I'm covering for Suzy at the Writing Center on campus. She's sick - cough, congestion, sore throat, ear infection that's made her all but deaf, and bone-deep fatigue. We went to the urgent care center yesterday to get her looked at and to get some serious medication. She's at home trying to sleep it off (which is hard when you can't, you know, breathe). One of the few truly generous, nice people in our ward volunteered to take Parker for most of the day in order to give Suzy a legitimate break. Being home alone with Parker ain't exactly slipper-and-bon-bon time if you know what I'm saying. I've already taken three personal days in the last two weeks and can't really afford to take more. Otherwise, I'd be at home keeping Parker occupied while Suzy dealt with her Nyquil-induced fever dreams in the other room.
As it is, I'm here hanging out until six. This is good because I actually have a ton of papers to grade. I've cleaned my desk, recorded every quiz and journal entry my students have handed me, I've responded to all the emails I can, and now there is literally nothing to do but grade papers. Sigh. I'm sure I'll get to it. I have one student, a non-trad returning after who knows how long, who was practically hyperventilating when she turned in her paper. I told her my usual turnaround time was about two weeks (one week of avoiding grading, one week of grading furiously to get them off my back) and she about passed out at the thought of waiting that long to find out whether or not she was going to fail. I told her to relax but I might as well have told her to use her magical powers to fly herself to the sandy beaches of Ain't Never Gonna Happen Island and rest there until I get the papers done. I didn't get the sense that "relax" is really in her wheelhouse, as it were.
By the way, I really hate the term "wheelhouse." Maybe I hate it because I first heard it from Randy Jackson on American Idol - which is enough to make me hate a thing. Maybe it's just because it seems like such a lame, faux hipster shorthand jargon term that's supposed to make everyone nod and say, "Oh yeah, 'wheelhouse.' Got it, man." A quick Internet search reveals this tidbit from the Chicago Tribune:
"Wheelhouses are small spaces with excellent visibility, where the
skipper is in control of the boat and prepared to face any dangers that
it might encounter. In a wheelhouse, a boat's pilot can
practice his 'core competencies' in an area with lots of 'blue ocean'
and the opportunity for plenty of 'blue-sky thinking.'"
"Whenever someone wants to say, 'We would be good at this,' or 'We have
potential here,' they say, 'This is in our wheelhouse,'" Watson told us
in a phone interview. "What they mean is, 'This is a promising area for
expansion.'"
All of which explains the term's roots. But why, suddenly, is everyone saying it?
"I think business words are a bit like those horrible illnesses that people catch on airplanes
and cruise ships," explained Martha Brockenbrough, author of "Things
That Make Us (Sic): The Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar Takes
on Madison Avenue, Hollywood, the White House, and the World." "You're sitting there, just trying to get where you
need to be, and someone nearby is either honking into a Kleenex or
puking over the railing. The next thing you know, you're spewing forth
in similar fashion."
So, forgive me for spewing forth that lame little saying. But now we know, right? We don't have to wonder what a wheelhouse is anymore and we can actively resent people who talk about them without really knowing what they're talking about.
Anyway, I should probably grade those papers. Or something. Maybe there's some data entry here at the WC I could do.....
Monday, February 25, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
You're Home! You're Home!
Whew.
So in less than 48 hours, I drove close to 800 miles, drove around the Dow Chemical-financed city of Midland, had a great dinner with long lost family, did a five hour interview at Delta College, and made it back in time to go to Maryn's spelling bee on Saturday morning.
The interview went great. At least, I thought so. Who knows what the decision makers felt? I found out that there are actually four finalists for the position, rather than three like I originally thought. So my chances went from 33.3% possibility to 25%. Ah well. I feel like I did the very best that I could, and if they don't choose me, it won't be because of anything I left undone or unsaid. It will just be because they prefer someone else. As Zen as I feel about it, let's hope it doesn't come to that. They have two other candidates to interview, one on each of the next two Fridays, so I won't hear anything one way or the other until March. I'd rather know now, but at least the anxiety of prepping for the interview is over.
Highlights of the trip were:
Dry roads and no real bad weather to speak of, coming or going.
Dinner with my cousin, Scott Pennock, and his family. I haven't laughed like that or felt that welcome in a long time.
Discovering Delta College's campus and courtyard were designed by Alden B. Dow, a one-time apprentice to Frank Lloyd Wright and all-round cool architect.
Cool, interested, and interesting people in the English department.
