Tomorrow at a little past 2:00, sprout gets an official name. You still have time to vote on the gender. Just leave a comment (click the "sez u" link) with "boy" or "girl" and check back tomorrow at 5:00pm for the results
» 6.30.2003
the gender game...
Tomorrow at a little past 2:00, sprout gets an official name. You still have time to vote on the gender. Just leave a comment (click the "sez u" link) with "boy" or "girl" and check back tomorrow at 5:00pm for the results
Tomorrow at a little past 2:00, sprout gets an official name. You still have time to vote on the gender. Just leave a comment (click the "sez u" link) with "boy" or "girl" and check back tomorrow at 5:00pm for the results
been on vacation...
I just spent 72 hours without a computer, a guitar, or decent cellular reception. Except for the occasional twwwtcchinggg, I made it through just f f fine...
I just spent 72 hours without a computer, a guitar, or decent cellular reception. Except for the occasional twwwtcchinggg, I made it through just f f fine...
» 6.27.2003
beautiful bean footage...
As luck would have it, we ran out of coffee at work yesterday. Lucky?! Whaaa?! Joyfully, this prompted a lunch time pilgrimage to the mecca that is Tradewinds. While Sanjay picked out the next batch of coffee for our morning constitutionals, I played shutter bug. They've started selling the raw beans, so I took a shot of the Organic Antiqua beans, that, when properly roasted, make my favorite cup o' joe. Feel free to use it as your desktop wallpaper. I am.
As luck would have it, we ran out of coffee at work yesterday. Lucky?! Whaaa?! Joyfully, this prompted a lunch time pilgrimage to the mecca that is Tradewinds. While Sanjay picked out the next batch of coffee for our morning constitutionals, I played shutter bug. They've started selling the raw beans, so I took a shot of the Organic Antiqua beans, that, when properly roasted, make my favorite cup o' joe. Feel free to use it as your desktop wallpaper. I am.
» 6.26.2003
the dregs...
I don't just like coffee, I like good coffee. I am a coffee snob. I don't buy my coffee from the grocery store. I go to a local company that imports raw beans and roasts small batches of joy right in their store. The place is heaven to walk into... a magic land of olfactory delight. I certainly don�t use a drip coffee maker. Paper filters remove the chemicals from coffee that give it flavor and leave those that cause bitterness. Drip machines also do not allow the water and the grinds time to steep, to get to know each other. The result is bitter, coffee-like flavored water not fit for consumption. The french press is a coffee snob�s best friend. There is no paper filter to leech out the flavor. You have precise control of the steeping. You get a perfect cup of coffee every time. But, like anything in life, you have to watch that last sip and remember: cheap beans and light roast means less taste and more caffeine.
I don't just like coffee, I like good coffee. I am a coffee snob. I don't buy my coffee from the grocery store. I go to a local company that imports raw beans and roasts small batches of joy right in their store. The place is heaven to walk into... a magic land of olfactory delight. I certainly don�t use a drip coffee maker. Paper filters remove the chemicals from coffee that give it flavor and leave those that cause bitterness. Drip machines also do not allow the water and the grinds time to steep, to get to know each other. The result is bitter, coffee-like flavored water not fit for consumption. The french press is a coffee snob�s best friend. There is no paper filter to leech out the flavor. You have precise control of the steeping. You get a perfect cup of coffee every time. But, like anything in life, you have to watch that last sip and remember: cheap beans and light roast means less taste and more caffeine.
» 6.25.2003
stop! thief!...
Even after stopping off for gas, a 20oz Sprite Remix, and a vanilla moonpie, I made it to practice tonight in time to set up all my crap before anyone else arrived. I had just enough me-time to twist the cap on my drink and start in on the pie when my pocket started to buzz.
Me: Hello?
Jennifer: Hey sweetie. I�m sorry to call you during practice... Have you started yet?
Me: No.
Jennifer: I need you to do me a favor after practice.
Me: Oh yeah?
Jennifer: Yeah... [pause]
Me: And?...
