My first month in California I lived by myself in a spartan one bedroom apartment. Because I drove from Atlanta to Riverside, I only brought what I could fit in a 1991 Honda Accord, which amounts to a few boxes of clothes, some pots and pans (but no dishes or silverware), a TV, and a cat. Because I didn't have a job yet, I was very concerned about money. I ate out of Tupperware, leeched internet access from the rental office, and didn't hook up my cable. I was so frugal that I didn't even buy a bed, instead spending what was at the time an exorbitant $30 on an air mattress from K-Mart.
The cat I brought with me is a very loyal, and very tailless, breed called a Manx. This cat and I had been together for several years in Atlanta before I shanghaied the poor thing across the county. Being very alone and in a new place, the cat would follow me closely around the small apartment, even waiting next to the tub while I showered. And when I would go to bed on the air mattress, the cat would plop herself on my chest!
Well, one morning I awoke to find my ass touching the ground through the mattress. It being early, and there being a severe lack of caffeine in my system, I found this perplexing. My air mattress was, well, squishy. It felt like I was on an under-filled water bed. Before going back to bed that night I blew the thing back up, waited for the familiar weight to settle on me, and drifted off. But the next morning, there I was, being uncomfortably unsupported. It actually took me a whole other day and night to figure out what was going on - the damn cat's claws had poked a small hole somewhere in the mattress, and over the night the air would leak out, slowly contorting my bed and my back.
Well after that I began sleeping the second-hand couch I'd picked up. For an entire month I would settle down onto the couch, never thinking of a mattress because it existed outside my "price range" of single purchases. Eventually I did bite that bullet, and that bed is still around today.
The reason I'm telling this story is that now, at the end of my time in California (it feels great to say that!), I've just spent another month sleeping on a couch. Crashing on couches are the bookends of my two-and-a-half year trial out here. With one more month left before I leave, I am back to living in a spartan one bedroom apartment, leaving the way I came in. Over the next few weeks I'll be selling the remaining pieces of furniture, including that mattress and a second-hand couch. I'm shedding the remnants of my time here. When I return to Atlanta, the first thing I'll buy is a good bed.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
How I Learned to Love Rajon Rondo and Hate Dwyane Wade
First, let me say that I wasn't a huge NBA fan until this season. I knew of the NBA, I knew the basics about which teams/players were dominant (or not), and would watch the playoffs (but not the regular season). This year that changed. Propelled by the Hawks surprising showing against Boston in last year's playoffs, I began following first the Hawks and then more and more of the NBA during the this year's season.
Living in the Los Angeles television market, I was stuck watching Lakers and Clippers games. I hate the Lakers and pity the Clippers, so I usually tuned in to watch the opponent. It was rare that I would see Atlanta play - it only happened when the Hawks were matched up against a league leader, like Boston or Cleveland. So, most of my information about non-Western conference teams came through ESPN highlights and statistics.
Which is what led to me love Dwayne Wade, especially after the All-Star break, when he started scoring at will and imposing himself on every contest like it was Game 7. But he wasn't just putting up big scoring numbers. His statistical lines were almost nonsensical, putting up 40 points but grabbing 10 rebounds, 5 steals, and 4 blocks. Basically he was a freak, playing beyond his position and beyond the game.
But having been able to watch him now in four consecutive games against the Hawks, I can see that he is just playing the system instead of using his impressive athleticism and skill. He takes dives! Many of his points are accured through free throws awarded to him as he hurls himself at players under the basket. Based on his dramatic flailing, refs think he was clearly fouled. He even uses the trick where he pump fakes a defender into the air, and then throws himself into the defender while tossing up a half-assed attempt at a shot. This translates to a shooting foul, and two easy points for Wade.
Other players (Kobe and Paul Pierce, for example)use refs to their advantage, and while it is within the bounds of the game, is nonetheless shameful. It's exactly the same as soccer players flopping around the lawn like a bunch of caught trout. What makes it doubly frustrating is that Wade has such prodigious talent. When healthy he is always a threat to take over a game, much like LeBron and Kobe are. He takes away from the athletic competitiveness of the game, degrading his abilities and himself.
