Professors

Even though you’d probably expect me to post yet another link about Obama, particularly one that defends him from an attack by the Clinton campaign, this particular attack hits me rather close to home. You see, Obama and I share something in common - we’ve both been adjunct professors at a university. This attack that was put forward against Obama went like this:

Sen. Obama consistently and falsely claims that he was a law professor. The Sun-Times reported that, “Several direct-mail pieces issued for Obama’s primary [Senate] campaign said he was a law professor at the University of Chicago. He is not. He is a senior lecturer (now on leave) at the school. In academia, there is a vast difference between the two titles. Details matter.” In academia, there’s a significant difference: professors have tenure while lecturers do not. [Hotline Blog, 4/9/07; Chicago Sun-Times, 8/8/04]

Well, this is where labels can mean different things to different people, and possibly even to different schools. Besides just what your title is on paper or what your students call you, there’s the matter of which kind of contract you have signed, how many classes you can (or need to) teach, and whether or not you’re on a track to earn tenure. If this isn’t murky enough, there’s usually also unions that have different rules for each, department rules distinguishing faculty from non-faculty, and sometimes even what mailing lists you then belong to! All of this, of course, reflects the arguably undue complexity found in government bureaucracies!

So here we have Obama discussing his life prior (and concurrent) with his career in politics. He makes the statement that he was an adjunct law professor for the University of Chicago in his second book The Audacity of Hope, partly as a way in that chapter to compare his view of politics with his experience teaching students about law. The Chicago Sun Times decides to question that statement, as is their right as reporters, and somehow comes to the conclusion that he wasn’t actually a professor. Even though he did teach college students about law, which was the whole point of the statement at the time!

Well, thankfully the University of Chicago saw fit to clarify that, in fact, “Barack Obama served as a professor in the Law School”, was “considered to be members of the Law School faculty”, and “was invited to join the faculty in a full-time tenure-track position” several times over the 12 years he taught there.

I’m sensitive to this only because of the occasional distinctions made between someone like myself and full-time professor. Though most of my colleagues wouldn’t think to even make this distinction to me in some kind of derogatory way, there have been a few occasions where my “not being faculty” has affected me. I’ve even gone so far as to say that we’re considered “second-class citizens” of the department, partly out of jest anyway. In the instance with Obama, this distinction was only made to attack his credibility. While I’ve never suffered this kind of attack as an adjunct, I can still relate to its effect.

We teach college students material that we either know already, have to relearn after forgetting, or have to learn for the first time. We assume the role of a professor because of our expertise in that area of study, and that expertise grants us sufficient credibility to then be given students that will listen and learn from us. To have that experience or credibility questioned then not because of the role we’ve been assigned, the amount of experience we posses, or even by the degrees we hold. Rather, to have it questioned because of the contract we sign, the amount of classes we teach, or the mere title on our desks is misguided at best and downright misleading at worst!

The Muppet Story

During a student’s first year in the UCF Honors College, all students have to take a 1 credit-hour symposium. During this once-a-week session, every student must sit through an hour lecture from various professors affiliated with the Honors College. This isn’t too big of a price, and often proved very interesting, particularly for a young freshman eager to learn…but not always.

It was early evening on a Wednesday in the fall of 1995, and I was exhausted after just finishing marching band practice. I wasn’t relieved, though, because I had to rush back to the dorms to shower, grab some food, and head off to a lecture hall to attend the weekly Honors symposium. I didn’t mind the symposiums overall, at least the ones I had previously attended. So far they had covered such topics as how musical melodies are related, a sampling of contemporary poetry, and a lecture of the physics of black holes. The lectures were targeted at your average freshman at a university, not overtly simplified, and sprinkled with a dash of hip examples.

Not this night’s symposium, however. This professor’s lecture was aimed directly at her colleagues or perhaps grad students. It was as dry, read almost compulsively from her slides, and caused most of us to tune her immediately out. One of my friends started reading through a textbook, possibly getting a start on his homework. Another one just seemed to stare off into the distance, very likely escaping into a much happier, profoundly more interesting place. I think I sat there for a while trying to figure out what the professor was on about, but likewise giving up and finding something else to do quietly until it was over.

