The times, they are a-changing…so let’s get some updates out of the way.

Website: I’ve been sprucing the old place up a little bit. The mold has been cleared and some new curtains have been hung. I ripped out the carpet and replaced it with bamboo flooring. I even remodeled an entire room. (But the smell of Fritos and toenail clippings is still hanging in the air.) Also, the Thing that was Living in the Fridge wanted me to tell you that he’s learned to speak English and he’s hoping you all are doing well. (Then he went outside and ate another stray cat or two).

To share something completely honest, I’m not the most tech-savvy of the bunch. I’m not sure if those of you who “subscribe” to this blog get updated whenever I change anything on a page…but if you do get updated, then please forgive me for changing things and then making you think this site has been more productive that it has been, then you get hit with a post that also updates you on things you’ve already been updated on.

If you don’t get updated then shut up and listen because it’s about to go down.

I’ve deleted the page that was called “Comics”. It featured a bunch of little doodles in the form of comic strips that I thought were funny at 3 in the morning about two years ago. They were bad. Like…really bad. Not even cute bad. So bad that I when I looked at them for the first time in over a year, I started to question what I was thinking. And I mean really question my mental health. I looked at these things and I reacted like they were photos of experimental surgeries during World War II. I think I’m going to get subpoenaed to testify in some war crimes court at The Hague.

Sooo…I killed them. They’re dead and will never bother us again.

Until now…

From this page’s ashes has risen another creative outlet. It’s called “Art”.

:::puts on beret and dark sunglasses:::

That’s right guys…I’m artsy…

I’ve been dabbling in watercolor for the past year. I’m not very good. I am not well educated in the media nor the idea of what makes art…art, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying. I feel like I’ll share with you some of the stuff I’ve painted in the past and anything else I might paint in the future as long as I don’t think I’ll get too ridiculed by myself in two years when I look back on the content of this page. (On a side note, I’m not sure if Double Jeopardy is a thing in International Court.)

Here will be the first piece I share with you. It’s called Robot on a Building.

It's art, man

Robot on a Building

I know all of you have questions, so allow me to knock a few of those out of the way for you.

Q & A Time!!! (Where I ask the questions and I give the answers)

Why is that the name of the painting? Because it’s a robot, and he’s sitting on a building. If you think of something better, let me know, I’ll change it for you.

What’s the idea behind it? I thought about drawing a robot sitting on a building looking like he was bored from destroying the city. Then I got the bright idea of put the itsy-bitsy little girl with a balloon at the bottom looking up at the robot. Now it just looks like that robot is really bored with this little girl. Like, maybe the whole world has hidden and only this simple little girl with a freaking balloon and bad parents went out to reason with this robot. He is not entertained and is probably thinking about using his giant antenna to catch the last half of the ball game he’s been missing doing all this busy robot work.

Is the city supposed to look like it’s on fire? No. I was trying to make it look like a sunset was happening in the background…but if you want to seen it as a burning city behind him, go for it. Heck, it even makes it look like it was planned when you think about it. But no…I’m not that smart.

Why are the buildings crooked? Because I  can’t draw straight lines.

Why is their some sort of dial on his chest? Are we supposed to suspect that he can somehow look down on his own chest and tell what the reading is? Come on guys…calm down…it’s just a drawing. It looked really robot-y in my head and made sense when I drew it.

How long did it take you to make this? I think it was close to 3 hours. like…maybe 1 and a half to draw with a pencil, erase everything at least 3 times, and redraw it at least 3 times. Another 30 to go over everything with a pen and not make straight lines with the buildings on the side. And the last 30 to paint and all that jazz.

When are you going to get better? Shut up…

END OF Q&A!!!

So on the art page you’ll find this painting as well as two others. I know…I’m forcing you to visit the page in order to see what they are. I know, how could you be so lucky? Right? Because as moderator of this blog, I’m a tyrant, but a benevolent one.

Reading: I’ve been reading a lot lately and it feels wonderful. I’m about halfway through the book Wizard and Glass. I’ve been really thinking a lot about the book, so expect my next post (Wednesday) to feature a very long-winded synopsis and analysis on how I think it applies to my life (and maybe your life despite you not reading it).

