I felt like Buckner walking back into Shea... of course, that particular analogy doesn't entirely fit when you consider that he has already walked back into Fenway Park, this now only 22 years after the crime. However, there I was walking back into a local public high school, albeit as a substitute teacher but even so, it was a bit intimidating at the first because I found myself walking IN around the lunch room, not really sure if I should be parking in the staff lot or not, so I did the best I could to blend in with the locals. Children have not changed much since I last experienced them, this alone does not particularly surprise me because of the fact that times do change but the human essence remains intact. Like Anne Lamott said, we can't be too sure that Mary didn't want to whoop on Jesus every now and then too. Think of the story of Jesus in the Temple conversing with the scholars of Torah, and even then, he gave them some lip. SO it goes with the average high schooler. Trying to make their way into the big cruel high school world by being the biggest sassers on the block. And God forbid they don't establish themselves, excedpt in the small pack of kids who will hang out with them and will accept them for who they are... then they get really verbal, not just trying to mouth off to you, but trying to mouth off to everyone around them.... in that sense, I felt sheepish, I felt like I wasn't nipping their behavior in the bud enough...like I needed to really gop after a couple of them, chop their heads off and show it off to the rest of them... see what happens when you f**k with me & my mighty sword?? But it begs the question as to why teachers would want to simply ignore the problem and hope that it solves itself. Or skirt the issue in some way, shape or form. But they are smart enough or no doubt learn that with the students it has to be a wrestling match if you're going to complete your objectives. It's just that you're never really sure if that is what is currently slapping you in the face as it comes. You start talking and imparting imformation or spreading the seeds of knowledge and next thing you know, you got somebody talking right over you as you go, as if you are not even there in front of them... wrestling with your muscles pumped. You think that within the last few seconds, perhaps they forgot that I was just about to tell something to the whole class, you think that maybe they figured since you were talking that you wouldn't be able to notice the fact that they were now going to talk while you were. How very strange that such a thing should happen.
At any rate, I did it, after all, and made some small victories for myself in the process by adapting to a bit of a screwy schedule. Welcome to the Big Time that schedule shuffle seemed to be saying to me. and so I did. You got to accentuate your positives and most of all, I refused to fall into the Substitute trap of just going by the game plan. If they were going to be in the same room as me, I figured I might as well talk to them about a few things. And offer them a chance at maybe seeing the Big Picture. God knows I never did. Not in high school, sometime in college and only occasionally, in real life. Maybe it's gotten better, the jury's still out on that one, but at least I'm starting to see how educators build larger frames of the puzzle. And you can start to see how you make that puzzle come together, knowing that with it, students will hopefully be able to gather together some of that puzzle and learn how a story is put together, how to link together the narrative, so to speak.

Today would be an incredible nap day me thinks... yet another dull white, colorless sky

for us here in Omaha... the original proponent of naps I ran into this weekend. Laura

Heinemann or Weber not sure if she's taken on Chris' name yet. But the story goes for those who have not heard it yet that she and her roommate Holly had a loft in their dorm room

in college, a loft that they had borrowed or bought from people who had lived there before, on which someone had neatly written the phrase, "Naps are Nice," which was actually a mantra

for many of us back in those days. College is great for that because it often created that deep relaxed state, ingesting volumes and volumes of intellgence and knowledge for the self... then you would be right in the frame of mind for a long bout of deep sleep.

Naps are Nice. My favorite place to stop and take a nap would have been-hands-down- the Creighton library basement with their long cushioned couches, or even better take two cushioned chairs, push them together and off to bliss you go... the slight buzz from the weak florescent light, the ultra-silent library atmosphere and the cool temperature of the basement, surrounded by all those books, made for heavy dreaming. I found the poetry section in that library too, unrivaled so far by most book stores or other libraries that I've seen.

#2- my parents couch at their house in Florida. Now granted I have to travel 1500 miles and get a quiet moment to myself to get it, but man, the cool leather and the quietude of their living room, the combination leaves me waking up with drool on my lips EVERY time. The leather is soft and malleable to the skin and I know that I have a tendency to feel as if I am falling into the cushion. It's kind of like that scene in Trainspotting where the camera gives us the perception that Ewan MacGregor is falling down INTO the couch entirely.

Up on the hilltop below the Crescent Hotel, Stations of the Cross leading to the Crucifixion, outside of St. Elizabeth Catholic Church, afternoon.

link to St. Elizabeth Catholic Church if you are interested in history. I will have to take a look at this page myself... I went inside and said a little prayer for my friends and family.
http://www.eurekavacation.com/history/church.phtm

View from the Crescent Hotel, Observation Desk, We had a soda even though they did not have any lemonade. You could see the whole valley of that stretch of the Ozark Mountains, Arkansas.

