Mittens Does It Again

March 5, 2012

I saw that relative today who just happens to have a blog as well. I’m sure you remember me mentioning her.

Now, she said some things that got me both very interested and a little confused. Maybe you can help me out.

In short, she follows around her husband who is a professional athlete. The blog covers this subject. Since he’s not in a sport that really makes big money, they are living very meager lives. They had talked to each other about how she could start seeing some income due to the traffic on her blog.

1. She mentioned how she didn’t expect to see any money from her blog “for a few years”

This is possible? We can make money doing this?

I know asking this reveals one of two things. It shows that I am really slow on picking up on things considering the number of months I’ve done this, or it shows that she has no idea what she is saying despite her very limited experiences blogging.

During this time period I have never once heard of or noticed anything about people getting paid for their work on their own blogs. There is no advertising…right? Maybe WordPress itself is advertising on the blog…but other than that…nothing. So how can you see money from a blog?

I would even understand that you may be able to work for a blog. One that is large enough and needs many different writers could realistically receive enough traffic to pay some money to their writers. Still, I don’t see any ads anywhere. So where is the revenue coming from?

I personally thought this idea was totally wrong but what do I know? Can you get paid for running your own little blog on WordPress?

Had she been running her own website and allowed for advertising on this website…I could totally understand. But…a WordPress blog? I think not.

The more I think about it…I don’t even remember how giving any real personal information to WordPress. So how on this planet would I get a check?

2. She mentioned how she didn’t want to post “too often” because she only wanted to publish things that were of good quality. 

I think she’s a fine writer. I think that idea makes total sense. She only wants to put out things she can be proud of. What’s wrong with that? That’s an admirable quality.

I’m not a very good writer.* and I post pretty regularly. (I even recently challenged myself to make sure I post every day this month). I don’t think all my posts are crap. I think some are written to be fairly entertaining. But I do think some are a little…tired… at times. But don’t even some people who write blogs for a living end up writing pretty lame posts?

Think about a journalist. Sometimes you get to break the story that the CEO of a major corporation is committing adultery with a circus performer in Russia. Sometimes you tell people about the 3rd annual Cutest Kitten Contest at the local VFW where last year’s champion Mittens did it again. (Mittens IS cute….you can’t deny that…)

So am I the one who is being ignorant or is she?

Once again. I’m not trying to pass judgement on her. I’m really interested in knowing the truth behind these matters. Should I post less? Should I expect a check in the mail one day for blogging services rendered? Should I end up training and grooming kittens for Cutest Kitten Contests around the country?

D.A.

*Edit: I realize that it looks like I’m fishing for compliments but I’m not. It’s a fact that I’m not a good writer.That’s why I made a blog. So I can become a better one. So…don’t get all “Awwww…you’re a good writer.” At least wait until I come up with a solid story at least.

Mundy Monday

February 27, 2012

Goal for this week: WRITE A POST FOR EACH DAY OF THE WEEK.

Secondary goal for this week: GIVE ALL THOSE POSTS ALLITERATIVE TITLES.

So I found out something about myself today. I’m like a pickle jar.

Now here comes the very complicated explanation of what that actually means. I’ll also be sure to not directly tell you, but only provide you with a short story and follow that up with me freaking out about the story in a fairly scatterbrained manner. Okay?

Here’s the scene. I’m playing a game on the internet (using my time wisely) and I get a call on the phone from my father. He’s just wanting to ask me a few things on some random topics. He also mentions to me that I have a cousin that has a blog.

I tense as I hear the word. NO I think to myself. THERE CAN’T BE ANOTHER. WHAT IF THEY FIND ME?

“Oh yeah?” I said, acting like I didn’t really understand these foreign words. “That’s nice.” I tried to make sure my voice was level.

“Yeah, it is,” he said. “She writes very well. You should check it out.”

I commented that I would check it out sometime. We said our goodbyes and he went off think everything was all hunky-dory.

