I'm Wierd

Forgive the misspelling. It's actually a reference to what I'm listening to at the moment. "Die", they keep singing. Don't worry, I'm not there yet, but why am I in this state?

I'm in that reflective mood that comes with a few glasses of wine and a cigarette. A walk around the apartment, a few glances up at the moon, and seeing silhouettes of presumably happy people in their kitchen windows makes me wonder if I've missed something. Have I given too much of myself? I ask these self-loathing questions about where my life is going, that sort of thing. Most of why I don't blog so much these days is because I'm pretty sure I'd just sound like a whiny little kid.

I watched a couple of "sad bastard" movies this weekend - Up In the Air and Crazy Heart. They're both really good and worth a rental. I saw myself in both of the main characters. In one, I was the guy always on the move with my job, never giving time to myself. In the other, I was the guy who drinks too much and loses his shit all the time. What a great contrast! Sadly, when both of these characters looked to straighten out their lives, they were handed a raw, heartbreaking deal. Hooray.

Truthfully, I feel like I've gained a lot from my job and the endless time I sacrifice for these kids (mainly the cross country kiddos). I know I am doing good, providing guidance and stability in their otherwise hectic lives. At the same time, I come home and drink until I fall asleep. What does that even mean? Is it exhaustion or an indicator of not being fulfilled? I prefer it to be exhaustion, but I honestly can't figure it out.

At the end of the day, I just want someone to say they're proud of me. See...whiny kid talk, but it's true. Maybe I need to see my parents more or something, but somehow it wouldn't mean the same. A lot of the time I just don't feel like people know what I go through day in and day out. I'm sure I don't explain it all that well, or even ever want to talk about it. I just want them to know and maybe even say that I'm doing a good job once in awhile. Surely this is not all that wierd.

School Year's Eve

Teachers typically run on a different schedule than most people. We should really number the months differently because of it. Instead of looking back on the year in December, we look back on it at the end of the summer, and cry about having to go back to work in August. January is not our time for New Year's resolutions, but the beginning of a cruel, horrible stretch of work that almost kills us before we get to Spring Break. Now I'm not going to get into the debate of how hard a teacher's job is or how much better our schedules are. It might make me angry and remind me how little I get paid to work 12 hour days for 10 months out of the year coaching 2 sports. (Cue grinding teeth)

I go back to work (officially) on Monday, but I've been up at the school more this summer than I ever have before. Cross Country stuff and Grad Testing made me make numerous trips down that 17 mile route. Each trip I asked myself why I was doing it. I can't stand most of the higher ups over there and Lord knows those people are not my besties or anything. I spend most of the school year grumbling about stupid decisions, pointless meetings, uninspired teachers, and jock itch coaches. As a whole, the school is kind of a joke yet they keep me coming back.

I've alluded to this being my last year and I'm pretty certain it is. I came in 3 years ago and hopefully in May, I'll be congratulating those boogers from my first freshman class. And though I call them boogers now, I may just lose it if they make it across the stage. As annoying as some of them are, they are the reason I've kept coming back. I have little patience for dumb, arrogant adults, but a ton of it for dumb, arrogant, and often ignorant kids. I don't know why.

So here's to the last hurrah! Time to sing Auld Lang Syne. Ah, screw the song...time to drink.

Atlanta vs Athens part 2

My family moved to Atlanta in the summer of 1991. I moved to Athens in the summer of 2001. I am not a Yankee. I may be one in my mind, but by the end of the coming school year, I will have lived in the Peach state for 20 years. Two decades. Despite my rants and complaints, Atlanta has been very good to me and my family (and when I say Atlanta, I really mean the great suburb of Roswell). Athens has just been better. It makes sense. I spent 10 years growing up, outgrew the burbs, moved to a new place for schooling/working, and then...

And then the iconic corner coffee shop that has sat in an old garage for as long as I can remember moved down the block. Is this symbolic? Have I outgrown Athens or am I just supposed to move down the block? I mean we can make anything into symbolism if we try hard enough.

A couple of days after the Zooey concert insanity, I got the chance to see Mates of State in Athens. I was me. I didn't go crazy with the wine, parking was free and easy, and this time I remembered the concert. In fact, it probably ranks in the top 5 of concerts I've seen here in Athens. Half of me stood there in wonder taking in the pure joy of their music while the other part of me started saying goodbye to this great city and all the joyful life-shaping moments its brought me.

I'm not saying anything for sure yet, but I have a hunch that some kind of change is a gonna come. Maybe it doesn't even have anything to do with moving

It may be crazy to pack up and move from a town like this, but it'd also be crazy to sit here while I watch all my friends move off, graduate, and get married. Pretty soon I'll be that creeper who lives in an apartment complex all alone amongst a bunch of people ten years younger. Let's not be that guy.

Atlanta vs Athens part 1

Many of you already know my feelings towards Atlanta from hearing me rant on the phone while in traffic or reading my bitter words right here on this blog about growing up in suburbia. Long story short; I hate the ATL. If I didn't have so many stinkin' friends and family there, I doubt I would ever step foot on its endless miles of concrete ever again. So there's my opinion. Pretty simple...but there's more (of course)...

