Superimpose

He doesn't look like a gymnast.

He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair that frames wire spectacles and a professor down to the frayed tips of his shoes, but he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles a lot while he's chatting before class.

_____________

This image has been in my head for a few days. I think it will make an interesting story.

But which story? A story of a gymnast that became a teacher, or a student who has to reconcile their image of said teacher? Probably the second one, so I can file it under non-fiction.

There are two people that have been extremely easy for me to write about; one was a college friend named Bill and the other one has been Minnick. I don't know what it is that makes me see a character in a real person - there are plenty of people in my life, past and present, that could have interesting stories. So what made these two stand out so much?

I don't really have any answers for that. I can draw comparisons between them, and they are alike in some ways, but it's not really enough.

I guess... they just have this sense of life about them. With Bill, it's a sort of potential - he's going places. He'll have stories to tell one day. And with Minnick, it's the other way around - he's been places. He already has lots of stories to tell. And I just love writing about them, or at least my impressions of them.

But I've run off topic - I was trying to make a point about how at odds this notion is one of my professors having been a gymnast. I can kinda see it, but not quite. The man just looks every inch the archetype of what a college professor is supposed to look like. If I had never met him before and was shown a picture and told to guess what he does for a living, my first instinct would be "English Professor."

He's told us in the past that he once worked in a steel mill and for some reason that image never resonated as strongly. Maybe because that was a job and being a gymnast wasn't. I don't know.

Sheesh I'm rambly tonight XD

I Had a Full Day

Pixar hasn't made a bad movie yet. Brave was indeed darker than the usual fair and earned its PG rating. Much of it simply had to do with atmosphere - this doesn't take place in a part of the world known for its abundance of happy sunny days after all. It's cloudy and gloomy, damp and foggy, marshy and lots of trees and shade everywhere. The visual appeal alone is really stunning.

I won't be able to say how it stacks up in comparison to other Pixar films until it comes out on DVD and I can watch it a few times. I would have liked to see some of the major side characters fleshed out more - as it is, we essentially have three characters with some real depth to them (that being Merida and her parents). Perhaps it's one of those things I'll pick up more of upon more viewings.

So that was part one of my day; I thought the movie would be the end of it, but I knew Gram would likely want to do lunch. I just didn't know where.

Turns out my aunt had some coupons for Playtime Pizza. Think Chuck E. Cheese - but badass. She found some deal online that went twenty bucks for two free hours of playtime on any attraction that didn't spit out tickets. That sounds lame until you realize said attractions are black-light mini-golf, laser tag, bumper cars, bowling, and go carts.

To be honest, I didn't care for most of them, but the laser tag is effing sweet. And each attraction usually costs X amount per play - I think golf and go carts are four dollars and a game of laser tag is seven. I played three rounds of that, made a round through the golf course, and managed a round of go-carts, so it more than paid for itself. Oh, and the deal came with pizza. Yeah, definitely a bargain there.

My second round of laser tag, the cousins ditched because they're impatient little brats - I ended up in a round with a bunch of teenage guys. I don't think they were expecting me to be good at it XD

The one thing is, I wish I'd known this was the plan so I could have worn shoes with more support that flip-flops. My feet were killing me by the time Drama rolled around. And this is after bruising my toe rather badly; I still can't bend it without pain (it's fine I think, just swollen and turning purple around the tip). But, I do finally get to college and settle into the English lounge for a bit of reading.

And I overhear Minnick chatting and it's apparently his birthday.

And everybody knows I have a generosity complex. Luckily, Silvek's bakery isn't far away. So he got cake. And an apple because I'm a dork like that XD

I love Drama; I really do, but after Brave and laser tag, the experience is rather dulled. Not to mention I was nearly dead on my feet by this point. It didn't go unnoticed either; he quipped at me on the way out that I had been less enthusiastic than usual. I'm not sorry.

So my day began at 8:00, I left by 9:00, was out and about for 12 hours before I went home, all on bruised feet with terrible support and finally got to turn on my laptop and check my messages about four hours ago. Long day has been long (and awesome).

I Have a High Pain Tolerance

I don't know if that's true or not, but I can take some comfort from the fact that it's at least higher than my brother's.

So my day began with a toothache. Not a bad one, just enough to be annoying for a while. I took my antibiotics and got on with the day. Baby Russ was in a pretty good mood today too, so nothing I can't handle.

Middle part of the day; getting ready to go to Drama class. Trying to change pants, I lost my balance. I somehow manage to slam my leg down at just the right angle on my storage ottoman to get a bruise going on the toe next to the smallest one. Hard enough that I couldn't bend it without pain until I got home again and put some ice on it for a while. I've been hobbling a bit since, but still bearable.

So I do get to Drama and participate just fine by and large. I didn't move around as much as the activities required today, but it's alright. During the break, I ran (well, no I didn't, but you know what I mean) down to one of the water fountains to take my pills for my teeth and a Vicodin for the pain in my foot.

