Today started a little strangely.
In my ongoing effort to shield a certain husband of mine from my SportsCenter addiction and statistical / win-loss observation / bracket preparation, I watch ESPN in the mornings at the gym. I don't mind that it repeats, but I do mind when someone "accidentally" changes it from Sports Center to plain ol' ESPN News. BO-RING. Anyway, this morning ESPN was covering the much ballyhooed appearance of Roger Clemens before members of the House committee on steroids in baseball this morning. Somehow, the whiz collection at ESPN managed to create a montage using highlights of Clemens' lawyer talking, George Mitchell delivering the report, any and all follow-up news coverage, and Brian McNamee's lawyer talking. I'd never seen a lawyer highlight before, but there's a first time for everything.
Here's something that's not at all weird - today my Grandma (we call her Gommy) turns 90. I asked her today if she was excited to be getting past 89. Her answer: "Man Alive!" In May she had a stroke - or a series of strokes - and was on the mend for most of the summer. Now, though, she seems mostly recovered and is in good spirits and relatively good health. What a blessing!
We moved in with Gommy in 1984. I know my brother, sister, and I have benefitted from her wisdom, her sharing life lessons regarding not drinking any water if you've been bombed on champagne, and her immesurable contribution to our lives, our projects, and our day-to-day well- being (including and especially the introduction of Apple Jacks to my diet circa 1987). I told her as much today, and I'm grateful that despite the strokes and other health challenges she's faced in the last year, she's seen it through to this day. I wished her as many more as she can handle.
Showing posts with label inanimate titanium rods. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inanimate titanium rods. Show all posts
February 13, 2008
February 8, 2008
Oh dear.
So I'm going to write about politics here, and I won't make a habit of it. Until recently I've occupied a corner of the fashionable apathetic tent. I do want to comment, though on what I find to be puzzling, and that's all this vitriol directed at John McCain.
It's baffling to me that McCain, whose recent political career contains instances of *gasp!* working with democrats, can't be trusted precisely on those grounds. This is crazy talk. One of the things that has moved me to stand outside of the apathetic tent is the possibility that there will be a candidate on the ballot in November who is thinking in terms of progress, and not entirely ideology. Politics in this country has to be pragmatic to a degree, and that's the lesson of the last sixteen years. Dynastic politics comes with divisive philosophical commitments, cronyism, and other skull-and-bones BS. That thinking has gotten us nowhere - people are still poor, our schools are still suffering, kids can't get the health care they need because costs too much (!), our soldiers can't get the care they need when returning from war, we're still arguing about abortion instead of dealing with the issues at the root of the problem, and so on, and so on.
Here's the thing. No Joe American wins when ideology is driving political choices, either by the administration or party in power or by the factions of people in this country who are similarly motivated. It seems like it's time to start solving problems - from what I can tell, John McCain and Barack Obama (or "Oback Arama" as one reader of this blog mistakenly mentioned one night) are the only candidates who have the sense and credibility to make progress. And it's high time politics in America focuses on some pragmatic mix of philosophy and progress.
It's baffling to me that McCain, whose recent political career contains instances of *gasp!* working with democrats, can't be trusted precisely on those grounds. This is crazy talk. One of the things that has moved me to stand outside of the apathetic tent is the possibility that there will be a candidate on the ballot in November who is thinking in terms of progress, and not entirely ideology. Politics in this country has to be pragmatic to a degree, and that's the lesson of the last sixteen years. Dynastic politics comes with divisive philosophical commitments, cronyism, and other skull-and-bones BS. That thinking has gotten us nowhere - people are still poor, our schools are still suffering, kids can't get the health care they need because costs too much (!), our soldiers can't get the care they need when returning from war, we're still arguing about abortion instead of dealing with the issues at the root of the problem, and so on, and so on.
Here's the thing. No Joe American wins when ideology is driving political choices, either by the administration or party in power or by the factions of people in this country who are similarly motivated. It seems like it's time to start solving problems - from what I can tell, John McCain and Barack Obama (or "Oback Arama" as one reader of this blog mistakenly mentioned one night) are the only candidates who have the sense and credibility to make progress. And it's high time politics in America focuses on some pragmatic mix of philosophy and progress.
February 7, 2008
What words are next to you?
Susan has tagged me with this meme. I will participate.
Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating! The nearest book is Magda King's A Guide to Heidegger's Being and Time
Find Page 123. Find the first 5 sentences. Post the next 3 sentences: "The phenomenon of conscience and the new formulation of care prepare the ground for finding the answer to the question, How is it possible for man to understand being? Although Heidegger does not expressly say so, the internal evidence compellingly points to the conclusion that here is the basis from which Division Three would have to start. The immediate function of the long preparatory inquiry, however, is to lead up to the second half of Division Two."
Tag 5 people: The Author; David; Drew. Really, besides Susan I only know a handful of bloggers.
Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating! The nearest book is Magda King's A Guide to Heidegger's Being and Time
Find Page 123. Find the first 5 sentences. Post the next 3 sentences: "The phenomenon of conscience and the new formulation of care prepare the ground for finding the answer to the question, How is it possible for man to understand being? Although Heidegger does not expressly say so, the internal evidence compellingly points to the conclusion that here is the basis from which Division Three would have to start. The immediate function of the long preparatory inquiry, however, is to lead up to the second half of Division Two."