After about 10 minutes, I started hearing more and more murmuring, students that just couldn’t sit still without anything external to interest them. I saw a few people get up periodically, perhaps just going to the restroom, but in a much greater percentage than was typical. A few students even started talking loudly enough that we could clearly make our their conversation, even in this rather large, though non-echoey lecture hall.

This eventually started to wear down the professor, who would stop for brief moments hoping that the crescendoing murmur would subside. After about 45 minutes or so, she just decided to give up. We all gave her an awkward and obviously insincere applause, and then left much earlier than we usually did. Of course, this just made our day!

The following week, our director came back and announced that because we had acted like children last week, she had decided to “punish” us by presenting something closer to our apparent age - an episode of The Muppet Show! Sure, it was mildly insulting, particularly to those enough who had kept respectfully quiet, but that symposium was still one of the highlights of the entire semester. My group of friends and I stuck around until the end of the episode, well after the director dismissed the class. I’m not quite sure what she must have thought of us for doing that, but she never mentioned again after that night.

Years later, I actually had that professor during another honor’s course on ethics and biotechnology. I think in the few years since she had presented, she had learned a bit more about how to sell her material to college students. I probably only tuned her out only half the time, at most!

Gardening & Blood

This title and image sum up my weekend so far. I spent mid-Saturday starting back to tending my garden. I’ve let it go for far too long as grass runners and weeds start to overtake my nicely mulched tree bases and other beds. Nothing a little personal attention can’t undo, naturally.

Then, this afternoon, I saw 300 with Marc, his cousin, Erik, and Dave down at the AMC theater in Downtown Disney. I really enjoy Frank Miller’s work, so it was a visual and visceral delight to see Zack Snyder’s recreation.

Now, as my day fades away, I’m watching a timely special on the history behind the Battle of Thermopylae. Cable does, on occasion, prove its utility.

Late for Work

Yeah, I pretty much go through this drill every day. Thankfully, my bosses don’t hold to strict arrival times, so its rarely the case that I’m actually late. This film was made by an old friend and fraternity brother of mine. Its quite good, and worthy of your 3 minutes and 50 seconds.

When you’re done, check out this forthcoming documentary about the iconoclastic writer Harlan Ellison. I first was exposed to Mr. Ellison’s work back when I worked through a PC-game adaptation of his “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream” short story. Crazy, brilliant, intense, and visceral. Be warned, he’s not for the faint of mind.

Oh yeah, and this, the first game that I’ve seen for the PS3 that actually compels me to eventually own it. Drool.

Patrick and His Quilt at MOMA

As previously mentioned, we went today to see the Gee’s Bend exhibit at the Orlando Metropolitan Museum of Art. Patrick’s quilt is displayed all this month in a side exhibit for local quilters. Be sure to check it out!

Four Facts and One Lie

As seen recently in such exciting blogs as A Spider’s Web in Thornton Park and I Deal With It, and the movie Breach, here’s a fun little meme to pass the time. Guess which of the following statements is the lie. Answers will follow soon.

1) Patrick and I have been together for almost 10 years.
2) My drum major outfit in high school consisted of a vaguely US Civil War-ish general’s outfit complete with a sword!
3) I once played the sax naked on stage in front of a restaurant full of people.
4) I’m a life-long Democrat that believes in the vast power of government to help its citizens lead richer lives.
5) I waited in line in front of Target for almost 12 hours to buy the new Nintendo Wii.

Gee’s Bend

As many of you know, when Patrick isn’t waist deep in bleeding all over his students’ tragic essays, he and his aunt Nancy spend countless hours designing, cutting, sewing, and piecing together quilts. Recently, their quilts were entered into the Cabin Fever Quilt Fair.

Though they did not win any competitions, Patrick’s quilts were noticed by members of Gee’s Bend, a quilting guild of African American women from rural Alabama known for their historic and innovative quilt designs. One in particular, Come Fly with Me (pictured to the right) was selected by Cabin Fever and Gee’s Bend to be featured as part of the Gee’s Bend exhibition at the Orlando Museum of Art during the month of March.

If you can’t make it out to the exhibit, you can also check out Patrick’s quilts on flickr here and here. You can also occasionally catch him helping out or teaching quilting at Cornerstone Quilt Shop.

