I didn't know about Gertrude

My brother-in-law needed a ride to Sam's Club and we stopped by a mall to look for a Christmas gift for his wife. I noticed a Gertrude Chocolate store and decided to treat us to a snack. Dang. They make good chocolate, no?

In high school, I learned that chocolate releases serotonin into the blood to bring about pleasure and happy thoughts. I think there's truth to that because I'm still licking my teeth for the flavor. And it makes me happy.

The Newlywed Game

Back when couples were beautiful, life was more innocent, and people tried to win televisions, The Newlywed Game capture America's attention.

Last night, it was a tie. Who was the better Marlena and Roman couple? Casey & Dave or Cynde & Mike?

The answer is both. It was a tie.

Giving Thanks

Whereas yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I am very thankful for being able to spend it with my family, I've opted to post, with happiness, a project that I'm dedicating In Memory of James A'kech Mungui, a Sudanese man I knew in Kentucky. Clicking on the link will take you to the video I've uploaded: nine frames of my dedication.

Today is Black Friday, and I wish you luck with the chaotic season that it represents. Happy shopping.

Hard Work

or maybe it has.

After fixing an outside plumbing issue two nights ago, reworking multiple drafts of the NRC paper to be given next week, and then spending the evening hours of last night on a multimodal, technological presentation, I'm inclined to say, "hard work" is relative. I do know I am exhausted, but I also know, working hard makes me happy. I'm thankful I have time to put into my zany ideas.

A Week Ahead of the Game

A week from tonight, I need to miss my qualitative research class. Planning ahead, I did a portion of my presentation while not being able to attend. I post only because I'm happy that at least one item of my gigantic check list can be marked this morning.

I'm thrilled to know I can be in attendance without being in attendance. Woot Woot, I hope.

ice ice baby

icicles are beautiful, aren't they? they are wonderful when they form on the gutters of my house and they will be wonderful when they welcome spring by melting (some five months from now).

I'm being an optimist, looking for the beauty in a Central, New York, gray and yucky day.

and already thinking summer.

Ah, Carol

The streets are too icy to run, so I'm back to the treadmill at the gym and the weights that follow. It feels good to move muscles other than my legs and when I came across this Carol Burnett clip, I thought, well isn't this appropriate to the world of exercise I've know since birth.

I shouldn't laugh, but there is happiness to this clip and the drive many of us have to fight off the pre-holdiays, overeating anticipations. I hope this brings you a chuckle and a few memories of your own morning exercise regimen. Carol Burnett is needed in today's world and I miss her variety show immensely. She created a sweet tooth for zaniness in me that no other program has matched.

Dweebs, Geeks and Weirdos

The best purchase I've ever made was for 25 cents at a garage sale while at Binghamton University. Dweebs, Geeks and Weirdos was with me during my hippie, collegiate days and became a trademark for end-of-the-year shenanigans with seniors when teaching in Kentucky. Now, back in New York, tossing the dip chips and being dorky is a requirement for the game.

Last night, Cynde, Mike, Nikki & Dylan came over and we, once again, battled over who is the biggest nitwit, dufus and nicompoop. Even though Mike didn't win, he did give the best crossed-eyed, nose wiggling performance I've ever seen. And Dylan's rendition of counting to ten in Godzilla language was worth his moving forward two spaces.

And Nikki's melting impersonation of the Wicked Witch was extremely realistic - almost as much as Cynderball's incredible ability to balance water on her head.

There's nothing wrong with being a nimrod and that's why this game makes me so happy.

The Ville and What was once Pleasant

During this time at the Brown School, Alice and I would be working through the Renaissance and discussing the importance of change, art, and believing in the freedom of outside-the-box thinking. To touch upon this importance, we'd show the film Pleasantiville and ask students to think about what would push them outside of a black and white world into one that allowed for more colors.