As I hung up I immediately typed it in and checked it out.

I hawked down every pixel on that blog. Every. Single. One.

And to be fair, it really was a nice little thing she had made. I hope the best for her. But it’s one of those fancy upgraded WordPress blogs that you pay so much for a domain name and other features.

Oh no…

Not only is she blogging…she’s in my neighborhood. Us Bancrofts seem to have similar taste in our blogging preferences.

Now I feel a little…cooped up.

Why?

Well that’s because I keep this blog a secret from every person I actually know. I don’t want them to know. I don’t even want them to suspect that I may or may not have an online affiliated hobby. I don’t even want them to know I know what a blog is….

This is the point where you start to question my sanity, and rightfully so. A normal person should not feel weird at all right now. Oh, somebody I know has a blog. No biggie. Those are normal thoughts.

But for me this is different. For me this little splotch on the interwebs is my person sanctuary. It’s a relief from the world. It’s a place where I can put my thoughts on electronic paper and file them away. Hey, I might even get some people to comment on those ideas I share.

I can practice writing  and feel safe…

So, in my own messed up way, this is almost an attack on my safe place.

I’m imagining a field of full of colorful wildflowers and a great big oak tree with branches so low you can hop up and sit on them. The summer breeze would ruffle your clothes and weave throughout your bare toes as you relax. life is good.

Now imagine a Transformers battle taking place while you rest. Yeah, that’s what i’m talking about.

So, how am I like a pickle jar? 

Well, this place is still a secret. STILL. Despite everything my ego wants from me.

I kind of secretly want recognition for my kind-of-sort-of-mildly-entertaining-place-of-residence-on-the-internet. I have a fantasy of building this place up into some very popular internet page and some of my friends and family stumble across it and find themselves very amused. Then they read more and more and realize that this D.A. fellow sounds a lot like …

:::gasp:::

Then they immediately phone me and I try to act all casual. “Nah, it’s not me, but i’ve seen that site before.” I say, hoping to blow off their suspicions.  “Yeah, I read some of his books. They’re pretty funny/thoughtful/well written.”

Then they begin a compulsive investigation of myself and how I get my money. Since my blog and susequent writings have become so popular and I’ve been published many times I will no longer need to work, they will start to wonder why I stopped teaching. All I seem to do is sit in my house all day and play video games. (Maybe I’ll claim I made some good investments in some major companies on the stock market.)

Then one day they will provide me with the documented evidence of my workings. They will point the finger at me and say “Your are D.A. Bancroft!” I will lower my head as if in defeat. The game has been lost.

But I still won.

Yes, a big dichotomy. I want recognition. I want invisibility. Kind of reminds me of this guy…

I guess I should explain who this is…

This the The Grand Galactic Inquisitor. He is a giant humanoid that seemingly has a mastery over time and space, but he is also trying to observe things while hoping people just ignore him. Maybe simply can’t do such a thing…so he screams at the top of his voice box “IGNORE ME!”.

Okay, okay. Maybe I’m blowing this whole thing out of perspective a little bit…

I guess if people found out who I am…it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. And I’m sure my family would give about zero and a half craps about what I write on here. My friends my give three fourths of a crap.

My point still stands. This is a place for me. Just me trying to do my thing… whatever that may be.

And I’m not going to apologize for blowing that whole thing up…

Didn’t you want to read something dramatic and entertaining? I’m trying to do that for you. Don’t you kind of wish you could watch my words as I slip into a mental breakdown? That would be outrageously entertaining.

Maybe I would start to really believe I AM D.A. Bancroft. I start becoming… a new person. I speak with more certainty. I use bigger words. I start wearing a sweater all the time. Creepy stuff.

I mean…that would be entertaining… right?

But for now…I’ll just keep the lid on this whole thing. Just like that pickle jar.

D.A.

P.S. Just realized that jars of jelly are much more difficult to open. So…reread this entire thing, but substitute the word pickle with jelly.