The last couple days have been an intriguing exercise in understanding just how possible it is to loathe a city. Our story begins with a concert. Awhile back, my brother asked me if I wanted to go to She & Him with he and several friends. I knew it was going to be an outdoor concert in July, but I just had to see my imaginary-indie-hipster-girlfriend Zooey Deschanel at least once before I broke up with her, so I said yes. Sure enough July comes around, "it's so hot outside", and they actually want to spend the whole day in the ATL.

I opted to skip the Turner Field tour since I had to teach that morning, but I drove in for the Fox Theatre tour that their friend had set up since he works there and all. I find parking in one of the side streets where there was one of those new "efficient" digital parking meters for the whole block. I walk up to it with a handful of change in hand and put it all in. To my astonishment, it got me about 20 minutes of actual parking time at the space, so I run to my car to grab more change. As I'm sprinting back, I hear a click which I follow with a loud slow motion "Noooooooo!" Since I was a good 30 yards away from said "efficient" parking meter, I did not have enough time to add minutes to that receipt. I figured I could just add time to the existing space, but to no avail, so instead I just put a crapload of more change and got maybe 30 minutes of worry-free parking during the tour.

I walk in to meet my brother to find out that we still have to wait on one of their friends. I tap my foot nervously and try not to sweat the lack of time my car has before it's towed. Instead I do my best to enjoy the random facts their friend tells us on the tour. It was a good tour, but as soon as we finished, I jetted out the door to check on the car. I'm relieved to find it there when I get a call from a few blocks away that we're actually going to stay for a drink before going to the pre-concert dinner. Good Lord, why? I put even more money in the stupid thing and walked in the rain to the bar next to the Fox, down a beer, and walk back to my car, which is okay once again.

Then we head on to dinner, which was close to Piedmont Park. I park on a side street once again, but there are no robot meters that want to steal all my money, so I feel pretty good about leaving it there as long as it's not all night. We get dinner, have some drinks, and head across the park to the concert. My chance to see my imaginary-indie-hipster-girlfriend Zooey is just around the corner. I decided to celebrate a bit by overspending for a bottle of wine at the concession place thinking we'll all share the bottle. Little did I know that two others in our group were thinking the same thing. The whole sharing idea instead led to my own personal bottle of crappy concession wine. Oh well. Drink up.

The opening act comes on and sucks it up for a couple songs when the rain starts pouring down. I shrug it off in my buzzed state thinking who cares, but then a lady comes on the loudspeaker and directs us all to the main buildings. We grudgingly go and bring our buckets of wine and beer with us to covered ground. This was not a good place to be. I don't remember how long the delay was but I do know that all our beverages were consumed before going back out to our seats on the lawn. This prompted my brother to get just one more bottle that we proceeded to share.

From this point on, I remember very little, but here's what I've gathered since...

1. I heard some songs by She & Him
2. I may have seen my imaginary-indie-hipster-girlfriend play a ukulele for one of them
   
3. We were told multiple times to keep it down
4. My brother and I shared sips from the bottle
5. The show ended
6. We stumbled across the park to our sober friend's car
7. A mess was made in aforementioned car (wasn't me)
8. More mess came on the highway (also not me)
9. I wake up on brother's couch

When I awoke, I quickly reached for my phone to see what time it was...no phone. I got up and looked around and still no phone. I text all the people from last night with my brother's phone and still no phone. I call my phone and think it might be one of my brother's friends that picked up when we are disconnected. I try again and get the same result. I get a call on my brother's phone from our mother. I answer. Our conversation...

Mom: Do you have your phone? Are you okay? Who is answering your phone? I called twice and heard some weird guy on the other line. I think he was foreign or something. (Questioning continues on for several minutes)
Me: No, I lost my phone. I don't know who has it. Please stop talking so I can figure out what to do

I hang up and try my phone again. Someone answers and vaguely says hello, but hangs up really quickly. I try again. This time I can tell the phone has been opened and someone is on the other end, but no words come out. Our conversation...

Me: Hello, Hello?
Some guy: (some rustling around)
Me: Excuse me? Is someone there?
Some guy: Hello? (indeed a foreigner...or possibly a drunk)
Me: Excuse me sir. You have my phone. How did you get my phone? Where are you so I can get it back?
Some guy: You threw it away
Me: WHAT!? I DID NOT THROW MY PHONE AWAY. Who throws their phone away? Were you at Piedmont Park last night? I must have dropped my phone there. Who picks up someone else's phone and uses it? Can we meet somewhere so I can get it from you? I'll pay you. I just want my phone back.
Some guy: (grunt, grunt, mumble, mumble) Not your phone. You threw it away so it mine now. G-bye.

So I'm pissed, not to mention shaking with anger. I get on the Internet and find out I can deactivate the SIM card so I do. Meanwhile, I can barely tell if my brother is even alive. He gets up, lays down again, goes to the bathroom, lays down again, and grunts the whole time as if he's got the pig flu. I look out to see if my car is magically there or if someone might have driven it for me, and of course it's still at Piedmont Park. I wait and wait on my brother to see if he's okay to drive. Finally, 2pm rolls around and he says to just call our dad. I think, "Sweet! Why didn't I think of that? I'd love dad to see how completely not together both of us are right now." I do it anyway and he comes over to the apartment. All he could say when he walked in and saw his oldest son sprawled out over the couch grunting all the while only wearing his boxers was "whoa" and we proceeded back to Piedmont Park.