Writing: Friday’s post will be a short story. It may or may not be called The Thing that Lived in my Fridge: A Love Story. Prepare yourself.

Now, it’s Monday morning, so you’re probably groggy and tired still. Maybe you’re perusing this site while sipping on your second cup of coffee. You might be reading this during your lunch break. Thank you for wasting your time with me. (I’m still on vacation, so I’m going to taunt you while I can).

But remember: People aren’t paying you to lollygag. Get back to work.

BAWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahaaaaaa,

D.A.

 

 

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I used to call this blog home. Then I left on a weekend trip and said I’d return shortly. But then my car died on the way back and I had to catch a plane instead. But the plane had to get rerouted due to some dude pooping his pants on the flight (the air marshal thought he meant something different what he said he’d “dropped a deuce”). When we landed I was stuck in customs forever and they said I couldn’t enter the country. Apparently I had boarded the wrong plane and ended up on another continent. I eventually broke myself out of that prison of a terminal (a la’ Shawshank style). Then I was captured by pirates and held for ransom for over 14 weeks. They demanded that Paula Deen be put back on the air, and until her recent internet channel/program announcement, that’s where I’ve been.

And you would think those pirates knew how to cook anything with all the devoted watching of her butter soaked recipes.

But here I am. I’m back. But what’s happened to the place? Mike said he’d watch it while I was gone.

I had to kick away some buzzards who had taken up residence at the entrance. Apparently they were eating the mice in the overgrown yard and must have been trying to make some abstract art using their fecal matter. (In all honesty, it’s not too bad). The front door had police tape strewn across and had a moldy patina on the edges.

When I finally got my key to fit in the lock I opened the door the smell of old toenail clippings and Fritos. The blinds were askew but small slits of light ignited the dust particles that floated in the air. The wallpaper was peeling in one dark corner and all of the furniture was missing except the mini bus sized couch. May book collection was partially toppled from their shelves and the legs on the bookcase cracked.

I turn on a light switch only to hear a loud pop and the smell of burnt plastic. One of the bulbs glows dimly, flickering as its coils feel electricity for the first time in years. I drop my bag of hotel soaps and bathrobes from my last stop at a Motel 8.

I flop down in the center of the couch and let the slightly damp cushions hug me. I close my eyes and try to remember the good things that happened in this place.

I remember this was a place of comfort, a place of dreams and goals. This was a place for me to be open and up front. This was a place built by myself and for myself.  I remember the poorly written jokes and the even more poorly written stories that were crafted here. These walls soaked in all those ideas and kept them from escape. They kept them safe from storms outside and the nosey neighbors around.

I take in a deep breath and open my eyes.

There is a fate for this place. Most would have it condemned and demolished; some would just torch it and take the insurance money. Some would pull out a hotplate and sell ramen noodle soup from here claiming it was a new and hipster “gastropub” experience.

I, on the other hand, feel too much nostalgia. I can’t possibly let this place continue to decay. This place can return to its once red moonlit glory. It can once again be a place full of life and goals. I can post banners of failures and banners victories all about. Everybody can once again enjoy the life, writings, and failures of D.A. Bancroft.

So, there it is folks. I think I’ve come back to the old digs.

Yeah, maybe a gut job is required. I might even need to do some work on the foundation. I know the plumbing is full of earthworms and the wiring might have shorted out completely. I’m pretty sure I even left stuff in the fridge… there might be an entire microcosm in there by now. I’ll fiddle with that later.

But at least this means I get to reimagine what the space can be used for.

A good cleaning, some new furniture, and a splash of paint can go a long way.

Yup…home sweet home…

So…

Here I am…

If anybody is still out there…come on by. Maybe bring me a bottle of bleach and some home baked cookies. I could use both.

D.A.

I Almost Died Today

April 30, 2013

(Kinda sorta, but more of a statement of fact than fantasy)

I shall embellish as necessary. You know, for entertainment purposes. But I think as I write this I will end up being more truthful than anything.

