You Can Do It When You John LaRue It!

Why?

2010-05-20T16:09:00.002-05:00

Right at this minute I'm sitting in a small classroom in Washington, DC listening to a professor drone on about statistical analysis. I have swamp-ass, my hair is greasy, I'm tired as hell and all I can think about is going home and drinking away operational definitions. The class wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for one thing. By the professor's own design our course meets one night a week for four hours. I've been a teacher for two years now and I can tell you it is not small feat for an educator to hold the attention span of a student for a solid hour, let alone 20 minutes. In fact, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've even come close to this mythical teaching landmark. This brings me back to my main point - why in the hell would someone with a doctorate in education think it was a good idea to teach a four hour long course. It must be some rare blend of ego and a total lack of regard for sunshine and beer.

2010-03-18T22:29:00.001-05:00

Whatever....fuck.

2010-03-04T22:40:00.001-05:00

Sick. day.

2010-02-23T19:40:00.002-05:00

Had a great weekend of riding but I think I overdid it a little bit because I came down with a nasty cold. I went to school yesterday but had to take today off. I thought maybe I'd be able to get some work done from the couch but due to exciting developments in Season 4 of Battlestar Galactica this was as far as I got:

2010-02-20T08:05:00.000-05:00

"These days I find myself humming a mantra under my breath. Fort Reno. It has become a little prayer for me. Fort Reno. It is a pledge that one day I will once again ride my bicycle up Rock Creek, haul it up the hill in Tenleytown, and enjoy a frosty margarita on the porch at Guapo's. It will once again be brilliantly, obscenely hot outside. Fort Reno. I will have two (okay maybe four) drinks and then I will join my friends, my favorite people, for a picnic in the glow of the setting sun. There will be rock music and there will be sliced watermelon. And there will be no snow. One day this snow will be gone and gone with it the bulky coats, the sidewalk slipping, the crowded stations. Frozen drinks, humidity, mosquitoes, and biking Embassy Row home on a balmy night. These things are promised to us. Fort Reno."

From the DCist

L.A.R.P.

2010-02-16T19:05:00.000-05:00

Snowday.

2010-02-07T20:57:00.004-05:00

Snowed in? No worries. I've got a sure fire way to guarantee you a day and night of fun and satisfaction.

Let your friends cut your hair into a mullet.

Change some tires.

Ponder life's many uncertainties.

Drink lots of beer with your friends.

Major Lazer.

2010-02-07T16:06:00.000-05:00

Clipart comics.

2010-02-02T21:30:00.002-05:00

I made these in grad class. Hurray for higher education.

2010-02-02T07:34:00.000-05:00

2010-02-01T22:41:00.002-05:00

Dan's drawing.

2010-01-25T15:19:00.002-05:00

by Dan Cramer

2010-01-25T08:51:00.001-05:00

From Holly Le.

2010-01-20T20:19:00.003-05:00

For some reason, riding during the winter makes me feel even more susceptible to angry drivers. I can almost sense the bulls-eye their mirrors have on my left elbow.

2010-01-13T19:01:00.001-05:00

Birthday.

2010-01-11T17:20:00.002-05:00

This is my friend Harley. We both had a birthday this week just like me so we decided to have our party together. It was a grand success with lots of cake, friends and beer. Much thanks to Kate, Emily and Georgia for holding the grand event at their place.

2010-01-09T17:09:00.001-05:00

The Third & The Seventh from Alex Roman on Vimeo.

2010-01-06T16:09:00.001-05:00

On feeling unloved.

2010-01-05T15:10:00.001-05:00

From Holly Le's blog:

January 5, 2010

When my heart breaks, 30 puppy dogs and 50 of the smallest, cutest kittens die. World wars begin. Any rainforest in South America disappears. The endangered animals become extinct. China takes back another baby panda. Dinosaur bones crumble. Pirates cry. Your favorite band breaks up. America loses hope when I don’t have love.

And that’s why I’m done with Planet Earth. I’m moving to Pandora where I’m going to trade in my bicycle for a red dragon. I am going to lose the life of the lonely swank and adopt a life of artisan crafting called “blacksmithing.” My red dragon will be named “King Koopa” and I will magically weld things to my hearts desire. While everything is neon pink and blue at night, the daytime will be filled with baby tumbleweeds and dandelion weeds where I blow them away until I get what I actually want.

It’s only because this planet doesn’t love me.

2010-01-04T20:06:00.004-05:00

2010-01-04T06:42:00.002-05:00

"Later on in life, the Tralfoamadorians would advise Billy to concentrate on the happy moments of his life, and ignore the unhappy ones - to stare only at the pretty things as eternity failed to go by."

Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

2009: A year in review.

2010-01-03T15:46:00.001-05:00

Avatar.

2010-01-03T15:37:00.002-05:00

My friend Matt drew this one with crayons.

If you haven't seen the movie here it is in a four panel nut-shell.

2009-12-30T13:01:00.001-05:00

2009-12-28T00:30:00.002-05:00

I like the beginning of this song but for some reason he just starts screaming at the end.

2009-12-27T13:47:00.001-05:00

The Newton Street String Duo.

2009-12-20T10:56:00.002-05:00

Poor primate bastard.

2009-12-19T09:29:00.006-05:00

Meet Able. In May of 1959, Able was launched into space to test the physiological effects of space travel on living beings. NASA wanted to demystify the rumors that your blood boiled and your finger nails turned to cheese upon entering orbit so they went out into the jungle, somewhere in India if I remember correctly, and snatched up our little rhesus monkey Able while she was chewing on a tasty fig and enjoying the sunrise. What you see above is Able’s "couch." The evil astronaut scientists bolted Able into her couch and lowered her down into a dark protective capsule which was sealed, strapped to a rocket and shot into space. The capsule sent back all sorts of information about Able's journey. Upon closer inspection of the couch, you can see that Able only has one free arm. In the event of a nose or foot itch, the monkey space traveler has few options available.

It’s clear from watching monkeys in a zoo or on television that they have high energy levels. They need to swing from branches, climb trees, run around, fight other monkeys and inevitably throw poo at something. How did the folks at NASA think that they were the correct candidate to strap into a chair without a toilet and launch into space? Sure they may be the closest animal with a similar physiological makeup to human beings, but did anyone think of he poor mind? Poor Able must have lost her shit. Just look at those dead eyes.

2009-12-13T12:12:00.003-05:00

"Kate, how is that still standing?"

"I'm protected by God."

From Keller's blog.

Snapshot of my day.

2009-12-13T09:46:00.008-05:00

For one of my grad classes I had to record a conversation with my students about an article or book. Our professor didn't take into account that we deal primarily with students who have disabilities. The result was a project format that didn't leave much room accommodating my students. My kids did exceptionally well in the conversation and I'm very proud of them. After reading this article about dress codes in schools to my class of 6 we had a round table discussion using guided questions from the project. Below is the transcript of the conversation. I've changed the names of the students.