Tag 5 people: The Author; David; Drew. Really, besides Susan I only know a handful of bloggers.
January 3, 2008
So much for that idea ...
We have spent the last week playing the Nintendo Wii with AV's family. I have tennis/bowling elbow. We tried other games, but tennis and bowling were more fun, faster, and captivating to watch (which is weird, I know) than the real thing ... mostly.
In more news about things I like, season five of The Wire starts on Sunday night. I can barely contain myself. We recently worked our way back through seasons three and four, and could not believe the storytelling, craftsmanship (in terms of writing, directing and acting). Even AV, champion of David Milch and Deadwood as the best show on television recanted after seeing these last two seasons. It's like a novel on television, and almost every article out there makes some kind of comparison to Dickens. That's good, because I don't read novels anymore I may as well watch them. Certain circles of mine will be horrified by that statement.
Two articles: The Angriest Man in Television; The Believer - Interview with David Simon (by Nick Hornby). Follow at your own peril, since social realism generally employs bad language.
Susan has indicated her plans to blog about her in-process thesis - I begin the research phase of mine this semester, and so I am interested in bits and pieces here and there. No New Years Resolutions (or erroneously-titled "Long-Term Projects," which faded by June last year) this year - just hopes for health, happiness, and full Intro to Philosophy courses.
In more news about things I like, season five of The Wire starts on Sunday night. I can barely contain myself. We recently worked our way back through seasons three and four, and could not believe the storytelling, craftsmanship (in terms of writing, directing and acting). Even AV, champion of David Milch and Deadwood as the best show on television recanted after seeing these last two seasons. It's like a novel on television, and almost every article out there makes some kind of comparison to Dickens. That's good, because I don't read novels anymore I may as well watch them. Certain circles of mine will be horrified by that statement.
Two articles: The Angriest Man in Television; The Believer - Interview with David Simon (by Nick Hornby). Follow at your own peril, since social realism generally employs bad language.
Susan has indicated her plans to blog about her in-process thesis - I begin the research phase of mine this semester, and so I am interested in bits and pieces here and there. No New Years Resolutions (or erroneously-titled "Long-Term Projects," which faded by June last year) this year - just hopes for health, happiness, and full Intro to Philosophy courses.
December 16, 2007
Back, Looking
I'm relieved to announce that all that is left is grading. I shouldn't say "all," I guess, because that is pretty much everything. In the last week I finished up an internship, finished up an article on lies and special effects (that I thought wasn't due until next week, but there's nothing like working under pressure, right?), and said goodbye to the 106 students who made it through to the end of the semester.
As a celebration, we saw I Am Legend this afternoon. Some individual decided it would be a good idea to bring his young children to see this film. There is a series of gut-wrenching scenes - even for adults - that made one of the kiddos cry. That poor kid continued whimpering for a little bit, and that little sound of despair set me crying. Fortunately, the family left shortly after that ... and a good thing too. The movie was a little more than intense. Exhibit A: I spent about 75 minutes with my hand over my mouth in an attempt to muffle a scream that I was certain would come out of my mouth at any second. Exhibit B: the woman two seats over who insisted on narrating the film for us at regular speaking volume: "Oh, he must need that specimen for scientific purposes."
Those who know me and tolerate my company know I'm a regular reader of Ken Jennings' blog. After last week's announcement that Alex Trebek suffered a minor heart attack, he wrote this post. Best wishes for a swift recovery, Trebek. Come back soon to continue putting the screws to folks in the studio audience asking you poorly-conceived questions!
There's a lot more in my mind than I can muster the typing strength for, but I hope that the next week or so will return this pasttime to a semi-regular status. I'm looking forward to a spring semester threatened, not by the grading required by 121 students, but by Husserl and Heidegger (and maybe even Levinas and Derrida ... but who knows), preparation for a Master's Thesis, and another go-round with Intro to Philosophy and Logic. At least in the interim, I'm looking forward to a break.
As a celebration, we saw I Am Legend this afternoon. Some individual decided it would be a good idea to bring his young children to see this film. There is a series of gut-wrenching scenes - even for adults - that made one of the kiddos cry. That poor kid continued whimpering for a little bit, and that little sound of despair set me crying. Fortunately, the family left shortly after that ... and a good thing too. The movie was a little more than intense. Exhibit A: I spent about 75 minutes with my hand over my mouth in an attempt to muffle a scream that I was certain would come out of my mouth at any second. Exhibit B: the woman two seats over who insisted on narrating the film for us at regular speaking volume: "Oh, he must need that specimen for scientific purposes."
Those who know me and tolerate my company know I'm a regular reader of Ken Jennings' blog. After last week's announcement that Alex Trebek suffered a minor heart attack, he wrote this post. Best wishes for a swift recovery, Trebek. Come back soon to continue putting the screws to folks in the studio audience asking you poorly-conceived questions!
There's a lot more in my mind than I can muster the typing strength for, but I hope that the next week or so will return this pasttime to a semi-regular status. I'm looking forward to a spring semester threatened, not by the grading required by 121 students, but by Husserl and Heidegger (and maybe even Levinas and Derrida ... but who knows), preparation for a Master's Thesis, and another go-round with Intro to Philosophy and Logic. At least in the interim, I'm looking forward to a break.
November 25, 2007
28 On The Way
I turn 28 tomorrow.