Please join me in celebrating Patrick’s creativity and dedication to this traditional and quintessentially American craft.

And the Beat Goes On

This Valentine’s past was very special for at least one reason - I spent part of it at the cardiologist. For the past week, I had been experiencing what I later found out were called heart flutters, that is, noticeable, momentary fluctuations of my heart beat. They started the day after our small, fraternal alumni gathering for the Super Bowl and persisted throughout that week, culminating in a mild panic attack at my office that following Friday.

Panic began spreading when, after a short but eventful meeting with our auditors, I started to feel as if the left side of my face was slightly numb. Thankfully, I brought myself back from the brink of having a full-blown attack, and after lunch felt much less panicked. On Patrick’s urging, though, I decided to get checked out by a doctor before the weekend. At Centra Care, they gave me an EKG, which the doctor determined was almost completely normal. Based on the information I gave him, he determined that I should cut way back on my caffeine consumption and try to let go of the stress I had been gathering that week. Much relieved that I wasn’t having a heart attack, I went home, collapsed in the bathtub (as I like to do), and played some Hotel Dusk: Room 215 on my Nintendo DS.

The following Monday, I got in to see a cardiologist, who determined that I should have several tests run. The first started right away as I was fitted with a Holter monitor in a chest halter. The technician who fitted me encouraged me to eat a full dinner, complete with a cold dessert, drink several beers, and consume more caffeine that I normally would - all in the name of science! While I completely understand what she wanted to see with these requests, I could only humor her in part - I didn’t consume as much caffeine as I probably could have. Otherwise, I went through my normal nightly routines (sans bath, which sucked), logging each time I moved about or did anything that might cause my heart to react.

And now we’re back to Valentine’s, when I returned the Holter-in-a-halter and had a echo cardiogram. The technician assured me that, though he could not interpret the results, nothing seemed to serious to keep me there for immediate further testing or treatment. I will, unfortunately, have to go back this Friday for a stress test. While I’m not worried about getting my heart rate up by using the treadmill, I am not looking forward to hanging out at the cardiologist’s office for the better part of my Friday. Oh well, such occasions do allow me to burn through my backlog of podcasts. Thank God for the almighty iPod!

Otherwise, Valentine’s Day was quiet. I picked up food from the restaurant at which Patrick and I had our very first date. We ate it at home and caught up on some television, a very homebody Valentine’s (which was quite right, thank you). The audit has come and gone at work, resulting in only my lab getting a finished (and positive) evaluation. God’s in His heaven, all’s right with the world (well, at home anyway).

As a special treat (and hopefully a start to a semi-routine new feature), I have decided to start down a path of doing some audio recordings. I’ve been taken with all of the podcast excitement lately, and having been a long time listener (first time caller) to talk radio, I want to start doing my own dabbling. I don’t expect to turn out anything amazing, but if I can at least try a few things, perhaps even starting a regular podcast or three, I’ll be happy to have spent the time.

So to start us out, here’s a poem by on of my favorite authors. Its called Strange Music by G.K. Chesterton and is read here by me. Enjoy!

Coming Back and Virgin Dragons

Its been a while. Well, just over a month to be precise. Life’s kept me busy. No time to blog about my 12-hour in-line at Target to purchase a Nintendo Wii. No time to share with you the stories from Patrick and my weekend adventure in Los Angeles. Absolutely no time to discuss my feelings about turning 30 a few weeks back. No time for pics from our 10th annual Christmas party, complaints about the insanities at my various occupations, thoughts on the strange political landscape that’s emerging from the mid-term elections.

No time for any of that, but instead…this! During this time that some of us celebrate the virgin birth of our own Savior, the komodo now have their very own virgin births in December.

The Unexpected Expected Dream

Last night, or maybe it was the early morning hours, I had the dream, a first of many I hope, of my mother. I was waiting around for a carnival ride, or possibly even an outdoor subway entrance. Whatever it was, I was there. The late evening air was thick with smells, but a certain fragrance caught my attention, a scent so familiar yet remained mysterious even to the point of haunting. My interest getting the better of me, I began surveying my surrounds, noticing people walking, talking, making plans. Yet, there was no hint to the familiarity tugging at my memory.