I have begun work on what will be my first novel.

Mind you, this is only the very beginning stages of writing this novel. I am going to try and implement some of the strategies I have learned over the last year. So far this is what I’ve done and this is the order in which it has occurred.

1. Come up with an idea. I can’t believe it, but I settled on an idea. It’s taken some time (several months) but at least it’s happened.

This also includes the design of the characters that are going to be running around doing this whole thing.

2. Write a plot “skeleton”. I’m not sure of how else to describe this. I am writing, sort of a time line, that includes all the events that are going to occur in this story. Plot line? Order of Events? I don’t know what to call this. But I have done this.

3. Adding meat onto this skeleton. I am going to build scenes around each of these events (or maybe have multiple events occurs in single scenes. This is where I currently am in terms of getting things done.

I still have to pick locations/minor characters/quirks/arguments/dialogue/small dilemmas for the scenes and the real fun details that would make this whole thing interesting to read. This is probably going to take a lot of time and after I start writing I may not even following these details.

This is one thing I’ve learned. No matter how much you plan, it’s still not writing. You will never be able to plan ever detail to a story before you write it. At least I will get a pretty good idea for where I want to go.

After I pack all this meat onto the skeleton, I will judge if it is a deformed malnourished creature build only to survive in the depths, or if it is a well built and hearty beast that can flourish in the rain forest. Only time will tell.

So, I haven’t been wasting my time completely while I’m not blogging. At least I’ve begun working on one of my life’s biggest goals.

This is just a quick little update to let you know about it. As I progress I will end up actually telling you more about my thought process as I’m going through everything.

D.A.

 

Irked and Purple Hair

January 17, 2012

I’m not sure if that’s a word that is being used properly, but that’s the feeling I’ve been having lately.

As a matter of fact, I tried writing about this the day after this whole thing occurred. I wrote a whole (poorly written) post about it and let it sit in my queue for over a week. I couldn’t even bring myself to post about anything else because this has bugged me this much.

Since I have a blog that is written in anonymity why don’t I go ahead a say things that would typically embarrass me?

I was in a wedding like…3 weeks ago? Something like that.

Then I attended a wedding a week after that.

In order to make a very long and painfully awkward family bugging me story out of it, let me recap the main points. Hey, I’ll even use bullets and put it in list form for your added convenience.

  • I attended a wedding some 2 weeks ago.
  • Girl was at wedding alone
  • She had purple hair
  • I was at wedding alone
  • I did not have purple hair
  • 50% of my extended family and 100% of my nuclear family thought I should “Go talk to her.”
  • They also recommended I “Ask her to dance.”
  • I was told she was “cute and bored”
  • ***Main Point*** I was not amused nor appealed by their suggestions, and blatantly refused to do such a thing.
  • Went home kind of angry.

Why, D.A., were you sort of angry?

Well, I was kind of upset with everybody looking at me and taking on this particular attitude. The attitude is something along the lines of  “Hey, you better get a girlfriend soon or you’ll die alone and smelling of old wet shoes.”

But the main source of my anger was myself.

Who do I really think I am? I outright refused to go speak to another human being. What fear was binding me to my seat? What did I have to lose?

Forget everybody’s opinion, what makes me think I’m so great that I won’t bother meeting a new person?

I’m not sure if she was cute. I’m not sure if she had Kuato growing out of her stomach (Yes, this is a Total Recall reference. If you haven’t seen the movie, please do yourself a great favor and watch one of Arnold’s best films. DO IT NOW!) I should be willing to shake anybody’s hand and say hello. No matter what benefit their is in there for me.

For all I know she could have been the girl of my dreams. We could have married and grown old selling folk art together (I’m assuming purple hair = selling folk art future). She could have just been a person I met and immediately forgot her name 2 hours later.  The point isn’t what could have happened between us, the point is, what is becoming of me when I won’t even try to meet new people.