Being 27 has been much better - and as a whole much more interesting - than 26 was (as evidenced by this post, made about this time last year). In the last year I've had two things in print, I started a volunteer career in radio (again), I went to my 10 year high school reunion, I saw an unbelievable storm blow in over the Atlantic Ocean while on vacation, I've been able to play volleyball with my usual gusto, and I've made a career teaching (and doing some) philosophy. Good!
I'm grateful for AV, for my friends and family, blessed and lucky to have people of note (GinaOscar! Molly! James! Meagan! Susan! Dave! KentMarilyn! BQP!) in my life, and hopeful that the next year will be just as interesting as the last one. That's not too much to ask, right? Never a dull moment?
Being 27 has been much better - and as a whole much more interesting - than 26 was (as evidenced by this post, made about this time last year). In the last year I've had two things in print, I started a volunteer career in radio (again), I went to my 10 year high school reunion, I saw an unbelievable storm blow in over the Atlantic Ocean while on vacation, I've been able to play volleyball with my usual gusto, and I've made a career teaching (and doing some) philosophy. Good!
I'm grateful for AV, for my friends and family, blessed and lucky to have people of note (GinaOscar! Molly! James! Meagan! Susan! Dave! KentMarilyn! BQP!) in my life, and hopeful that the next year will be just as interesting as the last one. That's not too much to ask, right? Never a dull moment?
October 17, 2007
I am a bandwagoneer.
I have never watched the Rockies with any seriousness, ever. In fact, my fan-ness of baseball links only to those disastrous Mets. In any case, I count myself among the disbelieving class of Colorado residents who finally got behind the Rockies when things started going well. And really, they're playing exciting sports - I like exciting sports.
Interestingly enough, the New York Times has given a burst of Rockies coverage over the last few weeks (for unsurprising reasons). Suddenly, Dan O'Dowd's recruiting and managing paradigm (Denny Neagle, who?) is a good one.
Interestingly enough, the New York Times has given a burst of Rockies coverage over the last few weeks (for unsurprising reasons). Suddenly, Dan O'Dowd's recruiting and managing paradigm (Denny Neagle, who?) is a good one.
October 9, 2007
Crazy Jobs I've Had
Here is a list of crazy jobs I've had in my life:
(1) Replacementtroops babysitter after my sister sliced her hand open while opening a can of Chef Boyardee. My sister was paid in "combat pay" after that.
(2) Algebra tutor for at least three people. I'm not sure that was such a good idea, but I think some of them passed.
(3) Cashier at "tacos at the mall," serving tacos and churros that rotated for goodness knows how long.
(4) Graduate Assistant in Student Activities, which was a good time EXCEPT for those instances of having to scrape drunken vomit out of the back of a bus with a dustpan. Or having to wipe the drunken vomit off the bathroom wall at the location of the fall formal.
(5) Summer Conferences, at the beck and call of 400 screaming cheerleaders, their coaches, and their camp organizers (who were not informed by any discussions I had with corporate about the apparently dangerous floor I ordered) ... Kristen and Chris, I know you're out there!
HT: Scot McKnight
(1) Replacement
(2) Algebra tutor for at least three people. I'm not sure that was such a good idea, but I think some of them passed.
(3) Cashier at "tacos at the mall," serving tacos and churros that rotated for goodness knows how long.
(4) Graduate Assistant in Student Activities, which was a good time EXCEPT for those instances of having to scrape drunken vomit out of the back of a bus with a dustpan. Or having to wipe the drunken vomit off the bathroom wall at the location of the fall formal.
(5) Summer Conferences, at the beck and call of 400 screaming cheerleaders, their coaches, and their camp organizers (who were not informed by any discussions I had with corporate about the apparently dangerous floor I ordered) ... Kristen and Chris, I know you're out there!
HT: Scot McKnight
September 20, 2007
Disaster Averted!
The Daily Camera today confirms our earlier reconnaissance that the Wild Oats down the street from us will not close. Thank goodness.
Trebek has not yet called.
In "Where are we supposed to go to the bathroom?" news, AV read yesterday that the Barnes and Noble at Astor Place in New York City is closing. We do not buy books there, but we usually get off the subway at Astor Place, go to the can, and then make our way into the East Village. I guess we'll just have to hold it. Or something. Also troubling is the large spread the NYT is running this weekend about the East Village being a great place for tourists to go. I know, we're tourists, but we're knowledgeable tourists. We can get around down there with little trouble. In fact, I once (famously, right AV?) navigated us from Anthology Film Archives (2nd Avenue and 2nd street) to Union Square at night, with the clock tower visible from Astor Place as my only landmark.* I'm pretty sure that was the trip before we were stopped by a prada-wearing Texan in Grand Central who said, "You look like we do, can you help us get to blah blah location?" I puzzle over this remark even today.
*Reasonable evidence that we may have success if we ever want to go on the Amazing Race. Also, I memorize maps. That would probably help too. And both of us could be counted on in a Road Block involving fish eyeballs, large quantities of meat, goulash, and (possibly) an Ostrich egg.
Trebek has not yet called.