Jennifer: I need you to go by Target.
Me: What for?
Jennifer: I think I just stole a CD from Target.
Me: ?!?
Jennifer:
Yep. My lovely wife, my mate for life, the mother of my child, is nothing more than a common thief. So what�d I do? Yep. I drove over to Target after practice and paid for her CD.
Sinner.
Even after stopping off for gas, a 20oz Sprite Remix, and a vanilla moonpie, I made it to practice tonight in time to set up all my crap before anyone else arrived. I had just enough me-time to twist the cap on my drink and start in on the pie when my pocket started to buzz.
Me: Hello?
Jennifer: Hey sweetie. I�m sorry to call you during practice... Have you started yet?
Me: No.
Jennifer: I need you to do me a favor after practice.
Me: Oh yeah?
Jennifer: Yeah... [pause]
Me: And?...
Jennifer: I need you to go by Target.
Me: What for?
Jennifer: I think I just stole a CD from Target.
Me: ?!?
Jennifer:
Yep. My lovely wife, my mate for life, the mother of my child, is nothing more than a common thief. So what�d I do? Yep. I drove over to Target after practice and paid for her CD.
Sinner.
» 6.24.2003
addict?!? i can quit anytime i want...
» 6.23.2003
-5 points for being late...
Currently, the comments are not working for new postings. It seems Blogger has made some slight changes to their code and it's playing havoc with the code I wrote to handle comments. Hopefully I'll be able to fix it by tomorrow so you can all comment on how cute Benny is.
Currently, the comments are not working for new postings. It seems Blogger has made some slight changes to their code and it's playing havoc with the code I wrote to handle comments. Hopefully I'll be able to fix it by tomorrow so you can all comment on how cute Benny is.
» 6.22.2003
meet mr. benny...
This is Benny. Guess what his sister's name is... He's got a few thoughts on this whole monkeypox fiasco. He's pretty tired of trying to justify his existence to a couple of morons who like to overreact to any situation outside the scope of "normal." He's tired of having people misjudge him on account of a couple of distance relatives and their propensity to associate with African rats of questionable moral character and hygiene. He's also tired of being called a gopher, being tortured by house guests, and having people wag their fingers at him like being adorable is a crime.
Mostly he'd like someone to scratch just above his tail...
This is Benny. Guess what his sister's name is... He's got a few thoughts on this whole monkeypox fiasco. He's pretty tired of trying to justify his existence to a couple of morons who like to overreact to any situation outside the scope of "normal." He's tired of having people misjudge him on account of a couple of distance relatives and their propensity to associate with African rats of questionable moral character and hygiene. He's also tired of being called a gopher, being tortured by house guests, and having people wag their fingers at him like being adorable is a crime.
Mostly he'd like someone to scratch just above his tail...
» 6.21.2003
a poem for stacey...
penitent
a silver train
this sanctuary
and I, Quasimodo
hunched over
the posture of prayer
hands and fingers folded
support parched lips
dried by the endless heat
of a tattoo flame
that burns my skin
after all these years
penitent
a silver train
this sanctuary
and I, Quasimodo
hunched over
the posture of prayer
hands and fingers folded
support parched lips
dried by the endless heat
of a tattoo flame
that burns my skin
after all these years
» 6.20.2003
from the shadows...
Shadow Boxing {mp3}
Sometimes I'm the picture of perfect
Sometimes I overflow the frame
Sometimes I drive it steady and slow
Sometimes the Autobahn is calling me
Sometimes I'm a high class tenor
Sometimes I'm Tom Waits on a very bad day
Now I'm fighting with an unholy ghost
of the man that I used to be
I can't close my eyes
I can't get to sleep
'cause he's haunting me
Sometimes I am wearing my faith
Sometimes this faith is wearing on me
Sometimes the Holy Ghost, He haunts me
Sometimes its just the ghost in the machine
Sometimes I ask too many questions
Sometimes I just want You to tell me 'no'
Shadow Boxing {mp3}
Sometimes I'm the picture of perfect
Sometimes I overflow the frame
Sometimes I drive it steady and slow
Sometimes the Autobahn is calling me
Sometimes I'm a high class tenor
Sometimes I'm Tom Waits on a very bad day
Now I'm fighting with an unholy ghost
of the man that I used to be
I can't close my eyes
I can't get to sleep
'cause he's haunting me
Sometimes I am wearing my faith
Sometimes this faith is wearing on me
Sometimes the Holy Ghost, He haunts me
Sometimes its just the ghost in the machine
Sometimes I ask too many questions
Sometimes I just want You to tell me 'no'
» 6.19.2003
regarding yesterday's post...