I have been thinking about this film a lot lately, both missing the Brown School and dreaming that a better world can exist for those who dream it. I was spoiled in my time at the Brown School because there I lived in a technocolor dreamcoat of diversity, acceptance and a true love of children. The sky was the limit, but because Umbridge and her hyenas came to town, I made a decision to leave.

I returned to a black and white world, but now wish to find the way back to the "roy.g.biv" way of better living. I've seen it. I've tasted it. I've felt it, and I've lived it. So, happiness, I suppose, will come from finding it once again. How do we make the world more Brown?

politically incorrect on Friday Morning

The bonus of heading towards the end-of-the semester is I can make use of my expensive cable bill. I actually turned on my t.v. last night and while doing work, I listened to Hi, My Name is Earl, The Office, and Kath & Kim. And Jaime Pressly is stunning. I love her character on Earl, and looking her up online, Yowza! Dang girl! You is sexy.

But more importantly, television is sexy and I am so glad that I got to be entertained by audio and visual information and non -textual communication for the first time since late August. It felt great. Yes, I did school work, too, but I also got to be American and delve into the power of a remote control (although I didn't make it beyond NBC, channel three).

I am happy because television and Jaime Pressly simultaneously exist.

Wishful Thinking

I'm posting a day ahead of myself from a very cold room late on Wednesday night. I've been out of my house since 7 a.m., stopped to let the dog out, and have gone all day. I'm sitting in a computer lab at the University being taught flash animation, and feeling defeated by the exhaustion. The New York weather has me dreaming of a full body armor of flannel pajamas, a warm fire and a mug of hot cocoa. There is a wonderful calm in my blood knowing that such warmth exists.

in the world of endless senses, we must sense our world, endlessly

A friend of mine sent me a link today to what some are calling transliteracies. Now, I know that it isn't in a dictionary (yet), and my spellcheck hates these academic words, but I am currently stoked about it.

Why? It fills in a lot of the gaps I've been having between linking written text, the Internet, and the arts (which includes the creative writing projects I like to play with).

In a nutshell,

"Transliteracy might provide a unifying perspective on what it means to be literate in the twenty–first century. It is not a new behavior but has only been identified as a working concept since the Internet generated new ways of thinking about human communication. This article defines transliteracy as “the ability to read, write and interact across a range of platforms, tools and media from signing and orality through handwriting, print, TV, radio and film, to digital social networks” and opens the debate with examples from history, orality, philosophy, literature, and ethnography." (Thomas, et. al, 2007)

You probably are clueless to what I'm talking about. I am excited about linking ways people understand the world that are not traditionally seen as "proper," "acceptable," nor "high brow," because they create more accessibility to populations that don't get into the linear, minority view that knowledge and literacy is academic. I coined a thought the other day, "In the world of endless senses, we must sense our world endlessly." And that is the way I want to live life.

For me, this looks like an amoeba and that is amusing for the time being.

Perhaps we're all in jeopardy

I've remarked often that I am not Jeopardy smart. Even so, when time allows, I try to answer the few questions I can and from 7:30 - 8:00 p.m., I might be found asking, "What are answers, Alex?" The problem is, that even with an education I can only answer some questions, part of the time.

I am wondering about this. Working with brilliant minds of teachers and students, alike, I can't understand why more individuals don't perfect the Jeopardy game show. I may be wrong at using JEOPARDY as an objective test for knowledge, but does any test ever measure what any one individual knows, objectively? If knowledge was objective, then couldn't more people clear the board of such answers flawlessly and with ease? Nope.

This results for many reasons and I am happy I don't know why. I say, "Explaining truth, Alex, for 500." He says, "This results from trying to make sense of the world." I answer, "What is the point?" The point is everything cannot be known by any one person ever.

Yet, there's happiness in trying.

something fishy about yesterday's pot roast

Because it wasn't beef, it was pork. But does that make it fishy? Beats me.

I'm just happy the day ended. Why? Well, not because I got a chance to fine-dine my mom over Sangria and roasted carrots. Nor because I had a great fire all day and even made delicious apple crisp. I'm just glad the day ended because I was tired of working on SU stuff.

