution: Steven, fone, ferimone, elefant, feasant, foto, filosophy, microfone, grafic, Ralf (both name and verb). Maybe I'm just going through a fase. That's all.

Nerf Football

My friend received a Nerf Football at his 10th birthday party. I was there. We formed teams and took snaps. Five front yards became a football field. Someone had the sprinkler system on. It didn't matter. Play continued. By the end of our game, we'd torn the football in half.

Antique Legs

Hiked Syphon Draw this weekend in the Superstitions to the top of Flat Iron. Really sore today. Talking to a friend of mine I said, and I'll say again, "If these legs of mine were a car, I'd have turned 'em in by now for some new ones. In fact, they'd be antiques. I'd get a fancy license plate for them and all that."

Childhood Dairy Queen

My childhood Dairy Queen decided to shut down. I don't think it's allowed to do that.

International Electric Slide

Just finished a graduation ceremony at Rustler's Rooste in Phoenix for our Advanced ESL students. I don't really know what to say about it, but I just watched a couple hundred international students do the Electric Slide. That is a sight to behold.

More Peter Pan

I'm reading Peter Pan right now. The (non-Disney) original version is rather rough-around-the-edges. Tinker Bell tricks one of the Lost Boys into shooting Wendy down from the sky with an arrow out of her jealousy. The Lost Boys think they've killed her on accident. After a few moments, they realize a locket she's wearing deflected the arrow and everyone is relieved. Tinker Bell. Vicious little fairy.

Maybe American's aren't so Bad Afterall

I am surprised at the number of comments I receive from my students about how nice and helpful Americans are when they arrive to the U.S. They often write essays about how they were surprised at such friendliness. I have been previously inundated by this belief that Americans are rude and foreign cultures are friendly and nice. My students tell me otherwise.

Undercover

My students don't realize that my combinations of red and blue on the overhead are a subtle attempt to embed Wildcat aesthetics into Sun Devil territory.

Nephew

Time at the park with my nephew. Football. Soccer. Chinese food. Quietly watching golfers at the driving range. Duck feeding. Rock hopping over the water. Nice.

Homework

I keep forgetting that if I give them a lot of homework, then I have to grade a lot of homework.

The Original Peter Pan

I'm reading the original Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie, written in 1911. I think he might have been on something. I mean, come on... Wendy's mother shuts the window on Peter's shadow and cuts it off? They roll it up and put it in a drawer. Peter comes back to get it and Wendy sews it on him? Holy smokes. I wish I could'a been there to have seen it.

Technological Advances in Communication

I'm not so sure what I think about the impersonal nature of the advances we've seen in technological communication lately. I mean we don't even have to go over to someone's house any more. All we need to do is "call" them.

Texting While Walking

I don't know how many people I've had near collisions with on campus who are "texting-while-talking". If we weren't only walking like 3 miles per hour, it'd be a serious problem.

Skate Traffic

I forgot they cruise around on skateboards so much on college campuses. I guess I'll have to break out the old cruiser, if I can find it. Where's my skate shoes at anyway?

Point of Reference

In some cultures, the North East corner is actually the South West corner. Depends on your point of reference. Are you standing in the intersection or in the center of the block? Which way are you pointing?

Frenzy

My mind has been in such a frenzy right that I tried to unlock my desk drawer earlier with my USB flash drive. Sort of like putting the milk in the cupboard or the cereal in the fridge. Nevertheless, I really like this new teaching gig I've got goin' on here. Just fast.

Stud Muffin

I just heard a mom walking down the hallway say to her 3 or 4 year old son, "Are you coming stud-muffin?" I'm all for male affirmation, but does that one seem a little strange?

My Encounter with Santa

One Friday night during college, I remember that Santa Claus (actually a college student dressed for a Christmas party) walked into my room drunk and started knocking on my closet door. Apparently, Santa thought it was the door to a room occupied by someone named Joe. He wasn't aware that he'd inadvertantly stepped into my room. He continued to knock on my closet and command the clothes to open the door for him. After watching and smiling for a few seconds, I got up and let him know he was in the wrong room. I pointed him down the hallway towards his intended destination, at least I had hoped. Poor Santa. I'm not sure if he got all the presents off to the kids that year.

Teaching with Benefits

An old tutoring student of mine from Somalia asked me about whether or not I wanted to teach overseas in Saudi Arabia or the Arab Gulf where teachers make a lot of money. I commented by saying that it is true--I could make a lot of money and get free room and free health insurance. She said, "Yes, and a free wife too."

Library Reseach for the Elderly

I overheard an older woman asking a librarian if there was a way she could avoid using a computer in order to do her nursing research. His response was, "Resistance is futile." I know this librarian and strangely enough, his name happens to be Jean-Luc*.
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*Okay, just kidding.