***
Rajon Rondo, on the other hand, is a less a freak than he is a mutant. Last year, his rookie year, he won a championship. This year he has replaced Kevin Garnett as the soul of a team that includes future hall of famers Ray Allen and Paul Pierce. At 6'1" and 170 pounds, he's undersized even for a point guard. But in five playoff games he's averaging a triple-double! And he's doing it without a jump shot! When Rondo has the ball, everybody knows that he's going drive for a lay-up. He doesn't even consider shooting from outside the key. Yet he gets his points, gets his teammates touches, and he's averaging ten rebounds. That's just beyond understanding. Chris Paul can't do that. Steve Nash can't do that.
Rondo has activated some hidden DNA for this playoff series. He appears to move with complete abondon when handling the ball. I even think he doesn't know what he's going to do until after he does it. He embodies the game utterly, trusting his body to make the moves rather than plotting an attack. Because he plays the game, not the system, Rajon Rondo is the better basketball player than Dwyane Wade.
Living in the Los Angeles television market, I was stuck watching Lakers and Clippers games. I hate the Lakers and pity the Clippers, so I usually tuned in to watch the opponent. It was rare that I would see Atlanta play - it only happened when the Hawks were matched up against a league leader, like Boston or Cleveland. So, most of my information about non-Western conference teams came through ESPN highlights and statistics.
Which is what led to me love Dwayne Wade, especially after the All-Star break, when he started scoring at will and imposing himself on every contest like it was Game 7. But he wasn't just putting up big scoring numbers. His statistical lines were almost nonsensical, putting up 40 points but grabbing 10 rebounds, 5 steals, and 4 blocks. Basically he was a freak, playing beyond his position and beyond the game.
But having been able to watch him now in four consecutive games against the Hawks, I can see that he is just playing the system instead of using his impressive athleticism and skill. He takes dives! Many of his points are accured through free throws awarded to him as he hurls himself at players under the basket. Based on his dramatic flailing, refs think he was clearly fouled. He even uses the trick where he pump fakes a defender into the air, and then throws himself into the defender while tossing up a half-assed attempt at a shot. This translates to a shooting foul, and two easy points for Wade.
Other players (Kobe and Paul Pierce, for example)use refs to their advantage, and while it is within the bounds of the game, is nonetheless shameful. It's exactly the same as soccer players flopping around the lawn like a bunch of caught trout. What makes it doubly frustrating is that Wade has such prodigious talent. When healthy he is always a threat to take over a game, much like LeBron and Kobe are. He takes away from the athletic competitiveness of the game, degrading his abilities and himself.
***
Rajon Rondo, on the other hand, is a less a freak than he is a mutant. Last year, his rookie year, he won a championship. This year he has replaced Kevin Garnett as the soul of a team that includes future hall of famers Ray Allen and Paul Pierce. At 6'1" and 170 pounds, he's undersized even for a point guard. But in five playoff games he's averaging a triple-double! And he's doing it without a jump shot! When Rondo has the ball, everybody knows that he's going drive for a lay-up. He doesn't even consider shooting from outside the key. Yet he gets his points, gets his teammates touches, and he's averaging ten rebounds. That's just beyond understanding. Chris Paul can't do that. Steve Nash can't do that.
Rondo has activated some hidden DNA for this playoff series. He appears to move with complete abondon when handling the ball. I even think he doesn't know what he's going to do until after he does it. He embodies the game utterly, trusting his body to make the moves rather than plotting an attack. Because he plays the game, not the system, Rajon Rondo is the better basketball player than Dwyane Wade.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Shit
Quiz Question: Choose one of the following misconceptions about evolution and explain, in at least two sentences, why it is incorrect.
Misconception chosen: "Evolution is a theory about the origin of life."
Written answer given: Because the life of the theory is origin next I don't good on the life. Becaus the origin is a other think in the life with Evolution want the life.
That's what he wrote, word for word.
I didn't get the job at Walker.
Misconception chosen: "Evolution is a theory about the origin of life."