Transcript

T: Teacher

AS: All students

K: Kevin

E: Erin

KB: Keanu

C: Carina

B: Beatrice

R: Randy

T: We are just going to talk about this article ok? Let’s take the first question Erin asked. How do you think uniforms prevent violence?

B: No.

T: Why not?

B: I don’t think regular clothes do either.

T: Wait, let’s hear what Kevin has to say. We’ll go one at a time ok?

K: Because once you got on regular clothes people going to be jonin' on you about your clothes. Stuff

like that.

T: Like your uniforms?

K: No, if you wear clothes (regular clothes).

C: You dumb.

T: So the uniforms do prevent violence?

K: A little bit.

R: No

C: If you wear dirty clothes

T: Randy why do you say no?

R: Because people still get in fights with uniforms on.

T: People still get in fights with uniforms on. Is that true?

B: And regular clothes.

T: Does anyone else have anything to say?

KB: What is? Nevermind, nevermind. Embarrassed about stutter so he stopped.

T: It’s alright. Say it.

KB: What’s the difference between them? Uniforms and regular clothes? Shut up Carina.

T: What are the uniforms for Walker Jones?

AS: Tan and Blue

T: What are your regular clothes?

AS: Anything!

C: Jeans, shorts, t-shirts.

T: Doesn’t it give more to jone on if you wear your own clothes?

C: If it dirty. She said if it raggedy. Laughing

T: Ok. Do you worry about what you have to wear everyday?

AS: No

T: Does it make your day better because you don’t have to worry about what to wear?

AS: NO!

T: How come?

B: Because we want to wear regular clothes.

T: So you’d like to have a choice.

T: Carina asked why do we wear uniforms?

C: Yes, cause that’s dumb. You gotta wear it every day. But what if Friday you didn’t have to.

T: We don’t have to wear uniforms here on Fridays.

C: But that’s dumb. Why can’t we not wear them on Wednesday Thursday and Friday?

T: So you don’t think we should have to wear uniforms everyday?

C: yeah….

T: How come? Is there anything in the article you remember that says we shouldn’t have to?

C: No.

T: What did that say at the end about free speech?

B: Right here….

C: I guess we have to wear it because they first started it….on….

T: Kevin, Randy. What are they worried about? Why are they making you wear them?

R: So like when you go on a field trip or something.

K: NO NO NO NO. They use it to show off the school! To represent the school!

R: To identify you!

T: What was the first question Erin asked?

AS: How do uniforms prevent violence?

T: Isn’t that their argument? How do gangs show off themselves?

C: Their clothes.

K: Weapons.

C: Baggy jeans.

K: Shirts.

T: Are there any colors for this neighborhood?

KB: Green.

K: Black

E: I’m not even from here.

T: I’m going to ask you a few more questions. We’re almost done.

T: Why did the author write this article? Why is this important?

K: To know about the schools?

T: Just think why the author wrote the article. I want us to take some time to think about it. Don’t say

anything yet?

T: We’re going to take a minute just to think about it.

C: Immediately after. Mr. LaRue you should let us go to our lockers.

K: Come on.

E: I can’t wait till Friday.

C: Yes.

E: My man Curtis is coming back.

B: Who’s Curtis?

T: Be thinking about the question.

C: Oh my god, it’s almost 10:30.

B: We going back at 11 o’clock.

T: You guys, it hasn’t even been a minute. What did I ask you to think about?

C: It need to be 11 o’clock. We need to go back.

C: 9:30 to 11:30.

KB: mumbling unintelligibly.

T: Alright, Randy why did this person write the article?

R: Like, there’s a lot of reasons for you to wear uniforms. Because the girls could be wearing tight

jeans or something, the boys be looking at the butts and want to smack them.

T: Oh, alright. So it’s trying to keep people from being distracted.

R: The boys might be having sexual…

C: Reactions.

T: Randy. That’s a very good point. Does the author even talk about that in here?

R: No.

T: He doesn’t. So good job. That was an excellent way to extend your thinking.

T: Kevin, what’s up?

K: The author wrote the story just in case anyone that don’t know, wants to know.

T: Hold on, hold on. We’re not being respectful of each other.

E: The boys be pulling down their pants.

T: Kevin what were you going to say?

C: I bit my skin.

K: So people know why we wear uniforms.

T: That’s informational. Alright. How do you think he could have written this differently?

B: I don’t know what he said.

KB: Michelle Rheeeee!!!!

T: Ok, we’re going to take another minute. How could he have told you this information differently?

E: Called the school. Come to the school and make a speech.

T: That’s great. I think that’s a wonderful idea.

B: Go on TV.

C: laughing uncontrollably. I’m sorry….

T: That’s ok Carina. You’re just being a little ridiculous right now.

C: I know. My stomach hurt. It ache.

T: If you want. You can work on your flashcards. That way the rest of us can get something done.

C: My stomache ache.

T: Ok. So in this article they interview several people. They interview a student, a principal, the

ACLU. Is there anyone they didn’t interview that you can think of?

B: Barack Obama.

T: Huh?

B: PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA!

T: They didn’t interview Barack Obama. Why might his opinion be important?

R: The president won’t literally come down to Walker Jones.

B: He would probably come to Walker Jones.

T: Ok who else? We have a principal. We have a student. We have a parent. Who didn’t they

interview?

C: Dr. Grant ( our school principal). We’re doing too much. You doin’ too much.

E: The mayor.

T: The mayor of the city. Ok listen. Listen. There’s people in our group who are getting things done.

One of those people is Erin. One of those people is Randy. Be thinking.

C: I was thinking.

E: I was thinking outside the box.

T: You are thinking outside the box. You’re doing a great job Erin.

B: I just said Barack Obama.

T: Stop talking.

T: Every time I open my mouth someone thinks it’s their job to open their mouth right after me right

while I do. So I’m going to say this again and we’re going to take some time. We’re going to take thirty seconds. Erin already has her answer. Who else didn’t they interview?

E: Immediately Mayor.

T: How much time are we taking?

AS: Thirty seconds.

T: Ok who didn’t they interview?

E: Immediately Mayor.

B: Barack Obama.

T: We already said the president.

B: The government.

R: Someone from the GAO.

T: The government accountability office? I don’t know if that’s their job.

T: Didn’t they take it to the court for a kid who didn’t wear his uniform?

C: He got in trouble.

T: Yes he did.

C: I answered the question.

B: Me too.

C: The democrats and the republicans.

T: So we have the student’s point of view. We talked about that. We have the school’s point of view.