Last Name, First Name Antics

Deng Deng is a tutoring student of mine with the same first and last name. While helping him to fill out a form, I inadvertently gave him some ridiculous advice. "Deng, when filling out your name in this box, don't forget to write your last name first." After a few seconds, we both looked at each other and started laughing. He said. "That's never a problem for me."

Mr. Rogers in My Neighborhood

When I was very young, I swore up and down that I had seen Mr. Rogers at an apartment complex around the corner emptying his trash one day. My mom had to deal with my desire to meet him each time we walked by.

Laser Door Knobs

When I was little, I thought door knobs could shoot laser beams at me as I walked past them, so I had to move quickly from room to room.

Peanut Butter and Jelly

I have two friends. Their names are Peanut Butter and Jelly. Actually, that's their nicknames. Their real names are Jesus and Angel. But, I don't know which one is which.

The Game Must Go On

My friend received a Nerf Football at his 10th birthday party. I was there. We formed teams and took snaps. Five front yards became a football field. Someone had the sprinkler system on. It didn't matter. Play continued. By the end of our game, we'd torn the football in half.

Squaw Peak '90 - '91

When I was 16 years old, I could ride seven miles from my house to Squaw Peak Mountain, hike 1.2 miles to the top, and ride back home. Even more ridiculous was the fact that I did this during the summer when it was 110+ degrees and I only drank one or two water bottles. I felt indestructible. Maybe I was.

Tower Plaza '86 - '87

When I was 12 years old, my friends and I used to ride our bikes and scooters to Tower Plaza, a mall about 5 miles from our homes. Mostly jumped off curbs and stuff along the way. Took my two-dollar allowance with me. Bought a slice of pizza for 94 cents and spent the other dollar on four video games at 25 cents a piece. Not enough money for a drink. Jumped curbs on the way home, still with no drink. Amazing what my body could do back then. This pattern continued for a year or two.

Grammar Masochist

I get all excited when books like "Grammar Practice Activities" arrive in the mail. Go ahead. Call me a masochist.

Writing Cursive

My freshman English teacher in high school required us to write our papers in cursive. Seems strange, thinking back on it. Needless to say, that was the last time I ever wrote anything in cursive besides my signature.

Bachelor Parties: A Run Down

Matt: Dressed in a cow outfit (complete with utters) and taken to Mill Ave. at ASU. Played Laser Tag afterwards. Of course the bachelor lost every round. Got shot like a million times by the other players. A full-sized cow outfit under a dark-light tends to stick out. Cigars and a random conversation with some guys from Nation of Islam sticks out for some reason.

Gabe: Dressed up in a pink dress and also taken down Mill Ave. at ASU. A random guy yelled out to him, "Hey, Dennis Rodman! What's up?" Yes, a full-grown man wearing a pink dress milling around a bunch of college students on a Saturday night very well could have been mistaken for Dennis Rodman. Cigars got into this one too.

Eric: Dressed him out in a full-sized Darth Vader outfit and we took him all over Tucson. Dinner with Darth Vader. Bumper boats with Darth Vader. Everything we could find to do with our friend Darth Vader. The evening turned a little towards the unusual when the women from the bachelorette party met up with us at Friday's. The bride-to-be was dressed up as Princess Leia with the whole disc-braids on the side of her head. Apparently, good-old Darth inadvertently intended to marry his daughter.

Charlie: Dressed up in a jail-striped uniform and forced to carry a bowling ball which had literally been chained to his ankle. A little precarious when we convinced him to climb up onto a Harley Davidson (for a picture) that was raised four feet off of the ground on a platform. One slip of the bowling ball (attached to his ankle) and that one could have been a disaster. I feel like cigars were involved somewhere on this one too.

The rest of my bachelor party run down is rather tame compared to these ones in our early to mid-twenties.

At the Library and Naked

Checking out a book at the library these days feels so... well, naked. Sort of like the feeling of not wearing a seat belt. Sort of like the feeling of forgetting a cell phone at home for the day. I guess it's because I get a book and just take it. I don't even check it out with a human anymore. Just run it through the scanner.

It used to be that with a human librarian checking my books out, it felt more secure, like wearing my seatbelt. They'd take out a card from the book, slam an ink stamp on it with the due date, and give it to me with a smile. There was something more assuring and secure, unspoken words from the librarian which said, "Take care of this book. It's worth the development of many minds to come. They'll need it after you."

Don't get me wrong. I like the scanners. I've adapted, even at the age of 35. I'm not stuck in the nostalgia, even though I like it. Someday, even the scanners will be outdated. Our library card itself will probably contain a chip which scans automatically as we walk out the door. Another writer like myself will dictate (they won't even be writing by then) and say something like, "Checking out books at the library feels... well, so naked. Remember when we used to check out books with a desktop scanner. It just made it feel more real, unlike automatic scanners at the door. You don't even need to take the card out of your wallet these days."

All sorts of things are changing. The security of an old, familiar activity is exponentially on its way out. We'll need to find other sources of security.