Eventually, the line I was standing in made a tremendous two-steps forward followed by an endless notion of nonlinear advancement. It was during this waiting, that a certain woman approached me. Her hair was curly and golden with shades of light brown weaved in. I knew her face and she strode right up to me and placed a cool but tender finger upon my lips. It was as if she knew I was about to speak, and before I could begin a series of questions � an endless flow of why�s, what�s, where�s, how come�s, etc., she spoke. She told me that she loved me that she has and always will. She went on asking me to tell my aunt she loved her. Brogan, my nephew to be, I was to wish good tidings and kiss his tender cheek for her. She smiled broadly as she held my hand and waited in line with me for some time.

I never felt a need to ask the questions running through my mind, nor did I want this moment to end. It was when the line reached its end, and my destination was at hand, that she turned towards me and kissed me. She looked radiant, like a women truly at peace and completely at home. She turned, placed her finger against her lips as to block the questions brimming to stem forth from my mouth, and walked away.

I knew my mother had come to say goodbye to me and to acknowledge the loss I have felt and the loneliness that remains vacant upon a son�s heart. This was her way of speaking to that void and to fix what she could from her place far away.
I woke up after the vision and cried a long, hard cry. It is unclear at this moment if I feel comforted or even at peace, but I do know that I feel loved. I feel that though mom could not bare to remain in this world, she does ache for the loss of her children and that one-day, she will reunite with us under a different day, with happier hearts and bright, warm tomorrows.

Getting my $9.99 worth

I’m sitting here in the Providence airport mere minutes away from returning to Orlando. I’ve been up in Rhode Island on a work trip for the last two days, and its almost over. So of course, I get out of work early enough to take my sweet time getting to the airport. Still, this IS Rhode Island, so there’s really not much to do off the main thorough fairs.

The only thing remotely noteworthy that I did on my way here was try oysters on the half-shell for the first time. YUCK! I won’t be indulging in that anytime again soon. So, after that excitement, what do I do? Sit in the terminal and grade for my UCF classes. I even sprung the $9.99 for the wireless internet connection, all for my students and my sanity. Joy!

Anyway, things are good. Life keeps moving, and we struggle to keep up with it. Money is being spent so that our house can continue to stay current with the Jones’ household. More things to come in the next month, stayed tuned for pictures!

Breaking up is hard to do (but only if you’re the one doing the breaking)

No, no, Patrick and I are not breaking up. We recently celebrated an important birthday for Patrick out at Disney’s Fort Wilderness, and apart from some rain on Saturday evening, a good time was had by all (that let themselves). For this post, I’m going to open up just a bit about my recent work-related struggles. I’m compelled to stay murky about some things, but I’ll try to give you at least a high level idea of why the last few weeks have been scary/sad/confusing/exciting/and quite mad.

As some of you may or may not know, I work as a contractor for government-related training activities. Nothing dangerous or remotely connected with any of the contractor nastiness you’ve undoubtedly heard about on the news, but government contractor none-the-less. A contracted employee works for a company that has had a task or series of taskings contracted to them from the government. Thus as contracted employees, we work from contract to contract without much of a guarantee of permanence. Having said that, I have worked for the same company with much of the same people on the same general tasking for the last almost 6 years. Quite a pleasant oddity.

Several weeks back, we were told by our company that our current contract was running out, and that the government had not yet announced the new contract award. As such, our company would be forced to lay us off as of a week from this past Friday. Then, true to their word, we all turned in our badges and other necessary items and were laid off as promised.

Almost an entire week passed by without any word, many of us just hanging out waiting to find out when we’d be returning to work. This was fine for me since I returned from camping that Sunday before with quite a nasty sore throat/fever that is still plaguing me somewhat as I write this. I pretty much spent the whole week in and around my bed (with a break for teaching at SCC), anxiously awaiting the official award. Finally, on Thursday, we got word that a different company won the contract but would be hiring us all on immediately to begin work that next day!

This afternoon, we met with some reps from that company, and what an awesome feeling. None of us were exactly pleased with our previous employers, but I can honestly say that all of us are thrilled with pretty much everything about our new ones. We start back on Monday, picking up exactly where we left off two weeks before.