We have a parent’s point of view. Who’s point of view don’t we have?

B: Barack Obama’s.

C: Can I say something?

T: Yes Carina.

C: What do FBI mean. Federal Bank Inspiration?

T: It’s the uh… Federal Bureau of Investigation.

C: Oh.

E: It’s a police?

T: Uhhh yeah. It’s part of the police.

T: Let’s get back on track. I only have a few more questions.

T: How do you think the author wants you to feel about school uniforms?

E: We need to start wearing them.

T: You think he wants you to be in favor of them?

C: Talking unintelligibly.

T: This is what I’m saying Carina. I literally cannot get a word in without you talking.

C: I was trying to say something.

T: No, you were trying to chant. You were chanting. Alright. Now Carina, this question is going to be

directed at you. So you need to listen while I say this. How do you think the author of the article, the person who wrote it, wants you to feel about school uniforms?

C: I guess he wants us to feel that we have to wear uniforms.

T: That’s excellent.

C: That we got clothes on our backs.

T: What about the kid who got suspended for not wearing a uniform? How should we feel about him.

C: That’s dumb.

C: I feel sad.

B: He shoulda bought a uniform so when he get home he could change his clothes.

C: Did they beat him?

T: I don’t think they beat him.

B: When he go home he can change his clothes.

T: Right. Kevin do you have any thoughts on this?

K: You gotta fat chin Carina.

T: Really Kevin? Step into the hallway. I don’t even know how it got started but it needs to stop.

KB: Strongly.

T: The author feels strongly Keanu?

KB: Yes.

T: That’s a great answer Keanu.

T: One more question.

E: BOY SHUT UP!!!

KB: Stutters an insult at Erin

C: Why you always gotta say something!

Students laughing and joning on each other.

E: Why did she say you got a fat head?

C: She said you got knots on your head. 92 knots on your head. You need to stop.

B: You look like you have down syndrome.

T: Ok. So are you done?

C: He keep saying things.

T: Stop!

E: Eat my nuuuuuutttsss.

T: Ok. I’m just going to keep going. So what do you think is the single most important thing from this

article?

C: When he got in trouble because he wasn’t wearing his uniform.

T: And remember they let him wear his uniform after that.

E: Kids should be wearing uniforms.

T: Beatrice, is there one more important thing people should take from this?

At this point the students see that I’ve been recording and start yelling at the computer.

T: Stop yelling at the computer. What is the most important thing?

E: Shoes.

B: School.

T: So from this entire article the most important thing you got was school?

B: I feel good about school uniforms.

T: Randy what’s the most important thing you got from this article?

T: Erin don’t go in there.

E: I’m about to get tissue.

T: No you’re not. We’re having a discussion.

E: Uhhhhh!!!! You doin’ too much.

R: You can go to court for not wearing them. But like, violence, peer pressure and looking at girl’s

butts.

B: Pervert.

T: Do you have any closing thoughts on this?

R: They be wearin’ tight jeans and you can see their butts.

C: Why would they send him to court if he was wearing uniforms?

T: When he went to court they let him wear whatever he wanted.

C: After court? That is sad…

T: He didn’t have to wear a uniform after that. Because they said it was violating free speech. Do you

know what free speech is?

C: I’m not gonna say what I was about to say cause I was about to put something in….

T: Free speech says you have the right to say what you believe in Carina. Carina did you hear me?

C: Yes.

T: What did I say?

E: Man, this glue fell on my legs.

T: Any more thoughts?

E: For real, this glue fell on my legs. It burns.

T: Alright…We’re done.

B: Why ya’ll laughin’?

C: I dunno. I’m not laughin’ while laughing

Things i'm watching and reading.

2009-12-10T22:43:00.002-05:00

2009-12-06T13:13:00.001-05:00

Sobriety: Day 1

2009-11-29T21:00:00.002-05:00

Well, I've finally hit the wall as they say. I've come down with a fever, chills and my tonsils are swollen so badly it feels like a have golf balls shoved down my throat. I'm not unlucky. This was a long time coming. About 6 months past-due in fact. It's no secret to anyone that knows me that I have a certain taste for the epic night on the town. More specifically the PBR - Jameson night on the town. So I'm calling it quits for a while and am going to explore some alternative night options. Like maybe the theater. Instead of going to the bar at 6 o'clock and drinking myself silly and riding my bike all over town getting into misadventure after misadventure, I'll go see a play. Or maybe I'll go see a speaker or some sort. I wouldn't mind seeing a scientist speak in layman's terms about origins of black holes. But then how much more interesting would that speaker be if I sneaked in a mixer of rum and coke? This is not going to be easy.

The robot wars.

2009-11-23T23:16:00.002-05:00

Tree by Holly Le

2009-11-23T23:13:00.002-05:00

Me as a comic by Holly Le

2009-11-23T23:09:00.001-05:00

2009-11-17T19:55:00.001-05:00

Get the fuck out of my face, I'm going to kick your ass.

2009-11-17T17:53:00.002-05:00

I was greeted by these wonderful words yesterday at school. What a way to start the morning. To have a child, who knows little about the world beyond the ten city blocks that constitute their neighborhood, tell you with confidence to go fuck yourself is something I will never get used to.

2009-11-17T06:42:00.000-05:00

Me at work today.

Las ventanas.

2009-11-11T22:27:00.003-05:00

Too much coffee?

2009-11-11T14:05:00.002-05:00

by John LaRue and Holly Le

Death of an alien: Part 1

2009-11-11T12:52:00.003-05:00

by Holly Le and John LaRue

The mindful teacher.

2009-11-10T18:02:00.005-05:00

I'm reading The Rider by Tim Krabbe right now and really enjoying the book. It's about a bicycle race in a small town that attracts a few big names every year. I stumbled upon a quote the other day and found an interesting parallel to teaching. The line in the book reads, "on a bike, your consciousness is small." I find that "in front of a classroom of thirty eighth graders - your consciousness gets vaporized." The usual meltdown looks something like this (thoughts are in italics, words are in quotes):

"Good morning, please get out your warm-up notebooks. The problem is on the board. You have five minutes"
jesus christ, I can't believe this is happening.
"Sit down, you're wasting time Mark. Leave her alone. Keep your hands to yourself."
It's nine o'clock, what the fuck is your problem.
"Excuse me, yes Andy I'm talking to you. I heard exactly what you said. I was standing right behind you. I can't even believe you're arguing with me. No, I won't call your grandma again. Just start your warm-up."
What the fuck is a a skeezy bama. I drank too much coffee. My hand is shaking. Definitely too much coffee. Shit. I hate it when I drink to much coffee. I'm going to have to shit in like twenty minutes and I can't because I have to teach these kids the distributive property...
"OK! Time's up! Raise your hand if you think you got the warm-up correct"
Put your hand down Taylor, there's no way in hell you got this problem right. You've already missed two weeks of school.