SO THERE I WAS… learning how to play Earth, Wind, and Fire’s song September on guitar. (Yeah, specifically this song) And I hear a little bit o’ thunder in the background. But, hey, I pay no mind to a little thunder. I live in Florida after all, thunder is just as common as senior citizens driving golf carts and theme parks.

By the way, in order to get in the mood, you should listen to this as you read on.

So I keep groovin’ and the thunder keeps boomin’.

Now, I should preface everything I’m about to say with this statement. One of my biggest fears is severe weather and only in recent years (let’s say the past 7 or so) I’ve been able to quell the fear that surges through me when I hear the emergency alert system buzz. Since I’ve been living on my own I have not been in a severe weather event. So… this was a first for me. Facing a major fear while totally alone and helpless.

 

So, as I was saying, I kept playing.

For whatever reason I decided to glance out the window and see if it was even raining yet.

Yeah, quite a bit actually. And the wind was looking rather breezy.

This, in my mind, qualifies as a level 2 threat (on a scale of 1 to 10 of course). This means I pull up a website that has some current radar for my area.

“No biggie” I think to myself. “Tis but a sprinkle.” (Yeah, that’s how I talk to myself)

Then the webpage seems aglow with…colors. Like freaking Christmas trees colors. All of them on top of my homestead.

“Oh eff…” I say to myself (and yes, I say eff as a word, deal with it)

I turn on the T.V. and click to a local news station. I’m immediately bombarded with the familiar buzz of the EAS and it telling me, nay, SCREAMING at me, words I don’t want to see.

Tornado.

Looked and sounded a lot like this.

And my car isn’t even in the garage… MOTHER OF PEARL!

So I do what any responsible, conscientious, well thought out person would do. I put down my guitar, grabbed a pillow and stood in front of the T.V. like a moron.

Then I start to hear the rain start to roar, and my apartment (not homestead, sorry) starts to vibrate flood falling from above. I look outside and see how it’s near white outside with rain and the few trees I can see are whipping around as if they were some wet haired woman in a Whitesnake music video.

Oh boy.

So I put on some house slippers and begin to wonder if I should move to the closet or the bathroom (which is pretty much the same place). My panic stricken mind agrees that the best place would be the shower. More support in the walls as well as the tub to help with reinforcing me in place. (No basement and I live on the second story, I’m screwed no matter what).

So, I stand in the shower until I hear the roar of 1 inch thick hail pound on my windows, door, roof, (and my poor car). I even hear the whipping of the trees outside of my place shake violently.

This happens for about 45 agonizing seconds. In which time I said the foxhole prayer 3 times and started contemplating whether I should pull out my phone and record my last will and testament as I wait for the tornado to sweep me away to the land of Oz. I thought, “This is it D.A., you’re a gonner.”

It really started to sound like something from War of the Worlds was going on outside.

Then it stopped just as quick as it started.

Quivering, holding a small pillow, I stepped out of my tub and into the living room. The updated radar indicated it had passed overhead. I was in the clear.

I picked up the guitar again and played for another hour. Went to the store and picked up a steak. Cooked that steak with some green peppers and onions, with a baked potato on the side. I enjoyed every bite a little more knowing the chemicals in my brain still let me remember that I thought I was going to die on this day, April 30th, 2013.

Let’s recap what we should have learned from this experience.

1. I might want to take notice of the weather a little faster next time, juuuuust in case the giant swirly wind tube of destruction decides my presence is needed elsewhere.

2. I need to consider putting my car IN the garage when I know a storm might be a-brewin’.

3. I make tornadoes happen when I play Earth, Wind, and Fire on guitar.

 

Now, fear me.

D.A.

 

Year One

May 15, 2012

Hey everybody.

It’s me, Douglas. I’m the guy who usually writes this blog. Actually, I’m the only guy who writes this blog but lately I haven’t because I’m a lazy bum. A tired and tried lazy bum. A man who’s seen the end of his rope in terms of energy usage and he has just allowed this place to collect a weird smell. The same weird smell that sticks to your clothes after you pull them out of storage from the winter. Or maybe it’s closer to the smell found in old china cabinets filled with your grandmother’s old thimbles.

