Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Big Feet....Large Shoes

Instead of getting packed for Orlando (I do have 14 more hours anyways...) or cleaning my pigsty of a room (I barely use my bed anymore anyways...), I feel like writing.

Last Friday, we had "Career Day" over at sunny Bishop Lynch, my second home. And while my first home is where my heart is, my second home only has a claim on my brain.

So, after attending a wonderful session on secondary education, in which we decided that only extroverts can be teachers (sucks for me) and that men can, in fact, have children up to the date of their death (unless, of course, they take ether), I went to a session on journalism and document design (aka technical writing blahh). Although this sounds like I'm about to blast another speaker, I'm really not. In fact, I tried to get something out of it. Unfortunately, I would rather be an engineer than a technical writer (and I would rather be a truck driver than an engineer...)

So, the most I got out of it was that I need to have an overall theme to my blog.
As you may have noticed, I don't have an overall theme to my blog because,actually, my overall theme is not to have an overall theme. I shall explain.

Honeyed Apricots is derived from my favorite movie ever. Notting Hill. Yeah, it's no Casablanca or Lord of the Rings or Citizen Kane, but it makes me laugh. And it NEVER gets old. I've seen it nine? ten? times. And it's because of the honeyed apricots scene.

"Would you like something to eat? Something to nibble on? Apricots, soaked in honey? Quite why, no one knows, because it stops them tasting like apricots and makes them taste like honey... and if you wanted honey, you could just... buy honey. Instead of apricots. But nevertheless they're yours if you want them."

So, channeling Kurt Vonnegut, this whole blog is a lie. If you really want some deep philosophical thought, pull out some Jean-Paul Sartre or Camus. If you really want humor, go rent a Marx Brothers movie. If you really want to hear about my life, talk to me. But, if you're reading this, you obviously want to read it.
And that is where the lack of a theme comes in. I don't like apricots. I need the honey flavor.

So instead of going on and on and on even more about the best movie in the world, I invite you to watch it. I will even lend it to you if you ask. It is worth the two hours.
And you will learn why men with big feet...have big shoes and why you should always, always, stop in that travel bookshop (but don't ask for Winnie-the-Pooh).

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Normal as Blueberry Pie



Today, as I was lamenting the end of my free Pandora hours (40 is not enough for one month...), I was scrambling around youtube, using my long facebook list of musical artists as a reference and finally ending up with Nellie McKay, a singer-songwriter-ukelele-piano aficionado.
I have been listening to her for the last two hours.

I disagree with almost all of her lyrics (from a political standpoint, at least...), but I must say that she is definitely my favorite musician (at the moment).

Her style is jazzy-ish, bluesy-ish, rock-ish, funk-ish, rap-ish, even country-ish.

Besides covering bunches of the normal jazz/blues standards (her version of P.S. I Love You was used in the movie), she writes the most original, sadistic, sarcasm-filled satirical songs I have ever heard. Mostly making fun of conservatives, anti-feminists, warmongers, marriage, Columbia University, meat-eaters, and city folks. She's a supporter of Ralph Nader and PETA. Her interviews are awkward, to say the least.
Every song makes me die a little inside...
But they're so damn clever!

This is a song called Won't U Please Be Nice
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLDGaWqPlks
Listen to the melody first, don't listen to the words.
Sounds like a nice, Sinatra worthy song, right?
Then read the lyrics here:

If you would sit
Oh so close to me
That would be nice
Like it's supposed to be
If you don't I'll slit your throat
So won't you please be nice
If you would hug your arms right around me
That would be snug
Like it's supposed to be
If we part I'll eat your heart
So won't you please be nice

Oh don't you love this romancing
Know that it's your life you're chancing
Isn't it nice
Now you've married me
Sugar and spice
Like it's supposed to be
If you go I'll get your dough
So won't you please be nice

Stop with your jazz oratory
I only listen to top forty
N'Sync rules
Isn't it nice
Together we'll always live
No sacrifice
We'll vote conservative
If you run I'll pull a gun
Give me head or you'll be dead
Salute the flag or I'll call you a fag
Oh won't you please be nice

That's some old Hollywood ballad all right.