2009-10-31T14:31:00.001-05:00

Coffee makes me feel productive and important.

2009-10-30T17:00:00.004-05:00

I stopped drinking coffee about a month ago. Then I started again. Well actually, I started today. Exactly 11 hours ago to be exact. I'm not sure what inspired me to bring the acidic, bold aromas of morning to my mouth again but it happened. And now, 39,343 seconds later I realize what the answer is. Coffee makes me feel like a winner. It makes me think I can leap over the the moon and varnish an antique cabinet on the way back down. I sit here with 7 tabs open in my browser. Two music related, one cycling, one email, two lesson plans and the final tab blank, ready to fly through the internet to whatever window my caffeine addled brain feels like jumping through. Is this a good thing? Maybe I'm not a winner. Sure I feel like I'm getting things done. My leg is a piston powering my freight train brain and anyone who engages me in conversation is a cow in the tracks ready to be trampled by a stream of over roasted words.

David Earl and I welcome you to fall.

2009-10-29T05:54:00.005-05:00

Started riding again. It feels good to get back out on the road
and do something. Not riding hard for 5 months had certainly taken its toll but I'm starting to get some fitness back. It seems like about every third or fourth person I pass on the road has one of those fancy power meters hooked up to their crank or back wheel. I understand wanting to get fast and doing anything to get there but it's fall. Nobody, except the top crossers, has a race until March at the earliest. This should be the time to get out there and enjoy things,
not sweat them out.

My Givonne.

2009-10-01T19:32:00.000-05:00

African Ancestry Interviews.

2009-09-30T19:57:00.005-05:00

Interviews with my principal and a few of my students from last year.

My journey to literacy.

2009-09-20T08:29:00.003-05:00

For one of my grad classes I'm to write an autobiographical account of how I became literate. I'm to include all the elements of my path to becoming a reading, thinking, text-synthesizing adult. Truth be told, at first I was sort of excited about the assignment. The task is a far stretch from the usual reflect-on-your-feelings-after-you-read-this-article chains that professors usually make you wear in these classes.

It all began in my hometown in a quaint red brick building just a few blocks from my house called the Glenwood Public Library. There I began as an emergent reader. My first book recommended to me was about a yellow cat. The cat would go on all sorts of silly adventures while his master was away. I'm not speaking of Garfield. If everyone learned to read through Garfield the world would be full of virgin robots with bad haircuts. Because I learned to read in the late 80's and early 90's I was taught by the "whole language approach", which means I have almost no phonemic awareness. I look at words not as a combination of letters but rather a complete object. Therefore, I also suck at spelling but who really needs to spell these days? Over the years I have picked up some conceptual and practical understanding of letter sounds but I mostly rely on Google and Microsoft Word's autocorrect to take care of me.

One of the earliest memories I have of reading children’s books is how much I disliked them. My slightly jaded seven year-old mind found the themes to be self-indulgent and unrealistic. If you were going to use your imagination, why not use it to construct a fantasy land full of action, adventure, terror and triumph? So, in second grade, with the help of the wonderful Mrs. Walters I began to write my own stories. My first story was about a man who lived in the woods outside of a small mining town. He was known as the “Tree Jumper” because he would swoop down from trees at night and terrorize the citizens with a hockey stick. Shortly after that I got in trouble for plagiarizing the plot of the first Jurassic Park. It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t get the film out of my mind. Every great writer has moments of disparity--this was mine. Some wordsmiths never recover from that type of fracturing collapse. I however, followed up with my opus – “Frankenstein on Ice.” Mrs. Walters told me it was one of the “finest things she’s ever read,” next to my comprehensive report on the Frilled Lizard of southern New Guinea. She submitted the story to a children’s literature contest in Kansas City--the results are a mystery to this day.

Second grade opened my window to the possibilities of mastering words and their meaning. Unfortunately, third grade severely mangled that gift which Mrs. Walters worked so hard to cultivate. On the first day of class our teacher asked us to open up our notebooks for some creative writing. I was thrilled – my previous experiences with the craft allowed me to journey through unforeseen lands and battle characters of questionable morality. Then she dropped the bomb, “If you had a magic peanut, what would you wish for? Five sentences or more.” My ten year-old mind was quailed. A magic peanut? I asked her, “heighten the stakes a bit please – how 'bout a freak in a hockey mask that holds a small community captive until the town hero is forced to sacrifice himself to plunge a flaming spear through his eye?” The teacher wasn’t having any of my arguments and told me that I had to complete the assignment or I would receive a 0.

So I wished for a dirt bike. When that wish was born – my dream of being a writer died – until college.

The majority of fourth grade passed without any unusually inspiring or depressing literary events, however a peculiar turn before summer break defined my reading list for the next seven or so years. It started so innocently when one of my parent’s friends gave me a box full of R.L. Stein’s "Goosebumps" series. They were fine reads but the catalyst was a book that accidentally hid at the bottom of the box. The novel was Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers. The story followed eight soldiers through their horrific tour of the Vietnam War. There was violence, racial tension, death, destruction, brotherhood, sex, heroism and large swaths of text devoted to describing a landscape and culture I would never encounter from my small bedroom at North Chestnut Street. From there on I devoured every war novel I could get my hands on. While other children were reading the Box Car Children and Animorphs I was trudging deep in the jungles of the Guadacanal or lying faceless, voiceless, and limbless in a veteran’s hospital, unable to communicate with the outside world. Soaking up such themes at a young age was important for me. It distilled in me a healthy, if not obligatory, skepticism of conflict and leadership. It’s always the child’s “why?” that’s at once annoying and reflective.

From there on, it was only novels of war or tales of great human depravity and crisis. I’m drawn to dark stories because they taught me to read viscerally. They taught me that words on a page can make the hair on your neck stand up with joy and pain. I only hope that the “Frankenstein On Ice” did that for some judge in Kansas City.

My quest for productivity.

2009-09-13T20:26:00.002-05:00

Who Moved My Brain? Revaluing Time and Attention

View more documents from merlinmann.

Labor day.

2009-09-12T11:30:00.005-05:00

Last weekend's labor day celebration warranted a collage by Tony (lower left). Some people just know how to have a good time.

Jake the snake.

2009-09-01T21:04:00.003-05:00

All things return to the source goes the saying or at least something like that. This bike started as a 1 x 8, went through a painful transition to 10-speed and is now a 1 x 10. It's pretty fun ride and needless to say I'm excited for cyclocross season. I don't mind so much falling on the grass.

The season's theme: "Most cycling fans take a romantic view of the sport. They will gladly give their unconditional love to a loser as long as he goes down with his pedals on fire."

