The empire has fallen, find a new job.

I went up to the Getty on Sunday. It was bomb-diggity. Yeah, I'm trying to bring that phrase back. This post isn't about that trip though. We, my host mom and I, went down to Hollywood Blvd. afterwards where we saw a slew of interesting characters who are apparently out of jobs. The recession has hit these once great movie and tv icons the hardest.

Adventure's in Al's life part I

This is the first of what will hopefully be many installments in my sister Allison's life. Narrated by me, Justin, this video explores the complex life of my sister as she opens a present from her birthday. enjoy.

Two Kites

Umm...so this is a video I took two weeks ago of two kites. Really the two kites are a metaphor for human interaction and how we drift into and out of each other's lives without truly touching each other. It is not just a video I am putting up to see if this will work. Definitely the metaphor thing. two kites.

Making corpses cry

Let me first state that I love art history. It is hard to say which period I think is the best, but the more I study the more I love post-impressionism. Yes, a lot of people do, but post-impressionism is great! I love how they take the color and application from impressionism and apply deeper and higher meaning. It is as if they are trying to see how the human being sees the essence of our world. Yeah.

This is only a lead in to my point I want to make today. Now, I know it has been awhile since I have posted, but I'm sorry this post has little to do with how awesome it is to be in Southern California teaching. Ok, now let us go back to post-impressionism. Oh, hello Cezanne. Mr. Van Gogh, so nice of you to drop by.

Let me again state how in post-impressionism is more than just about an image, but it involves feelings and a very considered manner in how the paint was applied. I want to specifically address divisionism, or pointillism, the style of post-impression that was most widely used by Georges Seurat.

Let me give you a little history of what Seurat was after according to a slide from one of my professor's history of post-impressionism.

"Although short-lived, Seurat’s technique of Pointillism was his personal expression of the hope that modern science would modernize art. He was interested in the study of optics, and in placing dots of pure color next to each other, he felt that the blending of them in the viewer’s eye would make the image more natural and vibrant. This technique is very defined in The Seine at La Grande Jatte as the variations of light on the water, the banks, and the tree give luminosity to the work."

Sorry I do not have a picture of the work. Maybe, I'll post one later...I probably won't.

What you will notice about that description of Seurat's work is that no where does it say that seurat was after making pictures look like they had a bunch of dots so that one day a teacher could simulate his work by coloring on sand paper and ironing it to a piece of paper.

Ok, so here's the deal. I took a marvelous class with a marvelous professor called content area literacy. This professor was very concerned about finding cross disciplinary ways of teaching. However, she gave a demo one day in class where we were supposed to create a work of art like pointillism by using crayons to color on sandpaper...and then...iron it...to another piece of paper.

This idea is so far from Seurat's idea that I have no question that his corpse vomited in his grave and then rolled over in it.

AHHHH!!! Seriously? Ironing a crayon drawing and pointillism have nothing in common. Zero.

It almost makes me want to cry how absurd it is to say we are going to (and I cringe as I type this) create works of art like Seurat by ironing a crayon drawing to a piece of paper. I cannot get over this project, and I never shall. It would have been different if we were using this method for something else not connected with Seurat, but I do not think we should be tricking any age student into thinking they are creating like Seurat when his ideas were so well thought out and pure, and imitating this idea with crayons and irons is not pure. Seurat did not seek to have us optically mix colors by ironing a crayon drawing on a piece of sand paper to another piece of paper.

Now, in student teaching one of my teacher's has suggested I do a water color making Mondrian-esque compositions. Am I an elitist when I think this idea is also absurd. The idea is not to use primary colors or even large blocks of color, but to just tape off a geometric patten then water color and call it Mondrian inspired. I feel like Mondrian's corpse is crying a little bit.

Maybe, I can go the synesthesia route with a lil Wassily Kandinsky.

Ok, that's all. bye from California.

yeah california

I haven't disappeared. yet.

Why hello all of about maybe 10 (a very generous guesstimate) people who read this. I know it has been awhile since I last posted a blog entry. Do not fret part two of sad movies is started and will come in due time. I figure I will use this blog entry to catch everyone up to speed with my wild and crazy life!