The chicken club sandwich I had for lunch during the interview. The cafeteria at Delta is pretty much awesome.
The warm chocolate chip cookie I got upon checking in at the Doubletree in Bay City.
Uninterrupted time to call family and friends while driving back.
Finding out what the Tridge is.
Making it home safe and sound. When I looked in on Parker (who should have been sleeping), she sat up and said, "Dad! You're home! You're home!" and opened her arms to give me a hug. That's always the best part of any trip.
Anyway, I'm back now. Maryn got eliminated in the second round on the spelling bee on the word "catkin," which I had never heard before in my life. She was unfazed, mostly because she had no interest in going on any further. The anxiety of preparation was not her favorite thing. I don't blame her.
Today is the Presidents' Day holiday. No plans. Maybe errands and lunch out later. Maybe just sitting around the house and doing nothing because, frankly, that sounds totally awesome.
So in less than 48 hours, I drove close to 800 miles, drove around the Dow Chemical-financed city of Midland, had a great dinner with long lost family, did a five hour interview at Delta College, and made it back in time to go to Maryn's spelling bee on Saturday morning.
The interview went great. At least, I thought so. Who knows what the decision makers felt? I found out that there are actually four finalists for the position, rather than three like I originally thought. So my chances went from 33.3% possibility to 25%. Ah well. I feel like I did the very best that I could, and if they don't choose me, it won't be because of anything I left undone or unsaid. It will just be because they prefer someone else. As Zen as I feel about it, let's hope it doesn't come to that. They have two other candidates to interview, one on each of the next two Fridays, so I won't hear anything one way or the other until March. I'd rather know now, but at least the anxiety of prepping for the interview is over.
Highlights of the trip were:
Dry roads and no real bad weather to speak of, coming or going.
Dinner with my cousin, Scott Pennock, and his family. I haven't laughed like that or felt that welcome in a long time.
Discovering Delta College's campus and courtyard were designed by Alden B. Dow, a one-time apprentice to Frank Lloyd Wright and all-round cool architect.
Cool, interested, and interesting people in the English department.
The chicken club sandwich I had for lunch during the interview. The cafeteria at Delta is pretty much awesome.
The warm chocolate chip cookie I got upon checking in at the Doubletree in Bay City.
Uninterrupted time to call family and friends while driving back.
Finding out what the Tridge is.
Making it home safe and sound. When I looked in on Parker (who should have been sleeping), she sat up and said, "Dad! You're home! You're home!" and opened her arms to give me a hug. That's always the best part of any trip.
Anyway, I'm back now. Maryn got eliminated in the second round on the spelling bee on the word "catkin," which I had never heard before in my life. She was unfazed, mostly because she had no interest in going on any further. The anxiety of preparation was not her favorite thing. I don't blame her.
Today is the Presidents' Day holiday. No plans. Maybe errands and lunch out later. Maybe just sitting around the house and doing nothing because, frankly, that sounds totally awesome.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
BING AGAIN!
So I guess I let January come and go. Ah, well. So it goes.
It's Goundhog Day. The all-day marathon of the Bill Murray classic is on TV, snow has finally fallen and stuck in the Illinois Valley, and I'm here in our chilly sunroom while everyone else takes an early afternoon siesta.
So what's going on, you ask. Well, a lot. This has been a weird month. Last month was the four year anniversary of our family moving to Tonica. I've been teaching at IVCC eight consecutive semesters now, and yet, during these first few weeks of the semester, it seems like this is my first time .... doing anything. At all. Like walking or speaking or feeding myself. Seriously. I don't know exactly what's been going on, but I have been forgetting things, neglecting details, overlooking important stuff, and just generally drifting from mistake to mistake for the last couple of weeks. I don't want to get into the super embarrassing details, but suffice it to say, I think my American Lit class this term collectively thinks I'm the Andre-The-Giant of stupidity. It's not good.
I'm having a hard time keeping days straight, remembering which classes are in which rooms, remembering meetings and appointments, etc. I've never been a type-A, chained-to-my-planner sort of guy at all. (I take that back. I was kind of like that for the last year or so of my mission. But it was a phase.) I've been known to forget a thing or two - I know I irritate Suzanne like an itchy tag in a new shirt sometimes when I forget stuff. But the extent and pervasiveness of this forgetfulness is kind of freaking me out. I actually bought a planner and started writing down every appointment, every assignment I give out, etc. and I cling to it, terrified I'm going to forget something again. Eeesh.