I have a weird relationship with Vicodin. The first time I took it, it made me stupidly dizzy. The second time had no effect that I could see. Sometimes it makes me loopy, sometimes it doesn't. It didn't this time, but it did leave me tired. I decided to wait the effects out in the English department lobby. I read for a little while, until I put my head down and that was enough to go to sleep. I woke up to Minnick yelling at me and giving me a look that reminded me of an Irish Setter.

You know the look.

And kept giving me that concerned look on the way out before telling me to e-mail him when I got home safely. The comparison is enhanced (or maybe exists), because he does have curly hair similar to the ears of the breed.

So yeah, that was my day. It seems like my most dramatic injuries occur in the most boring ways. Like the time I broke my leg by falling of a swing.

Anyway, pain or not I'm going to see Brave in the morning because fuck yeah Pixar. I shall report tomorrow!

A Poetic Education

The latest in my line of writing projects and one that's been making me think all day long. It's always the short stuff that prompts long-winded posts.

The series thus far is compromised of poems with six lines falling into two stanzas; stanza one is how the narrator should have learned something (i.e. by studying), stanza two is how they actually learned it (i.e. by experiencing). Fairly straightforward.

PaperDart posted a comment that really got me thinking though; about what I was writing, how I was writing it, and, more importantly, why I was writing it. I hadn't intended to imply anything negative about a love of learning, but the poems could be read that way. I've already brought it up in the Artist Comments here, but for summary; after mulling it over, I came to the conclusion that the disconnect I had been writing into the poems had less to do with learning and more to do with educating.

I have had three very good teachers and one truly awful teacher; the rest more or less fell into the spectrum of "bland." I understand that a teacher has a difficult job; I don't envy their profession or the sheer volume of work on their shoulders. But this is important work - this actually matters. They're working with kids eight hours a day. That was more time than I ever spent with my own family in a day.

I don't want to come off as "education MUST be fun or kids won't learn," but there's so little to enjoy in the current education system, or at least the one I went through. Minnick told us a few weeks ago in Drama - kids get an average of about two minutes to talk during the entire day. And then you wonder why they're restless in class?

But the teachers I did have, the good ones, the ones that made it worthwhile, got it - they made things not necessarily fun, but engaging. We wanted to listen. We wanted to hear what they were trying to say, or at least I did. Even if the rest of the day was shot by the other classes, these were worthwhile. I know last semester Adolescent Literature was more or less the only reason I got out of bed some mornings. I suffered through Anthropology, its lab course, and Form and Theory just to get to it. It was my reward for going through all the motions.

I'm getting rather rambly, so I'll cut it short - people deserve to know when they're making a difference. And even though I'm no longer in contact with two of those three teachers, I can make damn sure the third one knows it. And I did :)

Another Appointment

But I'm nearly finished with my dentist visits. Bottom row this time, which turned out to be easier to deal with. Whether because I'm getting used to it or because it genuinely was easier, I don't know. The numbness in my face is starting to fade about now, so I'll probably need a Vicodin soon.

One of the ones toward the back was a doozy - I knew it would be an issue, but I learned after that fact that all they had to do was poke at it a little and it exposed the nerve. That one will probably end up with a crown, if not a root canal. As bad as my teeth have been though, only two were that bad, and the filling on the other one is holding up really well thus far. So maybe this one will be okay too. I won't be able to make any calls until at least a few days when my jaw stops being so sore and I can eat real food again.

Italian Food

Dinner with the library group tonight <3 Luigi's makes the best pizza around here.

Had to leave Drama early, but Minnick was cool with that. I won't get to go to writing class again until sometime in August D= But that gives me plenty of time to stock up on writing for them to look over. Not that I need it - I've been writing almost non-stop this summer. I don't typically write this much on break, but I can't complain~

Mail, mail, mail

I got a postcard a few days ago. That reminded me...

I F$&#ING LOVE MAIL =DDDDD

So I'm going on a postcard sending spree and you're all invited. Note me an address on my dA account if you want one. Or Skype me. Or e-mail. Whatever, I have lots of stamps and stuff I'm not using because sending international got expensive all of a sudden.

By the way, several of you who've noted me addresses in the past, well, you used school addresses. Which is fine when you're in school, but not during the summer!

Also, I have no idea what's up with Round Robin. I hope that it got sent/ is going to be sent soon.

RP Makes Me Laugh

I meant to write yesterday and forgot. Whoops.

Drama was, as usual, entertaining. Our theme this time revolved around stress and homelessness, but what I really learned from the class was that Dr. Minnick roleplays a very convincing seven year old runaway =B

Some context then: he played the runaway - the rest of us played various people in her life. The family, friends, and any other significant adults. And we did a kind of improvisational set of scenes that way as he moved from group to group. I was supposed to roleplay a teacher, but didn't actually manage it due to laughter; one of the other people in our scene was a grandmother with Alzheimer's who kept forgetting her dog was dead. And I'm not going to be able to suffienctly explain why that was so hilarious, so I won't even try XD

In other news, it's nearly time to give away a notebook. I happen to have cash on me for a change, so I'll be able to send it along without much delay once a winner is chosen. I'm a little sorry to see this one go - it's a pretty good one I think =)

Oh, Drama

Well. This was even better than fingerpainting.