Staples.

2009-08-23T17:04:00.000-05:00

"What do you mean I can't buy all the notebooks? I'm an educator god dammit."

"Sir, what about the other children."

"I'm getting them for the children!"

"I'm going to have to check with my manager."

Impromptu.

2009-08-22T10:16:00.003-05:00

Living alone is overrated. Yesterday, as I rolled home from work thinking about the first day of school on Monday I thought to myself, "I can get through this because everyday after work I got a roommate to cook dinner with, drink Modelo Especial and watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." What's better, immediately upon walking in the door, those three things happened. David made a cheese potato dish with onions and peppers while I acted as chief beverage officer. Before long people started trickling in the door including my good friends Holly, Dan, Sam, Tony, and Matt. We watched a handful Wu-Tang Clan music videos, discussed the upcoming cyclocross season and took the time for a quick photo shoot.

This position with my hands is particularly difficult as my wrists are stiffened from the damaging years of a video game addiction.

Back to the teach.

2009-08-20T16:09:00.002-05:00

It's been quite a summer. I've burned it from so many ends, even my soul feels a little bit chard. School begins this coming Monday. This past week has been spent sticking out lengthy professional development seminars - evidently the word is still out on how to write a lesson plan. You'd think they'd have a lock on that by now.

In other news David Q moved in with me last week. It's been a pretty seamless transition. He sleeps on the porch, makes fantastic dinners and we have a dandy time drinking beers and riding bikes on the weekends.

Apologies to all I've alienated while reentering the workforce. The summer days and nights flashed brilliantly. Remember them fondly.

Full day.

2009-07-18T10:47:00.003-05:00

The day started with me fixing up my single speed for some light touring. I put on a rack and zip tied a wald basket to the back. It's pretty sturdy and worked well. I've been sticking to bike paths around DC because they weave in and out of the suburbs and make for some purty riding. I started in Georgetown and rolled up to Bethesda to say hi to some friends in a yoga store. Then I wound my way around through Silver Spring.

This is from a bridge on the path.

After Silver Spring, I road through Takoma Park and found my way to Joe, Jeaneatte and Jack's house. We had a beer and watched the little guy repeatedly attack their fluffy but good natured cat Dignan. We then brought the afternoon to a close by having dinner at a Mexican restaurant El Golfo. Yummmm......But not the best for the trip back to DC.

The night ended on the roof of my sister's apartment with vino.

Still not bored.

2009-07-14T09:38:00.002-05:00

Currently, I am waking up around 8 am every morning, drinking coffee and riding my bike around. Sometimes I'll see a movie in the afternoon, possibly take a few pictures of the strange places I find in this city. My nights are filled with beer, yelling, hugging and more bike riding.

Gchat conversation with my good friend-

Bahreh: aren't you tired from all the partying?

and when are we hanging out!

i miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss you

me: i am not tired of partying in the least bit. i have more energy than the god damn sun.

Movie of summer.

2009-07-04T10:12:00.002-05:00

Somewhere along the way this became my favorite movie of all time.

Pedalterian stroller.

2009-06-21T11:23:00.003-05:00

Yes, that's a baby carrier mounted to a piece of plywood attached to the platform of a cargo bike.

Ahhhs and Ouches.

2009-06-19T07:53:00.006-05:00

I have lots of updates about my life on and off the cycle. A few weeks ago I went down during a race in PA during a descent at 30+ mph and landed myself in the emergency room at Lancaster General. From the impact I got a massive hematoma in my hip, eight stitches in my elbow and a concussion from getting flung into the guardrail. My helmet was completely destroyed. I was very lucky.

After a night in the hospital full of morphine, with two of my teammates who stayed by my side, I was allowed to go home. I missed a week of school chomping down 12 Vicodin a day just to feel comfortable. I had so many friends and family help me, it was pretty overwhelming. The team even chipped in and bought me a new kit because they had to cut my old one off me in the ER. As of late, I'm still recovering and hobble around with a cane. Fortunately, riding around hurts less than walking so I've modified my bike to get me around.

I also just finished my first year of teaching. I can't really even wrap my head around the experience quite yet, but it might be the greatest thing I've ever accomplished in my entire life next to being born and riding over a mountain in West Virginia. I think it'll hit me when I'm sitting on a patio drinking beers at two in the afternoon and unsure what day of the week it is. Because racing is probably going to be out of the question for a while I'm modeling my free summer after the dude.

Them crazy cycle races.

2009-04-22T22:19:00.000-05:00

Drying rack dinosaur.

2009-04-12T08:27:00.002-05:00

Use your imagination.

Rides & diy wool toe covers.

2009-04-07T21:49:00.002-05:00

All it takes is pair of old wool socks and a couple rubber bands for your very own set of seasonally appropriate cycling footwear.

Gone racing.

2009-04-05T19:38:00.002-05:00

I did my first real race of the year today. I'm not counting last Saturday because I had just gotten off of a plane from Paris and it was no fun at all (the race that is). This weekend I fared a little better. It was a circuit course but felt more like a crit with a large sweeping downhill and a punchy 200 meter climb to the finish. The first few laps I just sat in while a couple of my teammates went to the front and pulled the group around for a while. I put my nose in the wind helping reel in a break about 3 laps from the finish. On the last lap after the downhill I was sitting fifth wheel going into the climb and no one was doing anything so I tried to jump the pack and go off on my own. I was feeling pretty good and had a small gap on the group until about 50 meters from the finish. My legs became very heavy. I ended up getting picked back up by the pack for a 14th place finish out of 40. Pretty fun way to spend a Saturday, considering I could have been hungover or sleeping.

Up and over.

2009-03-18T10:33:00.012-05:00

No excuses. Just laziness. I'm once again forced to admit my blogging follies. It's not been because of a lack of stories for I have many to tell. Let's start with the most recent. I've started to hit my stride a little more in being a teacher which has opened up more time for some other loves in my life.

I spent this past weekend in the mountains of West Virginia at a training camp put together by the president of our bike team. The windy back roads and patches of gravel made excited for the upcoming season. Mostly for the weather. I'm tired of riding around with a snot-covered face and cold feet. Unfortunately, this weekend was no exception.

The first day was supposed to be a chill ride around to scout the terrain. However, one of our teammates got a flat on a rugged decent and I stopped to help him. Because of poor communication we lost the bunch and were left on our own in the back country. After a few miles of trying to play catch-up we ran into members of another team on their own training camp. Fortunately, they knew the surrounding area and we followed them to survey the coursed for an upcoming race. It featured to Pepsi Challenge climbs (Iowa City folks know what I'm talking about) and a host of rollers through the woods. The roads were rough and made for some sketchiness but we had a great time.