In "Where are we supposed to go to the bathroom?" news, AV read yesterday that the Barnes and Noble at Astor Place in New York City is closing. We do not buy books there, but we usually get off the subway at Astor Place, go to the can, and then make our way into the East Village. I guess we'll just have to hold it. Or something. Also troubling is the large spread the NYT is running this weekend about the East Village being a great place for tourists to go. I know, we're tourists, but we're knowledgeable tourists. We can get around down there with little trouble. In fact, I once (famously, right AV?) navigated us from Anthology Film Archives (2nd Avenue and 2nd street) to Union Square at night, with the clock tower visible from Astor Place as my only landmark.* I'm pretty sure that was the trip before we were stopped by a prada-wearing Texan in Grand Central who said, "You look like we do, can you help us get to blah blah location?" I puzzle over this remark even today.
*Reasonable evidence that we may have success if we ever want to go on the Amazing Race. Also, I memorize maps. That would probably help too. And both of us could be counted on in a Road Block involving fish eyeballs, large quantities of meat, goulash, and (possibly) an Ostrich egg.
September 19, 2007
More Misc. Mental Content
Unnerving: I've suddenly entered a phase of my life where I'm forgetting things and losing things. Neither of these two events are new when applied to wallet and keys, but books and student papers are a whole other animal. There's no "What to do when you start forgetting things" section in the Adjunct Manual.
Update: The chuckling students chuckle no longer. I do have some incessant text messagers, though. My patience with that is nearing its limit.
Result of Excogitation: Last week I was enjoying Hume. Now, after a record three weeks in a row of dealing with his high-Turbanness, I am exhausted of his meager vision of the world. Hume's favored methods of recovery from a long day of philosophizing include a pint and backgammon with friends. I might take his advice on the pint, but never on backgammon. (Right, AV?)
Update: The chuckling students chuckle no longer. I do have some incessant text messagers, though. My patience with that is nearing its limit.
Result of Excogitation: Last week I was enjoying Hume. Now, after a record three weeks in a row of dealing with his high-Turbanness, I am exhausted of his meager vision of the world. Hume's favored methods of recovery from a long day of philosophizing include a pint and backgammon with friends. I might take his advice on the pint, but never on backgammon. (Right, AV?)
September 16, 2007
September 13, 2007
The Giants win the Pennant!
I've been fascinated by the story that broke this week, about the New England Patriots' alleged spying-via-video on other coaches and their signals. Bill Belichick (or "the Hoodie") is disliked around the league, so the hefty $500K fine leveled against him personally comes as a pleasant surprise to many, particularly those who have long held suspicions that this kind of call-stealing was going on.
John Clayton at ESPN thinks the fine is not enough. I'm inclined to agree. This is like finding out the smartest kid in the class was cheating the whole time, not because he needed to but because he could get away with it. Belichick has been cited as a genius, a true visionary. Now it looks like he's a grump and a cheat.
The New York (Baseball) Giants - the subject of this post's title - were accused of sign-stealing in that game against the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1951. Here's the wiki (caution!) on the topic.
John Clayton at ESPN thinks the fine is not enough. I'm inclined to agree. This is like finding out the smartest kid in the class was cheating the whole time, not because he needed to but because he could get away with it. Belichick has been cited as a genius, a true visionary. Now it looks like he's a grump and a cheat.
The New York (Baseball) Giants - the subject of this post's title - were accused of sign-stealing in that game against the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1951. Here's the wiki (caution!) on the topic.
September 7, 2007
Out to Pasture
Last night we traded in my old Hyundai (a.k.a. the "nut mobile," named so because when my mom was driving it while I had a broken leg, she insisted it was like getting into a walnut) for a different car. It had 74,000 miles on it after eight years of driving.
The nut was my first adult purchase, that purchase that required me to learn a minimum of financial responsibility. It was touch and go for awhile early in my ownership, a scenario I attribute to my own misunderstandings and misplaced priorities (it didn't help that I was waiting tables, and often came home with cash - cash which I stored in my dresser drawer. What good accounting!). The situation with me and my car turned around in the middle of my senior year of college, when I got a "real" job at an architecture firm doing administrative stuff and marketing stuff. When I finally paid it off in 2004 - and the title came in the mail - it was one of the proudest days of my life.
Once I got over the financial responsibility and started making my car payments with regularity, I started to deal with the maintenance. In the nut, this was always extraordinary. At one point, the chassis had to be lifted off of the guts because the gas line somehow was rubbing against the steering column, and gas was leaking in the inside of my car. Last year we had major battery drama, and occasionally the check engine light would come on. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the engine, but I would get a little electrical excitement now and then. The AIR BAG light stayed on for the last three years. Recently, when you'd put the car in reverse it would generate this really low whine.
Besides all this weirdness, though, the car was fabulous - getting me back and forth from Regis to the Seminary, driving from stem to stern - especially when I started adjuncting. One of the most exciting days of my adult life happened just last summer when I could finally drive the nut again after having a broken leg (I think it took about two months). There was an odd tingling sensation in my foot and leg for the first week - kind of like my leg was asleep, but somehow still working ... hard to explain - but being able to put the clutch in was pretty exciting.
So last night, we traded it in. We were walking out to the new car and the nut already had a sign on it to sell. It made me just a little sad, but it was a good car and did a good job. Hopefully it is going to its reward.
Whatever that might be for old cars.