Ok... I don't want you to get me wrong here. I wasn't blaming mypimpboss, or the teacher, or the class for my boredom. I was blaming the material. I will admit up front that there are many things in this world that I don't know half as much as I let on, but I have done project management before and it I didn't like it then. Let me put it this way:
On the way to the branch, the interstate is littered with work crews widening I-40, along with potholes large enough to swallow the smaller import cars. Imagine one of the more Jose' six-pack members of that work crew. He comes to work early every morning, riding in the cab of an old F150 with four other workers, he works hard in the sun, rain, wind, cold, humidity, whatever, and then goes home. Now imagine sending that same man to a two day class on city planning, or city management. His worst nightmare. He doesn't want to be there. He'd rather be back on the side of the road, laughing at the man in the Lexus moving down the interstate at 5 mph. He wants to hear the foreman say "Go pour some concrete curbs" and reply "Si, jefe." Why? Because that's his job and he likes it.
I... oh, forget it. I took some pictures at the branch office. Here. Enjoy.
Ok... I don't want you to get me wrong here. I wasn't blaming my
On the way to the branch, the interstate is littered with work crews widening I-40, along with potholes large enough to swallow the smaller import cars. Imagine one of the more Jose' six-pack members of that work crew. He comes to work early every morning, riding in the cab of an old F150 with four other workers, he works hard in the sun, rain, wind, cold, humidity, whatever, and then goes home. Now imagine sending that same man to a two day class on city planning, or city management. His worst nightmare. He doesn't want to be there. He'd rather be back on the side of the road, laughing at the man in the Lexus moving down the interstate at 5 mph. He wants to hear the foreman say "Go pour some concrete curbs" and reply "Si, jefe." Why? Because that's his job and he likes it.
I... oh, forget it. I took some pictures at the branch office. Here. Enjoy.
» 6.18.2003
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz...
Today I had to drive the 50 mile round trip to the branch office and back. I'm a consultant, which means I work for aJohnclient in downtown Raleigh. My pimpboss got me the gig, and it's not bad. I like my co-workers, I like the other people in the office, it's close to the house, we're coding on the bleeding edge of Microsquish technologies and other such nerd joy. Work is good.
Driving to Durham two days in a row for a class in productivity management is less than good. Not my style, really. I don't like business. I'm really pretty content to sit at my computer and code a few pages and go home. Doing business takes too much work. I think the thing that annoys me most about all things business is the alphabet soup of acronyms, which I've written about before, so I'll not repeat myself. I think I was presented with more than ten new acronyms today. Yeesh. Oh well. Thepimpboss says "You need to take this class", I say "Yes sir."
Today I had to drive the 50 mile round trip to the branch office and back. I'm a consultant, which means I work for a
Driving to Durham two days in a row for a class in productivity management is less than good. Not my style, really. I don't like business. I'm really pretty content to sit at my computer and code a few pages and go home. Doing business takes too much work. I think the thing that annoys me most about all things business is the alphabet soup of acronyms, which I've written about before, so I'll not repeat myself. I think I was presented with more than ten new acronyms today. Yeesh. Oh well. The
» 6.17.2003
my mower mulches...