Today was a sort of mystery roleplay exercise thing. I'll skip the lead up stuff and jump right in. We were given a fragment:

On June 27th, the body of Tessie Hutchinson was found by the road that runs from the village to Moose Creek, as it passes the farm of Mr. Summers and is on the route Mr. Graves, the postman, takes daily. Tessie was the wife of Bill and mother of Nancy and Davy. No one spoke of her death. No gravestone marks her burial place.

The first thing he does is trick us into a close reading by asking what we notice about the story. What are the facts, what can be inferred, ect. Then we're given some time to come up with questions we would like to ask. 15 of them are written on the board. We spent a lot of time on questions this session and learning how to craft some good ones, but we haven't gotten to the fun part yet. The fun part comes soon after; we've broken into groups, and we need to identify what character can tell us the most about what happened. We can pull them from the story, or make some up (within reason).

In addition to the ones from the story, we also add in Tessie's best friend Jon-Clement (who is apparently female), the sheriff, and the local drunk and founder of Wendy's, Dave Thomas (I'm not sure how they got this one o_O). As a class, we pick out the five characters that we think will be key in unraveling the mystery. These characters will be roleplayed. So we get;

The husband, Bill
Mr. Summers, whose property the body was found near (and who I would roleplay)
The best friend
The sheriff
The local drunk/ fast food tycoon

So basically we all end up in a very loose courtroom drama. Each of us that volunteered to roleplay had an interregation session, showed where we were in relation to the body on the night of the 27th, where we were at the funeral and so forth. The story had no official ending, so we were really free to make up whatever the hell we wanted and have fun with our Q&A sessions. The guy playing the husband was hilarious:

Guy 1: How long were you and your wife married before she died?
Husband: I dunno - a few months?
Guy 1: Do you argue a lot?
Husband: Not anymore.

Guy 2: Did you take out any life insurance policies before your wife died?
Husband: Yes.
Guy 2: How much?
Husband: A lot.

The guy playing the town drunk got some good lines as well, though my favorite came when everyone did a roleplay as a townsperson showing where they were during the funeral. Minnick had us all freeze in place and had everyone say a line about what they were thinking/ doing/ what question they had as the body was lowered into the ground. A few people apparently decided to go to Wendy's:

Dave Thomas: Would you like fries with that?

And after all that brouhaha, everyone got back into groups and wrote an ending to the story based on what we found out.

Where were these lessons when I was in school? D= This was fun. I could see this sort of thing being stretched out into a day long lesson plan. Even though it was on the fly, it felt so much more natural than writing and performing a skit for class. My ribs were aching by the time we were out of there it was so much fun. I've still got a bit of a stitch in my side.

I'm starting to think Minnick and his classes need their own tag here as often as I talk about them.

Kitten Sitting

My cousin is away for a softball tournament this weekend; thus, I have a kitten for the weekend. It is currently nibbling my fingers while I'm trying to type, so this post will be short. Itty bitty little thing - fits in one hand. Is now curled up under my chin. Now it's sliding back down to my keyboard. It's very happy.

Post 100

I feel like perhaps I should mark it in someway, but nothing really comes to mind. And I don't feel particularly accomplished about making it to 100 posts. Though I do suddenly realize the year is half over and the "ah-ha" moment has left me with a feeling of awkwardness. Where, I implore you, did those months go?

But anyway.

My Internet has been undergoing some maintainence, so I was offline for an entire day, something that does not happen often. I get Internet withdrawl like a junkie twitches for the needle. Usually. Surprisingly, I handled it very well yesterday. Possibly thanks to having Drama to look forward to and reflect upon after. I even got some poems done.

I like how Tangerine ended up, but I can't help but wonder why my every attempt at a "happy" poem ends in disaster. How do you make a color like tangerine so damn depressing?

Seafoam, meanwhile, I also quite like. I like that fifties-ish jukebox diner on the boardwalk feel it has going. It must be the Thunderbird.

Finger-Painting

One of the more memorable college classes I've ever attended =P

I don't actually like The Tell-Tale Heart that much, or finger-paint honestly, but Minnick is great when it comes to dramatic reading. And I managed to paint without actually using my fingers, so day well spent.

I'm super texture-oriented, so I'm rather picky about my hands. I don't like things that stick to them. It bothers me on this fundamental level. I think it's part of the reason I can't stop biting my nails; I hate when things get under them. It's not that I mind getting dirty necessarily, it's just that feeling of mud or dirt or paint in this case covering my skin. I don't like the way it won't stretch when I flex a muscle; it might not be so bad if it were like a glove or something but it isn't it's like something latched on and won't let go.

Bah, I'm not explaining it very well. Suffice to say I don't like it.

Three Percent

I didn't learn percentages
from a chalk-finger-dusted butcher
with delusions of tenure;

I learned them from a boy
who made my day three percent brighter,
just by smiling.

The second stanza of this was originally a fragment in my writing notebook that I liked; I wrote the actual poem though, in the journal I'm supposed to be keeping for Drama. I just write in whatever notebook happens to be open at the time. Though given that Minnick is head of Secondary Education in the English department, maybe he'll like the teaching theme XD