I much prefer sitting with my shellfish glasses and with the memory of St. Augustine Beach where I bought them. The glasses and my fish face makes me happy, as did feeding my mom with just a little 'thank you' for all the help she's given me this semester in keeping up.

It's Monday, and time to begin anew. Wee hoo hoo. Do as the hedonists do.

Boundin'

There was a point in the teaching year when I knew it was time to pull out the Pixar short, Boundin'. Featured as an extra from The Incredibles film, Bud Luckey's song seems to be a catchy little tune that is a jovial version, I suppose, of the Sisyphus conundrum. There's not much I can type. The happiness is in the clip.

with Faith

Today I will be teaching Faith Ringgold's Tar Beach at North Syracuse Public Library. Reading about Faith Ringgold and, more importantly, seeing her paintings and quilts, is an inspiration.

Yesterday, at a meeting at Syracuse University, I met a Russian scholar who asked me about why America has Goodwill stores. She explained to me that in her country, when a new outfit is purchased, you wear it until it is not good clothing anymore. Then you wear it while camping, gardening or playing. Finally, when it has about had it, you cut it up and use it as a dust cloth. In other words, every item purchases is taken to its last thread.

I am thinking about overconsumption today, but I am also thinking about how we can take our excess and make art from it. This, after all, is how quilts used to be made. They are sustainable blankets and in these economic times, perhaps all of us should begin thinking creatively about how we overpurchase and make waste. How can waste be utilized better? I suppose there's happiness in that answer somewhere.

Eddy Punster

Yesterday, a friend posted my 1990 yearbook photo on her Facebook. It was funny to see my 18 year-old self again, and to know it is accessible online (which wasn't even imaginable in the age of Madonna, Beaches, Two Live Crew and the onset of Nirvana). Even so, it is evidence of my Kid-n-play, white boy, box cut (notice the eddy, widow's peak still famous today).

Yesterday was also Becky Freeland's birthday. She is the smiling face and friendship that greets every entrance to the Reading and Language Arts Center at Syracuse University. Last year, upon hearing it was her birthday, I opted to, 'spur-of-the-moment,' give her a lab dance. Whereas the Where Are They Now publication for CNS has me listed as an exotic dancer and tarot card reader, doing a lab dance seemed an appropriate occupation for a wonderful woman's birthday. Recognizing I am in the land of political correctness and dignified scholarship, I figured a dog on a stick dancing around a colleague was a more appropriate, gender-neutral way to show love in the office.


This year, I decided to add another dog on a stick, this time, two dogs waltzed around a pole. The dogs definitely were dignified as they got jiggy-with-it. I added the music, "Who Let The Dogs Out," which also added a respectable ambiance to the celebration.

When Heidi, a friend in the Ph.D program, told me I was quite the punster with my lab dance, it reminded me of my widow's peak of 1990, and wola, "I am Eddy Punster". I am happy about today's entry. There's nothing wrong with being a complete dork.

Lady Smith Black Mambazo

Several years ago, when I first began working with the refugees from the Sudan, Lady Smith Black Mambazo came to Kentucky. Many know their music from Lifesavers ads, but I learned of them through a live performance at the Kentucky Center for the Arts.

Coming out of South Africa and Zulu roots, Lady Smith Black Mambazo makes a sound like no other. Live, they also dance in ways that are brilliant and hard to put into words. The Kentucky men from Sudan were familiar with their music and most of them received driving lessons from me while listening to their soundtracks.

Today, Dominic Mathiang and I talked with members of SU's Honors Symposium on Migration. I didn't use Lady Smith Black Mambazo in my sound track of ideas, but I did hear their music as we held our discussion. Every time I think of their vibe in this world, I get a smile. I am hoping you will, too.

integrating thoughts

I attended a conversation about integration and desegregation in American Public Schools that featured two academics from Illinois, Urbana: William Trent & James Anderson.