There's not much in this world more menial than cutting the grass. The buzz of the 4.5hp Briggs & Stratton drones on as you march up and down the yard, hand gently resting on the top bar, pushing more with your hips than arms. The only skill involved is the straight line you walk, leaving a consistent two inch overlap row after row. Cutting the grass affords a good two hours for mental blogging. Wanna peek into what I was thinking? Of course you do...
I still have trouble calling the kudzu a blog. Instapundit is a blog. Idon'tcan't post that often. Not really sure I should call this a journal either. I do make a concerted effort not to tell you all the mundane details of my breakfast choices, bowel movements, or give you a Bob Euker inspired play by play of my emotional fluxuations. Ok, so sometimes I fail, but it's certainly not my primary objective. I tend to think of the kudzu as more of a bleat (see Lileks, James). According to Merriam-Webster it's a feeble outcry, protest, or complaint. It's an anguished cry out into the dark, wilderness of pixels and code. Yeah. That's about right.
So that's what I was thinking while mowing the back lawn. The back lawn is longer than it is wide so the rows are longer and it's a little harder to make that straight line. The two inch overlap, however, is constant. Whatever you sites like the kudzu, weblog / blog / journal / bleat / whatever, they have their own tiny overlap. I see good friends who begin to read these ramblings, venture out along the links on the side bar and begin to post comments on other sites. I begin to read the sites of people who read my site. I know when a columnist for a national Canadian paper links to the kudzu It all overlaps. The blogosphere is a beautiful thing.
There's not much in this world more menial than cutting the grass. The buzz of the 4.5hp Briggs & Stratton drones on as you march up and down the yard, hand gently resting on the top bar, pushing more with your hips than arms. The only skill involved is the straight line you walk, leaving a consistent two inch overlap row after row. Cutting the grass affords a good two hours for mental blogging. Wanna peek into what I was thinking? Of course you do...
I still have trouble calling the kudzu a blog. Instapundit is a blog. I
So that's what I was thinking while mowing the back lawn. The back lawn is longer than it is wide so the rows are longer and it's a little harder to make that straight line. The two inch overlap, however, is constant. Whatever you sites like the kudzu, weblog / blog / journal / bleat / whatever, they have their own tiny overlap. I see good friends who begin to read these ramblings, venture out along the links on the side bar and begin to post comments on other sites. I begin to read the sites of people who read my site. I know when a columnist for a national Canadian paper links to the kudzu It all overlaps. The blogosphere is a beautiful thing.
» 6.16.2003
happy father's day...
My dad graduated from Mobile College in 1972. I was born October 10th of that Year. I graduated from the same college in 1995. My calculus grades may have lacked a certain something, but the way I figure it, mother was just as pregnant with me at the time of this photograph as Jennifer is with my our first child. I'm getting a later start on my own family, but I'm sure I'll make a decent enough dad. I have a great example to follow.
My dad graduated from Mobile College in 1972. I was born October 10th of that Year. I graduated from the same college in 1995. My calculus grades may have lacked a certain something, but the way I figure it, mother was just as pregnant with me at the time of this photograph as Jennifer is with my our first child. I'm getting a later start on my own family, but I'm sure I'll make a decent enough dad. I have a great example to follow.
» 6.15.2003
a more different s...
Our friends Bert & Meg (+Emily) are big into German board games and the like. Jennifer and I like it when they teach us new games. Today we crammed about 15-20 people, most of whom we'd never met, into our house for Game Day. It was loads of fun, I took a few pictures, we shared a couple Trogdor moments, and I learned to play four new games. Now my brain hurts and I'm going to bed.
Our friends Bert & Meg (+Emily) are big into German board games and the like. Jennifer and I like it when they teach us new games. Today we crammed about 15-20 people, most of whom we'd never met, into our house for Game Day. It was loads of fun, I took a few pictures, we shared a couple Trogdor moments, and I learned to play four new games. Now my brain hurts and I'm going to bed.
» 6.14.2003
bass in the mirror...