I’m writing right now (despite all my glorious bumminess) because today is a special day. Today marks the one year anniversary of me starting this blog.

Huzzah!

Bookforme was created to serve as a tool so I could practice the art of writing fiction. I wanted to learn how to write something well enough to hold people’s attention as well as serve as a creative outlet for myself. So far, I think I’ve been able to reach these goals.

Now, if you remember, the main goal of me doing this is to write a book. Not to publish a book. Not to get recognized for my writing. Not to begin slipping into the infinite vastness that is the internet. But simply to write a book.

I haven’t done this yet. But I at least feel a little bit more capable of reaching this goal.

Actually, I feel so confident in this goal that I plan on participating in NaNoWriMo this year. Everybody always refers to it. Every says they love it. So I will mindlessly follow hundreds of thousands of others into the front lines of writing novels in the month of November. Wish me luck. It may be my first novel. (I say may because I could fall short of this goal…which is familiar territory for me.)

Other things have certainly changed in my life as I’ve been writing on here as well. I graduated school. I got a job. I got a haircut. I attempted to build a lamp. I started sending marbles around the world. I missed a lot of self-made deadlines for silly goals. I even developed a short lived crack addiction and was invited to join the cast of Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.

Okay, I made that last part up.

It was meth…and I wasn’t invited on the show…

But despite all those silly things I would just like to write one sincere and complete message for you Dear Reader.

It’s all your fault. Yes, you. Put down that drink and read this! It’s your fault! You did this to me!

You made me feel comfortable writing and that let me feel entitled to write more and more. Your positive comments have only helped push me deeper into this realm, and now I fear there is no turning back. Your kind words and support my have ruined me…

And since I’m having so much fun doing this I just wanted to say thanks. Really. You small band of silly subscribers are the reason why I keep coming back to this place and writing guilt-ridden posts about why I’m not entertaining you as often as I should.

Thank you.

I mean it.

But just saying thank you isn’t enough. I want to give credit where credit is due. Some of you have put up with my self obsessed ramblings for far too long.

Some of the following blogs are made by people that I really admire. They are also people whom I personally feel are responsible for me wanting to do a good job whenever I post something on here. I have and will always look up to them. They are the standard by which I judge myself. If you have ever at any point thought that my ramblings have gotten better (or worse) over time, then you should look in the direction of these people who are directly responsible for molding me into what I am today.

Please support them by clicking their name and giving their stuff a look-n-see. They’re all wonderful and they all do a much better job than I do. I promise that any kind words I say about them were are not exaggerated nor were they bought with bribe money. (Well, okay, not MUCH bribe money…but a guy’s got to put food on the table somehow.)

Still Growing – If my memory serves correctly, she was the first person to begin following my blog. Whether she did it out of pity or interest means nothing, all that matters is that she is an author that I look up to in more ways than one. Her insight and honesty is unfounded and I hope you read her blog and feel the same connection I do whenever I read any of words. She can craft words to make you giggle or cry(and as a man I feel no regrets admitting that ). She can also run a pretty well oiled machine over there. If you read her stuff you will not regret it.

Fish of Gold – This is one of the most interesting people I have come across here on WordPress. Actually, if I knew her in person I would probably think she is the most interesting person I’ve ever met in general. She isn’t afraid to take on any topic and she is always willing to throw down her viewpoint. She’s also sharper than a double edged axe. This makes her wildly entertaining. She is also a professional in the quality of her words and she’s so subtle about it you hardly even notice it.  Plus she does a lot of lists…and I’m a sucker for lists.

Frank C. Bishop – This guy. This guy comes across as a real guy just being a guy. He is genuine and funny. He has his finger on the pulse of pop culture which always results in something great for you. Funny. Smart. Topical. Who wouldn’t like that combination? So…go ahead…click it. You know you want to. (He hasn’t posted in a while because he’s all married and stuff now, but he’ll be back.)

