What do you think it says about someone that said person thinks it's amusing to stand in front of a fridge rearranging the magnetic words and inserting apostrophes where they don't belong a la "It's hinges are so rusted its difficult to open."
Hee hee hee. I mean, that person is just sick. Sick, I tell you. And so is my--I mean that person's--copy editor friend. Freaks.
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Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
No undergrad left behind
I have this uneasy feeling that higher education is about to go the way of K-12.
By that I mean, “Hello, I’m from the federal Department of Education and I’m here to make sure that YOU are accountable.”
And when I say “accountable,” I mean, “Let’s see how much money we can suck away from the classroom to create a huge bureaucracy to administer tests that we have engineered to tell us absolutely nothing.”
Hmm, not sure where that vitriolic rant came from. Years of repressing my true feelings in print, I suspect.
Anyway. “All Things Considered” had an interesting interview with Education Secretary Margaret Spellings this evening. In it, she spoke about a recently released report from the Commission on the Future of Higher Education. You can hear the full interview here but the message I got out of it was that higher education needed a few things, among them more money for scholarships, more information for parents and students about the education they are purchasing and more accountability for the money the federal government puts into higher education.
All of these things sound fine on their face, just as they did when officials said similar things during the genesis of NCLB. I mean, really, who can oppose things like students learning and public entities spending our money wisely?
But, a couple of things she said made me shudder. First, Michele Norris asked her whether she was advocating testing in higher education. Her answer was to say that she wouldn’t advocate a one-size-fits-all test. The inference here was that the universities or states should decide what type of evaluation system works best for them.
Then later in the interview she said that the federal government needed to offer higher education “incentives and assistance” to meet the challenges detailed in the report.
I’ll go out on a limb here and translate. Keep in mind this is my opinion and is filtered through my more-cynical-than-is-healthy brain, but try this one on for size:
Dear Higher Education (I capitalized that because people in higher ed REALLY like to capitalize things);
Since our recent report found that you are lacking in several areas, we are here to offer you some incentives and assistance to move to a new and exciting age in education.
First, we want you to develop a set of assessments. We’ll tell you what to include in them, what it takes to pass them and how often you have to give them, but we DO NOT want a one-size-fits-all test.
Please develop a large and expensive bureaucracy to administer this new testing system. We can’t afford to give you all the money to pay for this new department, but I’m sure you can find some money in your budget somewhere. Just so you won’t feel alone, we’ll do the same.
Once the testing system is in place, we’ll move on to how to bring every student up to 100 percent proficiency, but that’s a memo for another day.
Oh yes, I did mention incentives, didn’t I? Of course, we wouldn’t expect you to do this without some incentive. How’s this: Do it or we‘ll jerk your funding.
Love and kisses,
U.S. Department of Education
Whack me upside the head with a piece of celery if I’m wrong. I even have one you can borrow. I smell a changing tide in higher education, and if it’s anything like what NCLB is doing to K-12, it’s low tide in Ketchikan when the humpies are running. (Just ask someone who has lived there.)
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By that I mean, “Hello, I’m from the federal Department of Education and I’m here to make sure that YOU are accountable.”
And when I say “accountable,” I mean, “Let’s see how much money we can suck away from the classroom to create a huge bureaucracy to administer tests that we have engineered to tell us absolutely nothing.”
Hmm, not sure where that vitriolic rant came from. Years of repressing my true feelings in print, I suspect.
Anyway. “All Things Considered” had an interesting interview with Education Secretary Margaret Spellings this evening. In it, she spoke about a recently released report from the Commission on the Future of Higher Education. You can hear the full interview here but the message I got out of it was that higher education needed a few things, among them more money for scholarships, more information for parents and students about the education they are purchasing and more accountability for the money the federal government puts into higher education.
All of these things sound fine on their face, just as they did when officials said similar things during the genesis of NCLB. I mean, really, who can oppose things like students learning and public entities spending our money wisely?
But, a couple of things she said made me shudder. First, Michele Norris asked her whether she was advocating testing in higher education. Her answer was to say that she wouldn’t advocate a one-size-fits-all test. The inference here was that the universities or states should decide what type of evaluation system works best for them.
Then later in the interview she said that the federal government needed to offer higher education “incentives and assistance” to meet the challenges detailed in the report.