Not sure if I've linked to this before, or if I've mentioned it, but there's a cool website called The Mirror Project. It's a site dedicated to "reflective self-portraiture." Trust me, it's way more interesting than I make it sound. They just reopened to submissions today so I sent in the two pictures above. When these go up, I'll probably put a link on the sidebar and send in more pics as I take them. It's really not all that hard to find reflective surfaces when you're as easily distracted by shinny objects as I am.
Not sure if I've linked to this before, or if I've mentioned it, but there's a cool website called The Mirror Project. It's a site dedicated to "reflective self-portraiture." Trust me, it's way more interesting than I make it sound. They just reopened to submissions today so I sent in the two pictures above. When these go up, I'll probably put a link on the sidebar and send in more pics as I take them. It's really not all that hard to find reflective surfaces when you're as easily distracted by shinny objects as I am.
» 6.13.2003
what a man's gotta do...
What is what being a husband (and father) is all about? Killing bugs. Well... not just bugs, really. Our job is to do any service our wives ask of us in the defense and/or maintenance of our homes In any case, this monstrously large threat to the safety of our bedroom was unceremoniously vanquished. You're welcome, dear.
What is what being a husband (and father) is all about? Killing bugs. Well... not just bugs, really. Our job is to do any service our wives ask of us in the defense and/or maintenance of our homes In any case, this monstrously large threat to the safety of our bedroom was unceremoniously vanquished. You're welcome, dear.
» 6.12.2003
riding the cheese...
What do parachute pants, Now & Later candy and Uno have in common? Not much, you might think, but you'd be wrong. All three remind me of sixth grade. Not so much, school, really, but more the bus ride there. At the time we lived in Zachary, La. The school I went to was downtown Baton Rouge, about 20 miles away. As you can imagine, this made for a really, really long bus ride.
Most of that time was spent playing Uno in the back of the bus in rather intense tournament style. The kid with the most points at the end of each round had to bow out. Sometimes games would simply be put on hold if we got to school first, then started back after the final bell. We had our own rules, too. The main differences: 1) you didn't have to follow the last color played if you had the number, and if someone dropped a draw card, you could drop a draw card and the next poor smuck drew for both. Being the fifth person in line when the other four had draw fours was always a treat. Like I said, it was a really long bus ride.
We started from the little service station down the road, a couple of miles from the house. It was one of those typical old service stations you find all over the south. White washed cinder block building, old gas pumps with the dials that never would stop on the zero, and the air hose stretched across the pavement that rang the bell inside, begging "Fill'er up, please."
The nice thing about these old country stations is that they sell a little bit of everything. From live bait, to canned meats, to radiator hoses, to candy, sweet candy. It was the candy that I remember best, and for good reason. Ours was the first stop and the only one with a convenience store. It started off innocently enough. I'd buy a couple packs of Now & Laters and it was almost always more than I could should eat myself. Other kids would my bounty and ask "Can I have one?" Sure. Then someone asked the question, "Can I buy a pack from you?" Buy? Buy?!? Heck, yeah!
Eventually, I purchased a small notebook and took orders on the ride home, filled them the next morning, and made, for a sixth grader, wads of cash. Now & Laters I bought for a nickel sold for 25c. Candy bars I bought for 45c, sold for a dollar. Extortionist? Sure, go there if you'd like. I like the word entrepreneur better. I was living the American Dream, teen version. But, I made a slight misjudgment in my warehousing practices. Tip: never leave a large bag of candy in your locker over Christmas vacation. You'll lose your entire stock. On the plus side, the rats who invade your locker probably don't have monkey pox.
What do parachute pants, Now & Later candy and Uno have in common? Not much, you might think, but you'd be wrong. All three remind me of sixth grade. Not so much, school, really, but more the bus ride there. At the time we lived in Zachary, La. The school I went to was downtown Baton Rouge, about 20 miles away. As you can imagine, this made for a really, really long bus ride.