Excerpts From Non-existent Books – This is one of my favorite blogs because this librarian is capable of telling a better story in 200 words than I could in 2,000. All he does is create short excerpts from novels that don’t actually exist. Actually, he writes each piece so well that I’m certain he’s hardly a human being at all. My best guess is super writing cyborg from the future…This is what writing talent looks like.

Covers and Content – This is a personal friend of mine who is wildly creative as well as wildly Swedish. Her writing is astounding, her art is mesmerizing, and her blog is young. She makes my attempts at writing look like they were written by a drunken polar bear and my attempts at art look like they are as creative as a slice of moldy bread. Go support her and help her expose the world to her wonderful creations.

Snotting Black – This lady right here is the real deal. So real that I’m going to give her to official title of “The Real Freakin’ Deal”. She’s funny. Not funny like I just saw some uncle slip into the lake while watching American’s Funniest Videos, but funny like… like…like a good writer that knows how to write comedy and can actually hold your attention. She’s self-deprecating to the point of making your self-defecating. She’s so funny you’ll poop yourself. No lie. Reader beware, you will ruin your shorts if you click that link.

If there are some you reading this who are slightly offended because I didn’t include you on my list, please remember that I only take checks and cash for bribes. If you tried using the Paypal account your money did not get to me it actually went to a prince in Africa.

And to cap things off I just want to reiterate my thanks for you readership/participation in this whole thing. This year has been wonderful to share with you. I hope many more years come after this one. I also hope that you stick around too. I’m going to do my best to finally accomplish my goal this year and after that all bets are off.

Thanks again,

D.A.

This Place is a Mess

May 1, 2012

Just look around here! There are digital cobwebs in the corners of this page for Pete’s sake. All the pixels are very dusty. There is even a new section of my blog called “even older posts.” It’s a lot like an elephant burial ground. Very morbid. Very sad.

No, don’t look for it. It doesn’t really exist. I’m just pointing out that this place is practically falling apart without me.

So we need to spiff things back up! But a little elbow grease into those dusty areas. Spruce it up a notch or two. Maybe put in a nice potted plant to  balance the room. Feng Shui if you will. How about a bonsai tree?

Now that our chakras are in line, let’s meditate on the vastness of the universe together.

Remember, breath in through the nose and out through the mouth.

:::Deep breath:::

:::Deep cough due to the dusty room:::

So whatever happened to that girl that said she was going to take care of this place anyway? She’s a real slacker.

So…

Hey!

What’s up? How have you been? How’s the wife and kids? Or the cats? Or the nothing?

That sounds much better. “How’s the nothing?”

Oh me? Oh, yeah, things are fine. As always. They’re just dandy…

Since we’re being so personal let’s go ahead and address the elephant in the room. I haven’t posted in a little while because I’m a lazy bum. Don’t feel bad though. I’ve neglected everything else as well. It wasn’t until today and yesterday that I finally caught up in grading homework from about three weeks ago.

Yeah…I’m a bad person.

As for what’s been going on at work:

We’re hitting the part of the year when everything HAS to fall in place. If it doesn’t then we screw everything up. Grades need to be ready soon. Testing starts back up next week. I have to do inventory for the lab supplies. And I’m certain there are going to be meetings out of the Wazoo. (For those of you who don’t know, the Wazoo is a small and secretive hut used by teachers to have very cramped and pointless meetings. It is usually found behind the cafeteria dumpsters.)

As for what’s been going on in writing:

Not a whole lot. These words you see here are actually the first words I’ve written in about a week. (This means if you received any email/messages from me you are either 1) very lucky because I haven’t done much of anything lately or 2) It’s not actually me it’s an evil doppelganger that somehow found out how to log on to my account.)

As for what’s been going on in life:

I have taken up a new hobby. I drink “gourmet sodas” and I am currently in the search for the perfect cream soda. My journey thus far has taken me to some interesting places. I’ll be sure to share some of these awesome sodas with you soon enough.

Oh, you know why you’ll learn about them? Because I’m going to introduce my very first weekly post.

NEW GOAL: (I love making up goals too much). Create and maintain a weekly segment of posts. They shall henceforth fall on Thursday.