I’ll go out on a limb here and translate. Keep in mind this is my opinion and is filtered through my more-cynical-than-is-healthy brain, but try this one on for size:
Dear Higher Education (I capitalized that because people in higher ed REALLY like to capitalize things);
Since our recent report found that you are lacking in several areas, we are here to offer you some incentives and assistance to move to a new and exciting age in education.
First, we want you to develop a set of assessments. We’ll tell you what to include in them, what it takes to pass them and how often you have to give them, but we DO NOT want a one-size-fits-all test.
Please develop a large and expensive bureaucracy to administer this new testing system. We can’t afford to give you all the money to pay for this new department, but I’m sure you can find some money in your budget somewhere. Just so you won’t feel alone, we’ll do the same.
Once the testing system is in place, we’ll move on to how to bring every student up to 100 percent proficiency, but that’s a memo for another day.
Oh yes, I did mention incentives, didn’t I? Of course, we wouldn’t expect you to do this without some incentive. How’s this: Do it or we‘ll jerk your funding.
Love and kisses,
U.S. Department of Education
Whack me upside the head with a piece of celery if I’m wrong. I even have one you can borrow. I smell a changing tide in higher education, and if it’s anything like what NCLB is doing to K-12, it’s low tide in Ketchikan when the humpies are running. (Just ask someone who has lived there.)
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Attack of the killer ...
Well, celery, actually. I am now the proud possessor of an absurd amount of celery. As the mercury drops here in Fairbanks, those of us with gardens kick into holy-crap-I-had-better-pick-everything-before-I have-the-low-budget-version-of-flash-frozen-vegetables mode. (Most gardeners, however, probably don’t hyphenate quite as much as I do, though I believe that at least AP style would say that’s correct, no matter how over-the-top.)
But I digress. About these wily, green stalks. Apparently celery thrives on neglect and abuse--great, I have masochistic veggies--because I ignored it for most of the summer and didn’t really even bother to remove the chickweed from around it. The result of my black thumb was an armload of the stuff.
Now I’m soaked from washing all of it and about had to use my feet to stuff it into the bottom shelf of the fridge. What the heck am I going to do with a 10-pound, white-garbage-bag-encased brick of celery?
Perhaps I should fill every stalk with delicately seasoned cream cheese and head out on the town in search of a fancy soiree to crash. Of course I’d need a forklift to carry the trays.
OOO! OOO! I know. I’ll make 20 gallons of cream of celery soup. Yeah, and we can have it for dinner every night. I can freeze it and ... Oh wait. If I do that, a certain 6-year-old in my family will cry because she has to eat green soup and every night the strains of “Mommy, you make yucky food,” will haunt my dreams. Hmm. Scratch that idea. Better just do what I do with everything else I can’t find a use for right away.
Chop it up and throw it in the freezer.
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But I digress. About these wily, green stalks. Apparently celery thrives on neglect and abuse--great, I have masochistic veggies--because I ignored it for most of the summer and didn’t really even bother to remove the chickweed from around it. The result of my black thumb was an armload of the stuff.
Now I’m soaked from washing all of it and about had to use my feet to stuff it into the bottom shelf of the fridge. What the heck am I going to do with a 10-pound, white-garbage-bag-encased brick of celery?
Perhaps I should fill every stalk with delicately seasoned cream cheese and head out on the town in search of a fancy soiree to crash. Of course I’d need a forklift to carry the trays.
OOO! OOO! I know. I’ll make 20 gallons of cream of celery soup. Yeah, and we can have it for dinner every night. I can freeze it and ... Oh wait. If I do that, a certain 6-year-old in my family will cry because she has to eat green soup and every night the strains of “Mommy, you make yucky food,” will haunt my dreams. Hmm. Scratch that idea. Better just do what I do with everything else I can’t find a use for right away.
Chop it up and throw it in the freezer.
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Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Shaggy mania
Mushroom saga, part deux: I went just a tad crazy last weekend. I found a field of shaggy mane mushrooms and the owners kindly allowed me to go pick them. I left with two brown shopping bags full and could have filled a couple more. This grassy lawn was just littered with the things. It was amazing. ‘Course, when I got home, I had to clean and process all of them, right away. See, there’s a bit of fine print with these mushrooms. They look all pretty and white in the field, but if you leave them uncooked overnight you will have a stinky black mess. (Shaggy manes belong to a group of mushrooms known as “inky caps.”)