So as some of you may know, and for those who are reading these back logged in the future, I recently started student teaching in Orange, California where the Men's basketball just won their first or second...I don't know which number, but have advanced further in the state playoffs than any other men's bball team at Orange Lutheran High School. Yes, I have started to assimilate to Orange Lutheran, and it has been sweet. I am now considering it my high school (after two days) getting excited about the sports teams and what not, and doing my best to learn names.

Speaking of names there is a student in one of my classes whose name is Wayne. When I asked Wayne what his name was he said Wayne, but then all of his peers corrected him, and told me it was in fact, Dwayne. Wayne then interjected they were lying, but his friends were persistent, and Wayne gave in and said his name was Dwayne. At this point I was confused, so I asked then Dwayne was his name really Dwayne, and everyone but Dwayne said yes, but then Dwayne said no it was Wayne. Now I had to figure out is it Wayne or Dwayne, and yes, D/Wayne is black. So his friends said he had a white persons name if it was Wayne which made me suspicious that his name was in fact Wayne. I finally had to ask in all seriousness if his name was Wayne, and lo and behold it was. It was fun.

I then told Wayne that before I got to Concordia I had never considered my middle name to be anything but a white person's middle name. When I got to Concordia I was informed it was not. This, of course, peeked student interest. they started guessing names like Darnell, Dashaud, T-money (ok, no one guessed that). I then informed them that these names were not my middle name, and I just flat out told them it is Terence. Apparently this was the funniest thing ever. they just got the biggest kick out of it. I am totally remembering to build this up in the future because it worked great for entertainment. I then told them it was my dad's name, and he is whiter than me. They once again just busted up. And just like that I am Mr. Cool. Or so I think so.

There is another name story I have. I was writing a seating chart for my second hour class on Red days I believe. Now, most of these last names it seems I have never heard before, and if I have heard them they all spell them differently. I, therefore, was asking each kid to spell their name so I could show that I was interested in making sure I had their name right. Well, one girl tells me her name is Sydney Johnston, and she adds it is spelled just like the city. I then responded in a dead pan manner, Oh, I have been to Johnston. No one got it except my coop, and he laughed so I was happy it at least went over well with him. The confused girl then told me her name sydney was spelled like the city to which I came back asking her if her last name, Johnston was still spelled like the city as well. Now, I have no idea if there is a Johnston, and frankly I do not care. This poor girl still had no idea I was joking, and I finally told her I was. She admitted she was confused, and we moved on. She also admitted to furthering the stereotype of her blonde hair.

Well much more has happened in my life, and I am sure much more will. I am in Southern California living the good life. I am constantly on the beach with California girls you know, and I am surfing, and think of all the stereotypical things in Cali and I am sure I am doing them. I am definitely not teaching everyday and waking up at 5:30 to do so.

I am very much enjoying the time here. It's greeeeeeat! as our dear friend Tony would say.

Farewell

Revision: Sad movies Part I of II

After some philosophical discussions about Sad movies as opposed to tear jerking movies with a friend of mine I began to realize that these two types of movies are not synonymous. So after some thought and more deep platonic discussion I decided some revision was in order. I realized that I need a list of movies that have made me (almost) cry because I am a man, and I do not cry. BOOM! So this first list is that of films that are tear jerking.

1. Rams vs. Titans Superbowl recap. It was so beautiful and awesome. Made me well up with tears. And yes, to all the haters out there, YOU know who you are. This film counts. Boom.

2. King's Speech. That last speech where Beethoven's Symphony #7 In A, Op. 92 - 2. Allegretto is playing was not describable in words. The whole idea that the king who has a speech problem has to deliver this speech to all of England to tell them that it is going to suck, but we are awesome, and we are gonna make it through this in a little more eloquent words. Plus when hearing the speech it made me think of my interview of my Grandfather who fought in the Canadian army during WWII and told me how terrible death was, AND how people were murdered by the Nazi regime which are two incredibly sad things to remind us how messed up this world is, and I am surprised no tears were flowing out of my face.