The nut was my first adult purchase, that purchase that required me to learn a minimum of financial responsibility. It was touch and go for awhile early in my ownership, a scenario I attribute to my own misunderstandings and misplaced priorities (it didn't help that I was waiting tables, and often came home with cash - cash which I stored in my dresser drawer. What good accounting!). The situation with me and my car turned around in the middle of my senior year of college, when I got a "real" job at an architecture firm doing administrative stuff and marketing stuff. When I finally paid it off in 2004 - and the title came in the mail - it was one of the proudest days of my life.
Once I got over the financial responsibility and started making my car payments with regularity, I started to deal with the maintenance. In the nut, this was always extraordinary. At one point, the chassis had to be lifted off of the guts because the gas line somehow was rubbing against the steering column, and gas was leaking in the inside of my car. Last year we had major battery drama, and occasionally the check engine light would come on. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the engine, but I would get a little electrical excitement now and then. The AIR BAG light stayed on for the last three years. Recently, when you'd put the car in reverse it would generate this really low whine.
Besides all this weirdness, though, the car was fabulous - getting me back and forth from Regis to the Seminary, driving from stem to stern - especially when I started adjuncting. One of the most exciting days of my adult life happened just last summer when I could finally drive the nut again after having a broken leg (I think it took about two months). There was an odd tingling sensation in my foot and leg for the first week - kind of like my leg was asleep, but somehow still working ... hard to explain - but being able to put the clutch in was pretty exciting.
So last night, we traded it in. We were walking out to the new car and the nut already had a sign on it to sell. It made me just a little sad, but it was a good car and did a good job. Hopefully it is going to its reward.
Whatever that might be for old cars.
September 5, 2007
Nearly Perfect
After a long day of teaching: Miller's Gin & Tonic, Velveeta Shells & Cheese, Tennis.
August 29, 2007
Overheard
While in line at the institution of my learning's (not teaching) bursar's office:
"I literally dropped the class two or three minutes after midnight."
"I'm sorry, but if I made an exception for you because of two or three minutes, what is there to prevent me from making an exception for the hundreds of students who drop classes four or five minutes after midnight. You see my reasoning here, right?"
"But I was in a clean room, making chemotherapy IV's. I couldn't leave a clean room to drop a class." (Emphasis in the original)
"I recognize that, but can I ask why you decided to put off dropping the class until the last day?"
Silence, then "Look, I'm just looking for a little empathy here. I'm two or three minutes late, and it costs me $200 dollars."
"Yes, I have empathy for you. But I cannot refund your $200 dollars."
Student bangs his hand on the table and leaves, not looking at the thirty people in line, all waiting on him to finish his whining. Dude, read your syllabus.
"I literally dropped the class two or three minutes after midnight."
"I'm sorry, but if I made an exception for you because of two or three minutes, what is there to prevent me from making an exception for the hundreds of students who drop classes four or five minutes after midnight. You see my reasoning here, right?"
"But I was in a clean room, making chemotherapy IV's. I couldn't leave a clean room to drop a class." (Emphasis in the original)
"I recognize that, but can I ask why you decided to put off dropping the class until the last day?"
Silence, then "Look, I'm just looking for a little empathy here. I'm two or three minutes late, and it costs me $200 dollars."
"Yes, I have empathy for you. But I cannot refund your $200 dollars."
Student bangs his hand on the table and leaves, not looking at the thirty people in line, all waiting on him to finish his whining. Dude, read your syllabus.
July 24, 2007
All's Well that Ends Well
Bill Murray Accepts Honorary Degree. The rumor was that he was booted from the reeg for, um, relieving himself on the sacred heart statue. In any case, he didn't finish his time at Regis - now he's an honorary doctor of humanities.
July 23, 2007
Jumping the Gun (and probably also the shark) for Ten Years
Name: Becky Vartabedian - until age 22, I was known as Becky Case
What have you been up to since graduation? Family? Career? Hobbies? My life has followed fairly well the predicted path in my "Top Twenty Senior" blurb. Go to Regis? Check. Graduated just a couple hundredths of a grade point shy of cum laude. Finished a history major? Check. Finished a Political Science major? No Check. Traded that in for a philosophy major in an attempt to be vocationally (and intellectually) honest with myself. I dislike Descartes with the same passion I did ten years ago, but my rejection is more scholarly and does not include my singing the "I'm a Little Teapot" song (although considering I'm dealing with a man who sat in an oven for seven days straight, I suppose my early critique was appropriate). Became the prime-time DJ on KRCX radio? Check. During freshman year, Jon Davis and I hosted the "happy happy hour," which ran from 4-6pm on Thursdays. Dinner hour at the reeg is prime time.
I met AV in college while visiting Kent Talmage-Bowers's classroom. AV was his student teacher. We had one conversation about Chomsky in February. AV came into the bookstore where I worked once in April and I had no words - an early sign. We dated for two and a half years before getting married in June 2002. Then I went back to work at Regis in Student Life and started a MA at Denver Seminary.
Finished the MA in May 2006, this time with honors (ha!), and also picked up a couple of teaching jobs along the way. Was accepted at PhD program, but funding didn't shake out in my favor. Now I'm a mostly full-time philosophy professor (although an adjunct without office or benefits), and have returned to the fold of continental philosophy at UC-D. I'm pretty sure the second MA will be finished next December, but who knows.
I've extended my foray into the radio world as an occasional host on Jazz 89 KUVO. True to my quiz bowl roots, I auditioned for Jeopardy! in May of this year. I'm waiting for their call.