Was I sitting there in judgement on this human being? Was I sitting there in judgement on myself? As a Christian, doesn’t this seem wrong in some capacity? Am I letting my introversion take control in social situations? And I just assuming I will never meet anybody of interest unless I already know them?

I’m asking a lot of questions out loud here. I’m not sure what any answers are. I would just like you to see that this little event really got under my skin and will continue to bug me for quite some time.

But at least I finally got his post out of the way and I feel like the barrier has been broken and I can write about another subject and move on.

Since I’ve been strangely personal for once, why don’t we have a very off topic question to round things up? Sound good?

Great.

If you woke up tomorrow and were 4 inches taller, what would be your immediate course of action? Why?

D.A.

Hey, it’s Friday!

Would you like to have a peek into my real life?

Why are you making that disgusted face? No really. Can I share something with you that is sort of my unwinding ritual from the work week?

WHY ARE YOU GETTING READY TO CLICK AWAY?!

Come on! I’m serious!

And it’s nothing weird. I promise.

Every Friday, when I get off of work, I decide to treat myself to driving out Comic Central. Ahh yes, my “local” comic shop. (It looks really creepy when I use the quotation marks there. It makes it seem like I fly in from Venus or something… Just ignore them and pretend that I put them there for comedic effect.)

Here is the place where I pick up my subscriptions, chat it up with some of the local geekery, and generally just waste a lot of time.

I usually walk out with spending 7 to 8 bucks in picking up subscriptions. Sometimes, when I’m feeling crazy, I pick up a trade paperback of something that I think I would be interested in. Then is just awesome to go off and have a conversation with an adult and talk about things that don’t totally matter.

Most of the time I spend there is chatting it up with one of the employees. Mostly we just shoot the bull, but sometimes we get into some really good discussion about what makes comics so… good. This always perks me up after a hard day/week.

I think social things like this really help to reset my clock and help me prepare for the whole next week.

It’s one of those things I look forward to during the week. And I’m happy I’ve got one of those things. I don’t really know how I would survive without something in it’s place.

But the time has come where I’m caught up on all my comic readings and I need more.

That’s where you come in. Tell me what to read next!

I’m pretty surprised in myself because I don’t recall having asked for this advice on here before. But, if my memory serves me correct, I recall many of my fellow internet friends (that’s you) have read plenty of comics.

This is your time to shine. I will take any and all suggestions. You want to suggest a comic about sharks that do martial arts and combat an army of sea bass? Cool, I’m with that. You want to suggest a comic of teens dealing with middle school drama and vampires? Alright, I could give it a shot. You feel like suggesting a black and white comic with no dialogue about flowers that are actually ultra powerful demigods in Norse mythology? I guess I’m good with that too.

Anything. I’m willing.

And if possible, try to sell it to me like a used car salesman. I would think would be fun as well.

D.A.

Psychedelic Potpourri

September 23, 2011

I have to tell you this crazy story about teaching. But before I can do that, I figured this would be a good time to tell you another thing that’s pretty cool. So stick with me, it’ll all pay off in the end.

When I graduated from college, (way back in the spring of 2011), my grandmother gave me the first of three handcrafted glass ornaments.

She said she wanted me to have them for two reasons:

1. She wanted to give me something that meant a lot to her. These glass ornaments were actually something I (D.A. “best grandson in the world” Bancroft) gave her when I was merely a youngin’. I’m not sure why I gave them to her, but i’m sure she thought they were great. She thought giving me these gifts would be her way of saying “look how far you’ve come”.

This whole gesture meant quite a lot to me coming from her. And I know it meant a lot to her. The ornaments, in her words, represented different moments of my “adulthood” (which sadly only happened this year). The first was for my graduation from college. The second for my teacher certification. And the last was for me getting my first job.

I though this was so awesome I’ve put them on my desk at work. One is a cool glass egg, the other is a globe, and the last is a friendly looking  plesiosaur. You know… like Nessie.