The rest of the story isn't all that funny. I imagined all sorts of scenarios that my car may have been involved in, but luckily he made it through the night in one piece. I treated my dad to lunch and went on my way to find a new phone.

So why does this story speak poorly of Atlanta?

It entails all the anxiety and stupidity I feel when I enter the city. I'm always pissed off at the traffic. I can never find a place to park and when I do, I freak out about getting towed the whole time I'm gone. I do stupid things here like drink too much and miss a perfectly good overpriced show at an overly hot and humid outdoor venue. I spend entirely too much on robotic parking meters, crappy concession stand bottles of wine, and expensive dinners that don't even include good beer. I sweat like a freak and even though I do that in most places in the South, I feel like the humidity skyrockets once I'm in the city. Pair that with unclean air and uncontrollable claustrophobia and you get a panic attack waiting to happen.

I know I've had some good experiences while in the ATL, but the bottom line is that I just don't ever want to be there for more than a few hours. I just don't feel like myself if I'm there for too long. So what then? Is Athens that much better? Well, yes, but as I'll explore in part 2, it may be time to say goodbye to it as well.

(You're probably tired from reading my ridiculously long post, so go take a nap or something. Part 2 on the way...)

Mountain time

It’s Thursday night in Nathrop, Colorado. I haven’t written anything up to this point in the trip yet, but nothing inspires me more to write than a beautiful Colorado breeze and a couple of growlers of fine brews. Troy’s snoring echoes in the background while my iPod plays the tunes of Sam Beam and David Bazan. The fire has finally sizzled out at 12:58 mountain time and I sit here in a pitch black trailer having no business being able to type as clearly as I am.

This trip has been nothing short of amazing. We’ve climbed mountains, drank aimlessly, and drove endlessly through trails that my measly sedan would have never dared to undertake. The stars have always been there in the night sky, but they beam brighter than any other night sky I can remember. There’s no other place I would rather be right now. Life always seems so much clearer when you’re thousands of miles from home and imbibed to the point of existentialism. I often joke about how I have more fun than other people, and tonight is one of those nights where the joke takes on truth that others may sadly never experience.

As with any trip, my mind has hiked through paths of worn and unworn trails, escaping to places that just don’t exist in city life. The usual questions pop up in your mind; the who am I, how have I changed this year, where will I go from here? Though they matter, they don’t really seem to make a difference year in and year out. It’s like looking at your new year’s resolutions year by year and realizing that they’re all a sham. Trying to wrap your thoughts around your being is just a superfluous act of self-indulgence. Why does it matter?

Here’s what I care about on this trip. “Seize the days.” In a few days I will be back in the car on my way back to my parents to pick up Chester (who I miss dearly by the way) and thinking to myself, when will I be out there again? Have I done all that I could to enjoy life today? This question should be asked of ourselves at the end of every day. Whether we like it or not, we have only one life to live and there is no guarantee of tomorrow. I can be the healthiest vegan runner man in the world and die from a freak car accident, or I can be a sort of healthy beer drinking, casual smoking, care-free fool who lives until some form of cancer catches up with him at the age of 75. One way or another I’m going to enjoy life. That is the only guarantee I can be sure of. We can only control so little.

I think all of us have control issues. It comes with being human and not God, or whatever creator you may or may not choose to acknowledge. We want to control our circumstances, relationships, health, well-being, etc… Unfortunately, we can’t do any of those things. We may try in various forms, such as the food we eat, where we live, or the types of friends we hang with, but none of it is in our control. The crazy healthy veggie dogs could have some crazy chemicals that warp our stomachs, or the places we live may flood and ruin our prized possessions, or worse yet, the people we love could turn on us at a moment’s notice.

All that we can guarantee for our lives is that we live the best life possible each and every day. We can’t put it all in some savings account that we hope will reap benefits in the near future, or have some idealistic five-year plan that sees us in a boat on a river with no cares in the world. We can’t waste our lives hanging out with people that don’t truly love the real you. So for the love of God, please find the “real you”.

Sadly, there are too many of us who wait for “those people” to come around, or for those stories to come to fruition. The “real you” is closer to you than you know and the sooner you find it and embrace it unabashedly, the more meaning your life can have. If people can’t appreciate you for you, then throw them out the window, or into the makeshift fire, or the apartment dumpster, wherever you can throw them. I wish I would have realized this years ago, but at 27, I guess it’s not too late. And it won’t be too late, because today was a great day because I willed it so. Tomorrow will be the same. I hope yours will be as well.

Acceptance

I feel like I've talked about this topic before, but sometimes people need to hear the same thing over and over. We're a thick-headed bunch of people. Me included.

There are very few places where I have felt completely accepted. I am lucky to have had them, for something inside me says they are quite rare (which is rather sad I must say). I should also add that these places are/were not so much about physical location, but about the people that made me feel accepted. If it were all about physical location, then I would be all about some South Georgia... and that's just weird.