Written answer given: Because the life of the theory is origin next I don't good on the life. Becaus the origin is a other think in the life with Evolution want the life.
That's what he wrote, word for word.
I didn't get the job at Walker.
Friday, January 9, 2009
I don't know what to write about
Back in California. School starts back on Monday, so I have the weekend to do... whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing out here.
I came out to get away from home, Georgia, my social network, my "comfort" zone. I needed to move away and do something entirely on my own, I guess just to know that I could do it.
Before I left, I had no particular desire to get anything done, because I guess deep down I knew I didn't really need to get anything done. Graduating and moving home in 2006 made it very clear that I would go absolutely nuts if I didn't have a reason for existing, and by that I mean a job that I cared about, or alternatively a goal/purpose to be actively reaching towards. If I spent any extended time and my parents - we're talking hours here - I would start crawling the walls, picking fights, getting anxious, pulling my hair out, etc. So in the four months I was home I almost drowned myself in work: three jobs, two classes at Kennesaw State, successfully applying for a teaching credential/master's program in California, and finding an apartment out there. So the day after Christmas 2006, I loaded up my 1999 Honda Accord with clothes, a Super Nintendo, a cat, and finally, a purpose.
I reached Riverside on the 30th and started classes about a week later. Unemployed for five months. Accord wrecked in May. Finally got a job as a waiter at a sports bar 30 miles south, a bar that stayed open until 2 a.m. on the weekends. Around the same time I also found work as an in-home SAT tutor. During late spring I take a bus 15 miles to student-teach at a high school. Five days before the school year started in the fall of 2007, I had interviewed at four high schools and none had offered me an internship (full-time teaching without a credential). Four days before the school year starts I am offered a position.
Now I've got a day job, but the credentialing program is in full swing and between that and being completely terrified at my new job I'm working about 12-13 hours a day and sleeping 5. The year slogs on. I can't remember anything that happened except that the days and weeks ran into one long, tired cycle of driving, teaching, planning, grading, going to classes, more planning, and sleeping. I surprisingly manage to quit smoking over the Christmas break, move to a new apartment, earn my credential in April, finish the school year feeling a hundred times more confident, graduate my university work in July.
So in the summer of 2008 I've been in California for a year-and-a-half. I've taught a full year of public school Biology, earned my California state teaching credential, earned a Master's of Education, and am supporting two pets instead of one. Late in the summer I make a desperate attempt to get a job in Georgia public schools, but am too late and only manage one interview at a middle school.
Year 2 starts. I'm in a such a different place this time - stable, confident, capable, and ready. Teaching is great. I make four trips back to Georgia in four months. I am recognized repeatedly by my department head and asked to host a seminar for other teachers, which went extremely well. All is well.
Except it's not. The sun sets at 5 p.m. I've reached my purpose out here. I am now comfortable with myself. I've pushed myself to the limits and succeeded. I know I can survive on my own. And that is what this move was all about. I've become something resembling an adult. I needed to know I could do this, and I did. And so there is no reason for me to be out here. It sucks at all times, and I am ready to move back to Georgia where my family, friends, and future I want to be involved in hopefully await.
Sorry, got a little cheesy there at the end. Plus this is probably shit to read, I wrote as I spoke.
New music: The Decemberists, Drive-by Truckers, the new Erykah Badu, Gaslight Anthem.
I came out to get away from home, Georgia, my social network, my "comfort" zone. I needed to move away and do something entirely on my own, I guess just to know that I could do it.
Before I left, I had no particular desire to get anything done, because I guess deep down I knew I didn't really need to get anything done. Graduating and moving home in 2006 made it very clear that I would go absolutely nuts if I didn't have a reason for existing, and by that I mean a job that I cared about, or alternatively a goal/purpose to be actively reaching towards. If I spent any extended time and my parents - we're talking hours here - I would start crawling the walls, picking fights, getting anxious, pulling my hair out, etc. So in the four months I was home I almost drowned myself in work: three jobs, two classes at Kennesaw State, successfully applying for a teaching credential/master's program in California, and finding an apartment out there. So the day after Christmas 2006, I loaded up my 1999 Honda Accord with clothes, a Super Nintendo, a cat, and finally, a purpose.