What do you miss about Northglenn? I suppose I miss the freedom to explore ideas with minimal risk. Now, every idea has some stake that must be made good on or discarded. I miss the compulsory exposure to a whole host of ideas, even though I couldn't understand most of them. (I'll admit Descartes had me on the ropes until the Summer of 2005. Having to teach something demands that you understand it - fast.)
Who was your favorite teacher? Oddly enough, I learned most of what I needed to know about teaching in High School. Kent Bowers, Mark Mavrogianes, the late, truly great Don McKenzie - all have direct influence in the way that I handle myself in the classroom. Not only do these three count among my favorites, but I owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude. Any in-practice failures are, of course, my own.
If you could go back and give your senior-year self one piece of advice, what would it be? Most people will answer this question something like "Don't take things too seriously!" or "Have more fun!" I won't tell Becky Case any of this, though. Remain serious, because you'll need it desperately later on (like when you're reading Plantinga or Husserl). As far as I can remember, Becky Case had the right amount of fun while in high school. Also, wearing your brother's shirt and shoes to school does not for fashion make. Take it with a grain of salt, though, because Becky Vartabedian wears mostly black (not because of some attachment to philosophy, but because there are far fewer risks in wearing black than, say, cerulean).
What is your favorite/funniest memory? I did love quiz bowl. I did have a great time at senior prom. I enjoyed running assemblies in front of the student body, even though I had my back to the freshmen most of the time. I liked school.
The funniest memory, though, involves IR, B(S)T, and CS. The four of us drove to see a volleyball game out at Eaglecrest in Aurora. After leaving the game, we unwittingly took a very wrong turn and in about a half an hour, found ourselves driving out in the country on a dirt road. The first sign we saw said "Bennett, 5mi; Kiowa, 10mi." It was 9:30pm, and I had to be home by 10pm. All we could do was laugh in disbelief at how far afield (literally, in this case) we'd ended up. I didn't make it home on time, but fortunately my parents got a kick out of the story, too.
What is one thing you would like people to know about the person you are now vs. the person you were then? Probably (hopefully) the same thing everyone else thinks - people change. We can't escape our early choices or youthful indiscretions (however slight), but we need not be captive to them, either. I'm doing the very thing I always hoped I would - live a life where ideas are important and drive my day-to-day being. I didn't expect, though, to have the privilege of sharing this life with someone who feels the same way about ideas that I do - that has made life immeasurably worthwhile. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be singing the teapot song on a sidewalk somewhere, probably wearing my brother's ill-fitting shirt.
What have you been up to since graduation? Family? Career? Hobbies? My life has followed fairly well the predicted path in my "Top Twenty Senior" blurb. Go to Regis? Check. Graduated just a couple hundredths of a grade point shy of cum laude. Finished a history major? Check. Finished a Political Science major? No Check. Traded that in for a philosophy major in an attempt to be vocationally (and intellectually) honest with myself. I dislike Descartes with the same passion I did ten years ago, but my rejection is more scholarly and does not include my singing the "I'm a Little Teapot" song (although considering I'm dealing with a man who sat in an oven for seven days straight, I suppose my early critique was appropriate). Became the prime-time DJ on KRCX radio? Check. During freshman year, Jon Davis and I hosted the "happy happy hour," which ran from 4-6pm on Thursdays. Dinner hour at the reeg is prime time.
I met AV in college while visiting Kent Talmage-Bowers's classroom. AV was his student teacher. We had one conversation about Chomsky in February. AV came into the bookstore where I worked once in April and I had no words - an early sign. We dated for two and a half years before getting married in June 2002. Then I went back to work at Regis in Student Life and started a MA at Denver Seminary.
Finished the MA in May 2006, this time with honors (ha!), and also picked up a couple of teaching jobs along the way. Was accepted at PhD program, but funding didn't shake out in my favor. Now I'm a mostly full-time philosophy professor (although an adjunct without office or benefits), and have returned to the fold of continental philosophy at UC-D. I'm pretty sure the second MA will be finished next December, but who knows.
I've extended my foray into the radio world as an occasional host on Jazz 89 KUVO. True to my quiz bowl roots, I auditioned for Jeopardy! in May of this year. I'm waiting for their call.
What do you miss about Northglenn? I suppose I miss the freedom to explore ideas with minimal risk. Now, every idea has some stake that must be made good on or discarded. I miss the compulsory exposure to a whole host of ideas, even though I couldn't understand most of them. (I'll admit Descartes had me on the ropes until the Summer of 2005. Having to teach something demands that you understand it - fast.)
Who was your favorite teacher? Oddly enough, I learned most of what I needed to know about teaching in High School. Kent Bowers, Mark Mavrogianes, the late, truly great Don McKenzie - all have direct influence in the way that I handle myself in the classroom. Not only do these three count among my favorites, but I owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude. Any in-practice failures are, of course, my own.
If you could go back and give your senior-year self one piece of advice, what would it be? Most people will answer this question something like "Don't take things too seriously!" or "Have more fun!" I won't tell Becky Case any of this, though. Remain serious, because you'll need it desperately later on (like when you're reading Plantinga or Husserl). As far as I can remember, Becky Case had the right amount of fun while in high school. Also, wearing your brother's shirt and shoes to school does not for fashion make. Take it with a grain of salt, though, because Becky Vartabedian wears mostly black (not because of some attachment to philosophy, but because there are far fewer risks in wearing black than, say, cerulean).