So since you're wondering exactly where I'm talking about in South Georgia, it's none other than the towns of Valdosta and Ocilla. The people I experienced and still experience from these places are incredibly welcoming and remarkably genuine. The memories I have from V-town and O-town are full of dinner tables, people laughing, and wine flowing. No one had hidden agendas, petty jealousies, or secret judgments. We all genuinely wanted to be exactly where we were at that moment. We didn't agree on every little issue in the world, but it didn't stop us from enjoying each others' company. It sounds so easy, but why is it so rare?

If this all just sounds like I'm spewing nonsense, then I am quite happy for you. Maybe your family's holiday gatherings were always full of everyone loving everyone... genuinely. Our holiday dinners in Shreveport weren't terribly awkward or anything, but I sure can't say that we all truly wanted to hang out with each other when part of it was nothing more than obligation to see family. Even at home with the immediate family, I don't necessarily feel completely accepted 100% of the time. We're getting closer to that reality, but the feeling still isn't always there. Maybe it's harder with immediate family. We have such expectations for our parents and siblings and they of us. It's hard to simply say "this is me" and get the "okay" response from your mother, or your brother, and so on...

When it comes right down to it, that's all acceptance is. I have different beliefs and stances than many of my friends and family, and the ones that just say "okay" are the ones I want to spend time with. My parents are Conservatives, my sister and brother-in-law are way more "Jesus-y" than me, and my brother can be a tad bit insensitive to what he deems "stupid poor people". Hopefully I say "okay" to them as much as the people in O-town and V-town did to me, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I don't do this as much as I should.

So to all my friends out there reading, I'm sorry I don't always just say "okay" to who you are. I'll keep working on it. Just do me a favor and make sure you're doing the same to the ones you love.

Stupidly Idealistic

Yesterday was my mom and dad's anniversary. 34 years of marriage! The whole family went to church together (which could be a whole other blog post, but I'll spare everyone the usual ranting) and then drove downtown to this old "tea room", also known as a restaurant. We all packed in the family van on the way there, where my brother and I were in typical form by not getting them a card or anything, whereas my sister and her hubby were right on cue with a card and some restaurant gift cards. My mom always has to read greeting cards aloud, which can be quite annoying or hilarious, depending on your mood. So as she blabbed the words of Hallmark, I decided I would recite to her and my father an original greeting card message from the heart. It went something like this...

"Dear Mom and Dad,
Even with all the bickering, nagging, growling, and grinding of teeth you two have gone through in these many years, you must have done something right in all of it, because I still have this crazy desire to spend my life with someone. So thanks for staying together.
Love,
me"

Sweet card right? My brother followed with something equally clever and witty and probably funnier, but I still like mine the most.

I know love is probably written about more than any other subject in the world, but I think it's a lot simpler than anyone really cares to realize. It's all just a choice. Sure, there's attraction and infatuation and all that other crap that comes with romantic love, or common interests and sense of humor that comes with friendship, but the bottom line is we choose who we love. You don't have to love anyone. Plenty of people don't actually "love" their families. They just say it out of obligation, or in many instances never say it at all. I daresay that I don't actually "love" all my relatives. How could I when I don't even know them? I've chosen not to be a big part of their lives and they've done the same. It's not a big deal. Of course all this choice has to be mutual to really work, which I suppose is "the hard part".

My parents are constant proof that love is a lot simpler than so many people make it out to be. My grandparents the same; They recently celebrated 70 years together (I also forgot to give them a card). All they did was make a choice to be with the other person and one year after another rolled on by. I guess they just never got so caught up on all the other stuff; the "who am I" question, the "how can I forgive them" question, the "what are we" question, the "what do you believe" question, or the other fill-in-the-blank questions.

As the Avett Brothers say... "Decide what to be and go be it."

So I say to my friends, family, and random strangers out there...

Decide who to love and go love them

All Quiet

We've been busier than usual at the apartment; holding parties, movie nights, craft time. It's been a great couple of weeks with great friends, and as I look ahead to the next two weeks away from these people, I am reminded how crucial they are to my day to day life.

All that being said, today was a recharging day. I sat around on the couch fine-tuning my end of the year mix and eating whatever food was left in the fridge. I love these days and usually try to take a couple each week to stay balanced, but lately I haven't wanted to take as many. As I took Chester out on our walk around the block tonight, I was struck by the emptiness of our apartment and the surrounding streets. I'm sure the houses weren't as empty as they seemed, but it sure was quiet. The stillness of it all took me back to memories of living in Illinois and the solitude I experienced in North Georgia my first year teaching. Sometimes these memories can take me to the "dark side" - the sadness, the loneliness, the emptiness - all that crap. As weird as this may sound, I think extended periods of these feelings can lead to nostalgia. In both places (sometimes even in Athens), I used to go days without meaningful contact with people. The only conversations I had were the ones in my head and they weren't always cordial. You wouldn't think anyone would be nostalgic for those experiences, but when you consider the wide array of depressing music I own, you may be fooled.

As I reread some of what I just wrote, I hope it sort of makes sense, but my main point in writing all this is to say that I crave less of that "quiet time/dark side" these days, and I give all the credit to these friends of mine. I used to feel like I needed time away from people to keep from getting burned out on being social, but really, that's just because I've never had a circle of friends quite like this one. That's not to say I wouldn't want to add a few out-of-towners (perhaps from Texas) to the mix, or that newcomers aren't welcome, but I do want to say to TCH, LP, and the R brothers how much I appreciate your friendship and acceptance of everything "jim" this past year....