So these are really the only two films I can think of that made me almost cry. Hear are some more suggestions by women folk.

3. Notebook. yeah, I've seen it, but to me it still ended kinda happy. I wasn't almost crying though, not even almost almost crying. Sorry.

4. Titanic. Come on, you are telling me Jack couldn't find anything else to float on. They knew each other for like what 3 days? And people are upset about that. The notebook has a better case to be tear jerking because that movie had a life time of love ripped away from Alzheimer's. However, I guess it was sad because the ship did sink. I'm still waiting for Titanic II!

Honorable mention:

Rabbit Hole. I only saw the trailer and it was about a family who lost their child. It looks super sad. I bet there are some good crying scenes are in there.

So I can only realistically think of 4, maybe 5 movies that would make a person cry.

Sad Movies :(

I wanted to make a list of the saddest films I have ever seen. I mean films that are real tear jerkers. Films that you had better bring a box of tissues if you are going to watch it. The problem is I have not seen that many tear jerking, tissue box needing, very sad films. I say film because not all of the items on my list are movies as you will see in number one. So without further adieu here is my list (with explanations).

1. Rams vs. Titans Superbowl recap. Yes, a few weeks ago when the Superbowl was upon us they were showing films of past Superbowls. I know how this game turns out, but that doesn't account for the dramatic retelling of how the Rams despite being a super offensive team all season were struggling to score touchdowns. The game came down to the wire, and Mike Jones tackled Kevin Dyson with no time left to secure the Rams' first Superbowl. I literally had tears in my eyes as I watched this "film".

2. The Notebook. Ok, I did not cry, nor did I have tears. And in fact I saw this movie a half and one times. Yes, I said that correctly. I watched the second half of the movie first then the whole movie. The story goes: I was at camp, and my friend, Mike, was in our staff lounge watching the Notebook by himself and I came half way in. I enjoyed the second half so I wanted to see how it got there. We then watched the movie again in its entirety. Everyone says this is a super sad movie so I put it on my list, and I think it was sad.

3. UP. The sadness in the beginning of the movie far overshadows the happiness achieved at the end. It was good, but sad.

4. Ok, I can only think of three. I know it is lame. What can I say? I like action, thrillers, comedies.

Maybe, I should see more sad films and really expand my experiences in film. I do not want to take the blame for this one though. I want to displace blame on all the people (read women) who are in my life for not taking me to task by making me watch sad movies. When the reason I have seen The Notebook is because my bro was watching it, well, I think all women should take that gauntlet up.

Welp, that's it.

I wish my energy came from the sun

If you know Melissa Wren, and you asked her what kind of person I was she might have a beaming review of how awesome I am...or at least I would hope. However, if you got to talking to her enough she might tell you I have a lot of pride. Now, me saying someone else says I have a lot of pride and me saying I have pride are two different things. A long time I have said I do not have as much pride as I perceive to give off. Tonight, however, at dinner I was talking to my parents and I was relating to them the story of how I burned my finger. I had just learned how to use a soldering iron and I had put using a soldering iron into my using oxy/acetylene for welding schema. This meant I was now thinking I could easily pass the iron from hand to hand, but you cannot. You see a soldering iron only has one small place to grip that does not get very hot, and when I passed the soldering iron from my left hand to my right hand I grabbed the iron on a very hot spot. We were told to make sure we pay attention to what we do in order to not burn ourselves THAT night.

I felt like an idiot. I therefore proceeded to tell everyone I had made a rookie mistake and burned myself and then proceeded to the water fountain to get my burn washed...wait, no that is not what I did. I told no one. I looked at it, and I assessed it was not a life threatening injury. I decided I did not want to look like an idiot, and I waited till later to run some cold water on my burn.

