tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77446692300643298772012-02-02T18:44:34.358-08:00"If you're unsure about what you're going to do with your life, try to remember some of the most interesting people didn't know what they were going to do at age 22 or even at 40, and nearly all of them are unemployed drug addicts forced to live on cat food." - John Safrannobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.comBlogger151100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-48882539502842160052012-02-02T18:40:00.000-08:002012-02-02T18:44:34.369-08:00

I was in a first grade classroom today, and the teacher's lesson plans called for cutting and gluing all day. Needless to say, paper scraps everywhere, and sticky hands for all. Shortly before lunch, we even made "Groundhog Day" puppets. They were cute, but it also meant I spent most of the afternoon having to yell at kids to stop playing with aforementioned puppets. It seemed pretty obvious

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-54557380411780967052012-01-16T21:15:00.000-08:002012-01-16T21:39:52.955-08:00

There needs to be a new term for novels with a science fiction-y premise that are nonetheless written in a literary fashion. You probably know the type I'm talking about -- novels like Cloud Atlas , various Atwood novels, lots of Vonnegut, etc. Into this group I would lump The Postmortal , by Drew Magary. The novel contains a fascinating premise and is an enjoyable read, but is probably too

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-49285432393191555082012-01-11T17:05:00.000-08:002012-01-11T17:07:58.223-08:00

I was in a fourth grade classroom today. While working on a worksheet about the life of MLK, a girl raised her hand and said, "I know how he died. He was shot in the head." A boy in the front row responded, "Boom! Headshot." I'm starting to rethink whether maybe violent video games may have a negative effect on children, after all.

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-69469986088873609892009-03-08T23:20:00.000-07:002009-03-08T23:28:31.930-07:00

Here's a link for all the unemployed addicts forced to live on cat food out there, this time from the New York Times: Generation OMG Interesting takeaways: for those who like labels, this article calls millennials the "homelander" generation (as in security) and also calls us the next "Silent Generation." The basic thrust of the article is that the generation that lives through the Great

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-75362243091997314082009-03-02T23:36:00.000-08:002009-03-02T23:48:01.214-08:00

It's the small joys that make irregular employment worth it. For example, while tutoring tonight I had a student who tried to make up a great word: multaplicitus. While I told him I was pretty sure that no such word existed (multitudinous was the word I suggested he was probably looking for), I nonetheless liked the word he invented. Here's my suggested definition for it:multaplicitus:

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-41180188197376998332009-03-01T18:16:00.000-08:002009-03-01T18:45:26.132-08:00

First, the context: I recently volunteered for an organization which sends inmates educational and recreational reading material. The image below is of a postcard that an inmate had used to write to the organization in order to request books. In case it's blurry, the front of the postcard reads: "Rescued Dogs & Cats enjoy Sheriff Joe Arpaio in an Air Conditioned Jail." In smaller print, the

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-66791004088939525162009-02-28T00:32:00.000-08:002009-02-28T00:33:56.196-08:00

I was at the grocery store at 11 pm. The woman in front of me in line was buying six cans of cat food and a handle of vodka. When she got to the front, the checker looked up at her and said, "You're early."

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-18408697070294162512009-02-24T00:42:00.000-08:002009-02-24T01:02:06.596-08:00

Here's another link for my fellow unemployed drug addicts out there (coincidentally, again from Newsweek, which is apparently the newsletter of unemployed drug addicts forced to live on cat food everywhere):Laid-Off Men Don't Do Dishes The crux of the article is that unemployment affects more men than women, and that while women who are laid off spend a lot more time doing domestic tasks,

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-77338324538550934462009-02-20T00:31:00.000-08:002009-02-20T02:06:24.062-08:00

Last year I was pretty faithful about volunteering at a local food bank, but I stopped going when the bank cut its Friday hours. Today, I decide to give Thursday afternoon afternoons a try. There’s a new director, and when I get there, he’s about to start lunch. While under the previous director I had done both intake and pantry work, I don’t want to presume on the new one, so I wait to be

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-59993021076284331012009-02-18T16:11:00.000-08:002009-02-18T16:19:41.956-08:00

I saw a hand-made sign today on which various students had posted messages about their commitments to action for the semester. One in particular caught my eye: "I'm committed to being more apart of the freshman experience." Why I enjoyed this: (1) Because of one little typo, the sentence expresses the opposite of its (most likely) intended meaning. (2) If there is no typo, it raises some

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-36586726380144505772009-02-17T12:51:00.001-08:002009-02-17T21:16:50.577-08:00

A local lunch spot has a hand-written sign on the soft drink machine: "Water cups are for water only. No outside containers neither." The spacing and the handwriting make it clear that the "n" on "neither" was added after the message was written. Why I enjoy this: (1) Tautologies make me happy, particularly when there is any kind of justification for them (as it appears there is in this case).

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-71466893229262332452009-02-16T20:47:00.000-08:002009-02-16T21:08:42.934-08:00

For all the other unemployed drug addicts forced to live on cat food out there who missed it, there was an article in Newsweek recently which fits the theme here:Barack and Michelle: The Millennial's Dream Couple A lot of people I know do seem a little too obsessed with the President and First Lady, though plenty of them are Boomers or Gen-Xers too. Still, I like taxonomies in general, and I

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-7810530598965754902009-02-05T22:15:00.000-08:002009-02-05T22:22:04.938-08:00

I have been to six orientations now: first, as a freshman; three times as an orientation volunteer; and twice now as a staff member. I suppose the first orientation will always be poignant for me, though for reasons largely tangential to the event itself (not that it wasn’t full of just as much enthusiasm and saccharine as any other orientation). John Irving says somewhere that one of the

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-7156245687971870662009-02-04T22:27:00.000-08:002009-02-04T22:33:40.704-08:00

I am the most dreaded of hangers-on: I am a recent alumnus who has become university staff.This probably doesn’t seem like such a bad deal. After all, universities are nice places overall. Most employees at my university are happy to be there. And don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining either (much). I like my job and my lifestyle, and I’m comfortable with my choices. But it can still be an

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7744669230064329877.post-83150763003650936742009-01-23T16:20:00.000-08:002009-02-04T22:34:26.026-08:00

I wake up at 8 this morning, which is pretty rare for me. Applying Occam’s Razor, I figure that I probably just had to pee, but when I get to the bathroom I realize that isn’t true. “Strange,” I think, but I go ahead and let out a few drops for the sake of tradition and then go back to bed. Then I begin to hear what has awakened me: a semi-rhythmic knocking sound.“Just ignore it,” I think to

nobodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00933394517628179115noreply@blogger.com0