I’m excited by the raw potential that now exists where once murky sameness pervaded. I’ve never really been dumped before by an employer, but this break-up is probably one of the best I could have ever hoped for. For now, that is all.

Why We’re Stressed

My good friend Jake asked me yesterday how the “pet botherer” was doing, to which I replied (I’m summing up here) “better”. As the previous post depicted, Unagii had to go to the vet last week because of his recurring back problems. Pekingese, among other long-backed breeds, are notorious for getting something called IVD or degenerative disc disease. Three years ago, he had a flare up and was first diagnosed with the problem. Then, two weekends back, his back started to bother him again.

The initial vet visit recommended non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs combined with Valium to ease the pain and help him rest enough to heal. While at first this seemed sufficient, he grew worse over the weekend, and on Monday I took him to Affiliated Veterinary Specialists in Maitland to consult with a neurologist. The neurologist’s first choice was to do surgery to remove the hardened material from the disc, but on further discussion we decided to go with the conservative, steroidal approach.

What’s really odd is that I gave Unagii no anti-inflammatory drugs that day we went to AVS, and he only had obvious discomfort that morning during the visit. Since that time (and before he started on the steroids), we’ve observed no muscle spasms in his back. Furthermore, he’s doing much better walking around and appears to be greatly improved. Of course, he’ll be spending most of his time in his kennel throughout the next three weeks while the steroids do their work, and I’m going to insist more vigorously that he use his stairs to come up and down from the bed. He’ll be a little barky, but he’ll get over it. Of course, the remaining Valium will help with that.

Apart from our animal’s health, both our jobs remain somewhat stressful, though for very different reasons. We’re looking forward to September for some relief in that department, but as of next week things will only get a bit more insane. That’s when I’ll begin teaching at UCF with my 6 hours of back-to-back classes for digital media. My plans for the two classes are slowly revealing themselves, but I’ll really need to start making decisions this weekend or next week will be absolutely miserable.

Patrick’s continuing to work miracles with his SLD students, teaching them about the greats of literature and hoping that at least a few of them retain something of value in spite of their troubled academics. Its stressful for him to have students looking up in complete apathy and (sometimes) willful ignorance. Go figure!

That’s the most of it since last we spoke. I’ll be back later with memes, maybe some pictures of the wild-man look that I’m currently sporting, or my new chocolatey cell phone.

The Lord Giveth, and the Lord Taketh Away

No, there’s no drama quite as extreme as the story of Job going on with us, but its still kinda funny how life gives and takes at odd moments without warning. Last Wednesday (as the Rain Delay post visually demonstrates, we got rained out of our usual night at the British pub. Shortly before that happened, however, we found out that business had slowed down over the last few nights and because of that, the bar owner didn’t want to pay for the full trio next time. So as of now, until he changes his mind again, we’re not playing at the British pub.

Earlier that same day, I received an email from Valencia asking me to teach a couple classes for them, one of which was the same class I taught in the spring. It was difficult, but I ultimately declined because of the effects on my work schedule (I’d be away from my full-time job too much during the main business hours). On Friday, I got an IM from a friend (and former student) of mine at Digital Media at UCF. They have yet another class they’d like me to teach. Oy!

So now I’m torn. Taking this additional class would fit in well with my schedule because it meets immediately after the other UCF class and runs after regular work hours. The biggest challenge will be prepping for and teaching two 3 hour classes back-to-back. I need to decide soon, and I’m currently leaning towards doing it. The schedule works, the money will be nice, and the topic is project organization and (some) management, which is something about which I would really like to learn more. What do you guys think?

Finally, to tie us back into the Bible, check this great article about all the recent salivating about the END OF THE WORLD as seen by certain Christians. I grew up in the pre-Left Behind tradition that really got spun up about the Rapture, and it did sometimes breed a lack of maturity in people who were constantly expecting it all to be over. Why should we worry about achieving peace in the Middle East or treating the environment like it will need to be around for more than another generation when Jesus is going to return any minute? Christianity should be about more than just what happens when its over, and for many generations and different denominations, it was.

