Gnosce Te Ipse

Okay.... so I spent two hours watching g.i. jane on cable so that my brain might turn to comfortable lime gelatin, only lime gelatin is not comfortable I found; and I have eaten more pizza, I mean pepperoni sausage mushroom black olive this is not how one bulks clean pizza than I have eaten in months. Even a margarita, though when I made the second I spilt it on the floor, mopped up the ice and left it at that. I made finalist. Five names were advanced for two positions. This morning was my exec. interview; me, the president and the vice-president of instruction. And it was longer, more grueling again, than I expected. I think they might be pushing for a third position, which means the candidates were probably very strong. Coming from in district with my tech background....I think I chatted them up pretty well. But now that I've done all I can do (I'll hear by Tuesday, by phone, either way) I feel like eating drinking watching crap t.v. Which I have done. It's been ...

those of you who read regularly know I applied for a position in another college in my district. Yesterday I interviewed. It was rigorous, grueling even, and truthfully, I think I did okay. I didn't fall on my face but I didn't wow the room, either. That's how I recall it anyway. I'm not a very good judge of how I do in situations like that. I still have deep tech background, very deep, and online experience they need desperately. But while I've had teachers in my classroom, and faced two other hiring panels in my life and always done very well, yesterday...I'm not so sure. Coming from in district and having the vita I do will be what gets me the second interview with the president if that happens. Because I have have such a vicious, relentless and critical side I'm trying just to let this go. Take care of myself today, work out, and know I'm powerless over the outcome. Either way, I've got tenure. I'd probably have to work harder the f...

before the next heavy post (I'm still feeling the last one; strange dreams, some fear)...a quick note on the two latest netflicks. I have to confess how charmed I was by Napoleon Dynamite . What is it about that strange little movie? I watched it twice. A color palette which reminded me of The Royal Tennenbaums , but also the 1980's (stirrup pants) when I was as angry and felt as dorky as Napoleon himself. The way he speaks, eyes closed, too pissed and insecure to look at you; his martial arts fantasies, his inability to talk to girls, I love that guy. And the honesty of Pedro. The lowriders. Rico's wierdness. Of course, Deb's smile captured everything, just everything. All the warmth and love and beauty...the need for which seems to move in some boy's genes at that age. Or any other age. What most of us don't know we have when we have it. The first stirrings of the promise of home, family, of someone who comes and does not leave. The girl who rides ...

I'm blogging so infrequently I fear I'll lose my blog readership, all six of you. I've made true friends up here, even if they're virtual friends, Romy, Mike, Karen, Sheri, Amanda, and brought back a couple old friends, Scott and Pdub. But again, I'm finding blogging these days to be challenging. In more than one sense. Reading KMJ's posts recently...I echo her feelings...what do I do with blog? Truthfully, the most gut share stuff I could put up here would be unfair to my wife. How do I write about my past and honor her as a reader? Not that my past was dramatic or promiscous. But I think of Edward Abbey's title for his journals (or his publisher's): Confessions of a Barbarian . When I saw that, even as a grad student, I thought, man, that's me. I'd call my blog that, but it's taken. Barbarian how? In so many ways...anger and frustration, lust and sweet desire, above all, a great belief in the promise of my own future, much of it fastened un...

My vacation was wonderful. I saw my father and stepmother in Havasu. Amazingly, it felt nearly natural. I've had no consistent contact with either of them for more than twenty years, closer to twenty five. Here and then I'd talk to my dad; he'd find me or I'd find him, we'd meet once or twice...it was never comfortable for me...and we'd fall out of touch. I found him online about two years ago; he was living in AZ, and this is the second time since then I've seen him. He was more relaxed in his own home. My stepmother, who was a dark frown shy of nurturing when I knew her, made a wonderful lunch; stacks of deli meats, good breads, even gherkins, though the sweet american kind, not the french. Something about being fed changes every color in the room for me. They took me to see the London Bridge in Havasu. This was a bit of a disappointment as it was only 19th century Londoners who cruised the Thames under the stones in Havasu, not authors and monarchs...