What is your favorite/funniest memory? I did love quiz bowl. I did have a great time at senior prom. I enjoyed running assemblies in front of the student body, even though I had my back to the freshmen most of the time. I liked school.
The funniest memory, though, involves IR, B(S)T, and CS. The four of us drove to see a volleyball game out at Eaglecrest in Aurora. After leaving the game, we unwittingly took a very wrong turn and in about a half an hour, found ourselves driving out in the country on a dirt road. The first sign we saw said "Bennett, 5mi; Kiowa, 10mi." It was 9:30pm, and I had to be home by 10pm. All we could do was laugh in disbelief at how far afield (literally, in this case) we'd ended up. I didn't make it home on time, but fortunately my parents got a kick out of the story, too.
What is one thing you would like people to know about the person you are now vs. the person you were then? Probably (hopefully) the same thing everyone else thinks - people change. We can't escape our early choices or youthful indiscretions (however slight), but we need not be captive to them, either. I'm doing the very thing I always hoped I would - live a life where ideas are important and drive my day-to-day being. I didn't expect, though, to have the privilege of sharing this life with someone who feels the same way about ideas that I do - that has made life immeasurably worthwhile. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be singing the teapot song on a sidewalk somewhere, probably wearing my brother's ill-fitting shirt.
July 20, 2007
You think you know, but you have no idea.
A couple of weeks ago, my brother introduced us to Guitar Hero for the PS2. We had a lot of fun playing it for the time it was at my folks' house. We played this game on occasions when all of the family - nephew and niece included - were around. Our nephew, AK, is four and as a bright four-year-old, he naturally wants to take part in the same kind of fun that everyeone else is having. This was possible in the case of the "dakar" game, since AK could easily push buttons and sway along to the music. He couldn't actually play the music, but we let him have a turn, cheered him on, and he managed to have some fun with it.
The songs on the dakar game are mostly hard rock, fun guitar songs ranging from "Free Bird" to "Message in a Bottle." When we were playing, AK would often request the "Da Da Cha" song, singing only the refrain "Da Da Cha!" We knew that this song was Motley Crue's "Shout at the Devil," and so we obliged, impressed with his grasp of the baseline beat of the song. The dakar game went back to its owner soon afterward, and AK kept telling uncle Bub (my brother, Patric(k)) that he missed the dakar game, and da da cha, and Lars (his avatar for the game, a big hulking fellow with punk spikes and long blond hair).
I'm sure you can guess how this story ends. Blame is evenly distributed among the hard core dakar players: me, AV, my brother, and AK's dad.
So the other night we were all together again, each of us engrossed in our separate tasks - AV and I were caramelizing some bananas for desert, Eric (AK's dad) was acquiring the ladder to continue painting the walls in his family room, and Bub was laying on the couch. All of the sudden, AK sings "da da cha! Shout for the devil!"
It was just like in a movie. Somewhere, a needle was being pulled violently off a record. We paused the bananas, Bub abruptly sat up from the couch, daddy was coming in with the ladder, and AK's mommy - not privy to the incessant requests for da da cha weeks earlier - said, "WHAT did you say?! We DO NOT sing songs about the devil in this house!" The four bad influences in the room had saucer eyes. The worst part is that he just kept on singing it. We tried to get him to change songs, urging him to sing "Sending out an SOS!" (The Police's "Message in a Bottle,"). Eric even suggested some alternate lyrics to his favorite song: "AK, why don't you sing 'Shout at the Dremel?" but even after singing SOS, he went back to da da cha.
I'm fairly sure we've learned our lesson, and now we know that if da da cha is sung anywhere near mommy, there will be some trouble. My sister's always been the responsible one anyway.
In truth, I thought it would be a swear word, with AK overhearing me in one of my more off-color moments (which I consciously avoid when the kiddos are nearby). We didn't know he had actually heard the lyrics - we could barely understand what they were singing. But then again, what do we know about a four-year-old's mind? Clearly very little.
The songs on the dakar game are mostly hard rock, fun guitar songs ranging from "Free Bird" to "Message in a Bottle." When we were playing, AK would often request the "Da Da Cha" song, singing only the refrain "Da Da Cha!" We knew that this song was Motley Crue's "Shout at the Devil," and so we obliged, impressed with his grasp of the baseline beat of the song. The dakar game went back to its owner soon afterward, and AK kept telling uncle Bub (my brother, Patric(k)) that he missed the dakar game, and da da cha, and Lars (his avatar for the game, a big hulking fellow with punk spikes and long blond hair).
I'm sure you can guess how this story ends. Blame is evenly distributed among the hard core dakar players: me, AV, my brother, and AK's dad.
So the other night we were all together again, each of us engrossed in our separate tasks - AV and I were caramelizing some bananas for desert, Eric (AK's dad) was acquiring the ladder to continue painting the walls in his family room, and Bub was laying on the couch. All of the sudden, AK sings "da da cha! Shout for the devil!"