The dispensationalist Christians working the Republican party these days do not accurate reflect the priorities of Christ and most of His followers throughout history. Of course, in some cases this is a good thing (eg., the Inquisition, Crusades, indulgences, etc.), but on the whole, its rather distorting and counter-productive to spreading the good news. Alright, enough of that, read the article and check out other denominations’ perspectives.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Blonder

My apologies for not posting much recently, but I was spending entirely too much time “conquering the blank page”, “leveraging prior work”, and uh, writing a bunch of bullshit for work (pardon my French).� As such, the last thing I wanted to do was chat on GTalk, much less pull random thoughts and anecdotes from my nethers.� Enough said about that.

Things are better now.� I’ve spent the last few days relaxing, catching up on yard work, Keith Olbermann, and trying to bring my blood pressure back down out of the red zone.� Watching the Daily Show doesn’t help, unfortunately.� There’s too much craziness going on in the world (eg., Israel v. Hizbollah, America v. Terror, Kim Jong Ill v. Sanity) and too many nutters excited about it (eg., rapture-obsessed Christians, Mahdi-obsessed Muslims, South Park-obsessed Scientologists).� Jane!� Stop this crazy thing!

On a happier note, it now appears I’ll be back teaching at UCF this fall.� First, though, some history.� For three years, I taught electronic music technology for the UCF Music Department.� Then, less than a month before the semester started and as part of the ramp-up to accreditation, I was let go because my graduate work wasn’t in music (though it was in technology).� I almost returned to UCF to teach Digital Media this past spring semester, but unfortunately that fell through because of the split in UCF’s College of Arts & Sciences (the adjunct money for the department got slashed).

Well, that same class that I almost taught in the spring has now been offered to me for this fall.� The course is named “Internet and Interaction”, so as an excercise for the reader, I’d like your thoughts on exactly what that should mean.� As a hint, the two technologies that are expected to be taught include Flash and some kind of web programming language (eg., PHP, Perl, Ruby, etc.).� My goal is to carve up a course that includes the above, works in some web services, and really tries to capture the student’s interest.� Oh yeah, and maybe some Marshall McLuhan for good measure.

On top of that, I’ll also be teaching a survey of computer concepts course at Seminole Community College in the fall.� I’m really looking forward to this course because of its broad, shallow scope and non-technical audience.� In addition to the expected computer and Internet basics, I’m going to throw in some basics of programming and Internet cultural items to mix things up.� If I’m really cheeky, I might even find a way to tie in some of my material from the I&I course, my past Web Publishing course, and even my Computer Music course from way back.� Happy Happy, Joy Joy!

Spider asked for a schedule of my band’s performances, so until further notice, here’s the deal.� We’re booked to play the George and Dragon Wednesday nights from 7:30-12:30 until the British tourist season dies down, which typically occurs around October.� After that, we’ll be playing at the Cypress Cove Nudist Resort the Saturday night before Halloween.� Good times!

Finally, here’s a list of do’s and do not’s, from me to you!

Do

• Listen to the new albums by Muse and Radiohead’s Thom Yorke .
• Watch the new season of Cheap Seats on ESPN Classic.
• Check out MST3K’s Mike Nelson and his new project RiffTracks.
• Listen to Drew and Savannah on The Morning After Show on 105.9FM.

Don’t

• Freak out about the end of the world.� Doing the stuff above should help take your mind off the chaos.
• Stop.� Thinking about tomorrow!
• Waste your time watching the new Blade TV series.
• Miss any moment of the Colbert Report or Countdown with Keith Olbermann.

Of Music and Myrtles

Another weekend come and gone, and what do I have to show for it?� Well, thanks to Patrick’s insistence, I did finally get around to replacing that one sprinkler head in the front yard.� Its amazing how something can be so daunting until you’ve done it once, then looking back, how simple it was.� Next up on that list, laying a laminant wood floor in our living/dining rooms.

In other news, we watched two rather exciting pieces of visual fiction this weekend.� First up, Saturday night, Matt and I watched the series two finale of Doctor Who.� I don’t want to spoil anything, but I will say that one Russell T. Davies has written what has to be the biggest, most touching, and most unembarrassed piece of Doctor Who fanfiction ever!� He has done for Doctor Who what Genndy Tartakovsky did for Star Wars in his Clone Wars animations, marry a fans wishlist of cool with what really works in visual storytelling.� I laughed, I cried, I yelled “no way”!� It was, in a word, fantastic!

