Friday, December 02, 2022

what our soldier boys do to unwind

I have a student who was a US soldier stationed in Syria at the start of their civil war. He has told me some wild and depressing stories.

Yesterday in class, I asked my students for their coping mechanisms for their worst jobs. After class, the former soldier told me after class that, when in Syria, all his squad survived on Egyptian cigarettes and an Iranian energy drink that included cocaine.

I promise not to complain about my job again...or at least for the next minute or so.

shopping, memories, and gum

One of the weird things about having a job without the standard 9-5 jobs is that you get to do things at times where normal working folk are...well, working.

I went to the grocery store today at one in the afternoon. Normal grocery store hijinks ensued (a mix of "Hey, raspberries are only 50 cent a container?" and "Why is the queso fresco in with the store brand cheddar and not with the international cheeses?"), and I moved into checkout before something interesting happened.

After unloading the groceries onto the conveyor, my eyes settled on the gum area. Gum designers (if there is such a thing) really love the colors blue and green. I guess they are the mintiest colors? But then I saw one of the few holdouts: purple packaging.

I immediately grabbed the grape gum and was simultaneously hit by a deep wave of nostalgia, and I was seven years old again. My father was in the air force, and I grew up (through first grade, anyway) on a base in Germany. For some reason, the base grocery store didn't stock bubble gum. I dunno why. Maybe President Ford had a bad gum experience or something.

My grandmother would send over packages every so often, and, when we were very lucky, she'd throw in a couple of box of Bubble Yum, mixed between regular and grape. It was a treat, and we would, while it lasted, be kings of the school yard...rare Bubble Gum could be traded for favors. During first grade, I even got in trouble for running a little bit of a Bubble Yum black market.

I blink my eyes, and I'm back in the grocery store line. Suddenly, I realize my nostalgia was for a minor event that happened over four decades before...and I feel really, really old. Then I look around me, and I realize 90 percent of the shoppers are senior citizens, and now I don't know what to think at all. I pay for my groceries and wander off to find my car.

The grape gum (not Bubble Yum, by the way) tasted more like the color purple than an actual fruit, and it list all flavor in about seventeen seconds. The nostalgia, though?

That stuck around.

Wednesday, November 16, 2022

adulting is hard

I'm currently waiting for new tires to be installed on my car. I'm at Costco rather than a tire store. This means that, for the first time in my life, I'm waiting on tires but not able to read a fishing magazine. It's weird.

The tire tech, while ringing me up, kept referring to me as "boss." Now, I'm killing time while trying to decide if "boss" is a label of working class camaraderie or a coded way of acknowledging that I am indeed fat.

I never used to think like this when I was a teen.

Wednesday, November 09, 2022

my child's thoughts, early holiday edition

I was driving my daughter to school today, and we passed a house that had already put up Christmas lights.

My daughter: "I HATE people who put up Christmas decorations right after Halloween."

Me: "If it makes you feel better, when I saw the lights last night when driving home from voting, I yelled at them."

Her: "I was playing Roblox yesterday, I had someone come up and wish me a Merry Christmas. They were wearing a Christmas sweater, and antlers, and everything."

She takes a beat. "I really, really hate overenthusiastic Christmas people."

Ah, my progeny.

Sunday, October 30, 2022

center of attention

I feed my cats every day around 11. This means that from 10 am or so, I am the center of their attention. They stalk me, meow at me, follow me, paw at me, look at me with adulation, swat at me, mock me, and so forth.

Now I know how the Kardashians feel 

Friday, October 28, 2022

this i promise you...

In the last few years, I have begun to feel a desire to bring back cool elements from the past. I started to wear waistcoats when I teach. I bought an Indiana Jones hat. That kind of stuff.

Now I'm contemplating more frequently incorporating dead vocabulary into my speech. I already slide in "amongst" instead of "among." But it's time to step it up.

The next time I feel the need to insult someone, I will call the person in question a "one-eyed, hair -brained jackaninny."

It will be epic.

Thursday, October 27, 2022

why don't I have an official soundtrack?

 My life needs more drama.

I've often thought about how the first day of any class I teach should open with flashing lights and a theme song. I could enter the classroom like a professional wrestler. It would be cool. I'm not sure the students would be any more excited than normal, though.

What I really need is a digital music player that catalogs my music, labels it according to mood, and allows me to play music accordingly. Angry? Push a button, and suitable music comes on. Another button for boredom, another button for depression, another button for thrill-seeking behavior.

Again, venture capitalists can e-mail me.

Wednesday, October 26, 2022

pay me for my ideas

I was listening to a podcast on technology, and it occurred to me that we're thinking about online data all wrong. 

Everything we do online gets tracked. So far, all this information is only used to sell us custom advertisements. This is such a waste. Half the time, it means targeted ads for things I just bought. 

There has to be a better way.

I can imagine a service that tracks your internet travels and ties them to career paths and work satisfaction. That way, 20-somethings can pay a slight fee to find out what their ideal career should be, based on how their interests align with those of established professionals.

I got ideas. E-mail me, all you venture capitalists.

is this how they describe me?

Today, on the way to her school, my daughter was telling me about a classy. "He's annoying."

"Annoying, how? In what way?"

"He's like a higher-vocabulary version of an annoying kid from last year."

My girl has a way with words.