It shall also be known as THIRSTY THURSDAY. It will be my weekly review of another silly soda that has gourmet credentials. (I.E. says “gourmet” on the bottle.)

Sound good? Cool.

So that’s Thursdays planned for the next foreseeable future. (Or until I find that perfect cream soda.)

I’m also going to do my best to make sure that I’m trowing up (bleh!) something on here for the next week. That’s right. It’s another goal of 1 post per day for a week. (When it rains, it pours.)

Maybe some of those posts will be meaningful. Maybe some of them will feature kittens (because everybody loves kittens, right?). There’s even a chance that they could feature me ranting about how I almost killed myself at work the other day. I dunno, but the real point is, expect some more activity on my side of the screen very shortly.

We got things to do.

D.A.

Quaint Dream and Reading

April 23, 2012

Yesterday I awoke with the strangest memory of the strangest dream. I’m going to relay every detail to you. Maybe there is a special meaning behind it. Maybe it’s just random firing of synapses in my cerebral cortex while I enter R.E.M stages of sleep. Maybe it’s not really a dream but a memory from some very odd sleep walking.

In my dream I wake up. I’m in my bed and everything seems normal. Bed sheets are green, lights are off, and fan is on.

I drudge myself out from under the covers and stumble toward my shorts that are laying on the ground. The shorts are the same shorts that I had worn the day previously and had taken them off before I went to bed. As I shakily place one leg into the opening I manage to lose my balance more than usual. I step through and feel constrained. I try the other leg and can’t quite reach through the other side.

My shorts have magically become pants.

And then I woke up. For real wake up.

Weird…I know. But that was the entire thing.

I should take this opportunity to mention that I’ve been reading a lot lately. This feels really good because I haven’t read anything of substance for a long time.

But this sword is double bladed. While I’m reading more, I’m writing less. I know this shouldn’t be true. The experts (whoever they are) always say, “writers read.” I’ll be honest, I know I should read more, but if I were to do that, my brain would be more preoccupied with reading than writing. I just feel so engrossed in a good story that I really don’t want to put it down. (Also, I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I read very slowly.)

What exactly have I been reading?

I’m so glad you asked.

  • The Gunslinger by Stephen King
  • Fuzzy Nation by John Scalzi
  • The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King
  • Thud! by Terry Pratchett (currently reading)
No, I’m not really into reviewing books but here’s a statement that works for all of them.
They’re all good.
Those of you who have followed my blog for a while may be quick to notice this isn’t the first time I’ve posted updates to my reading list. Those of you with impeccable memory will also notice that none of these books are on that list.
:::Gives self the finger of shame:::
I’m terrible at sticking to reading plans.
Yeah, well, so what? What about your reading list, huh? How you read anything that’s actually on it? I have my doubts…
D.A.

This certainly is a strange mix of novels. But

 

 

I Really Did

April 19, 2012

I honestly posted something on here hours ago. But for some reason it never…worked…it was a very odd thing.

Actually, it was probably for the best. I think I just included some unecessary items. It wasn’t much writing, but a lot of very vital and personal information.

Name. Address. Phone numbers. Social Security number.

You know…stupid stuff.

So since that post is no longer, let’s go ahead and replace it with some real content.

I’ve been thinking about what writing really is. Or at least I’ve been thinking about what I think writing is.

I think it’s mostly a more sophisticated way of saying “Hey, look at me.”

It’s pretty egotistical at it’s core.

When I write, I’m trying to tell a story. I’m also trying to tell it in a way that makes the reader respond. Maybe they say “Good job.” or maybe they don’t speak and just send me money via Paypal. (Both are great reactions.) But even at it’s more basic level, I’m wanting the attention it brings.

And let’s be honest. We all want attention. Even animals want it. What do you think they’re trying to do when they pee on your sock or bring you a dead snake on your back porch? They want your attention. “Look at me.”

This blog is a lot like one of those dead snakes. I know I don’t get a whole lot of traffic through these dusty trails of the internet, but they’re my trails, and I like to know if people are walking through. It makes me feel a little better than I did before. It’s good to know you have been here.