On Sunday, the household went to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean in DLP at the Waterford Regal.� I was not much of a fan for the first movie, finding the acting to be fun if not cartoonish and the music to be partciularly dreadful and formulaic.� This new one is like the previous, only more so.� Thankfully, with at least the music, Hans Zimmer actually owns up to claiming his distinct music on the credits (the last one listed a member of his studio).� What I find amazing about Hans is that he really has only written a handful of original motives in his years of work which he continual reuses for that very Bruckheimer effect.� Its not that I don’t enjoy it.� I rather enjoy candy and soda and other things that, though quite enjoyable, don’t really contribute much to the nourishment of my body and soul.� If you’re really looking for a great movie score, check out John Ottoman’s score for Superman Returns.� In it, he skillfully reuses John William’s original themes, expanding and augmenting them in ways that just move soul and raise the bumps on your skin.

Lastly, I never realized just how many varieties of crape myrtle there were!� Patrick bought me a strain called “pink velour” a few weeks back, and I’ve only this weekend decided what to do with it.� After going to all three local Home Depots, the closest Lowes, and even our local nursery, I’m still searching for a friend to go with it.� I’d really like to match it exactly, but at this point I might just give up and find two that match, leaving the pink velour for some other, solitary location.� We shall see what the fullness of time reveals.� Will I find a mate for my lonely myrtle, or will I settle for two strangers?� Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion…er, sometime.

My Saturday, Or How I Learned to Stop Fretting and Get Naked

This past Saturday our band played out at a nudist resort in Kissimmee, a place that we’ve played many times in the last several years, usually to an enthusiastic crowd that really appreciates and interacts with us. Sometimes, there are even certain regulars in attendance who’ve made a point of coming up and talking between sets, being incredibly friendly and welcoming. Well, this past Saturday night was no exception.

Things started out a little slow, though, with only a handful of people eating dinner and sitting through our first set. They were a great crowd, but we started wondering if the regulars had all gone out of town or what. Then, as the second set started, people started pouring into the restaurant. Regulars, people we hadn’t seen before, all started filling up the tables and the dance floor. Things were definitely looking up.

Sometime around then, our lead singer Charles announced that “tonight was a great night to be nude” and that sometime later, the sax player (me) would be getting naked. Now, he’s tried this before, several times in fact, and only once was he even marginally successful. That time, there was this one woman there who shall remain nameless, and she somehow persisted enough to get me down to only my underwear (well, and a leather jacket). On Saturday, she and her persistence returned.

It was the end of the third set when things started to deteriorate. Though she had arrived in the second set, I had managed to avoid her direct looks and taunts somehow. Then, out of nowhere, she found me and demanded that I remove on article of clothing per song in the fourth set. This would have been as successful as the previous time if she allowed socks and shoes to count as inidividual items and not pairs, given that we had a set of about 8 songs. Unfortunately, she was not so generous.

I did manage to put things off by sitting out songs (if I didn’t sing or play, I didn’t take anything off), and things then lined up such that I was down to my t-shirt and underwear with only 3 songs left. Given this situation, I was really hoping that one of those would go long and leave us no time for the, er, finale. Of course, Charles knew otherwise.

I also tried valiantly to shield myself by hanging my jeans over the stand, but my taunter would have none of it. She stole my jeans and only promised them back once I had gone the full Monty. So then, with only one song remaining, the moment came when I had to make a decision. I could either take off my underwear and play a song naked, or let down the now throng of taunters that waited below. The decision was tough, but the alcohol helped.

Let me back up a bit. I don’t want you all thinking I’m a lush or one of these musicians who’s absolutely pissed when they’re up on stage. Still, being that I am an introvert, I do find that a few drinks throughout a show really does help grease the wheels, so to speak. My improv skills and overall confidence definitely improve once I’ve achieved a slight buzz. Liquid courage, indeed.

So yeah, I announced to the crowd that “I just want you all to know that I am truly Charles’ whore”, removed my tighty whiteys, flung them up on to Charles’ keyboard (upon whence he winced), and we played our last song of the night. The crowd went wild both before and after the song, and I promptly got dressed. From what I heard after, not much was seen from the dancefloor with all the equipment between us. Only Charles’ wife Brandy even commented after I turned to go backstage - “nice ass, Bryan!”