Tonight, I told my parents I have a lot of pride. I do not like looking like an idiot, and I do not want to be perceived as an idiot. This is from my prideful nature. I had for a long time I thought I was different from most people or men. I am not sure which group I should put pride into since I cannot speak for women. Anyway I said to myself I am different. I am not prideful, but humble. I am not like most men in a lot of ways, but the more I grow older the more I realize I am. I may have four sisters, but I still have a y chromosome.

I now stand (or type) before my peers on the internet as someone who admits he is prideful. He has too much pride sometimes. I do not like being wrong or worse being proven wrong. I do not like to admit I made a wrong decision. I do not want to be in the wrong. I want to be perceived as being right. I want people to think I have the answers. I get my energy from the sun, I am superman. Flawless. Or I want to appear nearly flawless. Somehow I think that I will be appealing as a person to more people. This is not the time to drag out my skeletons (nor will I ever do that on the internet, remember that pride thing), but i will admit one of my attributes which manifests itself as a flaw sometimes.

The finger burning thing is a small example, but I could bring up how in past relationships I would not have admitted to having any blame or fault for as why they did not work out. Pride. I sometimes did and still do I guess have a hard time admitting if my project or artwork is not the best in a group when it was clear it was not. Pride. I do not like working in groups with people who I do not know very well. Pride. The list goes on. I am prideful.

I ask for your forgiveness because a small part of me knows I should be more humble. I should not be caught up in how cool I am perceived or this or that. However, you can feel assured that if I do seem arrogant and very bravado around you I am probably very comfortable with you as my friend. Although, I tell myself I don't truly believe the things I boast about I like to say them for (hopeful) comedic affect. Unless you talk to Melissa. In which case I do believe every egotistic thing that comes out of my mouth. I hope the truth is somewhere in the middle.

So long and farewell

Most Beautiful Thing You Have Ever Seen

Take a moment and try to think of the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. However, try to go deeper than say children, nieces or nephews, loved ones, etc. Now, go ahead take a moment and try and come up with it. Tough right? I remember way back four years ago a professor of mine, Strand, once told me while he was working an apprenticeship in England the master posed this question to him with those stipulations. He said his answer (after some thought) then was he had seen a wooden table which had an arc carved in its leg from a lamp or something from being out at sea for many years.

Yesterday, this conversation came up with a friend of mine, Abby, and because I had been previously talking to another friend, Todd, I finally knew what my answer was after four years of searching. My personal journey for the most beautiful thing I have ever seen has not been an easy one. Many times I had seen a landscape so wonderful like Nebraska sunsets in our backyard, Niagara falls, a weeping willow drooping over onto a river in my Mother's hometown of Stratford, Canada. But I determined that landscapes are all so very beautiful for their own qualities they negate each other. I have seen a few pieces of famous artworks in person, and they are beautiful, yes, but something about how I felt lame saying a particular piece of art would be "it". And you know what, I have been to the Hagia Sophia, and I tell you it is one of the most beautiful structures, if not the, most beautiful structure I have ever been in. To me though, it isn't my culture and that rules it out to me, but boy is it beautiful-even with the scaffolding in there to keep up the dome...and the wonderful mosaics covered with gaudy paintings of less quality. I could make a whole blog entry about the Hagia Sophia. But still it is not what I determined the most beautiful thing I have ever seen is. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen is clean, impossibly rhythmic, entrancing, space enhancing, and yet simple.

The most beautiful thing I have ever seen is something people see a lot. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen are the the wind power generators. Yes, it may seem odd to say those are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but they are. When you see them in the green fields spinning each blade seems to go slower on the up turn and faster on the down giving a rhythm to the spin, but they are all turning at the same time evenly. The clean white structure is echoed by the wonderful clouds and imposed on the bright green of fields and the sky blue of our sky. How many structures has man made that seem to enhance the look of nature? Somehow these things do. The idea and purpose is so simple, but the whole is beautiful and entrancing to see a whole field of these things recording each gust of wind. These structures are giving people reasons to drive through Iowa. Sorry to everyone from Iowa. Honestly though, how boring is driving through the MidWest? Pretty boring. When you have these clean simple structures nearly acting as sirens of sight of the fields the drive becomes much more visually wholesome. I simply find these structures to be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. One more thing, they are huge. I have never personally been next to one, but I have seen the blades on trucks on the Interstate, and they are huge!