This was probably true for the earliest storytellers in history. It was true back in the middle ages. It was probably true way before written language existed. Storytellers needn’t write their stories… No.

People who would travel from village to village trying to get food and find shelter because they could spin a good yarn. Whenever people hung around and listened, they took a deep satisfaction from that. They had to. It not only meant that they could get food and shelter, but it also had to mean that they were important.

It made them feel like they had something to do in this world.

I think I’m liking the metathought on why I write. I want to feel the same way they did.

D.A.

 

Two in a row…first time in a while.

I don’t have much to say (due to the crazy/laziness in my life right now), but I do have a funny little thing to share with you.

You know how phrases are used all the time? People will say things like “Right as rain” and “Scared half to death”. These phrases are things I heard when I was growing up. When I learned them, I didn’t understand how the phrase came to exist, only that it existed.

You can see this in little kids when they try to repeat certain phrases. They may not say “half to death”, they will probably say something close to it like “haftadef”. It’s close, but it’s not really what is being said. If anything we think it’s cute, which only reinforces that child to misuse or mispronounce the words they are trying to say.

Saying that, I now tell you this.

When I was a kid, I though the phrase “tickle me pink” was actually “pickle me pink”.

It sounds like a punchline to a dirty Irish limerick.

And now that I’ve embarrassed the six-year-old me, I bid you adieu.

D.A.

5 Days

April 17, 2012

Wow. Holy smokes. Hot cheetoes and rice.

Five days since my last post. It’s almost like I relapsed. I got a whiff of the laziness and I just fell back into the old habit. It has been so long since any original content on here I think my little red moon has some cobwebs around it. You see that?

I guess it hasn’t all been laziness. A good portion of it can be blamed on the increased workload toward the end of the year. For example:

FCAT.

No, I’m not incorrectly cursing about a cat. It’s the state mandated test that occurs in every school in the state of Florida. This week is offically known as FCAT week.

This means kids take a two hour long test on Monday and Tuesday. Then the school scrambles to make sure that every kid who missed taking it on those days end up taking it on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. If they don’t take the test, they fail the test. If they fail the test, they can’t graduate. Luckily this test is given to the 10th graders. So they got 2 more years to make it up. (That happens the week before FCAT Week).

So, this also means the normal hours of the day change. Kids are shuffled around and classes are shorter. Not to mention, we all know kids who just took the test as tired from taking one of the most important tests of the school year. So your day for teaching new material is pretty much shot.

Then I’m getting kicked out of my room for the Wednesday/Thursday Panic-and-make-sure-everybody-has-been-tested days-so-we’re-going-to-steal-your-classroom-all-day sort of thing. That means tomorrow and Thursday I will be in a room other than my own. That also means 12 kids will probably not remember I told them to go to a different room tomorrow. Which means many kids are going to get tardies (teacherism) for not showing up to class on time.

Since I’m in a different room (with a shorter class period might I add), the kids will be distracted and won’t want to learn.

So it’s an uphill battle all week. A guy can’t win.

Oh, and in three weeks the kids take their End Of Course Exams. This exam determines if they pass the class or not. And yes, it occurs four weeks BEFORE the class offically ends.

So what do we do for those four weeks after the class material has all been taught?

I dunno…ask me in about four weeks.

D.A.

Just Dropped Off A Cliff

April 12, 2012

Sorry again everybody. I’ve been a real lazy bum for the past few days.

I’m not sure why, but I have been totally drained of energy. Today was the first day in a while where I think I could actually type something legible.

I guess it is just work. Been very busy lately. Feel totally drained when I get home, then I can’t fall asleep. What’s up with that?

And there are tons of emails I haven’t even responded to. I’m a bad person. Sorry again.

So what can I do to make it up to you?

Stub a toe? Rip a pair of pants? Sneeze so hard it makes me double over and hit my head on my desk?

Well, I’m not that kind of guy. How about I just pick up where I left off?

Now that I’m typing away again, I should also respond to some of those emails I’ve neglected for too long.

Tomorrow I will post something of substance. I’ll just prompt you with this. It will easily be the most delicious post I’ve ever written.

EVER.

0_0

D.A.