But it was her last album's name that completely won me over.
Normal as Blueberry Pie.
For those of you who are not familiar with South Pacific, the title hails from the song "Wonderful Guy", conveniently sung in the musical by a character named what else but Nellie...
I absolutely love that song for the one line which is now the name of Nellie McKay's CD.

Nellie channels Doris Day in everything she does, including her style. Compare this to the photo of Nellie above. Clonies for sure.


In case you are as interested in this wacko as I am, look her up. Just make sure no one below a certain age (or above a certain age if your grandma has sensitive ears...) is in the same room, or else you may be cringing as she, in a demure forties style dress, drops words that you may not want little Jimmy to learn for another decade or so...

One of these days, I may get around to writing a Nellie McKay-ish song. I will be sure to share :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CM0fBP9_lkI&feature=related

Friday, April 16, 2010

Capitalism Doesn’t Explain Everything or The Puzzling Quest of Writers

When J.D. Salinger died in January, his fiercely guarded private life was exposed for the first time since his acclaimed novel, The Catcher in the Rye, was published in 1951. The world was amazed that he had hidden away his talent for fifty years without capitalizing on it. Why, it asked? Why miss out on a wonderful business opportunity?

On the other side of New York, the cynical commentators of the world believed that Salinger’s isolation was purely artistic, and his death synonymous with the end of true literature.

However, Salinger was not the first, nor the last, unselfish writer. For writers do not write to make money. It’s a side effect. But, you’re asking, “What about those mainstream authors – you know, Danielle Steele– who shuttle out dozens of novels a year and always top the bestseller list?”

Key word there: author.

Authors are those who write to get published. They want money. Who can blame them? Isn’t that why most lawyers become lawyers and geeks become Bill Gates?

On the other hand, writers are the unselfish missionaries of the written word. Writing for some is like punching pillows or screaming into space. Kate Chopin poured her anger at the sexually constrained nineteenth century into The Awakening. Others teach through their books: Chaim Potok wrote The Chosen as a way to encourage friendships among dissimilar people. Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee wrote Inherit the Wind to show the misconceptions of both the deeply religious and the deeply scientific.

Writers, unlike authors, write not to make money, but to voice a thought about society.

However, the realms of authorship and writing often collide, as shown by the aforementioned writer-authors. Sometimes, an author becomes a writer. J.K. Rowling’s first Harry Potter book was written as a desperate attempt to earn some money; however, she disapproves of fan fiction (even threatens lawsuits!) and because of this, preserves the dignity of her characters and deserves to be considered a bona fide writer.

Unfortunately, writers often become authors. Stephanie Meyer, with her now cultish series Twilight, began with a well-intentioned effort to draw young people to read (and couldn’t be expecting too much money, because fourteen agents rejected her!), but eventually succumbed to the media machine and began including more and more ‘teen romance’ and ‘true love’ until her last novel became an adolescent version of Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

But why are D.H. Lawrence’s words considered better than Ms. Meyer’s?

Harold Acton, in saying, “So often is the virgin sheet of paper more real than what one has to say, and so often one regrets having marred it,” makes an undeniable declaration. There is such a thing as bad writing. The first hint of bad writing comes with the first misspelling. Or, to pick on Stephanie Meyer again, when the main character has a thought like this: “I tried to make my smile alluring…He smiled back, looking allured.”

Good writing is harder to define. Sometimes it grabs the reader and forces him to finish reading (Michael Crichton anyone?). However, Charles Dickens certainly didn’t write gripping thrillers, and yet he is considered one of the greatest novelists in history. He was able to relate to the reader through one of his hundreds of characters, while using proper grammar and developing a plot line.

Salinger only published a handful of stories; nevertheless. he is world-renowned. Not many true writers can also claim to be uncorrupted authors. Salinger’s goal, though, was not to prove his literary merit, but simply to voice his thoughts.