(Que the canned response from the audience)

Awwwwww…

2. The second reason (a likely the main reason) she gave me these ornaments is for more practical purposes. I’m quoting her in saying, “I’ve got so much junk and I’ll probably die soon anyway, so I might as well start giving stuff away before people start throwing it away.”

Thanks Grandma. You’re a true optimist.

I tell you all that in order to tell you this.

Today at school I had a very busy day. I had to have my final grades for the 1st quarter submitted, plan and implement 2 different labs, and still corral kids into doing what I want them to. It’s never an easy task but today was a harder day than many.

When I drove to work I needed pick up a few things from the local Walgreens to pick up windmill supplies. (Yeah, windmills for renewable energy lesson, go figure.) When I arrive at work I drop everything on the desk and begin working on entering grades on the computer. Why am I waiting until the last minute to enter grades? Because I lazy and …. well I’m just lazy. But that’s not the point of the story.

Eventually human beings enter my room and expect to do things. Oh yeah, I say to myself, I’ve got to teach today. So I do that and everything goes good. Then I get a planning/lunch period where I set up a lab for fourth period. Since I skipped lunch in order to enter more grades on the computer I started getting a little ragged out. I was running out of energy. With no fuel to power me I just hoped that the rest of the day would go by fast.

And it did.

I was so happy, things were looking up for old D.A. Grades were submitted. Labs were done. Kids were somewhat entertained. All in all, it was a B+ of a day. (See how I just throw grades out there?)

The final bell rings and I take the last breath and say the thing I wanted to say all day.

“Have a nice weekend. Now get out of my room.”

(Yes, that’s what I said)

As I walk out into the hallway (like any good teacher should) I start talking to a fellow teacher across the hall. Since me and her get along quite well we could have had an awesome conversation. Maybe we were going to start talking about how the Florida Gators are doing this year. The conversation might have moved on to a different subject. We could have ended up complaining about the prices of the school lunches. We might have even had the chance to talk about another teacher’s poor choice in music. Oh, what sweet memories they would have been…

Before these little moments could be shared I was interrupted with a very fast and high pitched holler.

“Mr. Bancroft! Mr. Bancroft! Mr. Bancroft!”

I turn and look inside of my room and see a student holding up a colored shard of glass.

“Oh no,” I say to myself. “I hope they didn’t kill my little nessie.”

The kid holding the shard looks at me and says “This fell on the ground. It’s not mine.”

“Of course it’s not yours. Who broke my nessie?” I said with a little perturbed edge.

I just knew in my gut that one of my glass ornaments had fallen to the floor. I was so disappointed in myself and my kids. They knew how much those meant to me. But why did I trust them in the first place? I know kids are clumsy. I know they end up doing stupid things. It’s my fault because I put them there. I knowingly put them directly in the line of fire.

That still didn’t stop me from feeling like it was all their fault. Some things that were going through my mind in that moment were:

How dare they! How could they! The injustice! The horror! The mess I would have to sweep up! What a boneheaded thing to do! Kids these days!

“No, Mr. Bancroft, It’s not your ornament.” the student exclaims.

Then what the crap is it?” I ask reluctantly.

“It’s a bowl. Like, for weed.” he utters with fear. “My finger prints are on it but it’s not mine, I swear. I just picked it up to show you.”

“You’ve got to be dookin‘ me.”

(Yes, I actually said this)

3 minutes later I’ve got an administrator and a SRO (student resource officer) in my room picking up the chunks of this stupid paraphernalia. He has that look in his eye that says, “Freakin’ kids…”

How dumb are high schoolers? Clearly they are dumb enough to bring their freaking weed pipe to school then leave it shattered on my floor.

And what will come of it? Probably nothing. There is no evidence to tie any student to the pipe. They all left before my attention was brought to it so I don’t even have any real suspects. (I do have suspects, but that’s just my judging eye looking at my group of kids. I really have no idea.)

What’s the point of the story? 