Day two was the "epic" day on the books. The morning started with another chill 30 mile ride but once again was plagued by mechanicals. About 15 miles away from the cabins my friend Dan's Speedplay cleat fell off in a million little pieces. Using the wisdom of my many mechanical mentors I harvested screws from his other shoe and was able to reattach the other cleat solidly enough to let him ride out the weekend. After that ride we went back to the cabins and knowing that the afternoon had a little more hurt in store I started stuffing food. I ate a pizza, two cans of Chef Boyardee and a ham sandwich. This was followed promptly by a spandex nap and then we were on the road.

Just as my parents taught me when I was little the difference between friends and strangers, this ride taught me the difference between a hill and a mountain. After a short decent from our cabins to the main road the day started with a 6 mile climb with to the peak of a pain. Some of the gradients on the switch backs were above 10%. Riders quickly gaped each other as each person set into their own rhythm and ascended the first climb. I just tried to follow wheels and not look up. At the top we waited for everyone and descended down about 12 switchbacks going about 40 mph around the wet and gravely corners. Once at the bottom we settled into a pace line and made our way to the base of the next climb. Long story short - it took about 45 minutes to get to the top and once there the sky opened and rain and wind started lashing our small group in the 37 degree West Virginian outback. One more climb left. I stuffed my face with Snickers and energy gels and went for it. Aching and in serious difficulty we made it over the third peak and descended in the cold, pouring rain into the woods to take us back home. I was sitting in on the group, when about 15 miles from camp my rear tire flatted. Dan and Grayson stayed back with me and I watched my fast 23 mph train back home go off into the cold. Fortunately, Brian offered to drive the sag wagon that day and in prime professional style he jumped out and gave me a wheel swap. I couldn't have probably changed the flat anyways. My hands were so cold they were turning white.
Dan, Grayson and I exchanged nervous conversation about the route home and just decided to go by landmarks (dogs chained to polls, burned out trucks, barns). This worked out well for us and after about a half hour we made it to the final decent back home. It was about a five mile decent and the combination of the wind and rain left me shaking and a little delirious. Back at the cabins Dan and Corey (ex-army helicopter pilot) told me my lips were blue and that I should probably put on as much clothing as I could and get in front of the fireplace. In the end, it was about 4 hours in the saddle, 50 miles and 6,000 feet of climbing.

All said and done it was a weekend of riding to remember.

It's me!

2008-12-29T12:14:00.007-05:00

It's been too long to expect people to continue to follow my random posting. But in the blog world, "the night is always darkest before the dawn." So for the one or two of you still out there here's a little bit of what I've been up to.

I'm halfway to completing my first year of teaching. It's taken many sleepless nights, lots of beer, many tears and the incredible support of everyone in my life but I did it. The middle schoolers haven't bested me yet. Sure they've stolen my lunch on several occasions, asked me if I "needed a milk shake to go with that ass," and threatened my life and bicycle but they've also told me they like how I teach. They like my shoes. They think I'm weird and sometimes funny. And they enjoy coming to Mr. LaRue's class because they get it when I teach them." That's enough good to keep anyone going I think. Those kids, along with this gal, have become the center of my life.

I haven't been riding much. I've thought about it quite a few times but the fire just fails to light when I look outside at 5 o'clock and it's pitch black. I still commute to work but as for training to do battle in the peloton - this is about it. I shit you not, I play a cycling video game on a regular basis. So much so, Kosi told me I've started to mimick Bjarne Riis facial expressions. I'm currently managing team Healthnet Maxis and am in negotionations with Coralville native, super-domestique Jason McCartney. I'll let you know how it plays out. In the real world cycling front I am signing up for spinning classes so I can sweat furiously for an hour a day and hopefully, just hopefully make that career-boosting upgrade from category 5 to 4 this summer.

My family in D.C. for Christmas!

Kosi, Mary Beth, my lovely Aunts Suzanne and DeEtte and yours truly at Mixtec.

Arty the Christmas Bulldog complete with reindeer antlers and lots of love.

Jingle-Cross Crash!

2008-12-03T19:04:00.000-05:00

For all you cat lovers!

2008-11-08T09:39:00.000-05:00

Why vote once every four years?

2008-11-04T06:33:00.002-05:00

Everything you do counts.

Look who stopped by!

2008-10-20T19:23:00.004-05:00

It had been over a year since I had last seen Zach and then out of the blue I got a random gchat message and a call from a restricted number. Next thing I knew there was a black cross-check parked outside my apartment and scraggly fellow in extremely short adidas shorts. We had a few beers at some of my local haunts - the Red Derby and Madam's Organ - and caught up on transient and teacher life. It was great to see him and I am thrilled that he's going to be staying in Baltimore which is just a few miles down the road. When I asked him "why Baltimore?" and he replied "precisely." To each his own.

In other news, Kosi got to hang out with cycling phenom Levi Leipheimer at one of her Lululemon events. She said he's a really nice guy and has a few pet goats. I'm sure there was more but I wasn't really paying attention after she presented me with a poster signed by the guy!

Question of the day/week/month.

2008-10-08T20:53:00.003-05:00

"Are you going to make it?" For the past few weeks this seems to be the conversation starter people have chosen to engage me with. I usually don't get too touchy feely with my responses and just fire of a simple "we'll see" or "just taking it one day at a time." That seems to leave most information seekers occupied but stock dialogue has always left me a little doubtful. If I view my current job as a make it or don't make it thing, black and white, win or lose, live or die, I don't think any form of success is possible. If I kept a tally of the moments I felt like walking out of the building and going into a bar, they would far outnumber the moments where I've felt like I was making a difference. Middle-schoolers are vicious, I feel like the leader of my school system is always trying to fire me and everyday is a capricious march into dysfunction. So no. I'm not making it. I'm living it. And I'm trying really damn hard.

Moving forward.

2008-09-25T15:16:00.006-05:00

Lately, I've been a little swept away. Sometimes when I'm walking the hallways of my middle school ordering kids to pull their pants up, take their hats off, and get in line I just laugh to myself because I can't believe this is my life. In all honesty, I applied to be a teacher to get my parents off my back about finding a job after graduation, never really thinking I had a huge chance of getting into the program. I knew I loved working with kids and that I had a big heart but I also knew that teaching in the inner-city probably required a more assertive attitude than I was used to displaying while wrenching in a bicycle shop. But I am starting to find my teacher voice and a reason for going back everyday.

Luckily I have so many people in my life to pick me up, or give me a swift kick in the ass when I'm wallowing in self-pity about lesson planning or how cruel middle-schoolers can be. It also helps to have a big sister who has a thing for convertibles and bulldogs.

Because every school should have one.