I reached Riverside on the 30th and started classes about a week later. Unemployed for five months. Accord wrecked in May. Finally got a job as a waiter at a sports bar 30 miles south, a bar that stayed open until 2 a.m. on the weekends. Around the same time I also found work as an in-home SAT tutor. During late spring I take a bus 15 miles to student-teach at a high school. Five days before the school year started in the fall of 2007, I had interviewed at four high schools and none had offered me an internship (full-time teaching without a credential). Four days before the school year starts I am offered a position.
Now I've got a day job, but the credentialing program is in full swing and between that and being completely terrified at my new job I'm working about 12-13 hours a day and sleeping 5. The year slogs on. I can't remember anything that happened except that the days and weeks ran into one long, tired cycle of driving, teaching, planning, grading, going to classes, more planning, and sleeping. I surprisingly manage to quit smoking over the Christmas break, move to a new apartment, earn my credential in April, finish the school year feeling a hundred times more confident, graduate my university work in July.
So in the summer of 2008 I've been in California for a year-and-a-half. I've taught a full year of public school Biology, earned my California state teaching credential, earned a Master's of Education, and am supporting two pets instead of one. Late in the summer I make a desperate attempt to get a job in Georgia public schools, but am too late and only manage one interview at a middle school.
Year 2 starts. I'm in a such a different place this time - stable, confident, capable, and ready. Teaching is great. I make four trips back to Georgia in four months. I am recognized repeatedly by my department head and asked to host a seminar for other teachers, which went extremely well. All is well.
Except it's not. The sun sets at 5 p.m. I've reached my purpose out here. I am now comfortable with myself. I've pushed myself to the limits and succeeded. I know I can survive on my own. And that is what this move was all about. I've become something resembling an adult. I needed to know I could do this, and I did. And so there is no reason for me to be out here. It sucks at all times, and I am ready to move back to Georgia where my family, friends, and future I want to be involved in hopefully await.
Sorry, got a little cheesy there at the end. Plus this is probably shit to read, I wrote as I spoke.
New music: The Decemberists, Drive-by Truckers, the new Erykah Badu, Gaslight Anthem.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Where's the fiddle?
http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=106212521568035882004.00045bb7819236c3696ea&t=h&ll=33.872696,-117.6931&spn=0.199537,0.33989&source=embed
We live in Chino Hills, right neat Alterra Park. We're bordered by two arms of the "Freeway Fire", as they're calling it, and can see smoke and sometimes flames from our apartment. It's very nerve-wracking, having never been through this kind of disaster. Fires are much different than Georgia natural disasters, which include mostly tornadoes. A tornado is over in a night; a wildfire can last a week and shift direction with little warning. Right now we are on the edge of the evacuation lines. That is to say, we are close enough to the fire to consider evacuating somewhere, but not actually in any direct danger. So basically we have to stay awake and ready to go should the alarm be raised. The gas station down the street from us is being used to refuel CA Fire Department vehicles, ranging from ambulances to water trucks to general service vehicles. Exciting? No, no thank you. I'll pass on the fires.
We live in Chino Hills, right neat Alterra Park. We're bordered by two arms of the "Freeway Fire", as they're calling it, and can see smoke and sometimes flames from our apartment. It's very nerve-wracking, having never been through this kind of disaster. Fires are much different than Georgia natural disasters, which include mostly tornadoes. A tornado is over in a night; a wildfire can last a week and shift direction with little warning. Right now we are on the edge of the evacuation lines. That is to say, we are close enough to the fire to consider evacuating somewhere, but not actually in any direct danger. So basically we have to stay awake and ready to go should the alarm be raised. The gas station down the street from us is being used to refuel CA Fire Department vehicles, ranging from ambulances to water trucks to general service vehicles. Exciting? No, no thank you. I'll pass on the fires.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Read This Now
Excellent behind the scenes stories and information on the campaign from Newsweek. Some of this stuff is great.