I dunno… No real point. Just telling you like it is. That’s the note I ended on today. A pretty sad and stupid note.

Well, at least some idiot won’t have a pipe to smoke with tonight…

Afterwards I bought some comics and ate a gigantic sandwich. It was lovely.

What’s the point of that story?

Comics and sandwiches are among my favorite things.

Not weed.

Until we meet again,

D.A.

:::Sigh:::

September 20, 2011

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. That’s to be expected when I’m killing myself with trying to stay afloat in the sea of education.

Have I forgotten about you? No, of course not internet. How could I forget about you? I’ve just been really busy pretending to be a teacher for the past week. We have report cards and a very strange amount of meetings to worry about. I’ve also had to deal with “situations” involving rather racist language between students involved in my classroom (very long story that you will hear nothing about).

All in all, I guess I could say that I’m feeling pretty dead in the water.

Killing….floating in water…. Pretty morbid stuff there D.A….

Yeah.

“How is it going?” you ask me in your best Freudian manner. You then take a long draw on you handcrafted tobacco pipe.

Oh pretty bad I would say. I haven’t graded anything that I should have and my grades have to be turned in tomorrow. Also, my kids in Biology failed a pretty easy test. This makes me contemplate whether I’m a bad teacher or my kids just didn’t study. Now I understand that it’s probably because they didn’t study but it’s really hard to believe that after I talk to them. They do a really good job at making me feel like I’m the smelly turd in the corner of the room.

That was a gross analogy, but whatever, it’s true.

Since I’m here. And since you’re here. I’m going to vent for a little bit. Feel free to tune out during this whole episode of The life and times of D.A. “da boss” Bancroft and tune in another day. (Maybe next week we’ll talk about trains or something.)

I would like to say that my students have managed to work very hard at staying “disengaged” during class. Maybe it’s my poor classroom management skills (which is true). Maybe it’s my inability to understand how to reach out to whatever learning style they have (which may or may not be true). Hey, it could even be that these kids really hate me (unlikely, but since I’m not in a good mood I’ll just say this is totally true). No matter what the reasoning is they still manage to do a great job of letting me know I’m not doing a very good job.

Here are some really pleasant and motivating things I hear for an hour and a half each day.

“You’re not very good at this.” “I don’t like taking these notes.” “Why is this class so boring?” “How come you don’t do things like (Insert teacher’s name here) does? They do it way better.” “Why are we doing this?” “Can I go to the bathroom?” ”

Oh, and my personal favorite…

Every 3.5 minutes I get to hear a long and loud

::::Sigh::::

I’ll admit it now. I dread 4th period every day. And I mean dread.

I’m not talking about the dread you feel when you have to take out the garbage at night and you already took off your shoes. Or even the dread of cleaning underneath your oven because you know you’ll find something awful.

I’m talking about the waiting in a hospital lounge to find out if somebody survived surgery or not. The dread of having to walk up to the bully and give up your lunch money….again…

I don’t know what to do with them…

Sometimes I wish I could just check out of caring about the whole thing. If I could do this job with no emotion I would probably not feel as drained as I do at the end of each day.

As for my other classes, I find myself enjoying and looking forward to seeing them each day. They manage to get interested in the material and ask useful questions. They’re even naturally well behaved (mostly). It’s also important for me to note that I have managed to get a much better grip on the material for those classes as compared to biology. (Remember, I’m supposed to be a biology teacher, not an earth/space teacher). While it’s good that I really enjoy how things are going in those classes (could be better, but I’m working on them), it’s also another demoralizing moment of realization.

Why?

Because my degree, (that lame piece of paper with my name on it) specifically says I am a successful student of biological sciences. I have  a statement of faith that says I learned how to teach biology, so well,  that a board of intelligent and successful educators allowed me to earn said degree. They believed I could do this one thing.

And, apparently, I can’t really do it at all.

I am so bad at doing it I end up going online on a blog that doesn’t even use my real name to complain about my teaching ability.

