I promised more today, and so here goes.
Yesterday was the Boss's birthday. She turned twenty two and is just as hot and smart as the day we got married. I maintain that I am the only mistake she's ever made.
We were originally going to go to dinner with some friends and then to see Iron Man 2, but the plans fell through, so we just had a quiet night at home.
Woke up this morning and got ready to go to the neighborhood clean up and BBQ. I was supposed to take my grill. The last time I used it we made Teryaki chicken, and that really gums up the bottom, so I scrapped it out and noticed some corrosion on the burner. When I went to fire it up, the burner sputtered and then shot flames out the blowback valve.
Long story short, fifty bucks and 2 hours later I got my grill over to the park just in time to find out they didn't need me after all. If there was a prize for last place, I'd finish second.
While that was going on my mother called to tell me that my niece, who is training for consideration to get into the US Olympic gymnastics program, had landed badly on a dismount from the beam and had collapsed to the ground in agony. She began to go into shock and was taken from the gym by ambulance to the emergency room. The doctors said that she had ruptured her patellar tendon and they decided to do emergency surgery this afternoon before it could swell too much. If they waited, it would have taken weeks for the swelling to go back down, and it would complicate her recovery. So she's going to be spending the next month and a half in a cast.
If you listen really hard you can almost hear the train whistle echoing down the tunnel....
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Link to Something Kind
Right after I posted, I saw this on one of my favorite BYU Blogs. Since I know I just reccomended that you ignore the media, I thought I'd pass this one on. The part you'd be interested in is at the bottom of the post.
Football: Ninth member of the class of 2011 commits to BYU
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Football: Ninth member of the class of 2011 commits to BYU
Posted using ShareThis
Back Again
Well....
It's been a while. I'm not sure I want to go everywhere yet, but if I don't start writing again soon, I'll lose whatever skills I might have had to begin with.
It's been a miserable kind of month for me; my self-esteem has taken some real shots (and when you are a self described fat, bald, blind, unemployed, layabout...self-esteem is in short supply on a good day).
First (and least important) was I had to shave my beard. I had a beard continuously from about the time that Haggis was born 13 years ago, so shaving was not something I wanted to do. But it was a requirement for an internship that I was trying to get and it could have lead to pretty sweet employment. I'd do anything to take the pressure off the Boss, up to and including the systematic removal of essential body parts. And a beard is definitely an essential body part for the Male Homosapien.
I've said it before and I'll say it again...If the good Lord didn't want men to have beards, why did he give them facial hair?
The result was I felt about 10 years old again, and discovered that I have a second chin that I was not aware of. Add the double chin to the swollen eye, the bald pate, and fat features, and I looked into the mirror and echoed my cousin's son who once said "I'm a Monster!" (Except I didn't like it).
I spent two weeks at the internship, teaching each morning and spending my evenings doing prep work. Since I will probably never find work as a teacher of English, teaching Seminary seemed like a pretty good opportunity for a paycheck.
I personally did not enjoy Seminary (for the Non-Mormon, Seminary is a daily version of Sunday School for teenagers), and was always a little offended when someone suggested that I would be a good Seminary teacher. It just wasn't my cup of postum if you know what I mean. What I know about scripture study, I learned from my Dad and on my mission and by applying the skills I learned in the study of secular lit.
But a year ago, it was finally apparent that the English thing wasn't going to work. So the Boss and I prayed and fasted and went to the Temple and got the very distinct answer that I should start the teacher development courses at the University of Utah Religious Institute.
I had barely learned that just because the Lord tells you to do something (i.e go back to school and get an English degree) doesn't mean that is for the reasons you think it is (otherwise, I'd be teaching somewhere right now, right?). So I didn't want to get sucked into the idea that I was going to be a Seminary teacher. After all, they told us at the start that from a strictly statistical ratio the odds were better for us to get into Harvard's grad school than to finish their program.
I guess they hadn't seen my grades, because with my misspent youth dragging me down, I scraped into graduation with a 3.0. I might have had a shot at being a seminary teacher. Harvard was an impossibility.
Each year the seminary training program starts with around a hundred or so applicants and whittles down from there. By the time we finished the year of classes, we were down to fifty. Those of us that were left got a two week internship, after which they selected twelve to become year long student teachers. Of those, they usually hire three or four as regular staff.
I finished my internship last Thursday. It had gone pretty well, and I was really happy with it. My first observed class was Wednesday and it went alright. The advisor said some complimentary things and the class was responding well.
Thursday was a whole different ball o' wax.
In spite of much prayer and fasting, I taught the worst class I have ever taught. It was classic Fatdaddy implosion. I made several rookie mistakes, not the least of which was not knowing they had changed the bell schedule and nearly ended the class ten minutes early. I recovered OK, but by then it didn't matter.