So, the result was four hours of washing, chopping, cooking and freezing. It was, I must say, exhausting work. Still, I’ll have enough for soups and sauces for the winter, which is a good thing. Now if I can only get some ducks to go with it. Mmmm. Duck.
Anyway, as a bonus to this little excursion to someone else’s lawn, I ran across huge bunches of what I believe to be fried chicken mushrooms, shown below, which are also supposed to be a good edible.
The deal with these is you have to be careful because they supposedly resemble some other poisonous varieties. One test, which goes along with a few other things, is to take a spore print. Pink spores=bad. White spores=good. My mother also notes that she has never heard of a poisonous mushroom that actually tastes good. Of course, that’s a little bit more risky.
At any rate, I was elated to find a white spore print and so now will try a tiny bit and see whether I keel over or not. *grin* So if I’m not back within a couple of weeks, I probably offed myself with a mushroom. Kidding. Kidding.
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Equal opportunity elite
For those of us who are feeling left out of the inner circle of power in Alaska politics, Cafe Press now offers a lovely assortment of items for purchase that allow wearers to proudly proclaim that they too are among the esteemed leaders of our great state who, for the past year (at least), have been guiding our government with morality and strength of character.
Er. Yeah.
Check it out here.
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Er. Yeah.
Check it out here.
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Wednesday, August 30, 2006
I'll sleep better
This from the "about us" section of the English online version of "People's Daily" in Beijing:
"People's Daily brings you the latest news dispatches of policy
information and resolutions of the Chinese Government and major
domestic news and international news releases from China. It reflects
the views of the Chinese people, expounds on justice and lambasts
various forms of malpractice."
You know, I feel better knowing that someone out there is expounding on justice, because in my opinion, there is just too much silence out there on the topic of justice. And good for them for lambasting malpractice. It's even better that they make sure to practice equal-opportunity lambasting of various forms of malpractice. It would be a shame to focus one's lambasting on just a single sort of malpractice. I mean, really, what good is it to only lambaste, say, the dairy farmer who sells you sour milk when there are lawyers and mechanics and shopkeepers and doctors that are all equally deserving of lambasting? Where's the justice there, I ask you. Where indeed?
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"People's Daily brings you the latest news dispatches of policy
information and resolutions of the Chinese Government and major
domestic news and international news releases from China. It reflects
the views of the Chinese people, expounds on justice and lambasts
various forms of malpractice."
You know, I feel better knowing that someone out there is expounding on justice, because in my opinion, there is just too much silence out there on the topic of justice. And good for them for lambasting malpractice. It's even better that they make sure to practice equal-opportunity lambasting of various forms of malpractice. It would be a shame to focus one's lambasting on just a single sort of malpractice. I mean, really, what good is it to only lambaste, say, the dairy farmer who sells you sour milk when there are lawyers and mechanics and shopkeepers and doctors that are all equally deserving of lambasting? Where's the justice there, I ask you. Where indeed?
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In search of the king
I spent half a day on Sunday wandering in the woods picking mushrooms and now am feeling just a bit obsessed. The sun was shining in my office window this afternoon and what was I thinking? It would be cool to be lounging in the yard? I wish I could go for a long drive with the top down? Nope. I was thinking, "I bet if I could just spend a little time back in the trails I could find some more tasty mushrooms."
I found a small number of regular boletus on Sunday, enough for one meal with steak, along with a few other things that, after looking at the spore prints and the book, to be either poisonous or inedible. Alas, my most prized quarry, the king bolete, has thus far eluded me. These large 'shrooms resemble their cousins, with a reddish/tan cap and spongy-looking gills. But they are much larger and--here's the best part--don't bruise dark when you cut them. They are oh so tasty.
Now if I can just find a place where the dang things are growing, it would simply make my fall, especially since I've been out of the state for most of berry season.
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Monday, August 28, 2006
Hellfire and dumbnation
Here's an amusing exercise:
Let's see who can come up with the best euphamism, expression, metaphor or simile to describe utter stupidity. Hell, I'll even take plain old synonyms, made up or not. A colleague and I had great fun in just five minutes of brainstorming, so I'm sure that, with the eternity that the blogosphere offers, we can come up with some great ones. Now let's see, what did we come up with today...