What if I wasn’t supposed to be the teacher I always imagined I wanted to be?

I still have that dream. I want to be a great teacher. But how can I pull that off in this situation? What do I need to change? Is it my personality?

Yet, I can teach earth/space science with relative ease?

What’s wrong with me?

I hope that I wake up in the morning and it just “clicks”. If the pieces come together in a way that I haven’t tried before, I would feel so blessed. I would feel so relieved. I would feel invigorated.

I would feel like I wouldn’t end up with ulcers by Christmas break.

Trying to chill before I go back to the trenches,

D.A.

(P.S. Bah! Humbug!)

 

Some Days Just Require Action

September 9, 2011

Maybe it’s just Fridays in general, but today was a real tough one.

At the end of today I felt like I had been wading through marshes filled with molasses while having a root canal. There was nothing very pleasant about the day at all.

I had 3 different labs to do today. I even made sure these lined up and happened on the same Friday. Why? Because it seemed like a really good idea at the time. Then I actually had to do the labs with my kids…

It wasn’t the lab setting up that was the hard part, but the constant requests to use the bathroom and constant “Mr. Bank-croft” or “Mr. Uhmmmm…” as they raise call out for me to explain a question to them for the 4th time. Come on guys, I have done a pretty good job on learning your first and last names, the least you can do is remember my one last name. It’s not like you have 74 teachers’ names to worry about.

But like I said…maybe it’s just Fridays.

The point is I really needed to get away from it all. Even if it was just for a little while. A little “me” time would do me well. I also stayed behind at school really late yesterday, so I didn’t want to be there any longer than I had to.

So, I packed up after school and left. I decided to drive 30 minutes to my favorite comic shop and just geek it up for a little while.

Did that. Now what?

I’m not sure if what I did next was a sad thing or a good thing. I went to a restaurant and had a meal. By myself.

Why could that be seen as sad? Well, I’m just a guy eating alone trying to not spill anything on his tie. A guy that doesn’t have somebody to talk to. Nothing to laugh about. Nobody to share a smile with. Just me, my food, and a few restaurant employees. Not to menntion it’s a Friday night and I look like I’m an office worker trying to get a lunch in on a Tuesday afternoon.

Why could it be a good thing? I had been surrounded by dozens of people all day and I was through with that business. I felt great. I liked the idea of sitting (I was actually on my feet all day). I just leaned back and relaxed. I didnt’ care if somebody was with me. I might do it more often now that I think about it.

(Side note: My tie survived the meal.)

After that I went to a very large book store and just… did nothing. I perused and searched. I looked and read. I picked up and put back.

Annnnd I bought a few books…

Don’t worry, I actually started reading one of them and have already put down the first 100 pages. So I don’t expect this to be any real burden on me or my reading list fiasco.

The book?

On Writing by Stephen King.

Why this book?

Well, a few reasons really.

1. I’ve read excerpts of this book before. Especially a small part where he writes about how one article he wrote early in his life was edited by somebody right in front of him. He claimed it changed his writing style/career forever. This little piece has always stuck with me and now I can say I posses it and have read it in a legal way.

2. I have a teacher friend who has taught high school English and Literature courses. She claimed that King’s On Writing has helped a few of her students. Hey, she even had a lot of classroom copies of the book. Which is kind of scary considering how much cursing there is in the book. But that’s besides the point.

3. A nice internet stranger I met on here on WordPress seems to mention it at least once every two weeks. Since I appreciate how she writes, I definitely took her subliminal recommendation into consideration.

4. I want to be a better writer. So I figured reading advice/thoughts by one of the most popular authors to put pen to paper in the past 50 years deserves at least a little attention.

What will I gain from the reading experience? I dunno. Maybe a lot. Maybe none at all. At least I’m really enjoying this read.

Alright, it’s beddy bye time,

D.A.

Leader for the Day

August 30, 2011

Remember this?