I'm pretty sure the regular teacher is still picking parts of my toes out of his whiteboard 'cuz I shot myself in the foot with at least a 12 gauge. I knew as soon as I started teaching that day I was doomed...but at least I went down swinging. I have no regrets about my preparation or effort, it just wasn't meant to be. I did what I had to do.
Like I said, I knew that just because I had been told to take the classes didn't mean the Lord wanted me as a Seminary teacher. But when they called and told me that I wasn't one of those moving on, I felt like I'd been kicked in the head anyway. Somewhere down the line I had convinced myself that this was going to be the ticket out of the long black cave of the last five years, and to have it crash down that abruptly was not pleasant.
"If it makes you feel better, you were in the top twenty," they told me. Since it didn't pay any better than fiftieth, it didn't; but I was tactful enough to keep that to myself.
Once again, I find myself without direction. To paraphrase Moroni, "I have no job, nor where to go."
"Close, but no cigar" is rapidly becoming the odds on favorite to find itself on my family crest.
I've been checking the employment sections but I don't need to tell you how depressing that is. I can't even go back to the old warehouse gigs because even with the improvements in my sight, I'm an accident about to happen on a forklift.
So between the work that I was putting in while I taught and the black despair that has inhabited me since, I haven't had that much to laugh about of late. I hope that this is a satisfactory excuse for leaving you all hanging for the better part of the last month.
Of course all this was put into perspective yesterday when I heard some truly devastating news. My uncle's brother was killed in an accident at work. I know exactly what kind of pain my uncle must be feeling. Losing a brother is like having part of you amputated. Nothing seems real, and you have to work to convince yourself that it actually happened. Especially in this type of accident, where a sudden death is a mixed blessing. You are grateful that it was quick and painless, but you mourn the lost opportunity to say what you need to. The shock helps numb the pain, but keeps you from coming to acceptance of it.
The only advice I can give is to stay away from TV's and Newspapers for a while. The callous ignorance and tactless rush to judgement by the media and general public would cause further pain and suffering that you don't need right now. The stupidity of the human race can surprise you at a time like this. Focus on the love of those around you. We'll help you with this burden, if you'll let us. But it'll be hard for a while. In the mean time, I'll stick with my practice of posting a poem that says things better than I can.
More Tomorrow.
Promise
It's been a while. I'm not sure I want to go everywhere yet, but if I don't start writing again soon, I'll lose whatever skills I might have had to begin with.
It's been a miserable kind of month for me; my self-esteem has taken some real shots (and when you are a self described fat, bald, blind, unemployed, layabout...self-esteem is in short supply on a good day).
First (and least important) was I had to shave my beard. I had a beard continuously from about the time that Haggis was born 13 years ago, so shaving was not something I wanted to do. But it was a requirement for an internship that I was trying to get and it could have lead to pretty sweet employment. I'd do anything to take the pressure off the Boss, up to and including the systematic removal of essential body parts. And a beard is definitely an essential body part for the Male Homosapien.
I've said it before and I'll say it again...If the good Lord didn't want men to have beards, why did he give them facial hair?
The result was I felt about 10 years old again, and discovered that I have a second chin that I was not aware of. Add the double chin to the swollen eye, the bald pate, and fat features, and I looked into the mirror and echoed my cousin's son who once said "I'm a Monster!" (Except I didn't like it).
I spent two weeks at the internship, teaching each morning and spending my evenings doing prep work. Since I will probably never find work as a teacher of English, teaching Seminary seemed like a pretty good opportunity for a paycheck.
I personally did not enjoy Seminary (for the Non-Mormon, Seminary is a daily version of Sunday School for teenagers), and was always a little offended when someone suggested that I would be a good Seminary teacher. It just wasn't my cup of postum if you know what I mean. What I know about scripture study, I learned from my Dad and on my mission and by applying the skills I learned in the study of secular lit.
But a year ago, it was finally apparent that the English thing wasn't going to work. So the Boss and I prayed and fasted and went to the Temple and got the very distinct answer that I should start the teacher development courses at the University of Utah Religious Institute.
I had barely learned that just because the Lord tells you to do something (i.e go back to school and get an English degree) doesn't mean that is for the reasons you think it is (otherwise, I'd be teaching somewhere right now, right?). So I didn't want to get sucked into the idea that I was going to be a Seminary teacher. After all, they told us at the start that from a strictly statistical ratio the odds were better for us to get into Harvard's grad school than to finish their program.
I guess they hadn't seen my grades, because with my misspent youth dragging me down, I scraped into graduation with a 3.0. I might have had a shot at being a seminary teacher. Harvard was an impossibility.
