new day, old dawn.
same old sun, same old song.
robbed at the peak of sleepytime
wake up, woke up.
close your eyes, close my eyes.
drift back to days left untouched
and bring them your pain and your smile.
my pain and your smile
my pain and my smile.
rush little lady, but don't say a word
time will be before those who haven't heard
we must let ourselves be forgotten to be reborn.
found in each of us, ourselves, not the same as before.

crossroads

this past year has been very interesting in the workplace. a lot of experience has been gained by simply observing, both students and faculty. i have witnessed many ill-advised techniques, most of the time with the person using the technique meaning well. more information, more opportunities.

currently i am at a full time sub position and will be here until the school year ends in a few weeks. i have decided to switch this blog up a little bit and post some of my own writing. it's nothing extraordinary, but i like typing and have been really trying to find a reason to use this space more, so why not.

most of the posts will be copied from a notebook i write in and i am not going to title anything. some posts will include the date it was written orginally, some won't.


riding my bike home from crocker farm, the black was black and the road was near invisible. the air felt amazingly clean and fresh and a touch of chill made its way under my shirt. as i rode along, taking my hands off the bar, the night drove me on, never rushing, but driving home a brisk pace. hands open, arms outstretched, mouth wide, eyes fixed above, attempting to take in all of the night sky. big dipper, orion, the only two i know, big dipper the only one i spot. branches whiz by overhead, obstructing my view, adding to my secludedness, my perfect. mouth still wide open as the corners slowly creep their way up to my cheek bones, creating a wild smile. words don't, won't come as a joyful exhale turns into a roaring yolp, becoming a part of the night. my eyes once again look skyward, underwhelming me with simplicity, yet astounding me with a clarity so often sought. found on middle street; clarity. call if you would like it returned. reward will be expected.


pedal, pedal moving forward,
as if the day will propel itself.
fixed gears, fixed brains, broken
but forever moving.
lopsided arrows still find targets, just
those unexpected bullseyes.
chain connects two pieces, distance
adjusted to match.
not too close, not too far.
room to breath with room to grow.

bow

i am not sure.

these trials i have encountered are not usual, for me at least. life has been throwing curveballs quite effectively for quite some time. it is peculiar of me to post this sort of rhetoric, but to be more honest than i would like to, i am drunk and the paper is across the room from the wonderfully comfy and cozy bed i am currently in. i don't like associating alcohol with my posts (since most of them are posted during the school day).

explain it, let me know how these feelings began.

no, there is no explanation.

upside down, that's how i am pretty sure things are going to start feeling like.

in a funk

in a funk

i hate mtv

i really have been meaning to write about a lot of experiences lately.

right now, i happened to switch to mtv. they are airing a show called "steve-o; demise and rise" which basically chronicles steve-o doing a whole bunch of drugs and alcohol and sending tapes into mtv and them glamorizing hardcore drug use and alcholism.

i hate mtv. give me 5 minutes in room with those motherfuckers. please. give me 5 minutes. and then give me 5 minutes to explain to them how much they have set back so many of america's viewers.

fuck you. fuck you. i hate you. this is not good for people to see. i hate you.

those darned black native americans.

recently, i assigned a 3 paragraph essay to my students.

the writing invitation was titled "Why do you think Martin Luther King Jr. was important?"

this was right around the time of the inaguration, as well as MLK Jr. day.

one student chose to begin his essay with this sentence.

and i quote, "The black native americans killed Martin in 1884."

holy crap. the next sentence, while not quite as poignant and filled with conspiracy as the first, is still very resounding. it started off well enough, and i thought for just a second that we might have some progress, "Martin had a dream to get people.....", i should have stopped there. "....to work at war and they did." ouch.

the rest of the essay is so full of baloney it is astounding. i haven't had a chance to talk to the student yet, but there will be some dialogue concerning this writing piece.

this same student also recently gave me another glimpse into his inner workings. while i was writing something on the board and i had my back turned (to them, if my back is turned, they assume i can't hear anything) a student accused my king-conspiracy theorist that he was a cheater. he responded by saying, "Hey, i am not a cheater.....except in math and sports, and ummmmm, video games." had this been a joke, i would have laughed. but unfortunately, this was said deadpan and serious. brilliant.

after reading this post and reading the essay again, i have decided that if i happen to lose this, i really want to have it written down somewhere. so, in all of it's insanity and copied directly from the paper, here it is.

Martin Luter King Jr.
The black native americans killed Martin in 1884. Martin had a dream to get people to work at war and they did.
Martin Luter King Jr. want the war to go on the people said no because they did want to get killed. He got short by black native americans they did want him.
Martin made a song from him because people and children want to remember him because they would like to see him. Martin like his children because he want to rember.

at least my student didn't say................

....that barack obama is the first native american president.

well, yes, yes he did.

awesome.