Door Knobs and Freezer Doors

Three years old must have been a rough age for me. It's about that time that we are roughly the height of doorknobs and certain types of countertops. A lotta clocks to the block.

Several years later is another milestone. I remember mysteriously passing the height of the bottom of our freezer door when open. One week, I walked underneath it. Next week, several scrapes to the top of my head.

Chicken Hawk

In my house, we have chickens that lay eggs for us. They lay about 3 to 7 eggs a day. They have a decent amount of space in their coop. KFC and McDonald's Chickens probably have an inch of movement on either side of them (unconfirmed). They exist to lay eggs.

Makes me think about KFC and McDonald's itself. Sometimes, I find myself going through the drive through and I can't help but think about the similarity between me and those chickens. I line up with everyone else. Sort of like an assembly line of consumers. $1 Double Cheeseburger: I'll take it. $1 Chicken Sandwich: I'll take it. Two Tacos for 99 cents: I'll take 'em. I'm a sucker for 99 cent tacos, by the way.

I'm not against fast food. I just have to take reality in. I'm a chicken-hawk, standing in line for a chicken. No more lookin' required.

Movie to Dream to Taste-buds

Watched "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs" last night. Had a dream that I was at this rally where a young actor was inviting the whole city of New York* to a street-block sized Cheese Enchilada in Central Park*. I woke up with this huge desire for a toasted cheese sandwich.

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*At least similar to New York and similar to Central Park.

January 1st

Question: "Have you ever forgotten a friend's birthday?" My student's answer: "No, I haven't forgotten a friend's birthday because my friends don't have one." It is funny, but there is truth behind it. Many of my students are refugees from oral background cultures. They come to the U.S., and don't know their birthday. Tens of thousands of refugees claim January 1^st as their birthday.

Donkey Driver

In the mountains of Pakistan, a man once said to me, "This is Mohammed. He is the donkey driver." Sure enough, he drove the donkey, with a whip.

Get the Heck Outta There

In a large city in southern Iraq, a man once said to me, "This man you are talking to likes Saddam." The man smiled at me and left. Little did I know, I should have gotten the heck out of there at that moment. I said, "Oh, that's nice. Yes, and I'll have some more tea."

AK-47's in Iraq

Taking a nap one time in my home in Iraq. Start hearing the sounds of machine guns in my neighborhood. Then, machine guns everywhere. Hundreds. I step outside my front door and my neighbor raises his AK-47 over the wall between us and fires off a bunch of rounds. I retreated. Not really water cooler conversation. Found out later, Saddam had been captured. They were celebrating.

The Mountains of Pakistan

In the mountains of Pakistan, I walked up towards a campfire. A huge explosion ripped from the flames. I cringed and curled sideways into a standing fetal position. Following the explosion, a little metal canister fell in front of me with a "dink. dink. dink." sound as it approached me. The cause for this havoc? Terrorists? No. No. A canister of spray deodorant had been thrown with the trash into the fire.

They Look So Cute

Okay. So, I put on a size 7 today. I'm normally a size 8. No, not women's jeans. I'm past that phase. That's so 2003. I'm talking shoe size. How did I put on these 7's? Seriously, I'm wearing 7's. They look so cute.

Funny Statement But True Observeration

One of my students wrote the following. Note the last sentence. It is touching because it is truer now. No longer a mask. "I go to school M and W. I have 2 teacher One teacher alweys Funny. He always happy and likes to teach us. He single. He likes his life." Poor grammar. Profound observation.

The Linguist in Me

I like using singular "they", "them", and "their". The English language needed a gender neutral alternative to "he or she" and "his or hers". I've been using it in academic writing for a couple years now.

Stu Tracey and The Weathermen

NOVEMBER 28, 2009: Drove truck today with A/C on. Wore a T-Shirt. Could'a wore shorts. Unusual, even for Phoenix standards. When I was young, I wanted to be a weather-man on KPHO Channel 5, just like Stu Tracey. I guess that's my meteorological status update for the day. I'm finally living my weather-man dream thru FB.

Nimbility

Before cell phones and caller ID, everyone in the family rushed to answer the rotary or push-button telephone to see who was calling. 350 pound adults were capable of navigating dogs, children, doors, and walls to answer the thing. We were more nimble back then.

A Little Behind

I don't keep up with the news these days. We could be invading Australia and I wouldn't know it. Obama's still president, right?

Seriously.

Picked up some pink, ladies flip flops at Walmart. Seriously.

The Utopia of an ESL Student

My ESL student wrote in a fiction story about a Utopian island-country, "There are almost 2,500 people in 'Freeland'. They work hard. Their people are, at minimum, five-feet tall."

Agua Net Memoirs

In Junior High, I took the school bus. Back in the mid to late 80's, Agua Net hairspray was the big thing. Hair stood at least 3 to 6 inches high. It was pretty amazing. One thing I knew on a school bus back then was to never, ever sit behind a girl with hairspray. Inevitably, she'd find some reason to open the window while spraying and teasing her hair and I’d get a shot in the nose and eyes.