This is going across the bridge from Beaver to Eureka Springs. Heavy rains and late winter flooding have brought the waters up very high against the bridge, but they keep it in operation. If a high tide going over the bridge makes you queasy then you better stay on your side of the river. You have to stop on either side of this bridge and check to make sure no one is crossing. It is a one lane bridge. Wha-hooo!

We ended up kayaking on this lake on the left side of the bridge, and in order to get this bridge, you would have had to jump onto another wooden bridge, older than this one, grab your kayak, flip it over to the other side and get back in on the other side...

From Main Street, Eureka Springs looking up at the Basin Park, from the main strip of Eureka Springs, the backs of those houses are misleading except for the fact that most houses and restaurants and shops are built into the geology of the hills on which they sit. The Basin Park hotel is a bit of a centerpiece to the town, sort of helping to create the aura of timelessness and long-standing status of the community... it's like a mining town that went in the direction of being a cultural haven for all the flagging spirits of the south and midwest.

http://www.basinpark.com/history.php

One good-looking woman with pretty eyes and an infectious smile next to an equally good-looking fella. (Brooke told me to say that about myself :)

How do you work creatively with the idea of trust. Primarily, trust that God is not trying to fool you by placing wonderous things in your life... I have this black cloud that comes over me when I'm at odds with the rest of the world and the people around me. People may say they want this in their life, they want that in their life. They can point to specifics- the location that they live, a hobby that they want to tackle, take on for themselves, people they want to meet, challenges they want to undertake, degrees to be gotten. I have seen that some of these accomplishments, and the pursuit thereof, will allow for a certain degree of self-esteem within each person and allow them to have a sense of individuality as time goes on, true enough- I have been there before, but I don't know how really, only that it was some sort of Jungian miracle of arranging particualr ideas, beliefs, attitudes, and behaviors in such a way that I was able to overcome my self-will run riot long enough to smell the roses and take up my bed and walk again. Good riddance. But I'm still of the ilk that believes to myself, that more than anything I want that black cloud to disappear, so that every light-handed (or otherwise sleighting of my personality NOT be taken as a personal affront... that these things should NOT be cutting me to my entire being, because I am very capable of interpreting information processed by another person, who may NOT have all the facts regarding the case, and even so, may simply NOT be trying to undermine my ability to live as I would like to. This goes for No One. I simply want to learn a greater sense of resilience. So that hurt feelings become just that: feelings. Not a window to the larger reality, not a reflection of my place in the universe.
That is why I seek the removal of the black cloud, to regain my place in the lives of those around me as a person who can be trusted, loved, wanted, needed. A person who doesn't flounder around looking for people to acknowledge my feelings. Too much of my life wasted in that endeavor rather than spent in contributing to life.

The Artist Starving Merely By Virtue of his Slowdown in Writing.


Hey, it's the economic climate after all. That's where it began you see, when the economy started taking a dive. Into the tank. But it wasn't, it became less than expedient to write it seemed. What did the Artist really have to say that he hadn't said already. Noone wants to listen to the broken record, not the least of whom is the Artist himself. But in so doing, he knows he's depriving himself and his fans of his artifice. Which he is also trying to improve upon. Ecchh, you see it's a messy cycle and the artist himself abhors -- yes, it's the right word-- the development of the cycle. So he comes around full circle. Just because he does not want to get stuck in cycles, particularly ones where he finds his emotional being starving itself to death, he decides he has to take his pen and walk again. Stagger though he will, Use maybe week verbs, battle his inner critic, which is a staunch Torie supporter from the British Parliament, a man who wears wigs and a monocle. A real jerkoff if you'd ever meet him. He hangs out with the Fashion Police, The Committee of Mortal & Venial Sin Establishers, and of course, The Weight Control Nazis. His affiliations are with the Grammar Stiflers. At any rate, The Artist understands that from time to time he will have to confront and sometimes undermine this Inner Critic character. But some things cannot be avoided, should not be avoided at any cost. This isn't a message about talent in any way. The talent is there and has been there for years, but it's how it is used that is in question. Not a question. It needs to be used. Now he takes on another villain, that of the Publishing Department, should he make his thoughts publicly known or keep them within the realm of his own world of ideas. He knows why he likes to publish, because then it isn't something he should ever feel ashamed of, or ever doubt its validity. If he publishes, then he gives it up to the ether. For its own usage. Et cetera.