Dumb as a box of rocks
Not the brightest bulb
Not the sharpest tool
Dipstick
Shallow pool
Sheeple
And, in honor of my love for mixing metaphors:
Can't see the forest for the fog of stupidity
or its variation
Can't see the forest for the tree that fell on his head
I'll add more as I think of them. Now come on people. Let's work together in the name of the dumb.
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Let's see who can come up with the best euphamism, expression, metaphor or simile to describe utter stupidity. Hell, I'll even take plain old synonyms, made up or not. A colleague and I had great fun in just five minutes of brainstorming, so I'm sure that, with the eternity that the blogosphere offers, we can come up with some great ones. Now let's see, what did we come up with today...
Dumb as a box of rocks
Not the brightest bulb
Not the sharpest tool
Dipstick
Shallow pool
Sheeple
And, in honor of my love for mixing metaphors:
Can't see the forest for the fog of stupidity
or its variation
Can't see the forest for the tree that fell on his head
I'll add more as I think of them. Now come on people. Let's work together in the name of the dumb.
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Tuesday, August 22, 2006
It never goes away
It's election night. It's quarter to midnight. I actually know what percentage of precincts have reported results: 66.97 percent. I have the division of elections Web site in the background and have been refreshing it way more than is useful. I know exactly how I would be rewriting my lead to make deadline, because it doesn't look like results will be in on time. Phrases like, "as of midnight" and "was the apparent victor" come to mind. I'm reluctant to go to bed, because I really want to know now.
This is the second election since I left the paper, the first major one. And I do miss the excitement of election night, that and the fun at the Big I afterward. Don't think that will ever go away.
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This is the second election since I left the paper, the first major one. And I do miss the excitement of election night, that and the fun at the Big I afterward. Don't think that will ever go away.
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Saturday, August 05, 2006
Belated patriotic mourning
My 6-year-old daughter was questioning me this morning about my recent trip to D.C.
She asked me, "Did you see Washington?"
I said, "Yes, I went to Washington and saw some of the city."
"No," she said. "Did you see that guy. Washington."
I smiled, "You mean the monument?"
"No," she said, a bit frustrated. "Did you see him?"
"You mean the first president?" I asked. "He's dead, sweetie."
"WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?" she exclaimed. "He's dead?"
"Yeah," I said. "He's been dead for more than 100 years."
Her response?
"Oh man."
Just goes to show the context of a 6-year-old's life. ;)
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Friday, August 04, 2006
But ... I was there.
Here's a really strange sensation:
I'm standing talking to my former spouse this evening and mention some not-so-lovely things that happened while we were married. He replies that they never happened. Now, I was there. He was there. We both know the stuff happened. Then how does someone look another person in the eye, knowing they know the truth, and say something like this? And better yet, what the heck is the appropriate response to such a thing? Probably leaving, I guess. Some folks just aren't in touch with reality.
And no, this isn't related to my former post.
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I'm standing talking to my former spouse this evening and mention some not-so-lovely things that happened while we were married. He replies that they never happened. Now, I was there. He was there. We both know the stuff happened. Then how does someone look another person in the eye, knowing they know the truth, and say something like this? And better yet, what the heck is the appropriate response to such a thing? Probably leaving, I guess. Some folks just aren't in touch with reality.
And no, this isn't related to my former post.
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Sunday, July 30, 2006
Ethically challenged or just astute
What do you all think? Is it wrong to intentionally create scenarios that will test whether or not someone will lie to you? Is it dishonest to ask someone a question to which you already know the answer, in an effort to test their truthfulness?
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Vote Frank
OK, before you all go and faint, let me explain
I think I may just have to do more than my civic duty at the ballot box in our state’s upcoming primary. I think I’ll take that extra step and do my part to make the general election as entertaining as possible.
We have quasi-closed primaries, which basically means that everyone but the Republicans go on one ballot and all the Rs go on another. As a registered nonpartisan, I can choose either ballot. Ordinarily, I would go with the everything but Republicans ballot--more to choose from--but this year that just seems like no fun. I don’t think anyone in the state has to strain their brains too hard to figure out who will be winning the Democratic nomination. So with Tony Knowles a shoo-in, a vote on that side of the aisle seems a little wasted and certainly not conducive to fun and excitement.