So please don't move...haha!

Let's Get Physical

Earlier today, I realized what was missing from my life. Sex. I had no idea. I always thought it was love, or intimacy, or something like that, but turns out it's just sex. Unadulterated sex. You think I'm joking, but it's true.

Everything I need is in my possession. I have an amazing circle of friends I can share anything with, I have a job that is fulfilling, I have an amazing family, a dog that's obsessed with me, a decent car, a great movie and music collection, I'm not fat, I'm not stupid, I have a macbook of course, and I have a roof over my head that is in walking distance to every place I want to go. So what's left?

Sex

The end.

How Easy We Forget

No, this is not a 9/11 post, but seriously...

I am struck with grief this morning and rather paralyzed with guilt. How do I get so stuck on myself when so many are far worse off than me? As our world leaders meet at Copenhagen over the next several days, I pray (yes, Jim said "pray") that some kind of meaningful change can take place in lives all over the world. I'll let the nine sets of pictures speak for themselves, but I can't help but quote Casablanca (cheesy I know, but true), "I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world."

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34114989/ns/news-picture_stories/displaymode/1247/?beginSlide=1

Culture Shock...the Suburban Way

I often tell people about the culture shock I experienced in my first few years teaching in low income schools. Last night, I got to experience another kind that was equally appalling and perhaps more disturbing.

Visiting my parents over the holidays is always nice. We sit around, talk, and drink coffee. If we go out, I try to suggest a local place or something with healthy options on the menu, but most of the time we just stay in. I am quite alright with this; however, this is not the case with visiting old friends who are in town for the holidays. Since it feels too juvenile to hang out at each others' parents' houses, we go out on the town...and by town, I mean shopping centers with corporate chains and terrible food.

Last night, we went to the Town Center Mall area, now known as Kennesaw. As high schoolers, we would go there all the time until the swankier mall opened near Roswell and we decided we were a bit too cool for putt putt. There were endless options for dinner, but we ended up at what was essentially a Scottish Hooters. The name of the establishment actually sounds like a quaint little pub that might have a decent beer selection...not so fast my friend. When the doors opened, we were greeted by a panorama of cleavage and Scottish plaid attire (or lack thereof).

From the moment we stepped in the door, I felt dirty. I didn't want to look anyone in the eye. It reminded me of my friend's bachelor party and for at least 5 minutes, I couldn't stop the awkward giggles. I ordered a few $5 beers that I could have got in Athens for $3 and diverted my eyes from the obvious and pretended to be really interested in the ESPN program on the huge TV. The food was pretty awful, but it was the objectification that was really sad.

From there, we decided to go to this other "pub" by the movie theater. Pool, shuffleboard, and smoking are the real highlights of this fine establishment. We did all but the latter. As it got later, we saw the regulars driving into the massive parking lot, lighting their cigarettes as they got out of the car, probably thinking they may actually have a chance with one of the slutty waitresses. I guess it's not any different than the scene in Athens. It just seems sadder because everyone is meeting up at a strip mall bar.

Now I know I sound all high and mighty now, but I really did have a nice time catching up with friends. At some point, I just have to shrug off my pretentiousness and accept...no, more like tolerate the culture. That's all it is...a different culture. I forget about the bubble I've made for myself in Athens. I can avoid whatever I want to avoid at any time. It's really a beautiful thing, but it can also blur your vision of the rest of American culture. The suburbs are not altogether a bad place and it's not impossible to have fun here (however a lot pricier) or do good things for others. I guess I just expect more from these people (my apologies for being judgmental). So many are "educated" and enjoy very comfortable lifestyles. Do they not know how good they have it?

In the end, I shouldn't be shocked. We're not that different. Neither one of us wants to get out of that cushy bubble we've made for ourselves and admit that we're no better than the other.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Disparity in Schools, Disparity in Life

I have much more to say about this topic (believe it or not) than I will post here, but I wanted to say something about last night before my mind floats away to some other anger/sadness-inducing topic.

Of all places to go on a Friday night, I went to a high school football playoff game in Jefferson, Georgia. Though I have never been one for school spirit during any of my tenures, whether it be my own high school days, college, or teaching days, I could not help but envy the atmosphere of the Buford vs. Jefferson 2nd round playoff game. There I was, standing amongst all these high schoolers and parents, wondering why the kids here get the privilege of such a fine spirited event. Sure, it's only football, but it felt more telling of the communities as whole. It's no secret that the school I work at is outmatched in nearly every athletic contest, but more upsetting is the lack of pride that exists in every facet of school life. Are athletics the only thing that boost student morale? Surely not.

Maybe I have a skewed view on all this. Coming from an over-privileged area, I may not have realistic expectations for what a public school should provide its students. On the other hand, I may know exactly what students all over this state deserve. They are entitled to a school atmosphere that brings them a feeling of self-worth, a curriculum that can offer a variety of options for their future, teachers that actually care about their well-being, and a facility that doesn't reek of sewage each morning when walking down the main hall to the first class of the day. Unfortunately, money is the only thing that can solve a majority of these problems.