Full Load

Stopped this morning on a major thoroughfare to wait for a school bus in front of a housing unit that must have had a lot of kids. It was like a clown car but in reverse. They just kept coming from behind this wall. I think the bus was fully loaded and must have driven straight to school after only one pick-up.

Decreasing Reading Levels

I'm reading "Ricki Ricotta and the Mighty Robot" at the 3rd or 4th grade level. For some reason, my reading level keeps decreasing. I feel like Mork in "Mork and Mindy" who hailed from a planet where people are born old and grow young. I'm not growing younger on the outside or shrinking. Maybe my brain is decreasing in size. I hope smaller brain = greater imagination.

Kickball Memoirs

Okay. Remember those times playing kickball in grade school when the kid with the loose shoe would kick the ball, and then it promptly flew like ten feet in the air over his head? This memory popped into my head today and I keep spurting out little fits of silent laughter. ~10/18/09

Walking Up to a Giant's Front Door

'It takes some nerve to walk up and knock on a giant's door.' ~C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair. I think this is the understatement of the year for me. ~10/5/09

Steven - Ruler of the Universe

Sometimes I wish I could be in charge of the universe. Things might be better than they are, right? But, I can't even balance my checkbook. ~10/2/09

Trail Mix

Stayed in a cabin with friends this weekend. Work projects at a church camp. I wake up in the morning and my friend says, "Does anyone in here have trailmix?" I answered yes. He says, "Did you put trailmix in my pants last night?"Quesiton seemed a little odd. After investigating we found that some little creature had dug trailmix out of my bag and transported it to his bag and buried it in his pants. ~9/27/09

Look Out!

At my house, the freezer door slowly pops open sometimes when the refrigerator door is closed. The other day, my roommates (a married couple) yell, "Look out!" because the freezer was slowly approaching my head. They yelled so suddenly that I got reactionary and hit the deck. Dropped to the ground. I think it's because I grew up in the ghetto. Someone shouts, "Look out!" and we start dropping. ~9/22/09

Lucky Jay Rollins

I purchased my first car at the age of 24. Ten years ago. It was a classic, 1977 AMC Gremlin which had been painted Royal Blue with a White Racing Stripe down the middle. 'Lucky Jay Rollins' was the legal name of the man who sold it to me. ~9/18/09

Approximately 2:37pm

Someone I don't know left me a voicemail saying, "This is so-in-so calling from the East coast at approximately 2:37pm..." Good thing he wasn't more specific, like 2:37pm and 22 seconds or 54 seconds. I suppose he could have been a little more specific on the location with "approximate" GPS coordinates. Reminds me of a call I got from the FBI years ago, but I won't bother you with those details. ~9/13/09

Communion

I go to a pretty unusual church these days. For communion they serve us a choice of wine, grape juice, cranberry-apple, or pomegranate with a boost of essential vitamins and minerals. Communion bread is pretty nice too. Choice of leavened, unleavened, or Everything Bagel. No cream cheese though because that would be too 'liberal'. ~9/7/09

Making Change

Sometimes at church, when the donation/offering plate comes around, I like to make change. A friend of mine asked, "You mean you put in a $20 and take out a $10?" I said, "No. I put in a $20 and pull out a $10, $5, and five $1's. ~9/5/09

Expedition to the Moon

I'd like to go on an expedition to the moon. Yeah, I know it sounds really cross- cultural and everything with all of those moon-creatures, but what I'm most interested in is the varieties of cheese. ~9/4/09

What's in Nebraska?

Traveling to Omaha, Nebraska this weekend. What's in Omaha? I'm not sure, but we gotta get through a bunch of corn first. I think they have an actual highway they've cleared out there so we don't have to through the cornfields on dirt roads any longer.~8/28/09

Myth Busters and Time Travel

I want Myth Busters on Discovery Channel to test the myth that if you spin a worm hole around in a circle near the speed of light that you can create a space-time rift that will allow one to travel back into time. However, until then, I do appreciate things like "Can a falling Penny from the Empire State Building kill a man?" or "Can cleaning fumes in a toilet cause it to explode upon cigarette being lit? ~8/27/09

The Incongruity of ESL Classrooms

Back in the classroom again tomorrow. Africans and Mexicans, Christians and Muslims, Men and Women: all learning English together. Add a white-dude like myself into the mix who's supposedly their teacher and it's like a comedy routine on steroids. A terrorist genuinely working on a peace initiative with Jimmy Carter might be a greater incongruity. ~8/23/09

Myers-Briggs Score

I traditionally score ENFP or INFP (intuitive-feeler) on the Myers-Briggs personality test, for those of you familiar with it. I re-took it again here on Facebook and it gave me a new and interesting result. I'm now an ESPN. ~8/21/09