2008-09-04T21:31:00.005-05:00

I snapped this photo on my way home from work. What matters most is what you don't see.
Students can deal with leaky ceilings, glass-covered playgrounds, toxic mold growing in the bathrooms and enough desks and supplies to accommodate half their class - so let's build a brand new football field with artificial turf and stadium seating! This has been one of many paradoxes I've been trying to wrap my head around since entering DC Public Schools. All across the city these ancient public high schools, lacking air-conditioning, a computer post-2002 and adequate security are remodeling their football fields. I understand students and teachers alike need something to rally around but honestly? How can you take your school seriously when they don't provide you with the basic needs for a comfortable, relevant education?

Back on the ground.

2008-08-30T16:06:00.010-05:00

Until today I hadn't touched my cross bike since I said farewell to Iowa City gravel on an epic ride with Joe Lazio. Feeling sad for my blaze orange beauty I took it off the wall, pumped up the tires, trued the wheels, lubed the chain and decided I was going to ride on something other than pavement. The only place I could think to go was Rock Creek Park which hosts a network of horse trails and single-track for runners. The park situation reminds me of the Lake Macbride ski trails. They are perfect for cyclocross and mountain-biking but off limits to those activities. It irritates me when people say bicycles cause significant damage to trails. At worst you have someone who rides their rear brake too much and pushes a little bit of dirt around.

Overall it was a great Saturday ride. There were some steep, rooty climbs and fast flat sections. I fell a couple times and was reminded each time how fun riding off road was. Falling into rocks is never fun but it happens. I kept a close eye out for park rangers and the only sentries I happened upon were dog-walkers. They just scowled. I'm sure they were just angry they had to pick up poop. On a good note a nice old man walking his pony congratulated me for making it up a difficult climb strewn about with sketchy log crossings. That's the kind of relationship we need on these trails! I tipped my hat, said thank you and road on and threw up shortly after turning the bend. That could have been because I was hung-over and had just eaten a omelet and french fries a few hours early but I'd rather just chalk it up to effort.

The ride made me very excited for cyclocross season to start. And for those of you interested I have booked my plane ticket home to Iowa City for the Thanksgiving holiday. I'll be back for four days, two of which will be spent at Jingle-Cross trying to dishearten as many of these guys as possible.
Disclaimer: Only click on the Jingle-Cross link if you want to have a seizure. It reminds of forwards I used to get from my aunt.

My classroom.

2008-08-26T19:44:00.005-05:00

Before.

After.

What was once a textbook storage room is now a tiled land of learning! Since this last picture I've scrubbed the lab tables clean of fucks and phalluses and even found a place for those computers hanging out on my desk. In any case, this is the arrangement for the most part. I've also hung rules on the walls and steps to go through when handling our "feelings." They've come in handy for me as well. In fact, try it out yourself - "I feel ________ when you __________ because ___________. " Don't you feel better?

2008-08-24T13:15:00.002-05:00

Break.

2008-08-03T12:27:00.006-05:00

It's only been a week since I finished the intensive summer institute but it's felt like months for some reason. What a nice way to have a break last! I've been spending some quality time with this lady and been doing some more bike racing.
The first was another Greenbelt Criterium. I dropped my chain on the first climb and couldn't bridge back up to the group. Bummer. I held off the charging pack for five laps on the mile course before they lapped me. I quickly hopped on the back and sheepishly finished the race. At the end I found that I could have taken lap for a "mechanical." In the end I finished 18th out of 21. In other race news, yesterday was the Hammer Creek Road Race in Lancaster Pennsylvania. The category 4/5 race was on a five mile loop of which we did six laps. I almost got teary eyed on the opening laps because the scenery reminded me so much of Iowa City and the group rides - except for the fact that I didn't get dropped in the opening miles. Here are some pictures I took from my phone after the race.

The pace was pretty good for the first few laps and I tried to make some moves to the front in the closing two laps but the hills stretched the group out causing an accordion effect. A thunderstorm also decided to move in on the last lap and it started down-pouring. It was quite sketchy on the hairpin blacktop turns but luckily no one went down. In the end I finished in the pack, with a member of the team actually winning the race. It was a pretty great day, ending with beers and Thai food with Bonkosi.

Bridge the gap.

2008-07-26T18:51:00.008-05:00

The 95th Tour de France is about to come to a close and with it, hopefully the debilitating trauma three weeks of breakaways, time trials, and a tight GC race has caused on my brain. Every morning I leave the house and ride my bike to work, it becomes a race. All I think from stoplight to stoplight is, "I wonder if I can put a 30 second gap on this Ford Taurus before the hill on 13th street because I'll have to concede a minute or two once we hit that." I'll even try to draft off my fellow commuters only to sprint by them at the last second to take the tape at a crosswalk, then turn around to clang my bell at them, flex my biceps and point to my chest that dons not a sponsorship, but a silk argyle tie.
It'd be easy if a simple commute got it out of my system but it doesn't, which is the main problem. Each walk from class in the high school I'm teaching at morphs into a competition to the top of Alp d'Huez. "I'd better bridge up to that group of students and tell them to take their hats off before they turn the corner or I'll lose them for sure."
To complicate matters even more the mission of the program I'm currently participating in is to close the achievement gap present in America's school system so it's not entirely my fault. Maybe I'm not crazy and the whole world does actually revolve around cycling. For now, if you're on your way to work and look behind only to find someone in a sport coat tucked into the aero position, just hold your line. It'll all be over by the next crosswalk.

Lady on bike

2008-07-19T12:13:00.000-05:00

Teaching, riding.

2008-07-14T10:31:00.008-05:00

It's been a while friends but I'm back to assure you that I'm still around. Lots has happened since I last posted so I'll try and keep it short and interesting.

I've started teaching summer school at Anacostia High School while taking classes at George Washington University. Anacostia is pretty incredible. There's not much that could have prepared me for it. Classes start at 8:30. On a good day, 2 of my 15 students will show up by 8:45 and the rest will trickle in around 9:30 or so. It's been pretty difficult to make sure learning is happening but I'm hopeful. There have been a few fights and I've caught a couple of kids hot-boxing the bathrooms but other than that the students are great. Needless to say, DC schools need as much help as they can get.

Until last week my bike racing career had been put on hold and relegated to the digital world. My professor let us out of class early so I townied home as fast as I could, time trial style, hunched forward with my hands resting on my basket, tie flapping in the wind. I grabbed my trusty Orbea (now equipped with 130 mm stem) and started tearing down back streets, hopping curbs and traffic circles until I reached the Branch bike path. Once there I road into Maryland and just made the start by 5 minutes for a local criterium in the Greenbelt Series. After pinning on my number upside down we were off. The course was rolley and I hadn't had a chance to preride so I sat in the middle and let the group drag me around. After 5 laps they announced a premium lap so on the next climb I started making my move towards the front. After about a half lap I was sitting third position ready to strike for the unknown prize. 120 meters (I actually have no idea how far it really was) before the finish a rider started to pull clear of the bunch. I grabbed onto his rear wheel and let him pull me up the hill. Once on the flat, I made my move. I tore around him put it in the 12 and that was it. I rolled through, sat up and got reabsorbed into the peloton. The rest of the race went well. I made the break on the last lap but didn't have anything left and got dropped up the last climb, finishing 10th out of 24 riders. At the registration table I collected my premium - car wash tokens - the irony was almost too much to bear.