I was fortunate that my parents made sacrifices to buy a house in a school district that could offer all these things. Sure they paid more in taxes (blah, blah, blah), but what did I do to deserve any of it? I lucked out. But must it always be luck that decides each person's future? A kid can't help it if his/her parents have nothing and can only afford a broken down trailer in rural Georgia. A kid can't help it if he/she lives with a parent who abuses them. The lives they "luck" into are sad enough. If anything, they deserve more encouragement than these pampered suburban brats who drink up all their milkshakes.

We see this all over the world. I realize it's even worse in other countries. I blog about this because I see it on a daily basis, but it's in all the issues; war, slavery, education, healthcare, world hunger, etc...

Bottom line - we are all human and we are no better than one another. I wish we, myself included, would remember this simple fact more often and treat each other accordingly.

Sadness

There are a lot of loud noises coming from various rooms of my life lately.

First, there is the TV and the talking heads that scream about deathcare and communism. I've gotten into the habit of watching these shows so that I can keep up with the news and when necessary, defend myself against hateful republicans...I mean conservatives...or whatever they are these days. If I'm in a really good mood, I may even watch the FixNews and laugh at how mad they are at everyone just to pat myself on the back for not being "one of them". ENOUGH ALREADY!!!

Last night, all I could do was watch and be sad. I think at some point, that is what's underneath it all. When you stop worrying about winning arguments and being right, you realize that there is just too much sadness in the world to bear. The sadness overtakes you when you least expect it. For me, it was the statistics they were giving on homeless veterans and veterans without adequate healthcare. Most people in my circle know that I am a pacifist (or at least try to be) and would be the last person to go out and wave a flag for the armed forces, but for some reason this issue hit me smack in the gut. I guess it's because I feel so sorry for those in the military. Many are there just to mindlessly follow in the footsteps of their family. For others, their circumstances often land them in the military just to make some money for college or to get out of trouble. Regardless of their reasons, I can't fathom how our government can be all into flag waving and lapel pins when time and time again, they leave the people that serve in their immoral wars on the streets. It's all very maddening, but I'm trying not to grind my teeth (I do enough of that in my sleep). I'm just saddened by it. Overwhelmed.

The second "noisy" room for me is my school, leaving children behind left and right and in so many different ways. I could go on for days about curriculum problems and why AYP stats are ridiculous, but lately it's the apathy and the absence of love that so many children live with at home that makes me sad. It's the student with autism that stares at you blankly. It's the dyslexic kid that looks at words on a page as if they were in a different language. It's the kid that has an IQ of 60 who doesn't know why the things he repeats from his parents are so racist. It's the quiet kid who lives without a mother and doesn't know any better about hygiene, trimming his fingernails, or wearing shirts that aren't dirty undershirts. I don't know what to say sometimes. What can you say? What can you do?

Legislators want all these kids to be the same as the honors kid, to go to college, to be a "valuable" part of society. Many of their parents expect the same thing. Really? Do they not see their limitations? Do they not see the kids' eyes when they don't get trig ratios or when they feel worthless because they can't remember the most famous Byzantine emperor (as if any of it really matters). It's the eyes that tell you. Some are just completely lost. Others are just hurt. The way these kids get treated by other teachers can be really shocking. Where has empathy gone? Why flood a kid that can't read with a load of reading activities? Common sense anyone?

There's also the flipside to some of these kids. There are plenty that can do just as much as the next kid, but don't have the drive. The apathy they have for school isn't the only thing that concerns me. Instead, it's their apathy towards life. We are teaching more and more children that just don't care about anything. Anything! They would rather play childish games on the Internet than do anything of value. The helpless feeling I have around them is what depresses me. I could be the coolest teacher in the world, the most encouraging, the funniest, the most genuinely concerned, but none of that makes a difference. It's a black hole sucking every good intention out of you until you're just...sad.

The third thing that saddens me (as if there needed to be more) is coming home. When friends ask me about work, I don't really want to get into it. I just avoid the topic to avoid the underlying sadness. I suppose it's what we all do one way or another. The kid that plays the childish Internet game probably does so to avoid the sadness he/she feels when they know they can't read the assignment given to them. The apathetic kid may be coming to school just to avoid his sorry home life and secure at least 2 meals a day. The drained teacher turns on the TV to the talking heads just to avoid the real problems underneath.

Sadly, the loud noises probably never go away. We just have to surround ourselves with loved ones that drown them out. I just wish there were more of them close by.

Lists

I haven't blogged in awhile and I'm really bored right now since most of my friends are out of town this weekend. So here's a little something all two of you out there can read...

Things I've been complaining about lately...

• the special education department at my school
• kids on the cross country team that don't train hard or just don't show up
• foxnews
• my coaching supplement
• the teams left in the MLB playoffs
• wet practices
• single-hood

Things I'm grateful for lately...

• Chester
• being employed
• I and Love and You
• Curse Your Branches
• that handful of Athens friends
• Troy coming in town
• oatmeal porters/stouts

What's that Obama?

I usually don't follow every little news story the intellectually disabled media spits out in my direction, but this beer meeting with Obama, Gates, and that racist police officer guy is ridiculous.

First of all, shouldn't the media be talking about the healthcare bill? Or maybe anything remotely important? Wouldn't it be nice if the American news outlets would just give us facts about healthcare reform instead of absurdly informing us of Michael Jackson's dead tiger's will, or bringing up this idiotic story about what beer Obama will be drinking?