DOS Operating Systems

Okay. I went to accessories on the PC I'm working on to click on "Calculator". I clicked on "Command Prompt" by accident. I think I pulled up DOS. Can I still use DOS? Are there 65 year olds out there still running their whole office workstations on DOS in the color of Amber? Or, if I type C:\run facebook will my PC explode? Thankfully, I use a MAC, but it brings about all the nostalgia of C:\ command prompts. ~8/12/09

Rabbit in the Ghetto

Funny thing about living in the ghetto is all the random stray animals. Dogs strut their stuff every morning as a matter of routine. Ferrell cats live under our houses. Roosters getting loose aren't that uncommon. This week, we've got a stray rabbit. Yes, a lost white hare. Just hanging out on the corner. Young guys chasing it down and all that. ~8/9/09

Stand Up Comedy Routine

Just before doing a 10-minute stand-up act last Sunday, I ran into an old roommate of mine named Jed who was in charge of the venue. Strangely enough, one piece of my material was about a Korean exchange student who lived with both he and I during college. I said, "Jed, I haven't seen you in 13 years and I wrote a joke about you and I and the other guys from when we lived together for this routine! ~8/4/09

Eclectic Man

An 80+ year old friend of mine died recently. Grew up on a farm, served in WWII, and owned a number of hair salons for his career afterwards. One of the only people I knew who could drive tractor, defend our country, and color your hair. ~7/23/09

Step on Dog at 5am = Face Plant

I accidentally stepped on our dog at 5am this morning, punched through the bathroom door with my arm fully extended, and layed myself out on the floor. My thoughts were, 'Why am I laying on the floor?' Then, 'Why am I up at this hour anyway?' I think our dog had similar thoughts, but she didn't say anything. She calmly walked off and found another place to sleep. ~6/25/09

Girls' Night In

Troy, Strickland, Nathan, and I are doing 'girls-night-in' tonight. We're watching 'Pride and Predjudice'. I'd add one of my favorite quotations into the mix which is from Anne of Green Gables. 'Each day is fresh, with no mistakes.' Tomorrow night (after we've made our mistakes tonight) back to gun shooting, baseball playing, legalism fighting, man time. Bear Down. ~6/29/09

Sudanese/Russian Version of Abbott and Costello

Deng Deng came for tutoring again. It's his first and last name. The desk assistant (from a Russian background) asked for his last name. He said, 'I'm Deng.' She said, 'I'm sorry, what is your last name?' ...'Deng,' he said. 'No, your last name, not your first name,' she said. Again, he replied, 'Deng. It is Deng.' On and on it went. Sort of like a Sudanese/Russian version of Abbott and Costello 'Who's on First?' I couldn't stop laughing. ~7/1/09

My Theological Position

Regarding theological positions, some students are Calvanists. Some Armenians. I, on the other hand, happen to be a Narnian. I find it's better this way. We Narnians get to carry swords, bows, arrows, magic potions, and most importantly we get to fight along side the Talking Beasts! ~7/18/09

Super Hero?

Over dinner with friends, Natasha says, 'I think the last time I was sick was when I was 5 years old.' After a double-take, I asked, 'Have you ever been sick? Have you ever been the only survivor in a train accident? Can you leap tall buildings in a single bound?' Another friend chimed in with, 'Do you have any arch enemies? ~7/21/09

Mid-life Crisis

I know someone who's starting his midlife crisis at the age of 60. I decided that would be too late for me since I don't wanna live to be 120. So, I'm starting my midlife crisis right now (early) at the age of 34. It's better this way. I get to hike tall mountains (like Humphreys) and jump off 20+ foot cliffs without all the hospital stays that I'd incur at the age of 60. ~7/26/09

Graveside Funeral

Went to a graveside funeral today. Time came for people to say a few words. A gentleman starts talking about Frank, but no one knows who Frank is. Finally, the pastor whispers, 'I think you're at the wrong funeral." The man says, "Oh, I'm sorry everyone. Pardon me.' Then he says, 'Well, where the hell is the other funeral anyway?' We all started laughing. I think God and our friend in heaven were laughing too. ~7/27/09

Karate Kid

Following the "Karate Kid" craze in '84 and '86, I began Kenpo Karate lessons in '86. By '89 or '90, I was testing for my green belt (brown, then black to follow). My instructor's instructor was Ed Parker. He sat in on my green belt test. If you pass your belt test, then you get a swift kick to the stomach as a ritual. I passed, so I got a kick. Back in the day, Ed Parker was Elvis Presley's instructor among other celebrities. I guess you could say I shook the hand that shook the hand. Or, you could say I got kicked in the stomach by the one who kicked Elvis in the stomach.

Red Neck Recollection I Reckon

Miss the days in college when my roommates and I used to shoot Starbucks bottles off the toilet in the front yard with a pellet gun. Yep. It was in the front yard. The trucks on blocks were in the front yard too. And, we had this irritating Woodpecker that my roommate tried to shoot with the same pellet gun in the morning. We'll say it was "too early" to get a good shot off.