Nope, I think that I may just have to ask for the R ballot. But oh, who to choose?
Incumbent Frank Murkowski, the man who appointed his daughter to the U.S. Senate and who has managed to alienate almost everyone in the state of Alaska?
Sarah Palin, moderate with backbone, which she proved when she stood up to her party’s bigwigs, but perhaps not as known statewide?
Or perhaps John (used to be Johne) Binkley, Fairbanks riverboat captain who is sailing on a sea of cash?
I don’t know a whole lot about Palin, though the things I have read indicate that she has some positive qualities. And Binkley is widely well-liked in the Fairbanks community and seems a nice enough guy. But I fear neither of them will make for big fun in November, so it doesn’t seem right to cast my ballot for them.
But folks, picture this: If Frank wins, the die-hard Rs in the state will have to make an unenviable decision: Stick with the party and vote for someone they dislike or turn to the dark side and vote for Tony. And that doesn’t even count how absolutely amusing it will be to watch Tony and Frank duke it out, with Tony pointing out all of Frank’s failings and Frank trying to talk his way out of them, and vice versa. I can think of no combination in recent memory that stands to generate so much of what makes election season such a joy.
Yep, as much as it may pain me, I may just have to vote for Frank.
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I think I may just have to do more than my civic duty at the ballot box in our state’s upcoming primary. I think I’ll take that extra step and do my part to make the general election as entertaining as possible.
We have quasi-closed primaries, which basically means that everyone but the Republicans go on one ballot and all the Rs go on another. As a registered nonpartisan, I can choose either ballot. Ordinarily, I would go with the everything but Republicans ballot--more to choose from--but this year that just seems like no fun. I don’t think anyone in the state has to strain their brains too hard to figure out who will be winning the Democratic nomination. So with Tony Knowles a shoo-in, a vote on that side of the aisle seems a little wasted and certainly not conducive to fun and excitement.
Nope, I think that I may just have to ask for the R ballot. But oh, who to choose?
Incumbent Frank Murkowski, the man who appointed his daughter to the U.S. Senate and who has managed to alienate almost everyone in the state of Alaska?
Sarah Palin, moderate with backbone, which she proved when she stood up to her party’s bigwigs, but perhaps not as known statewide?
Or perhaps John (used to be Johne) Binkley, Fairbanks riverboat captain who is sailing on a sea of cash?
I don’t know a whole lot about Palin, though the things I have read indicate that she has some positive qualities. And Binkley is widely well-liked in the Fairbanks community and seems a nice enough guy. But I fear neither of them will make for big fun in November, so it doesn’t seem right to cast my ballot for them.
But folks, picture this: If Frank wins, the die-hard Rs in the state will have to make an unenviable decision: Stick with the party and vote for someone they dislike or turn to the dark side and vote for Tony. And that doesn’t even count how absolutely amusing it will be to watch Tony and Frank duke it out, with Tony pointing out all of Frank’s failings and Frank trying to talk his way out of them, and vice versa. I can think of no combination in recent memory that stands to generate so much of what makes election season such a joy.
Yep, as much as it may pain me, I may just have to vote for Frank.
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I lost my rose-colored glasses in our nation‘s capital
Now, dear readers, I should clarify, lest you go off thinking that I was some sort of Pollyanna type prior to arriving in that hotbed of politicking known as Washington D.C. Rest assured, I have no illusions about our government. If my temperament were setting the color of my sunglasses, I’m afraid they would be black.
Nope, in this case, I truly am speaking of my pink-hued sunglasses, which not only served their utilitarian purpose, but also were ironic enough, given my aforementioned cynical bent, to give me a periodic chuckle.
Alas, I was a fool. My brain had been well-lubricated with too many shots and I left them on the table in a bar in Dupont Circle to go watch the parade of puffy-lipped drag queens strut their stuff during the evening show.
Like I said, foolish. If there is one place one should not leave a pair of pink sunglasses laying unguarded on a table, it is a gay bar, or at least that’s what stereotypes would tell you. At any rate, some sticky-fingered someone lifted my sunglasses of irony and now I’m back to plain old brown.