Most of that time was spent playing Uno in the back of the bus in rather intense tournament style. The kid with the most points at the end of each round had to bow out. Sometimes games would simply be put on hold if we got to school first, then started back after the final bell. We had our own rules, too. The main differences: 1) you didn't have to follow the last color played if you had the number, and if someone dropped a draw card, you could drop a draw card and the next poor smuck drew for both. Being the fifth person in line when the other four had draw fours was always a treat. Like I said, it was a really long bus ride.
We started from the little service station down the road, a couple of miles from the house. It was one of those typical old service stations you find all over the south. White washed cinder block building, old gas pumps with the dials that never would stop on the zero, and the air hose stretched across the pavement that rang the bell inside, begging "Fill'er up, please."
The nice thing about these old country stations is that they sell a little bit of everything. From live bait, to canned meats, to radiator hoses, to candy, sweet candy. It was the candy that I remember best, and for good reason. Ours was the first stop and the only one with a convenience store. It started off innocently enough. I'd buy a couple packs of Now & Laters and it was almost always more than I
Eventually, I purchased a small notebook and took orders on the ride home, filled them the next morning, and made, for a sixth grader, wads of cash. Now & Laters I bought for a nickel sold for 25c. Candy bars I bought for 45c, sold for a dollar. Extortionist? Sure, go there if you'd like. I like the word entrepreneur better. I was living the American Dream, teen version. But, I made a slight misjudgment in my warehousing practices. Tip: never leave a large bag of candy in your locker over Christmas vacation. You'll lose your entire stock. On the plus side, the rats who invade your locker probably don't have monkey pox.
» 6.11.2003
jennifer's first mother's day present...
| Trips to Lowes : | 2 |
| Trips to Home Depot : | 2 |
| Cans of weather proof stain : | 1 |
| Brushes : | 3 |
| Extra feet of chain purchased : | 6 |
| Mosquito bites suffered : | 112 |
| Weeks to complete : | 4 |
» 6.10.2003
more search word fun...
- mr microphone ii ronco
- atomic-boys mountain bike
- infomercials with ed mcmann
- nurses uniforms small frame huge member
- "the root beer song"
- monochrome picture of jesus
- tiny girls cadid pics
- "remember the memories" lyrics chorus
- +highschool +girls +pics +friend -xxx
- licking sole dvd
- matrix reloaded "neo's new power"
- 2003 honda accord tail ramp
- "grocery store science"
- flame thrower for honda accord
» 6.9.2003
too much like fun...
So the weekend ends, as they always do, and once again I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. This is not completely a bad thing, mind you. It either means I had too much work or too much fun. Thankfully this past weekend landed in the fun zone. Lots and lots of music, and that always makes me happy.
I better enjoy it now, though, because I'm fairly sure that another few months of fun will end in a few months of forced insomnia. And that is sure to make me very happy.
So the weekend ends, as they always do, and once again I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. This is not completely a bad thing, mind you. It either means I had too much work or too much fun. Thankfully this past weekend landed in the fun zone. Lots and lots of music, and that always makes me happy.
I better enjoy it now, though, because I'm fairly sure that another few months of fun will end in a few months of forced insomnia. And that is sure to make me very happy.
» 6.7.2003
live @ the vineyard cafe...
» 6.6.2003
house guests...
We've had friends from out of town staying with us the last couple of days, so the kudzu has been a bit text free. Sorry. I'll make it up to you before the weekend is out. Promise.
On my way out to work this morning, I walked by the guest room and saw this lovely photo op. I told Marci "David should be glad I'm such a nice guy because he's sleeping with his mouth wide open, I have a digital camera and he's got friends on the internet." She promptly informed me that she wouldn't be so nice, so here you go.
We took a late lunch out at the farmer's market to get some fresh seafood. Too much like yummy. As a thank you for the use of the spare room, they bought me a jar of homemade kudzu jelly. Too much like funny.
We've had friends from out of town staying with us the last couple of days, so the kudzu has been a bit text free. Sorry. I'll make it up to you before the weekend is out. Promise.