Second Grade Attempt at Behavior Modification

Our second grade teacher kept two plastic cups on the window sill. One was for the boys and the other for the girls. At the end of the day, if us boys were good, we got a marble. If the girls were good, then they got a marble. Once the cup was full, the boys or girls got a prize. As you might suspect, this never worked out well for us boys. Year-end-score: Girls 8, Boys 1.

Men Still Can’t Cook, or Can They?

Alem never thought it possible. What kind of a man could prepare injira? She ran through a mental check list of all the brothers, cousins, and friends of family from Ethiopia who had failed. The concoction was too much for the male species to handle. Only a woman’s touch... No. Only an East African woman’s complexities were capable of working out this special type of sponge-bread staple found in Somalia, Ethiopia, and Eretria.

“No. Only women make injira!” Alem announced to the class. An eruption of smiles and conversations in Somali, Amharic, French and Arabic confiscated my classroom. Our three Spanish speakers were as dumfounded as I was.

I smiled.

“Whoa. Whoa. Wait a minute. Whaddya mean?” I asked.

“Only the women. No man can make engeeyra. It’s too difficult.”

“Holy smokes.” I said. (My old-school, English vernacular emerges when dumbfounded.)

A Somali woman waved her hand in the air. Her name was Fartune. “The men can make samboosa, maybe other kinds of things. But, they can’t make injira. It’s too hard. Only a woman can make it.”

Conversations oscillated the room at high velocity.

A middle aged, Mexican gentleman named Jose raised his hand. I was curious.

“Hold on everyone! Hold on everyone! Jose has something to say.”

“The best are men.” He held his hand in the air with thumb and fingers pressed together. He grasped for English.

“The chef. The chef.” He held his contorted hand in the air.

“Oh yes.” I said. “I gotcha Jose. Everybody listen. Can you say that again Jose?”

“The chef. The chef. They are men. The best for cooking is men.”

I smiled. This was getting heated.

“Okay. Do you hear what Jose is saying? He’s saying that people who cook the best are men. Do you know what a chef is?” I asked.

Heads nodded, comprehension unknown.

“A chef is a person who cooks food in very expensive restaurants. They make very good food. The best food.”

I looked at Jose. “Yes, Jose. It is true. There are many chefs who are men. Maybe even more men than women. But, there are a lot of women chefs now too.”

I decided to join the competition. This was getting good.

“Now, you’re telling me there aren’t any men out there who can cook injira?”

Voices raised in affirmation.

“Is there any man in this room who can cook injira?” I asked.

A man named Ali Mohamed raised his hand. Short bursts of laughter percolated the room in disbelief. Ali’s English is poor and he rarely speaks. When he does, it’s usually Bass with a hint of English.

“Injira.” He waved his hand. “I make everything.”

The room erupted back into chatter, discussion, smiles, and laughter. I’d had a smile on my face for the past five minutes.

“Okay everyone. Okay everyone. Listen. I have something I want to say. Okay. Listen everybody. I have something to say.”

Ten seconds passed to settle down.

“Okay. This is what I want to say. On the last day of class we will all bring food from our home countries. This is what we do each semester on the last day of class. Do you understand?”

Heads nodded.

Then, I threw a curve-ball.

“So, on the last day of class we will all bring food to class from our home country, but Ali Mohamed and I will bring injira!”

Arms flailed, smiles broke out, and a multitude of languages circulated again. Fartune suggested Ali Mohamed and I might cheat by finding someone else to cook the injira for us before bringing it in.

“No.” I waved my hand. “When I make injira, I will have a video camera to show you that I am making it myself!”

That was stupid. I thought to myself.

The challenge is on and there’s no way I can make this stuff. Maybe Alem was right afterall. Whatever happens, it'll be a comedy routine disguised as my classroom.
______________________________________
All names are psuedonyms but do represent names from the countries represented by my real students.

Guys’ Night Out, Dinner Date, Water Balloons, and Fake Bodies

In college, I created a problem for myself when I chose a friendly dinner date over Guys’ Night Out. I heightened the problem because I was one of the original instigators for this particular evening, and now I was backing out. We’d originally decided to recreate an evening that our upper-classmen friends had performed a couple years earlier in which they constructed a fake body, drove it around town, and videotaped themselves dropping it out of a car, driving over it, and throwing it off parking garages. Sounds horrible, but it was really quite harmless. Nevertheless, I got heckled for going out with a friend of mine for Mongolian Barbecue, instead of joining them. Between you and me, we know that they’d all have made the same choice and gone with the girl.

In addition to the whole fake body thing, I also found out that the boys were going to ‘TP’ Bob’s house at 12am, after the fake body festivities. Bob was the director of the student Christian organization the guys and I were a part of. This was our way of delivering a physical term of endearment to our dear friend Bob—‘TP’ the house and leave fake bodies on the lawn. This was about the most mischief we could come up with.