As they talked at Huntington Hall, and again at Hendrick's chapel, I began thinking about how a school like Brown, with its mission statement and history, is so far from the radar of Syracuse City Schools. In fact, that the Brown exists at all is rather miraculous.

Because integration isn't the mission of the community at large (although multiculturalism has been a buzz word for some time), the community doesn't integrate. The scholars emphasized a need for law and policies of intergration in place to support the integration of cultures.

I wonder how well that would go over in the suburban schools of America - could the predominantly white communities mix with individuals from African, Vietnamese, Bosnian, Nepalian, Cambodian, etc., descent?. Trent and Anderson's thinking reminded me, again and again, of the Brown and how people had the vision for a school ahead of its time. So, how do we make the above buzz words a norm for more schools, where democracy, individuality, high standards and equity are a vision of all involved? This seems to be the question that needs an answer.

The strongest four letter word

In a workshop with middle school students, I asked participants to illustrate what the big words they live by actually were. The photo to the side is one student's creation. I began to think about that four letter word and concluded that it needs to be, if it isn't, central to everything we do in life. When we stray from love, we stray from being alive.

I love working with people. I love learning their stories and discussing the journey of life with them. I love believing in the power of humanity and I love that word - LOVE.

If I could give a homework assignment today, it would be to find something or someone you love and then to participate in a mini-act of kindness. The task would be assessed on whether a) you broke out of the routine of your day, b) you did something special, simply because you love it or him or her, and c) you let it be known. This couldn't be graded, but it could be felt. After all, isn't this what happiness is all about?

Mr. Tumnus

This posting is to prove a point. I do not look like Mr. Tumnus from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, despite what my sisters think. They are hitting the opium pipes if you ask me. Tumnus has curly hair and blue eyes and his "soul patch" is much more engaging than mine. I've even tried bending my ears to see the resemblance, but I don't get it. I look like me and it makes me happy to prove it.

When we were kids

My sister Cynde used to be scared to death of Sleestaks from THE LAND OF THE LOST. I was scared of Cookie Monster who lived under my bed. Casey wasn't scared of anything and if a monster entered our house, she'd talk his ear off until he ran away screaming.

Fear is such a strange emotion, and I thought about it when I asked Cynde if she'd be with Casey for the delivery of her second child. Cynde and Mike thought it'd be funny if I went this time. I said, "Absolutely not," because I'd pass out as soon as I smelled the hospital. When I deconstruct why, it is because I fear the sterile environment of all medical facilities. They don't make me happy.

But, Sleestaks do. So does LAND OF THE LOST and memories of bad plots and horrible television programs. There's something humorous about the possibility that Cynderballs might have nightmares again when she sees this posting and that cracks me up.

kkkkhwwwwweeeeeeeeeeee, kkkkkwhhhhaaaaaaa

Oif

There's nothing like green gook that creeps inside your lungs and nasal passages at the blink of an eye, and because of this, there's nothing like heated remedies to fight it. A cold is nature's way of singing Simon and Garfunkle's "Slow Down, You're moving to fast. You've got to make the morning last." Here's hoping it works and I get back to feeling groovy.

Bless This Animal

When we first got our licenses as teenagers, my friend Kirsten use to say "bless that Animal" whenever we went by a dead creature in the road. The first time I heard it I thought, "What the hell is she talking about?" but as our friendship grew, so did my understanding of her prayers.

Yesterday, leaving my house, I noticed a dead rabbit on my street. It was in full shape and it seemed to stare right at me in my truck window. A few minutes later, I came across a perfectly shaped skunk outside of Jamesville-Dewitt High School, also laid out in the road (and yes, the teachers there saw it, too, and said they put it there to welcome me because I stunk up their classrooms two weeks ago).

