On my death bed, will I repent? Will I apologize for: * breaking the window * cheating on the test * spitting at Dad * snooping through her things * never loving you
Isn’t It Pretty to Think So?
Royals encamp vacation bliss Loathed, yet needed by the townies Summer after summer our beach invaded Some tipped well some we only saw up their nostrils The love-hate was mostly hate Save Vanessa — sweet 'Nessa It felt so real authentic She was different I thought within my bubble of puppy love Strolls on the boardwalk bike rides beyond the park hands held at the movies awkward, like Hermie Royals reinstall every June The Wainwrights never returned ---- On some nights for no reason at all in silent guilt, while my love rejuvenates I search for Vanessa - What is she doing? - What does she look like? - Did she marry? - Have children? A connection to my "new love" -Why didn't she come back?
Oh, this one needs work . . .
New Kid (New Kid, #1)
New Kid by Jerry Craft
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
With colleagues at my school, I am in a book club. We’ve been reading teacher-y books. There was discussion that I missed for an upcoming read. One of the suggestions was this book. I always enjoy suggestions from others. I found this on Hoopla.
Jordan, a black boy, is sent to a ritzy private school. He worries whether he will fit in.
The story is rather remarkable. It isn’t filled with the stereotypical fodder that books like this usually have. Jordan is not down on his luck. He isn’t a financial aid student nor is he there just to fill quotas. But he does encounter some of the racist, devaluing human experiences. And he works through them.
Jerry Craft indeed crafted a very well told story. I thought Jordan’s insight as to being called the wrong name was very well done. The other person isn’t even giving you the time to insult you.
I enjoyed this read.
The book club at work selected to read this for our book study. The discussion that ensued was interesting. I learned that my job is not what I thought it was. I thought I was hired to teach reading, writing, mathematics, and other academic subjects. I was informed I was to teach students to love themselves. It was suggested that I overhaul the materials used to provide diversity as though an individual teacher has that kind of power.
The overriding takeaway, however, was the confirmation of an observation that I made several years ago: people want to talk about themselves. I found it interesting that in a discussion about diversity, I felt unheard. True, I didn’t speak up. As a white male, my voice in a diversity discussion is not valued. “Everything” is catered to me, so I have nothing to add, it is perceived.
So, in the book about attending a fancy private school and not fitting in my voice of being just like the main character wouldn’t have gone down well (wrong color). Or as a man in a predominantly female profession, expressing my feelings of being an outcast would not have been valued (wrong gender). If I corrected the mischaracterization of something said, I would have been scoffed as
“old school.”
No, I practiced my best Aaron Burr: talk less, smile more.
Tax Day
Fifteen years or so ago, I asked my colleagues what was special about the day. But a few could tell me it was Pearl Harbor Day. Today is tax day, but I suspect it would be equally unknown.
Unlike Pearl Harbor, however, I believe why 15 April is not noteworthy is because it is no longer a hard date. Every year in recent history, it seems, the date to file taxes is extended.
When there is no deadline, just a moving target, then the audience doesn’t have motivation to get the job done.
I’ll be the first one to call for the end of income taxes altogether, but that isn’t going to happen. So, since it needs to be done, have a hard deadline. If April isn’t ideal for some reason, change the date. I am okay with that. But have a date and keep to it.
For me, this is an indication that we are too loose with our standards.
Lost (Batman: Dark Victory #4)
Lost by Jeph Loeb
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Loeb’s storytelling is good. I’ve had a break between #3 and $4, but I am easily able to pick up the story. Two Face is missing. Batman seeks him out in the city’s underground. There he encounters Solomon Grundy who Batman has tranqulized. Batman sees parallels in their lives including Two Face: isloated, brooding, alone. I can relate.
Meanwhile, Catwoman propositions Sofia. She promises to retrieve Sofia’s dead father’s corpse in exchange for $1,000,000.
Jim misses Barbara. He informs the new DA that he will assemble a secret task force of new officers who Chief O’Hara recommended before he died to investigate Harvey’s disappearance.
Life
the memory vivid yet gray enlightens and punishes within life
Home Computing 2021
Jesse’s cemetery cache
GC8YB0V
39.256267 -74.984583
The weather has turned. The days are longer. Despite wanting to geocache today, it became somewhat of a lazy day with the children playing games and watching television. They are so into the Good Doctor!
Anyhow, early this evening, I took a ride. I was heading one way when I decided I wanted to go another. And here was this geocache. I’ve cached this area previously, yet I don’t ever recall seeing this one listed. I think senility has settled in as how could I have not seen this before?
Nevertheless, I diverted myself over this way and made the easy find. I can’t recall ever having been to this cemetery before, but given the above, who knows?
The contents were a bit damp, but nothing is ruined. Was able to sign the log without trouble.
Thank you for placing this for me to find today; I appreciate it.
Fragile
Silence is the maddening straitjacket of my life, constricting me I wear dark blue and gray so as not to stand out among the pink-darned argyle and red-headed coiffed hipsters of the city I make hidden allusions for my entertainment that will be lost either due to my continued isolation or the progress of my mind's disease Seemingly anything said or done ultimately garners negativity so I continue to contract to reduce my footprint to wallow to hide to live in my shell like Naomi's preacher my own private turtle Muted . . . for my own protection
Bowling
Enjoy hanging with the watotos! Interestingly, we didn’t have to wear masks once at our lane. That is the first sign here in New Jersey that things are lightening up.