I met up with my friend Lori at about 7pm. We had a nice dinner. Sometime during the course of our meal I said, “What do you think about filling up some water balloons and ambushing the guys? They told me they’d be ‘TP-ing’ Bob’s house at 12am.” This is my idea of a date, apparently. Water-balloon 15 adult males while they are up to no good, and drag some innocent girl along in the process.

For the sake of some fun and a good story, Lori was down for it. We picked up the balloons at Walgreens, loaded them up in a bucket, and then headed for Bob’s at 12am. It was the perfect plan. No one knew a single thing about us coming, sort of like one of those movies when everyone thinks the main character is dead and he figures out a plan to defeat the bad guys, like James Bond. At least that’s what I’d like to think.

Bob’s house was located in the center of a block along a street that looped around in a somewhat closed square, with only two exits, I believe. The corner (adjacent to his house) had tall, 6 foot bushes—a perfect entry point and hiding place for launching our attack. The guys were there and we drove by once to get a good look. We went unnoticed and pulled around the block to hide behind the bushes for our first attack.

Lori drove by and I launched the first wave of balloons from the window. Hit a few men I think. They were dumbfounded. We pulled around for a second wave, hiding behind the bushes again. This time, I got a little more daring and told Lori to pull ahead of the house about 25 feet or so. I’d get out of the car, pull out the bucket, and really get some nice throws off grenade-style. She pulled around, I got out, threw the balloons, and inflicted a few wounds in the process. It was all guts and glory until two football players (seriously, they were UofA football players) started chasing after me. Lori stepped on the gas a little and I found myself left behind. Nothing like running away from a UofA center and tight end at twelve-in-the-morning. Somehow, I got back into the car (thanks Lori) and we drove off.

We pulled around to the bushes once again in order to collect our thoughts. We’re sitting there behind the bushes talking in the car when all of the sudden a human-sized, fake body falls on top of the hood. A couple guys had thrown it over those 6-foot bushes! Lori stepped on the gas and we took off out of there. I think the moment the fake-body unexpectedly landed on top of the car would be a good picture-dictionary-definition for the word 'incongruity'.

The story isn’t finished, however. After we left, the guys left two fake bodies on Bob’s lawn. The neighbors across the street thought that maybe some sort of cult or Satanist group left dead bodies on Bob’s lawn because he was the director for a student Christian organization. The police woke him and his wife up at 2 or 3 in the morning. He must have told them something like, “These are the Christian students I serve as director for. They ‘TP-ed’ my house and dropped off fake bodies on my lawn. No need to investigate further, officers.”

Like I say, it was a loving action of endearment.
___________________________________________
Memory might fail me in a few places, but overall the story is accurate.

The Destruction of All Bicycles

I’m on a mission to eliminate all bicycles. Destroy them. Pound them. Jump on them. Whatever it takes.

Destruction number one. I purchased a blue, 20 inch BMX from my friend Rory, in the sixth grade. Twenty payments at $1 per week. A grand total of $20. The bike had a smooth ride. Really smooth. Slick bearings I presumed. The black handle bars had a V-shaped crossbar. I leaned them forward slightly, per the style in 1987. Totally rad.

I rode down to Whittier Elementary School, cruising my little blue machine on the sidewalks, jumping off the high, two-foot curbs. This thing was fast. Really fast. I revved up for a solo drag race down a corridor. I’d take the 90 degree turn, darting to the right in the last moment.

The sidewalk was slick. Really slick. When the turn came, I turned the handle bars, but the bicycle kept going straight. I straightened them back out. Oh no. I thought. The tire took the hit first. Then my head plowed into the old, red brick wall. It took a moment to regain my composure. I’m okay. I’m okay. I thought. I started turning around to ride off, but the bike was stubborn. It wouldn’t move. I looked down and saw the bicycle frame split in two places. The front wheel was unable to turn. So much for my $20. So much for this rad, blue machine. It’s cruising days were over.

Destruction number two. My friend’s younger brother, Justin, let me borrow his 16” BMX bike on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The bike was too small. I had to raise the seat stem approximately 12” higher than the handle bars. We were at Whittier Elementary School, and once again those two foot curbs were calling me to jump off them with Justin’s little bike.

This thing had hops. It felt like a feather. I was energized. I took that first jump and slammed it right onto the blacktop with some serious confidence. Slam. I heard a small squeaking sound. I had split the frame. Again. Poor Justin.

Destruction number three. In my senior year of high school, I was riding a red and white, Spalding brand 18-speed that was a little too tall for me. Approaching stops was tricky because the cross-bar didn’t give me any mercy.

One afternoon, I was riding home through the neighborhoods by North High School, my secondary alma mater. Three factors led to the destruction of this final victim. First, it didn’t have coaster breaks. Second, I was riding with no hands. Third, I had my head down, and had just opened a 16 oz, glass bottle of Gatorade.