I actually took an Internet quiz that said it's possible I'm suffering from moderate adult ADD. This, of course, makes me think of that insurance commercial where the girl says, "That can't put anything on the Internet that isn't true." I don't know if it's ADD, a tumor, my 39th birthday, or just a remarkably long streak of bad luck crossed with a healthy dash of my natural carelessness.
I do know one thing on my mind that's been distracting me. I've been job hunting for the last couple of months, sending out applications, checking the Chronicle of Higher Education, etc. Last month, I had a phone interview with a college in Michigan and two weeks from yesterday, I'll have an all-day on-campus interview there. It's called Delta College and is right between Midland, Saginaw, and Bay City. That puts it about a hundred miles from Suzy's parents and siblings in the Detroit suburbs. The towns are bigger than anything we have near here, there are two wards in Midland alone, there are half a dozen different middle schools/high schools in the area, there's a Barnes and Noble nearby. In so many ways, it seems like it would be a huge step in the right direction for our family.
And I'm freaking out about it a little. Not just because I would really like this job, really like this opportunity to get me and my family at least one time-zone away from the Illinois Valley - but because I'm worried it won't happen. I mean, I think I stand a very good chance of getting it. I have all the right experience and education. I'm a good teacher, my colleagues like me, I have good references, etc. But the unknown, the possibility of not getting it, of getting our hopes up for nothing kind of distracts me from what's going on right here, right now. You know?
I feel like I'm verging into whiny, obsessive territory. So forget it. Let's talk about fun things.
I really like the CW's Arrow. It's an adaptation of the DC comic book hero Green Arrow. It's only very loosely based on the characters from the comics, and it suffers from the same malady that every CW show has - it doesn't matter the age, sex, occupation, race, or life experience of the character, every last one of them looks like an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Hardened cop? Model. Drug addict? Model. World weary ex-Marine? Model. Still, I don't care. It's fun escapism that doesn't make me just angry to watch. And that's hard to come by.
Last week's Downton Abbey? Seriously? I didn't need that kind of profound grief attack at ten o'clock on a Sunday. Jeeze almighty. This season has really been letting me down because so many of the characters are acting out of character -- arbitrary, unfounded decisions and statements have been flying all over the place and making me care a lot less about that show. But then Lady Sybil dies and I'm a mess. I'm still not a 100% cool with death scenes that are depicted in any kind of a real, emotionally relevant way. I can watch Arrow pin up bad guys like butterflies to styrofoam and I'm fine. But to see a character that has been well-written and well acted, a good decent character that you're emotionally invested in die -- I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet.
The Office. Booooooo! You have officially crossed the line between just not being very funny any more and totally screwing up everything. Going out on a whimper is one thing. Going out on a "What the freak are you doing?!" is way worse. Stop now before we forget Michael Scott was ever even there.
I read Larry McMurtry's memoir Hollywood so you don't have to. It was on sale for a buck and I overpaid. He's worked in Hollywood for decades and you'd think he'd have all sorts of fun, juicy stories to tell. And you'd think a novelist and screenwriter would do a good job of telling them. Nope. Pretty thin, lame, and surprisingly short on interesting details of any kind. The whole book seems to be a first draft that an editor would return for major rewrites to a less established writer. Bleh.
I'm reading Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio. I get why it's considered an early Modernist classic, but it's not a whole lot of fun.
I saw the Black Keys on Austin City Limits the other day. It was an old broadcast, but still super cool. On it, I discovered this song from one of their early EPs. I'm still amazed that one guy with a guitar and one guy with a basic drum kit can make this much cool noise. This song, rather than being a head-bobbing rocker, is more a slinky, "Hey baby, how you doin'?" kind of song and I dig it. I share it with you now so you too can have some cool neo garage blues in your life.
It's Goundhog Day. The all-day marathon of the Bill Murray classic is on TV, snow has finally fallen and stuck in the Illinois Valley, and I'm here in our chilly sunroom while everyone else takes an early afternoon siesta.
So what's going on, you ask. Well, a lot. This has been a weird month. Last month was the four year anniversary of our family moving to Tonica. I've been teaching at IVCC eight consecutive semesters now, and yet, during these first few weeks of the semester, it seems like this is my first time .... doing anything. At all. Like walking or speaking or feeding myself. Seriously. I don't know exactly what's been going on, but I have been forgetting things, neglecting details, overlooking important stuff, and just generally drifting from mistake to mistake for the last couple of weeks. I don't want to get into the super embarrassing details, but suffice it to say, I think my American Lit class this term collectively thinks I'm the Andre-The-Giant of stupidity. It's not good.