But if we ARE just going to read about Obama's beer choice (and remain completely oblivious to the important things going on), why in the world would our president choose Bud Light. This is a man I thought I respected. Is he trying to appeal to Republicans by drinking this piss water, or perhaps trying to seem less of an elitist? Does he too have an advertising deal with Budweiser? Maybe the three of them should sit out on the White House lawn like frogs on lily pads eating flies with their tongues yelping "Bud"..."Weis"..."Errr".

I was wrong about you Obama. I let it slide when you wouldn't stand up for equal rights in the military, but my beer elitism doesn't quite know what to do with this...

Back to Reality

The traveling days are over for now. My brother and I took yet another trip to see ballparks and had some great times along the way. No brother blowups this year either, so that was nice. I'm really not in the mood to go detail by detail. I just wanted to leave this thought...


We were at Cedar Point Amusement Park the other day waiting in line for a rollercoaster. You get to stand there and listen to crappy music playing...and you can eavesdrop and hear ridiculous conversations...and then make fun of the people for their crappy graphic t-shirts or their stupid hats... OR... you could just stand in line and stop being such a critical ass. I find myself doing this far too often - slipping back into an elitist mindset. I'm sure we're all guilty of it at times and there's probably different levels of it as well, but it's a slippery slope. Pretty soon what happens. Do we just forget how to value our fellow human beings? It scares me to think that I can go to an amusement park with a bunch of "trashy" people and be annoyed by them, but yet I don't mind the same type of people that I teach day in and day out. In fact, I genuinely enjoy working with them most of the time. I had a similar dilemma when I thought about doing ministry. Why do we help people? What if there was no money in it?

Babies and Birthdays

I had one of those up-all-night-thinking nights last night. I have them a lot for random reasons, but I suppose this one was from it being the eve of my birthday. So cliché right? It’s been a fantastic birthday weekend up to this point. I share the weekend with such notables as Stallone, Dubya, America, and Ringo Starr. It’s a lot to be proud of…?

We spent the 4th in Boulder going to Avery’s tasting room and eating dinner on the Pearl Street Mall. Yesterday we drove into Denver, hung out at the huge REI, the 16th Street Mall, and knocked a couple brews back at the Breckenridge Brewpub. When we returned, we had some delicious food waiting for us out on the patio and most delightful of all was the DQ ice cream cake! It had been so long. I remember gazing at those glass cases full of unattainable cakes when I was a kid. Take that, childhood dreams. I’m not sure what today will bring, but it’s already been a great weekend to bring in the ol’ 2-7.


To most people, 27 is an age with no significant meaning. It’s one of those in between 25 and 30 that just doesn’t matter. To me, it’s always lingered in the back of my mind as a measure of “progress”. My dad was married by the time he was 27. Compared to others in their generation, they were a bit late to tie the knot. I even had it in my head that I wanted to be married and have kids well before 27 (as if it was a competition). Let me quickly add before anyone starts to think I’m marriage crazy, that it’s not so much the being married part that I’m going for. It’s more about feeling passionately about something or someone. I know plenty of single people who are equally passionate about their job or schooling as those friends of mine who are married. Unfortunately I’m not one of those people who can dive into their work and be satisfied…so I look for the other thing.

For the past several years, I’ve told myself that I don’t want to go through the “ordinary” (middle class) progression of life; get married, have kids, buy a house in the suburbs, but that’s just because it hasn’t happened yet. Let’s cut through the crap of cynical Jim and just admit that I want all those things, but maybe not the house in the suburbs. I’ve been hanging out here in Colorado with a great couple with a great house and a beautiful little girl. How do you not crawl around and play with a smiling little girl? Sure, they poop and cry sometimes, but so does everyone. They are quickly proving to me that marriage and a kid doesn’t have to suck.

So there. I said it. My secret is out. I’m 27 and suddenly I’m a sap who wants a wife and kid. But in all seriousness, I’m just a guy who wants life to feel less stagnant. Hopefully this year will bring some of that direction I’m craving.

I'm baaaaaaack

My brother and I are back for another episode of Colorado. This is my 4th time out here in 3 years. It's getting kind of ridiculous....or awesome! We are staying at our friends' house in Lafayette just outside of Boulder. They now have a baby (more on that later) and she is adorable. I absolutely love staying here. The weather is actually quite wet at the moment, but I loved waking up to the Colorado sunrise this morning. The air pours through our guest room window and I am instantly charmed by the beauty of the landscape. I took a run after breakfast. It didn't go so hot. Pete went with me, but really, we just left at the same time and ran separately. After 10 minutes I was seriously wondering if I had suddenly caught asthma. I managed 20 minutes more, but it was a pace even my 91 year old granddad would have chuckled at.

We are about to go see Wilco at Red Rocks and it may pour on us. I say bring it on. I'm crossing my fingers that this concert will beat the Arcade Fire show I saw a couple years ago. I think rain and tailgating can only enhance the performance. We'll see.


Oh and a note about traveling...