I looked up just in time to see the collision coming. Oh no. I thought. My tire, then my head, plowed yet again into another non-moving object. This time it was the rear end of a parked, 1990 Chevy Blazer. I fell to the ground. The bike sat halfway on top of my legs. I had split yet another bicycle frame. I looked up at the Blazer and noticed that the mouth of the 16oz, glass Gatorade bottle, somehow suction-cupped itself onto the rear window of the Blazer, at a 90 degree angle, without breaking any glass. Hurricanes do weird stuff like this. I stood up, threw the bicycle to the ground, uttered a few profanities, pulled the Gatorade bottle off the Blazer, and wheeled my bike home on its back wheel.

It’s 15 years since my last victim, but I’m still on a mission. The destruction of all bicycles.

White Man in a Black Church

It's hard to shake off "visitor status" when you're the only white man visiting a several thousand member black congregation in Inglewood, California. That's what I found out in 1999, when a friend of mine named Lori invited me there for a visit. We arrived separately and she was running late. I sat in the back of the congration just a few steps above the main walkway that ran to the exit. Lori missed me while entering and sat far away, towards the front-center.

The worship service was great. I loved singing repetitions of chorus as it helped me get into a nice focus on the Lord.

A few hours later, the whole thing was over. My plan was to exit stage-right and wait for Lori outside. As I came down the steps towards the main walkway, a woman noticed I was a visitor (duh...). She shook my hand. I tried to step down again, but the next woman also shook my hand. I tried again, but unfortunately a chain reaction had begun which I'd never be able to stop.

My memory is cloudy, but I shook dozens or maybe even hundred of hands that day. It took me a number of minutes to make the door which wasn't far away. It was the closest I've ever felt to being a politician at a rally.

Pitch Black Stall

I walked into a bathroom at the community college and sat down. The stall was quite relaxing and I guess this is why they call it the restroom in the first place. This is one of the few places many of us relax in our fast paced lives.

I’m minding my own business and playing Tetris on the cell phone. I hear a man exiting. All of the sudden, he turns the lights off. He probably didn’t know I was in the stall. Anyway, the room went pitch black and it was silent.

I turned off Tetris because the soft glow of the cell phone was a little weird in the dark. I’m sitting there thinking to myself, This is really strange. But, what am I supposed to do? I can’t get up and turn the light on.

No one came in the bathroom for five minutes. I was trying to take care of matters, but it's surprisingly difficult to know where things are in the dark. A slower process.

Try sitting in a public restroom for five minutes in pitch-black silence, without erupting in laughter at some point. The dark silence dragging on and on is like a British comedy without words--more and more ridiculous.

It was pitch black. Lights out.

April Fool's Day Gone Wrong

Jesus Beltran was a foot taller than me. His heavy, adult-like frame didn’t belong in our seventh grade classroom. These physical discrepancies, along with my egotistical sense for the dramatic, were my undoing.

It was April Fool’s Day, 1988. Jesus and I headed to class. We had decided to stage a fake fight in Mr. Willis’ history class for April Fool’s Day. Mr. Willis was a young and naive twenty-something with pale white skin and red hair. The perfect target.

Jesus and I had a plan. I’d throw a wad of paper at him several desks over, hitting him in the side of the head. He’d get angry, stand up, walk in my direction, and then we’d pretend to fight by wrestling each other to the ground and roll around a bit. Once Mr. Willis pulled us apart, we’d both look up with smiles and say, “Happy April Fool’s Day!”

Here’s what really happened. I’d say we had nothing less than a communication error. I threw the paper. I missed Jesus by ten feet. He stood up and came over. I stood up and moved towards him. Jesus proceeded to clock my block off. He decked me with a full blow. His heavy hand fit well into the curves of my cheek and eye bones. He lunched into me after the sucker punch and desks were all over the place. Our classmates gave us some room, some to watch and others to save their own skin.

Within seconds, Mr. Willis pulled us apart. His face was flushed red, just like his hair. Jesus was still worked up and slightly out of control, but Mr. Willis had a hold on him. Half-dazed, I looked up and said to Mr. Wills, “Happy April Fool’s Day!”

Unfortunately, the fool was me!

Clean Glass Equals Disaster

It was 12am on a crisp evening in Oklahoma. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I walked back towards the house to say goodbye to the 30+ people inside. I approached the entryway. They must have cleaned the glass door really well, because I never saw it coming. The sound was like when a door slams into its jamb, but reverberates back-and-forth a few inches like an oversized tuning fork. For a moment, time stood still.

What's happening? I thought to myself. I was walking. Now I'm not. Why does my nose hurt? Is it broken?

A perfect smudged outline of my lips, chin, and cheeks had been cast upon the glass. I could taste a hint of blood on my lip. I checked my nose and it wasn't broken.

My roommate swung the door open. "Did you do that on purpose?" He asked.

The question didn't register. I only saw my other roommate along with a dozen others in the hallway. They were rolling.

"You really clean these windows good, out here in Oklahoma," is all I could come up with.