Now, take some time and come to your own conclusion. Who knows what I may find to be the most beautiful thing in the future, but for now it is wind power generators.

East bound-West bound

EAST BOUND SUCKS!

WEST BOUND SUCKS!

Have you ever travelled to a sporting event in St. Louis via the Metro-Link? If you have and then had to take said public transportation home, you probably have witnessed and possibly joined in the standard parting remarks between the two opposite platforms waiting for trains going in different directions. It starts with a few people as the crowd builds, but eventually grows as more people join in the chant to establish the dominance of their respective direction by castigating the other side's destination. This is done as you might have guessed by chanting the inferior direction sucks. The sides engage in a verbal sparring match. East bound unites under one banner and their battle cry is "West bound sucks!". West bound rebuttals with "East bound sucks!". The only break in this heated contest comes when the sound of an approaching train gives everyone the hope of realizing their hopes of seeing their journey's end while making them forget the battle at hand. After which one side rejoices and the other laments depending on who is going home.

I was reminded of this pleasant exchange of opinions from my youth recently at a trivia contest. I was my mother's replacement on the team which my parents were on. At this contest of trivia there was a spirit award and so many teams would display their dominance by cheering and being "spirited". Our team's motto towards spirit was apathy, but all the revelry reminded my father of the exchanges we had witnessed many years ago in St. Louis.

I cannot say whether this happens in many cities or not, and it happens despite each side being united under the same banner at a sporting event. I guess we can see this as a metaphor for life. Yes, there is a higher meaning in learning about East bound or West bound sucking.

In life we find ourselves at a station waiting for our train to take us to our next destination, but at this platform we see friends, acquaintances, and people on the other side who have just come from the same place we have. However, we feel we must inform those bound in the opposite way that they suck. Of course, our friends, acquaintances and the like tell us the same. We eventually depart only to meet again someday to forget about our past distaste for the other person's decision and unite under a common banner.

But should we really be chanting to those whose path does not match ours that they suck? Can we not recognize that our East or West bound brothers do not suck? Okay, so this is not a metaphor for life or at least not a realistic or good one. And since I was always heading back to the great state of Illinois after a game...WEST BOUND SUCKS!

Death Star

Yes, this blog entry is titled Death Star, and I think everyone at this point has a good idea of what the rest of the blog should entail. I would expect everyone to ponder if I will share my thoughts on the battle station, not a small moon, from the most popular sci fi trilogy of movies ever. Upon reading this title I doubt anyone would have thought, "Death Star? is that a large cube of death...or maybe it is actually a scientific term...Death Star is confusing, please be more precise.

How in the Sam Hill can anyone not know what the Death Star is? And for that matter what happened to it?!? No, the Death Star is not Darth Vader's star ship. You know what, I do not think I am at the root of the possibility of someone not knowing what the Death Star is. How could anyone not be familiar with Star Wars pop culture references? The enormity of the situation of someone not being for sure that Darth Vader is (Spoiler alert for everyone who has been living under a mountain for the past 30 years!) Luke's father baffles me.

Now, I know not everyone is a Star Wars fan, and that is alright. However, I still cannot grasp how a person, be it a man or a woman, would not know what the Death Star is! Wikipedia says this on its page about the Death Star, "The Death Star is one of the better-known concepts from the Star Wars universe and is widely recognizable outside of that context". It is apart of our nation's pop culture, everyone should know about it.

If you feel alienated from this post or you feel this post was directed at you because you do not know what the Death Star is. You probably should feel this way because how could you not know what the Death Star is?! I will not mention names...even if said people would deserve public ridicule. Its the Star Wars franchise, learn it! When good people do not take the time to learn about their culture's popular movie's references, what is happening to that culture, and what is wrong with those people? Take me for example, I have not seen or read Twilight, but I still know its about vampires and werwolves. I do not want to live in a world where the Death Star could be anything from what someone calls the winner of American Idol to a toaster.