Barack Obama: How He Did It
John McCain: Back From the Dead?
The Long Clinton-Obama Siege
McCain Camp Retools, Targets Obama
Conventions: Obama Sweats the Clintons, McCain Gambles on Palin
Battling It Out in the Great Debates
The Final Days
Not sure if these are going to be published in print, each "chapter" is pretty long. Enjoy!
Barack Obama: How He Did It
John McCain: Back From the Dead?
The Long Clinton-Obama Siege
McCain Camp Retools, Targets Obama
Conventions: Obama Sweats the Clintons, McCain Gambles on Palin
Battling It Out in the Great Debates
The Final Days
Not sure if these are going to be published in print, each "chapter" is pretty long. Enjoy!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Coming to your Cit-tay
The weak are not remembered. The faint of heart, the uncommitted are left behind in the annals of history. Persons can embody truth, but it is difficult; much more common are those flimsy paper cut-outs of people, flitting through the world as the wind directs, never carrying enough weight to choose their own direction.
So that's why I'm sitting on the couch at 7:02 a.m., drinking a Dos XX, watching the College Gameday introduction. Big 'n Rich 'n the black guy in a county band telling me that they're coming to my cit-tay. I know this isn't true - maybe if I was somewhere on the east coast, back in Atlanta or Athens, I could believe they're fiddle-backed rap. But here, on the west coast, the sun hasn't risen yet. There is no dawn mist to disperse. When the sun does rise, it'll be hotter than a camel's ass, even though it is the end of October. This is not a place where college is known. Education is not embraced. Shit, high school is not embraced. So expecting to find college football fans is ludicrious.
That's why I'm sitting on my couch at 7:23 a.m. with half a beer next to me. Because there's nowhere else to go for a college football fan. Nowhere is open, and when they do, they will be showing UCLA vs. Cal, and Michigan State vs. Michigan. I cannot think of two stupider games to watch in the history of competition. Because you know what else is showing at the same time? #6 OSU vs. #1 Texas. But not here. For some reason. God I hate California.
And that's why I'm sitting on my couch at 7:30 a.m. with the last dregs of a beer. I'm fighting against the winds out here, trying to hold on to the things that I love, even if they are as silly as college football. So as the sun finally crests the stupid desert mountains, as Leslee tells me that the Bender Ball is FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHT PERCENT MORE EFFECTIVE THAN A SIT-UP, as I finish my first beer of the morning, I just have to sit up and smile and keep my hopes up... because later Gameday is doing a special on why Georgia will upset LSU.
So that's why I'm sitting on the couch at 7:02 a.m., drinking a Dos XX, watching the College Gameday introduction. Big 'n Rich 'n the black guy in a county band telling me that they're coming to my cit-tay. I know this isn't true - maybe if I was somewhere on the east coast, back in Atlanta or Athens, I could believe they're fiddle-backed rap. But here, on the west coast, the sun hasn't risen yet. There is no dawn mist to disperse. When the sun does rise, it'll be hotter than a camel's ass, even though it is the end of October. This is not a place where college is known. Education is not embraced. Shit, high school is not embraced. So expecting to find college football fans is ludicrious.
That's why I'm sitting on my couch at 7:23 a.m. with half a beer next to me. Because there's nowhere else to go for a college football fan. Nowhere is open, and when they do, they will be showing UCLA vs. Cal, and Michigan State vs. Michigan. I cannot think of two stupider games to watch in the history of competition. Because you know what else is showing at the same time? #6 OSU vs. #1 Texas. But not here. For some reason. God I hate California.
And that's why I'm sitting on my couch at 7:30 a.m. with the last dregs of a beer. I'm fighting against the winds out here, trying to hold on to the things that I love, even if they are as silly as college football. So as the sun finally crests the stupid desert mountains, as Leslee tells me that the Bender Ball is FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHT PERCENT MORE EFFECTIVE THAN A SIT-UP, as I finish my first beer of the morning, I just have to sit up and smile and keep my hopes up... because later Gameday is doing a special on why Georgia will upset LSU.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