And whether those were about ducks or human nature was for him to decide, and everyone else to criticize.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Lamentation

A compilation of depressing poetry; each line is from a different poem.
Don't worry, I'm not actually suicidal, ;)


About suffering they were never wrong
I’ve lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose
Oh death will find me, long before I tire
Come hither, Sleep, and my griefs unfold
Death may be very gentle after all
The day is done, and the darkness
Hovers within my gates
Though it be darkness there
In me nothing is extinguished or forgotten
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Sing no sad songs for me
On my black coffin let there be strown
Firewood, ironware, and cheap tin trays
Thus unlamented let me die
Better by far you should forget and smile
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
Shall cover you
They are not long, the days of wine and roses
They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn
I do not think that they will sing to me

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Cut the Politics and Start Teaching Again, SBOE!

Don't worry y'all, I didn't write this just for my blog...I don't have that much free time ;)

While reading coverage of the recent Texas State Board of Education changes to social studies guidelines, I asked myself, why are these decisions being made by people who have never taught, never even been exposed to the modern-day classroom?
Why aren’t teachers, the ones being forced to teach this, being consulted?
And why aren’t historians (you know, those people with extremely advanced degrees in…history) being asked to confirm the accuracy of the proposed changes?
Instead, lawyers, a dentist, and a newspaperman, among others, held the future of history education in their hands.
I personally would rather call Geek Squad when my computer crashes instead of a florist.

Without change, there can be no progress. However, the kind of change that the politically-minded Texas Board of Education is endorsing cannot be tolerated in public schools today. With Texas continuously ranking in the bottom half of the states in terms of proficiency in math, reading, and writing, the public school system is shirking its responsibility to teach students today what really happened decades or centuries ago. By distorting history, the Education Agency is making a fool out of itself in full view of the nation, which is forced to follow along in the same distorted path because of Texas’s huge textbook market.
For once, I’m not proud to say that everything is bigger in Texas.

Among the most controversial changes was the removal of Thomas Jefferson from a list of important world philosophers who influenced political revolutions after 1750. He was replaced by John Calvin (an “icon” of the religious right – from the 1500s) and St. Thomas Aquinas (a medieval philosopher). Although both of these men deserve to be credited for their innovative ideas, Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence, deserves more of a spotlight in the 1750s-an era he actually lived through – and a time full of democratic awakenings rather than religious revivals.
Perhaps if the Republican board members had not so enthusiastically condoned adding in frequent references to American exceptionalism, this could be overlooked. But the logic in stressing the uniqueness of America, but leaving out the man who inspired other nations to declare their freedom and basic human rights escapes me.

However, it is not only the ten conservative board members who seemed to have an agenda to fulfill, but also the five outnumbered Democratic members, whose main purpose was to thrust every possible minority hero, specifically those Tejanos who died at the Alamo, into the revised documents. The purpose of history is not to cater to the particular ethnic group reading the book, but to provide an unbiased and practical summary of events. The popular story of the Alamo is practically all myth; the battle itself was not a decisive factor in the Texas Revolution. We lost. Just as we don’t study the individual names of soldiers in the Battle of Gettysburg, it is impractical to single out a handful of names of men who did not hold major leadership positions, though they were courageous.

Francis Bacon once said, “Truth will sooner come out of error than from confusion.” True history is an error-riddled tragedy. Not a public forum to advance beliefs of any sort, be they conservative or liberal. Without learning true history (which doesn’t include those happy embellishments added to make the current good guy look better), schoolchildren will grow into the same misguided public officials of today, who slide through their banana peel blunders and leave them for the next person to trip over. Mistakes will be repeated. Over and over again. The tragedy will continue. Romeo will continue to drink the poison, and there will be no Prince Charming to save him.

Hopefully, enough people will catch on and this twisting of history will be straightened. And maybe the rest of the educational system, which fails so many students and fails to reward so many teachers, can be fixed as well.
Until then, I quote Mark Twain in saying, “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education."