On my way out to work this morning, I walked by the guest room and saw this lovely photo op. I told Marci "David should be glad I'm such a nice guy because he's sleeping with his mouth wide open, I have a digital camera and he's got friends on the internet." She promptly informed me that she wouldn't be so nice, so here you go.
We took a late lunch out at the farmer's market to get some fresh seafood. Too much like yummy. As a thank you for the use of the spare room, they bought me a jar of homemade kudzu jelly. Too much like funny.
» 6.5.2003
lame photo-only post...
» 6.4.2003
email of the color blind...
We were instructed to put the color of our test on the top of our answer sheet so the correct answer key would be used to grade it. My friend beside me leans over and whispers "I'm color blind. What color is mine." "Green" I reply, assuming the tone in his voice was sarcasm.
Later that afternoon, he calls my dorm room and asks "Was my test really green? I really am color blind..."
"Oops."
"@$%&!"
"I'm sure if we tell the prof, he'll fix your grade..."
His grade was later corrected, but the prof didn't find it nearly as funny aswe I did...
--- Christopher L. wrote:In my college physics class, they handed out the tests in two versions, red and green. Every other person had a different color to minimize cheating in the big auditorium class setting.
> Actually, I'm not completely color-blind but
> reds/greens/blues really throw me for a loop. I have a hard
> time in states such as Texas where traffic signals are
> horizontal instead of vertical, because I always forget
> if green is on the right or left.
>
> My boss says my Neon is the same color as her Prism, and
> I said "No, mine is green, according to the invoice." I always
> thought her Prism was blue. But she swears they're both green.
>
We were instructed to put the color of our test on the top of our answer sheet so the correct answer key would be used to grade it. My friend beside me leans over and whispers "I'm color blind. What color is mine." "Green" I reply, assuming the tone in his voice was sarcasm.
Later that afternoon, he calls my dorm room and asks "Was my test really green? I really am color blind..."
"Oops."
"@$%&!"
"I'm sure if we tell the prof, he'll fix your grade..."
His grade was later corrected, but the prof didn't find it nearly as funny as
» 6.2.2003
roll tide...
He was sitting on the bed, my nice double mattress bed mind you, hands folded in his lap and starring at the blank screen of the TV. I quickly realized what he was, and shortly after found out who he was, though it would take me three days to learn his name and another three weeks to learn to say it correctly. Teishi Sakamoto.
He had a baby blue, hard shell suit case that contained everything he had brought with him from Japan. A few changes of clothes, some shoes, the coolest and tiniest little Sony Walkman. Luckily, one of those items was a Japanese to English dictionary, because I quickly realized he knew very, and I mean very, little English.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I made a quick introduction and began to put my things away. He stood in the corner, watching for a minute and then began flipping through his dictionary. His first question to me? “Where I to sleep?” Sleep? Oh yes... my double mattress is half his. I walked over to the closet, opened the door and pointed to the pieces of the second bed. The look on his face was priceless. I’m sure the next 20 minutes of trying to explain how to help me put the bunks back together would have made a great episode of nearly any sitcom.
By 9:00 that evening, I was ready to crawl into bed, onto my much thinner and much less comfortable bed, and forget the whole weekend. Teishi was thumbing through the dictionary again and I could see him marking the words for a second question. “What I need for to live in apartment?” Apartment? You’re kidding right? He is from Japan and I hear space is a premium for them. Guess a 5x10 room would be considered an apartment there. I wondered what he could actually mean by that, and then remembered the blue suitcase. No towels, no sheets, no pillow. 9:30 on a Sunday night... time for the new kid's first trip to that bastion of American Capitalism: Wal-Mart.
It didn’t take me very long to see the spiritual meaning in the whole surprise roommate debacle. It was a nice little way for God to say “Think life’s hard now? Here... here’s something else for you to deal with, now get over yourself and help someone else.” Teishi had no idea what he needed, but he trusted me to guide him as he started his adventure in a new country, with a new language and new culture. As we walked down the aisles of housewares and he picked out twin sheets, a pillow, and towels I learned a quick lesson in trust. I also got a great roommate for the next year and a half.