Each year the seminary training program starts with around a hundred or so applicants and whittles down from there. By the time we finished the year of classes, we were down to fifty. Those of us that were left got a two week internship, after which they selected twelve to become year long student teachers. Of those, they usually hire three or four as regular staff.
I finished my internship last Thursday. It had gone pretty well, and I was really happy with it. My first observed class was Wednesday and it went alright. The advisor said some complimentary things and the class was responding well.
Thursday was a whole different ball o' wax.
In spite of much prayer and fasting, I taught the worst class I have ever taught. It was classic Fatdaddy implosion. I made several rookie mistakes, not the least of which was not knowing they had changed the bell schedule and nearly ended the class ten minutes early. I recovered OK, but by then it didn't matter.
I'm pretty sure the regular teacher is still picking parts of my toes out of his whiteboard 'cuz I shot myself in the foot with at least a 12 gauge. I knew as soon as I started teaching that day I was doomed...but at least I went down swinging. I have no regrets about my preparation or effort, it just wasn't meant to be. I did what I had to do.
Like I said, I knew that just because I had been told to take the classes didn't mean the Lord wanted me as a Seminary teacher. But when they called and told me that I wasn't one of those moving on, I felt like I'd been kicked in the head anyway. Somewhere down the line I had convinced myself that this was going to be the ticket out of the long black cave of the last five years, and to have it crash down that abruptly was not pleasant.
"If it makes you feel better, you were in the top twenty," they told me. Since it didn't pay any better than fiftieth, it didn't; but I was tactful enough to keep that to myself.
Once again, I find myself without direction. To paraphrase Moroni, "I have no job, nor where to go."
"Close, but no cigar" is rapidly becoming the odds on favorite to find itself on my family crest.
I've been checking the employment sections but I don't need to tell you how depressing that is. I can't even go back to the old warehouse gigs because even with the improvements in my sight, I'm an accident about to happen on a forklift.
So between the work that I was putting in while I taught and the black despair that has inhabited me since, I haven't had that much to laugh about of late. I hope that this is a satisfactory excuse for leaving you all hanging for the better part of the last month.
Of course all this was put into perspective yesterday when I heard some truly devastating news. My uncle's brother was killed in an accident at work. I know exactly what kind of pain my uncle must be feeling. Losing a brother is like having part of you amputated. Nothing seems real, and you have to work to convince yourself that it actually happened. Especially in this type of accident, where a sudden death is a mixed blessing. You are grateful that it was quick and painless, but you mourn the lost opportunity to say what you need to. The shock helps numb the pain, but keeps you from coming to acceptance of it.
The only advice I can give is to stay away from TV's and Newspapers for a while. The callous ignorance and tactless rush to judgement by the media and general public would cause further pain and suffering that you don't need right now. The stupidity of the human race can surprise you at a time like this. Focus on the love of those around you. We'll help you with this burden, if you'll let us. But it'll be hard for a while. In the mean time, I'll stick with my practice of posting a poem that says things better than I can.
More Tomorrow.
Promise
Not tested above what I can bear,
A promise made to me.
But hid from view,
All that I knew;
How much testing may that be?
I thank Thee for Thy confidence,
I’m not worthy of Thy trust
My will is wanting,
The world, taunting;
My own faith dries like dust.
Heavenward I stretch my prayer,
Oh Father! Hear me weep!
Tears wring out,
I begin to doubt!
And then, a restless sleep….
“I hear your cry, my troubled son
I share your tears this night.
Peace, be still,
This is my will;
I’ll make this burden light.
I have not forgot my promise
Place this thought past any other
For your true worth,
Hidden at your birth
You are my little brother!
I’ll help you all you want me to,
Hold you close, and lead your way,
But it’s still your choice,
To hear my voice;
And do my work this day.
And if you follow where I lead,
Be sure, I know the path.
The clouds will lift
This is my gift
You’ll share all Our Father hath.”
A promise made to me.
But hid from view,
All that I knew;
How much testing may that be?
I thank Thee for Thy confidence,
I’m not worthy of Thy trust
My will is wanting,
The world, taunting;
My own faith dries like dust.
Heavenward I stretch my prayer,
Oh Father! Hear me weep!
Tears wring out,
I begin to doubt!
And then, a restless sleep….
“I hear your cry, my troubled son
I share your tears this night.
Peace, be still,
This is my will;
I’ll make this burden light.
I have not forgot my promise
Place this thought past any other
For your true worth,
Hidden at your birth
You are my little brother!
I’ll help you all you want me to,
Hold you close, and lead your way,
But it’s still your choice,
To hear my voice;
And do my work this day.
And if you follow where I lead,
Be sure, I know the path.
The clouds will lift
This is my gift
You’ll share all Our Father hath.”
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