Flying makes me want to do a little waterboarding...Oh wait, no. I'm not an asshole...and I'm not a racist. I just really wanted to say that line. I thought of it on the plane and just couldn't help myself. It's really not that bad. There's inflight trivia that gets quite addictive. We played 11 rounds and for awhile, I had the highest score. Then some dick named "RAMM" beat it followed by a guy named "SAM". I finally was on my way to putting my name back on top of those a-holes when we had to land. Bastards!

Stay classy San Diego!

Belated Father's Day

Colorado has come and gone and there was a lot of talk about my "second family" and the acceptance I feel around them. Father's Day also came and went while I was out there, so I think now it's only fitting to mention my first family, whose activities may not have involved hiking trips, but whose love and acceptance of me has undoubtedly kept my head above water time and time again.

First of all, I must mention that Father's Day in our family is way down on the totem pole compared to Mother's Day. Every year, my mom's birthday either falls on Mother's Day or some day surrounding it. The combination makes it nearly impossible to avoid driving that traffic-filled hour and a half home to suburbia just in time for a nice dinner and of course, that Sunday morning church service where all the mothers parade around their long lost children (who probably have given up going to church mind you) to each other after the preacher tells some sermon about obscure women in the Bible who may or may not have been mothers at some point in their lives yet showed what it meant to love. Oh, how I love Mother's Days!

Father's Day doesn't quite compare. There's not a whole lot of high expectations placed on it. When I was younger, my sister or mother would usually find some piece of clothing or gadget at Macy's that would suffice as the present from the whole family, and then my dad would be forced to run to the store to pick up whatever meat was supposed to be put on the grill for lunch, all the while missing out on the one thing he wanted to do, which of course was to watch golf...and go in and out of sleep while doing so.

As we've grown older, Father's Day has improved only marginally. My brother and I still have years where we fall back into the habit of expecting our sister to do everything for us; the gift, card, eating plans. She's good like that. Sometimes we actually willingly go to church just to say I told you so when the preacher uses that all too familiar line about how "we should be the kind of fathers our Heavenly Father is to us," or even "on this Father's Day, we should really be honoring our Heavenly Father."

I'm still convinced that there's a self-help book preachers use to turn our American holidays into Christian messages with tightly packed allusions and 'can't miss' metaphors. Sorry I digress...

For the most part, my family has never put a whole lot of emphasis on special days or bombarding each other with gifts (with the obvious exception of the millions of toys we got in our cuter years that are now gathering dust in the basement), and even when we did, I always got the feeling that we just did it for the sake of doing it.

This year, I picked up my dad a couple of shirts from his Alma Mater on the drive back from Texas. There was nothing spectacular about the shirts and a year from now I'll probably forget all about them, but I must say how different it felt to actually give my dad a real gift on Father's Day. Maybe next year, I'll give him a wrapped gift.

Now to a lot of people, these Father's and Mother's Days are a big deal and my years of half-hearted gift giving would be scoffed at, but in my family we just don't care. Gifts are just extra. It's amazing really. Whether I'm driving through middle of nowhere towns on the highway or stuck in suburban traffic, I'll sit and think of all the hurting families out there, the broken hearts and broken homes that don't make it, and then I wonder why I get to be one of the lucky ones.

Colorado part 2

I’m back in the South. Boo. Yesterday, I spent much of the 12-hour drive through Texas thinking about how bleak and hopeless the desolate land made me feel. Today, I followed that up by driving 14 hours on I-20 through such lovely towns as Chunky, Mississippi and Moundville, Alabama. What am I doing here?


In Colorado, you can drive a short distance to one of the “14ers” and spend all day huffing and puffing your way up to the peak of a 14,000-foot mountain. Here in Georgia, I can go hike at the Botanical Gardens, or if I’m lucky, go test myself on the grueling climb up Stone Mountain. Please. Driving 2 hours to get to North Georgia is not out of the question, but it seems to deflate my spirits a bit.


I do this every summer. I go off to Colorado and dream of moving there. I tell myself it’s not practical to move just yet. I have loans. I have a good job. I have friends here. Family is close by. Can a new place really change my fortunes? Or is one’s attitude about a place enough to make meaningful change that translates to other areas of life?...


Well, we climbed Mt. Princeton the other day. At 14,197 ft, it’s not the highest mountain in Colorado, but it only needs a couple hundred more feet. I laugh at myself now for having such a “can do” attitude at the beginning of our hike. We were gradually going up on a nicely groomed trail when – POW! It was as if an avalanche had covered the entire trail, and the grade of the hike kept getting steeper and steeper. Obviously, we didn’t witness an avalanche, but there were a few times when our slipping and sliding on the rocks was going to cause a new one. Literally, we climbed over boulder after boulder. There was very little visible trail toward the top, so we just made up our own path through the rocks. I was the last of the three of us to reach. I was sitting on a rock just under the peak while the others were up top, when I saw a giant storm coming our way. I almost used it as an excuse not to finish, but instead it became the motivation to get the hell up there and then make a run for it going down. Earlier I had seen a small memorial near the top of the mountain about a woman who died getting struck by lightning just a few years ago, so that kind of loomed in my mind when little pieces of hail started to fall on us.

Needless to say, we survived. There was lots of foul language on my part on the way up, a little bit of dancing at the top, and lots of shaking in the knees on the way down, but I’m glad I can now say that I made Mt. Princeton my bitch! – ha!