Bad queen! Bad, bad queen!
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Nope, in this case, I truly am speaking of my pink-hued sunglasses, which not only served their utilitarian purpose, but also were ironic enough, given my aforementioned cynical bent, to give me a periodic chuckle.
Alas, I was a fool. My brain had been well-lubricated with too many shots and I left them on the table in a bar in Dupont Circle to go watch the parade of puffy-lipped drag queens strut their stuff during the evening show.
Like I said, foolish. If there is one place one should not leave a pair of pink sunglasses laying unguarded on a table, it is a gay bar, or at least that’s what stereotypes would tell you. At any rate, some sticky-fingered someone lifted my sunglasses of irony and now I’m back to plain old brown.
Bad queen! Bad, bad queen!
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Thursday, July 20, 2006
Avoid the Homer effect
Doh! Doh! Doh!
Sage words from someone at a workshop today:
"The last thing you want to do is reinvent the square wheel."
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Sage words from someone at a workshop today:
"The last thing you want to do is reinvent the square wheel."
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Fatally killed by repetitive redundancy
I have seen and heard the words "general public" more times than I can count in the last 24 hours. Over and over and over... And sometimes it has been capitalized. Even better, I found a synonym that is equally redundant on--guess where--a PowerPoint slide. Shocking, I know. The trend didn't escape the watchful eye of my colleague, who is a former copy editor. She slipped me a cocktail napkin with the words, "general public," scribbled on it. I added my reply and handed it back:
"=public at large."
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"=public at large."
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I think I'm a bumpkin...
I'm in Washington D.C. at the moment and it always takes me a couple of hours to acclimate to places like this. It's not the climate, though the 92 degrees and humid feels like a wet wool blanket, but the ... city-ness.
For a girl from Fairbanks, Alaska, any city feels like another planet, but DC is certainly that to the nth degree. The faster pace of things is almost tangible as you step out of the plane, and it's not just the roar of people or the view of cars jammed on a freeway as I flew in. People are just going. And they don't seem very happy about it. 'Course people at airports seldom are. Still, people don't seem to look you in the eye as much in a large city. And if you smile at them, their smiles back look a lot like they might just be doing it because they know you're "special" and deserve their sympathy. ;) It's not that people in cities, as individuals, are any less friendly than they are anywhere else, it's just that, as a whole, humanity feels so much more anonymous.
And then there's my incredible lack of knowledge of things like: Exactly how much am I supposed to tip the guy who refused to let me carry my own bags even though, being a woman who splits her own firewood, I am perfectly capable of carrying a couple of suitcases, thank you very much?
As for my hotel, it's very nice, and I'm afraid to touch anything for fear they will charge me for it. They charge for local calls, for calling-card calls, for Internet access. They offer bottles of water in your room, for $4.95 apiece. If I enjoy the robe and want to take it with me, $90. Believe me, it's not a $90 robe. The front desk asked me if I wanted a key to the "refreshment center." Noooo, I think I'll pass on that. A chocolate attack in the middle of night could run me $8 for a candy bar and soda. If I desperately needed a beer and some peanuts I'd be looking at $13 for a half-cup of honey-roasted peanuts and a Miller Lite.
Guess I'm just not quite ready for the role of rich yuppie business traveler.
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For a girl from Fairbanks, Alaska, any city feels like another planet, but DC is certainly that to the nth degree. The faster pace of things is almost tangible as you step out of the plane, and it's not just the roar of people or the view of cars jammed on a freeway as I flew in. People are just going. And they don't seem very happy about it. 'Course people at airports seldom are. Still, people don't seem to look you in the eye as much in a large city. And if you smile at them, their smiles back look a lot like they might just be doing it because they know you're "special" and deserve their sympathy. ;) It's not that people in cities, as individuals, are any less friendly than they are anywhere else, it's just that, as a whole, humanity feels so much more anonymous.
And then there's my incredible lack of knowledge of things like: Exactly how much am I supposed to tip the guy who refused to let me carry my own bags even though, being a woman who splits her own firewood, I am perfectly capable of carrying a couple of suitcases, thank you very much?