I decided to take a break for myself today, and I stopped home to go for a run. The rabbit was still there and he still stared at me as I was trying to keep my pace. When I finished running, and was walking off my exhaustion, the rabbit seemed a perfect specimen of itself and I thought, perhaps, he was only sleeping. I decided, though, I couldn't leave it sitting there. I walked home, grabbed a shovel and placed him in the woods on the side of the road. His fur and shape was too perfect for me to see flattened over time fro Goodyear tires and human highways. I thought of Kirsten, today, and the happiness she brings whenever she comes to mind.

"Bless that animal."

Bless us all.

I'm a lousy American

But I voted. Yet, I didn't watch the election coverage because I didn't want to know. I woke up yesterday morning to let be what would naturally be. I have been living with the optimism that, either way, history would be made.

I can't help but think of Baby New Year, though, and what a new year and/or a new time is supposed to be represented by such an image. I can't help but think about Dewey on Malcolm in the Middle and his ears, either. I also can't help but think about what a new face in the white house will represent to a world that is wide open for observations. To paraphrase the oldest trilogy ever written: (thanks Brendan Kennally).

I love
to believe
in hope.

America spoke. The world listened. Happy new day. Let the moronic tendency of the human species continue with a little more pep to their step for a while.

Butterscotch Candy

I read once that Walt Whitman handed out discs of butterscotch to wounded soldiers during the Civil War. At a time where medical assistance was limited and ether was rare for the treatment of pain, Whitman walked as a nurse and handed out candy to ease the minds of those in severe pain. I always think of this when I see bags of butterscotch candy and, in the tradition of being me, I bought a couple of bags yesterday. I donated one to the office at Syracuse University to ease the pain of all who enter in studious stress and one to my truck to munch on as a panacea for the insane driving from here to there.

Butterscotch is associated with serenity and I post the candy today, post election, hoping the flavor spreads where it will.

Thinking about Nancy, Sue & Dave

For at least nine of my thirteen years in Louisville, I spent Sunday mornings at Nancy's Bagelground on Frankfurt Avenue. There, I'd meet Sue & Dave for early caffeine and spicy mustard on the bagels. We'd read the paper, catch up on the week and think ahead. More importantly, we created a ritual.

I moved over to the other side of the river, and then eventually back to Syracuse, and stopped attending Sunday morning breakfasts, but I think of them all the time. Every neighborhood needs a good spot to meet friends for conversation. Nancy's was this place for me, and I laugh when thinking about how some of my students used to say, "You and your bagels, Bryan." I guess Nancy's was a little of New York in the Bluegrass. Thinking about this jaunt, in memory on a Tuesday morning, not Sunday, puts me in a good mood.

A Productive Day

My semester is knee deep in ca-ca, and I'm still looking for a pony. Even so, I feel somewhat content with my fourteen hours of writing today and a little bit closer to accomplishing the little tasks that need to be done. It's been semi-fun, and I am definitely happy I chiseled away at a few of my semester goals.

International Friendships

I love hearing from my friends around the world. Last night, Samuel, a scholar from Kenya who was in my disabilities class my first semester at Syracuse University, contacted me to say hello. He is still at SU, but because of clock issues, we haven't been able to meet. He made me think about my other international friendships I love.

In particular, writing back and forth with Naoko in Japan and continuing my friendships with numerous people in Denmark. I also cherish my work with the Sudanese men, and the students from Vietnam and Somalia I taught in Kentucky. I love hearing from my friends in Oman, too.

I think my experience with a shrunken globe keeps me hopeful about the Earth's reality. Then again, as I read about Japanese-containment camps in the U.S. during World War II, I get a little frightened. Even so, I believe that it is friendship, not only neighbor to neighbor and house to house, but friendships between diverse populations, that is best. It is the only way to live life. It was great hearing from Samuel last night, and it put a smile on my face after an exhausting day of studying. Such friendships remind me that everything happens for a reason.

Performance Based Assessment

No money. No time, yet, wanting to be spirited in the holiday. I created the perfect costume for yesterday - an outside the box thinker. Dumb, yes. Me, true. I'm a loser baby, and it makes me happy.