Parents, family and friends make your children and friends respectively, go see the original Star Wars trilogy so we can all be on the same page, please!

One thing I really enjoy is the smell of citrus. I especially enjoy the smell of citrus on my hands after eating a cutie clementine. These clementines satisfy so much more than just the smell of citrus on your hands, however. They among many other things bring joy to my simple life. Yes, I get very excited about how great these clementines are, and no, any look I may have in expressing my feelings towards cuties is not in curiosity or surprise. No, the looks I give are in an excited enthusiasm of recognition of a great product.

I will not keep boring you, but will finish with a concise list of the goodness of cuties.

1. They are super easy to peel requiring less effort than it takes to put on your boots.

2. They taste awesome. Sweetness and juice pack these little guys creating a pleasant eating experience every time.

3. They leave your hands smelling citrus-y.

Aspen, where the beer flows like wine.

Does anyone know the movie from which the title of this blog is taken from? If so feel free to comment or just be proud you do.

About a month ago a friend of mine told me I should write a blog about beer drinking or dark beer. Now, this entry is not about a boasting of how much consumption a person should, can, has or whatever do or done. No, this entry is about fine tastiness of nice beers from my novice perspective in the great wonderland of beers. Disclaimer: if you started to read this entry because you thought it was about Aspen, stop now, because it is not.

I believe every man, woman and child could like beer. In fact, I would even go so far as to say every man woman and child would like dark beer...if given enough time. There are many great lighter beers out there, and no I am not talking about bud light or any of the likes. I would be talking about your wheat beers, maybe a finely crafted lighter ale, or say the boston lager, I couldn't tell you because I am not an expert, but in my opinion they pale(not to be confused with pale ales, ha! a poor joke I know) in comparison to the mountain top of viscous flavors experience one receives from dark beer.

How can one go through life thinking dark beer tastes burnt and bad? Someone most have abused your taste palette as a child if you think a dark beer like guinness tastes terrible. Guinness has a fantastic flavor of like roastedness sure. No one would say a roasted pig tastes burnt and bad. I know guinness is the poster child for dark beers, and I do not wish to give the impression that I do not drink or have not enjoyed many other dark beers. Why just the other night I enjoyed a brew made out of Louisiana called the Turbodog ale. It was great. It had a nice smooth full body and finish with a light bight at the end. I also have recently had the Maudite brewed by Unibroue a Canadian brewery in Chambly, Quebec. This is not the time for beers tasted measuring though. I am here to bring light to one of the most important issues of our age which is getting all peoples to enjoy dark beers. I am forced to ask though how can one not enjoy a fine porter or ale after building a relationship with the style of the brew? A question that will perplex the great minds of our age and ages to come.

I was not blest with the gift to enjoy excellent beers-dark and otherwise. No, I acquired this taste. I started my journey with wheat beers. This is important. I did not start with Bud or Miller, or any of that other beer flavored water they try to pass off as being good. Most of that stuff better relates to what the human body releases then nice beer, but I digress. I moved from nice wheats to lighter ales, and beers that are say redder. Then one day, one glorious day, I had a porter and I thought this is strangely, you guessed it, fantastic. I couldn't tell you why, but it was. Can you really explain the feeling you get when you feel the sun shining on your face, or the experience one has when you go on a roller coaster or you are viewing the Sistine Chapel for the first time. It was like all those things were happening in my mouth.

Since this time I have been trying to get my mouth on any beer that looks finely crafted. One day a friend of mine and I stumbled upon a barley wine. It is a beer aged much like wine, but since it is barley that is being aged it is in fact a beer. We ordered a pitcher of this 11% ABV beer to split between the two of us. Tasting this beer which was aged in brandy barrels was beyond words, and in fact the beer took me by surprise. I was not ready for the vanilla, nuts, caramel, wood, and brandy flavors to crash onto my taste palette like roaring yet smooth wave of, yes, fantasticness.

So there you have it, dark beer is awesome, and you are not if you do not think so.