It was just like in a movie. Somewhere, a needle was being pulled violently off a record. We paused the bananas, Bub abruptly sat up from the couch, daddy was coming in with the ladder, and AK's mommy - not privy to the incessant requests for da da cha weeks earlier - said, "WHAT did you say?! We DO NOT sing songs about the devil in this house!" The four bad influences in the room had saucer eyes. The worst part is that he just kept on singing it. We tried to get him to change songs, urging him to sing "Sending out an SOS!" (The Police's "Message in a Bottle,"). Eric even suggested some alternate lyrics to his favorite song: "AK, why don't you sing 'Shout at the Dremel?" but even after singing SOS, he went back to da da cha.
I'm fairly sure we've learned our lesson, and now we know that if da da cha is sung anywhere near mommy, there will be some trouble. My sister's always been the responsible one anyway.
In truth, I thought it would be a swear word, with AK overhearing me in one of my more off-color moments (which I consciously avoid when the kiddos are nearby). We didn't know he had actually heard the lyrics - we could barely understand what they were singing. But then again, what do we know about a four-year-old's mind? Clearly very little.
July 13, 2007
Tonight, the Radio
AV and I will be holding it down tonight at KUVO from 9pm - 12am (MDT). Previous playlists can be found on the sidebar of our fine blog here.
July 12, 2007
The Reading
Drew has a nice post about what and why he reads.
I read very little fiction. In fact, the fiction I read is limited to a six book rotation before bed. Five of the novels are from my childhood. Four of these five are written by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Complaints from students sound much less serious when I'm reading about a seven-month stretch of blizzards punctuated by the occasional threat of starvation.
For awhile, this was bothering me because I have long associated being intelligent and intellectually engaged with reading fiction. This connection was initially cemented in the early moments of AV and my relationship - he actually got me to read Infinite Jest (three bookmarks, people - one for the text, one for that long section on Madame Psychosis I skipped, one for the footnotes). From there I was digesting the enfants terrible of the postmodern fiction world (DFW, Eggers, DeLillo). My engagement with fiction ceased soon after that, a halt I attribute to entering graduate school. I recently talked with some of my colleagues about this fiction-less or fiction-limited life that I live, and was shocked to find that my friends - brilliant, funny, thoughtful fellows - only read mass market-type mystery novels. One said that a professor of his at U of Iowa stopped reading fiction because he was reading philosophy for a living. Tricky how that works.
This explains why Cormac McCarthy - another of AV's categorical favorites - proved so tricky for me. It's just so hard that I can't drum up the intellectual attention and respect it deserves. If anything, the fiction available that seems worth the effort is too sophisticated (here I'm not discriminating. I can get at The Road about the same as I can get at Middlemarch). Fiction paralysis probably results from my ability to digest it the way it ought to be digested.
If I'm reading anything for fun lately, it seems to be nonfiction. Favorites include Louis Menand's The Metaphysical Club (which I read and marked like crazy), Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential and A Cook's Tour. I have read a few essays from DFW's Consider the Lobster, which have been satisfying. More satisfying was his piece in the New York Times last year about Roger Federer. The man can write about tennis and the mind-body problem in the New York Times ("Federer as Religious Experience," August 20, 2006). I never questioned his genius again after that. I'm planning to start Lakoff & Johnson's Philosophy in the Flesh, but that probably qualifies better as work-related reading than reading for fun. It's my equivalent of AV's hauling Pynchon to the beach (have you seen the size of Against the Day? sheesh!).
I read very little fiction. In fact, the fiction I read is limited to a six book rotation before bed. Five of the novels are from my childhood. Four of these five are written by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Complaints from students sound much less serious when I'm reading about a seven-month stretch of blizzards punctuated by the occasional threat of starvation.
For awhile, this was bothering me because I have long associated being intelligent and intellectually engaged with reading fiction. This connection was initially cemented in the early moments of AV and my relationship - he actually got me to read Infinite Jest (three bookmarks, people - one for the text, one for that long section on Madame Psychosis I skipped, one for the footnotes). From there I was digesting the enfants terrible of the postmodern fiction world (DFW, Eggers, DeLillo). My engagement with fiction ceased soon after that, a halt I attribute to entering graduate school. I recently talked with some of my colleagues about this fiction-less or fiction-limited life that I live, and was shocked to find that my friends - brilliant, funny, thoughtful fellows - only read mass market-type mystery novels. One said that a professor of his at U of Iowa stopped reading fiction because he was reading philosophy for a living. Tricky how that works.
This explains why Cormac McCarthy - another of AV's categorical favorites - proved so tricky for me. It's just so hard that I can't drum up the intellectual attention and respect it deserves. If anything, the fiction available that seems worth the effort is too sophisticated (here I'm not discriminating. I can get at The Road about the same as I can get at Middlemarch). Fiction paralysis probably results from my ability to digest it the way it ought to be digested.
If I'm reading anything for fun lately, it seems to be nonfiction. Favorites include Louis Menand's The Metaphysical Club (which I read and marked like crazy), Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential and A Cook's Tour. I have read a few essays from DFW's Consider the Lobster, which have been satisfying. More satisfying was his piece in the New York Times last year about Roger Federer. The man can write about tennis and the mind-body problem in the New York Times ("Federer as Religious Experience," August 20, 2006). I never questioned his genius again after that. I'm planning to start Lakoff & Johnson's Philosophy in the Flesh, but that probably qualifies better as work-related reading than reading for fun. It's my equivalent of AV's hauling Pynchon to the beach (have you seen the size of Against the Day? sheesh!).
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