As for my hotel, it's very nice, and I'm afraid to touch anything for fear they will charge me for it. They charge for local calls, for calling-card calls, for Internet access. They offer bottles of water in your room, for $4.95 apiece. If I enjoy the robe and want to take it with me, $90. Believe me, it's not a $90 robe. The front desk asked me if I wanted a key to the "refreshment center." Noooo, I think I'll pass on that. A chocolate attack in the middle of night could run me $8 for a candy bar and soda. If I desperately needed a beer and some peanuts I'd be looking at $13 for a half-cup of honey-roasted peanuts and a Miller Lite.
Guess I'm just not quite ready for the role of rich yuppie business traveler.
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Friday, July 07, 2006
A familiar face
Funny how certain things can trigger memories that bring you to your knees.
When I was in college, I worked at the school newspaper, as most journalism students did. I was managing editor and the editor-in-chief was someone I quickly formed a close connection to and was terribly fond of. I remember sitting in the office that Tuesday in October, the fluorescents off and the sun filtering in through the windows, creating a cool, crisp light. I waited for him to come so we could go deliver all of the papers and wondered where he was. I remember sliding down my kitchen wall when another friend and fellow student called me, “He’s been murdered.”
For a long time I could see his face whenever I closed my eyes, whenever I wanted to be near him. I could see his hands and arms crossing mine on the light table as we pasted up the last blocks of text in the week’s edition. It was all so clear. But that was nearly a dozen years ago, and time, mercifully and cruelly, fades those memories.
I haven’t seen his face for so long. So when a song I used to sing when we were working on deadline came on the radio tonight as I was pulling into the driveway, I simply turned up the volume, closed my eyes and he was there. No time had passed. I could have touched his face. Then the song was over, I opened my eyes and he was gone just as quickly, my tears the only remnants of my memory‘s brief gift.
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When I was in college, I worked at the school newspaper, as most journalism students did. I was managing editor and the editor-in-chief was someone I quickly formed a close connection to and was terribly fond of. I remember sitting in the office that Tuesday in October, the fluorescents off and the sun filtering in through the windows, creating a cool, crisp light. I waited for him to come so we could go deliver all of the papers and wondered where he was. I remember sliding down my kitchen wall when another friend and fellow student called me, “He’s been murdered.”
For a long time I could see his face whenever I closed my eyes, whenever I wanted to be near him. I could see his hands and arms crossing mine on the light table as we pasted up the last blocks of text in the week’s edition. It was all so clear. But that was nearly a dozen years ago, and time, mercifully and cruelly, fades those memories.
I haven’t seen his face for so long. So when a song I used to sing when we were working on deadline came on the radio tonight as I was pulling into the driveway, I simply turned up the volume, closed my eyes and he was there. No time had passed. I could have touched his face. Then the song was over, I opened my eyes and he was gone just as quickly, my tears the only remnants of my memory‘s brief gift.
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Sunday, July 02, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Passive bureaucratic pop
All those who roll their eyes at anal word people, read no further.
OK, for those of you who are left, I offer the following snippet from the chorus of a song by an unnamed American Idol winner: "... but there were lessons learned."
My middle daughter, who at 10 is enamored with this bubble-gum stuff, plays this song (and the rest of the CD) over and over again and sings along. And I wince.
Now I know I shouldn't expect too much from this genre of music, but bureaucratic cliches and passive voice in one song?
It’s almost too much to bear.
I know they were trying to rhyme with such inspirational gems as "some pages turned" and "some bridges burned," but someone should have killed this song before it made it past the first edit. And if that wasn't possible, they should have at least given it to Weird Al and added some additional corporate jargon to make it even more absurd.
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OK, for those of you who are left, I offer the following snippet from the chorus of a song by an unnamed American Idol winner: "... but there were lessons learned."
My middle daughter, who at 10 is enamored with this bubble-gum stuff, plays this song (and the rest of the CD) over and over again and sings along. And I wince.
Now I know I shouldn't expect too much from this genre of music, but bureaucratic cliches and passive voice in one song?
It’s almost too much to bear.
I know they were trying to rhyme with such inspirational gems as "some pages turned" and "some bridges burned," but someone should have killed this song before it made it past the first edit. And if that wasn't possible, they should have at least given it to Weird Al and added some additional corporate jargon to make it even more absurd.
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