When you were in kindergarten or 1st grade your teacher would award the “best student” of the day and they would become class leader?

Was my school the only one that did this?

So you would get caught doing something cool or nice during the week. Your teacher would walk up to you and say something to the effect of, “Wow, good job Douglas! You put the toys away very nicely.” or “Douglas, that was very nice of you to let Sarah borrow your crayons during that lesson.” Then you would get a gold star or something next to your name.

Then on Friday you became Class Leader. You get to walk in the front of the line when you go to P.E or lunch. It means you get to sit at the head of the  table with the teacher. First dibs on certain toys during play time. You might even get to take a nap on the non-sticky nap pad. (That means it’s the mat that Timmy didn’t pee on yet. You know you remember that kid…)

If you were super lucky, the teacher would buy you a Slush Puppie at lunch too. Oh how your cherry syrup stained lips would glimmer at the other kids. They would be so jealous.

Just in case you don't know what a Slush Puppie is, here is it's illegally obtained brand logo for your pleasure.

Yeah, this who thing. Leader for the day. That’s what yesterday felt like on WordPress.

Apparantly I had my last post became “Freshly Pressed.”

I mean, I think it’s really cool and all that, but let’s be honest, I only get to be leader for the day. It’s not like I get the spot on the front page for a whole year. So, I’m just taking the moment to say this:

ATTENTION ALL OF YOU WHO ARE NEW TO THIS BLOG!

I currently have a goal of trying to put a marble in each country on the planet. Yes, I’m serious. I currently have marbles in Canada and the United States…Yes, I know that’s not impressive but all things have to start somewhere.

But if you just send me an email with your address I will be happy to send you a marble. Then you can have it to keep and hold forever and ever.

If you would like more information please read one of my previous posts on the topic.

Now for those of you who have already known me for a while…

I bet you’re wondering if my newfound fame is going to get to my tiny brain.

In short, yes. Yes it is. I’ve just decided it would be worth it because this could be my 15 minutes of fame.

As a matter of fact, half an hour after I found out about this whole thing, I hired an agent. He’s pretty mean, but he gets the job done.

For example:

I already have a movie deal in place where I’m starring opposite Seth Rogen in a buddy cop movie.

I have even started working with Kanye West on a new album. It’s pretty tight yo.

I’ve also updated my wardrobe to only being made by Armani. It’s just how I roll now.

Like I mentioned earlier, I’m leader for the day now…I can do whatever I want.

I hope you’re not still staring at my wonderfully red lips because I’ve been drinking a delicious Slush Puppie.

Making loud slurps in your direction,

D.A.

Tomorrow at 5:09 a.m.

August 21, 2011

That time will mark the beginning of the part of my life that I never really imagined would come.

I still wish I was pretending to be a Teenage Mutant Turtle (Donatello, of course) and putting Legos together.

I will wake up, get dressed, go to work, and try to teach/entertain over 100 people. I will continue to do this for a period that spans over most of the year. I will also get paid to do so. I will also be called Mr. Bancroft all day.

I will wear a tie and my converse. I will carry books back and forth from school to home. I will grade papers. I will have meetings and sit in on teams. I will have parent conferences and emails. I will take attendance and give detentions.

Only word comes to mind.

“Blllluuuuuuggggggg-mmmmmpppph.”

Cultures around the world identify this word as generally meaning:

“Who want’s to wake up at 5 in the morning?”

If I don’t post tomorrow, it’s because one of three reasons. 

1. I’m too tired to bother with silly and childish things on the internet.

2. I really want to do those silly things on the internet but was too tired because I woke up at 5 in the morning.

3. I was eaten alive by a a couple dozen freshmen in a local high school. Check the local news for my name.

(I should also distinguish that “silly and childish things on the internet” doesn’t mean what you do on the internet is silly, it only means what I do on the internet is silly. If you read/subscribe to this blog then you must know and understand exactly what that means.)

D.A.