He was sitting on the bed, my nice double mattress bed mind you, hands folded in his lap and starring at the blank screen of the TV. I quickly realized what he was, and shortly after found out who he was, though it would take me three days to learn his name and another three weeks to learn to say it correctly. Teishi Sakamoto.
He had a baby blue, hard shell suit case that contained everything he had brought with him from Japan. A few changes of clothes, some shoes, the coolest and tiniest little Sony Walkman. Luckily, one of those items was a Japanese to English dictionary, because I quickly realized he knew very, and I mean very, little English.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I made a quick introduction and began to put my things away. He stood in the corner, watching for a minute and then began flipping through his dictionary. His first question to me? “Where I to sleep?” Sleep? Oh yes... my double mattress is half his. I walked over to the closet, opened the door and pointed to the pieces of the second bed. The look on his face was priceless. I’m sure the next 20 minutes of trying to explain how to help me put the bunks back together would have made a great episode of nearly any sitcom.
By 9:00 that evening, I was ready to crawl into bed, onto my much thinner and much less comfortable bed, and forget the whole weekend. Teishi was thumbing through the dictionary again and I could see him marking the words for a second question. “What I need for to live in apartment?” Apartment? You’re kidding right? He is from Japan and I hear space is a premium for them. Guess a 5x10 room would be considered an apartment there. I wondered what he could actually mean by that, and then remembered the blue suitcase. No towels, no sheets, no pillow. 9:30 on a Sunday night... time for the new kid's first trip to that bastion of American Capitalism: Wal-Mart.
It didn’t take me very long to see the spiritual meaning in the whole surprise roommate debacle. It was a nice little way for God to say “Think life’s hard now? Here... here’s something else for you to deal with, now get over yourself and help someone else.” Teishi had no idea what he needed, but he trusted me to guide him as he started his adventure in a new country, with a new language and new culture. As we walked down the aisles of housewares and he picked out twin sheets, a pillow, and towels I learned a quick lesson in trust. I also got a great roommate for the next year and a half.
» 6.1.2003
rip tide...
The early college years are fraught with moments of angst. A good many are the direct result of the students need to take responsibility and control of his own life and every parents intrinsic inability to relinquish control. Throw another young teenager in to play the part of the girlfriend and you’ve got a modern retelling of “Romeo and Juliet.” Hopefully with a happier ending.
Usually, when a weekend trip home played itself out in a similar melodramatic fashion, the two plus hour drive back to Tuscaloosa gave me enough time to clear my head. This particular weekend, it wasn’t enough. Still smoldering mentally, I got back to the dorm around 8pm that Sunday, put the key in the door and realized it was already unlocked.
“Oh crap!” or something very similar, slipped out as I envisioned the swarm of college aged males as they pilfered every last ounce of my personal belongings from my room. Pushing the door open, expecting to find exactly nothing, I saw more than I’d bargained for. As you’ll remember, I was given a private room on the provision that any new student would be my new roommate. Walking in through the door, I got the first glimpse of my new roommate.
The early college years are fraught with moments of angst. A good many are the direct result of the students need to take responsibility and control of his own life and every parents intrinsic inability to relinquish control. Throw another young teenager in to play the part of the girlfriend and you’ve got a modern retelling of “Romeo and Juliet.” Hopefully with a happier ending.
Usually, when a weekend trip home played itself out in a similar melodramatic fashion, the two plus hour drive back to Tuscaloosa gave me enough time to clear my head. This particular weekend, it wasn’t enough. Still smoldering mentally, I got back to the dorm around 8pm that Sunday, put the key in the door and realized it was already unlocked.
“Oh crap!” or something very similar, slipped out as I envisioned the swarm of college aged males as they pilfered every last ounce of my personal belongings from my room. Pushing the door open, expecting to find exactly nothing, I saw more than I’d bargained for. As you’ll remember, I was given a private room on the provision that any new student would be my new roommate. Walking in through the door, I got the first glimpse of my new roommate.