Oh, and that guy sitting with a sax on his lap? That’s none other than Adolphe Sax, the inventor of the device which both helped get me naked and yet protected said nakedness. I wonder if he ever suspected such a unique usage for his creation.

Comic Books and Monsoons

Its raining, and I love it. I was feeling kinda blue last week without any particular reason in my consciousness, but the rain really helped turn that around. I had the distinct pleasure on Sunday of sitting in my garage and just listening to the rain fall down above me. So far this week, the rain has continued, soaking into the greenscape around me, feeding the plants I have watched struggle to thrive in what should be their growing season. My thoughts are, of course, with those up north who are swimming around their cities to get around. For now, though, I hope the rain continues.

Tomorrow is Superman day at work. Many of us will be seeing the new movie in the early afternoon, which of course makes us all a bit giddy. Having seen what Brian Singer did with the X-Men series, I have high hopes for the studio that brought us the fantastic Batman Begins. Less than 12 hours away!

And now, I’m off to watch some Frontline. Good night, and good luck.

Listening

Thanks to Spider and CB for coming out and listening to the band this past Wednesday. Next week will be busy for us as we’re playing as a trio at the British Pub on Wednesday night and as a full band at the Nudist Resort next Saturday night.

My friend Keri just tagged me with a music posting meme, which I have been meaning to do anyway for a few weeks. In turn, I would also like to pass this along to anyone with a blog who reads these words. Its a pretty easy one, just list the 7 songs (with their respective artist) that you’ve been listening to lately. Here we go (with 3 bonus songs)!

Crazy - Gnarls Barkley
Move Along - All American Rejects
The View from the Afternoon - Artic Monkeys
Not Ready to Make Nice - Dixie Chicks
Apocalypse Please - Muse
Springtime Can Kill You - Jolie Holland
Common People - William Shatner
Ooh La La - Goldfrapp
Soul Meets Body - Death Cab for Cutie
Strictly Genteel - Frank Zappa

Miscellany

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has released another book, and thus to help further her sales has said something rather naughty about 9/11 widows. Whether or not her thoughts on how victims can be afforded an unfair amount of protection for their political views is valid, she is definitely using a rather vulgar amount of rhetoric to advance her business interests (ie., sell more books). I think that this profitting off the statements about the 9/11 widows is unarguably more reprehensible than victims of any tragedy speaking out from their unique and unfortunate perspectives. On 9/11, we were not all widows, and we should respect those who were’s opinions for what they are - personal, passionate, and uniquely informing.

In better news, I had a beautiful moment at the airport Saturday night upon returning from DC where upon my mp3 player performed the Mark Isham’s title music from Crash at just the right moment. That track usually makes my hairs dance with delight anyway, but this combination of the right place (airport terminal) and the most sympathetic frame of mind (that post-disembarkment calm) with Isham’s glorious sweeping synths just about blew my mind. Music for Airports 2: Electric Boogaloo?

Speaking of global warming, I had the good fortune to find myself invited to see An Inconvenient Truth while up in Washington D.C.. Just as a warning, I have developed quite a fondness for our planet in the last 29 years of my life, so I might just have some bias when it comes to the issue of protecting it. I also cannot see the serious, long-term harm in being overcautious about the environment. Even if human society doesn’t contribute significantly to the trends seen in global warming (which would be against the vast majority of scientific findings), wouldn’t it just be safer to assume the worst and try to mitigate what we’re doing? I’m not going to go on about this other than to just suggest, whatever your opinion on the matter, to be more informed about the facts, whichever side they support.

Finally, as we all in Florida look incredulously at our weather reports (its only mid-June!!!), let’s talk about God (deities, man). I am reading such an interesting book on the development of God in the world’s major religions. A History of God by Karen Armstrong was my travelling companion last week on the flights to and from DC. I must admit that I’m a rather slow non-fiction reader and am thus only up through the first 100 pages, but even still I am receiving such a great refresher course in theology! I’ve always been fascinated with theology and used to study and argue it with my teachers at ye ol’ Protestant parochial school, but its been far too long since I last seriously tucked into it. Another post, perhaps, I’ll share with you some of what I’ve learned and relearned.