I'm having a hard time keeping days straight, remembering which classes are in which rooms, remembering meetings and appointments, etc. I've never been a type-A, chained-to-my-planner sort of guy at all. (I take that back. I was kind of like that for the last year or so of my mission. But it was a phase.) I've been known to forget a thing or two - I know I irritate Suzanne like an itchy tag in a new shirt sometimes when I forget stuff. But the extent and pervasiveness of this forgetfulness is kind of freaking me out. I actually bought a planner and started writing down every appointment, every assignment I give out, etc. and I cling to it, terrified I'm going to forget something again. Eeesh.
I actually took an Internet quiz that said it's possible I'm suffering from moderate adult ADD. This, of course, makes me think of that insurance commercial where the girl says, "That can't put anything on the Internet that isn't true." I don't know if it's ADD, a tumor, my 39th birthday, or just a remarkably long streak of bad luck crossed with a healthy dash of my natural carelessness.
I do know one thing on my mind that's been distracting me. I've been job hunting for the last couple of months, sending out applications, checking the Chronicle of Higher Education, etc. Last month, I had a phone interview with a college in Michigan and two weeks from yesterday, I'll have an all-day on-campus interview there. It's called Delta College and is right between Midland, Saginaw, and Bay City. That puts it about a hundred miles from Suzy's parents and siblings in the Detroit suburbs. The towns are bigger than anything we have near here, there are two wards in Midland alone, there are half a dozen different middle schools/high schools in the area, there's a Barnes and Noble nearby. In so many ways, it seems like it would be a huge step in the right direction for our family.
And I'm freaking out about it a little. Not just because I would really like this job, really like this opportunity to get me and my family at least one time-zone away from the Illinois Valley - but because I'm worried it won't happen. I mean, I think I stand a very good chance of getting it. I have all the right experience and education. I'm a good teacher, my colleagues like me, I have good references, etc. But the unknown, the possibility of not getting it, of getting our hopes up for nothing kind of distracts me from what's going on right here, right now. You know?
I feel like I'm verging into whiny, obsessive territory. So forget it. Let's talk about fun things.
I really like the CW's Arrow. It's an adaptation of the DC comic book hero Green Arrow. It's only very loosely based on the characters from the comics, and it suffers from the same malady that every CW show has - it doesn't matter the age, sex, occupation, race, or life experience of the character, every last one of them looks like an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Hardened cop? Model. Drug addict? Model. World weary ex-Marine? Model. Still, I don't care. It's fun escapism that doesn't make me just angry to watch. And that's hard to come by.
Last week's Downton Abbey? Seriously? I didn't need that kind of profound grief attack at ten o'clock on a Sunday. Jeeze almighty. This season has really been letting me down because so many of the characters are acting out of character -- arbitrary, unfounded decisions and statements have been flying all over the place and making me care a lot less about that show. But then Lady Sybil dies and I'm a mess. I'm still not a 100% cool with death scenes that are depicted in any kind of a real, emotionally relevant way. I can watch Arrow pin up bad guys like butterflies to styrofoam and I'm fine. But to see a character that has been well-written and well acted, a good decent character that you're emotionally invested in die -- I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet.
The Office. Booooooo! You have officially crossed the line between just not being very funny any more and totally screwing up everything. Going out on a whimper is one thing. Going out on a "What the freak are you doing?!" is way worse. Stop now before we forget Michael Scott was ever even there.
I read Larry McMurtry's memoir Hollywood so you don't have to. It was on sale for a buck and I overpaid. He's worked in Hollywood for decades and you'd think he'd have all sorts of fun, juicy stories to tell. And you'd think a novelist and screenwriter would do a good job of telling them. Nope. Pretty thin, lame, and surprisingly short on interesting details of any kind. The whole book seems to be a first draft that an editor would return for major rewrites to a less established writer. Bleh.
I'm reading Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio. I get why it's considered an early Modernist classic, but it's not a whole lot of fun.
I saw the Black Keys on Austin City Limits the other day. It was an old broadcast, but still super cool. On it, I discovered this song from one of their early EPs. I'm still amazed that one guy with a guitar and one guy with a basic drum kit can make this much cool noise. This song, rather than being a head-bobbing rocker, is more a slinky, "Hey baby, how you doin'?" kind of song and I dig it. I share it with you now so you too can have some cool neo garage blues in your life.
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