My fantastic bike set up.

My tool pegboard ripped off the wall in the middle of the night and fell on my bed. Note to self: buy a stud finder.

Kosi is really into yoga now. I've been to one of my sister's classes, whose a fantastic instructor.
We'll see if it picks up.

Arty's getting bigger and more ornery. This is Said giving him the "dad face."

The district.

2008-06-07T15:40:00.003-05:00

I arrived in Washington, DC a couple days ago and things are going pretty well except for the fact that a cashier at Bed, Bath and Beyond told me I looked like Woody Harrelson. To make things worse, the security guard started singing the theme song from Cheers as I walked out the door. It was sort of depressing. My apartment is pretty nice. I can comfortably fit two bikes and hopefully I'll find a way to fit two more. I haven't found much time to ride except for townying but I stopped by a shop and they told me where to find the group rides. I'm missing Iowa City and all you fabulous people still in it.

Vindication.

2008-05-13T14:36:00.005-05:00

This last weekend was a defining moment in my cycling career. I revisited the ghost of my first bike race that punished me so mercilessly. This time it was a different story. I held on as long as I could to the group which was about 10 hills and 18 miles, and three attacks farther than the first time I rode the Tech Tach Teicher. After getting dropped by the main field this local legend and a few others drug me down Black Diamond with them for a ways until I got shelled off the back of that. After that I soloed for a while and picked up a couple others until the final stretch. All said and done the vomit was kept in my stomach and I even beat the two guys in the final sprint. I'm not sure what place I finished in relation to everyone else but let's just say it was almost emotional seeing there were still people at the finish line when I crossed it, let alone finding it. The little victory was then celebrated properly getting bombed at the Foxhead after visiting a fantastic art show. Here are some more pictures of the painting.

How to stop gas theft?

2008-05-05T13:43:00.003-05:00

You could take CNN's advice and by all sorts of fancy surveillance equipment for your car or you could try one of these on for size.

GREval.

2008-04-11T20:12:00.008-05:00

OR

What's he looking at?

Tomorrow I take my first steps towards graduate school by taking the GRE, also known as the Graduate Record Examination. I didn't know about the other name until I googled GRE hoping for tips on the wikipedia page. Little help was offered. My morning of preparation started off nicely with Friday morning breakfast at Louis Henri's with these guys. Leaving the restaurant I looked toward the stormy skies and realized that maybe I should start the day off someway other than memorizing binomials. So, following a simple equation that has guided the majority of my college career I talked Joe Lazio into touring some of Iowa City's southern gravel roads despite some 30 mph wind gusts and some rain. Much joy and excitement ensued.
"Hey guys! Let's do wheelies!"

Joe recreating his face-plant.

While making fun of Joe I flipped over the bars.

Somehow the impact of the fall flipped my headset upside down.

Home invasion.

2008-04-10T10:57:00.008-05:00

My roommates have been very tolerating of me. My bicycles have taken over our apartment. Every groggy morning one risks the possibility of impaling themselves on a set of pink handlebars or brake lever.
On each wall you can see the beginning of our steadily growing hubcap collection. The newest edition is the second on the left (its in a flame pattern). I scored that little gem underneath one of the pedestrian overpasses. I face planted in the mud on my fixie reaching down to grab it front of a bunch of people but it was worth it.

Fixie.

Towney.

29'er

Cross bike.

Random stop motion.

2008-04-08T21:27:00.003-05:00

Here's a cool, three part stop-motion video made by my cousin Josh. He's a freshmen in high school at Millard over yonder in Omaha.

Spring goal.

2008-04-01T21:45:00.001-05:00

Eleanor Roosevelt's "This I Believe."

2008-04-01T20:01:00.002-05:00

I read the NPR compilation This I Believe a few months a ago and looking back on it, I found this essay by the former first lady to be the one that stuck with me.

"It seems to me a very difficult thing to put into words the beliefs we hold and what they make you do in your life. I think I was fortunate because I grew up in a family where there was a very deep religious feeling. I don?t think it was spoken of a great deal. It was more or less taken for granted that everybody held certain beliefs and needed certain reinforcement of their own strength and that that came through your belief in God and your knowledge of prayer.

But as I grew older I questioned a great many of the things that I knew very well my grandmother who brought me up had taken for granted. And I think I might have been quite a difficult person to live with if it hadn?t been for the fact that my husband once said it didn?t do you any harm to learn those things, so why not let your children learn them? When they grow up, they?ll think things out for themselves. And that gave me a feeling that perhaps that?s what we all had to do--think out for ourselves what we could believe and how we could live by it.

And so I came to the conclusion that you had to use this life to develop the very best that you could develop. I don?t know whether I believe in a future life. I believe that all that you go through here must have some value; therefore, there must be some reason. And there must be some ?going on.? How exactly that happens, I?ve never been able to decide. There is a future--that I?m sure of. But how, that I don?t know. And I came to feel that it didn?t really matter very much because whatever the future held, you?d have to face it when you came to it, just as whatever life holds, you have to face it in exactly the same way.

And the important thing was that you never let down doing the best that you were able to do--it might be poor because you might not have very much within you to give, or to help other people with, or to live your life with. But as long as you did the very best that you were able to do, then that was what you were put here to do, and that was what you were accomplishing by being here.

And so I have tried to follow that out--and not to worry about the future or what was going to happen. I think I am pretty much of a fatalist. You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give."

Breaking away

2008-03-28T12:13:00.000-05:00

Spring break gave me time to reflect. I spent a few great days at home but the majority were spent here in the city I love. The empty city I love. A stroll down Clinton Street is almost eerie on March 17. Hundreds of abandoned parking spots stare you in the face, pleading for you to miss them. And I did. Where are the strolling sweat-pantsed students of winter? Are they home with mom and dad talking about the future? Or are they doing fleshy body shots off of a failed high-school quarterback's fat stomach in Cabo?

The springs of snow melt and reveal some Iowa City's finer features, beyond the ornamentation of UI students. People are reading, dancing and playing poorly tuned instruments on the Pedestrian Mall. There's more walking, less driving. A nice popped-collar fellow at Joe's Place even informed me that he was delighted to shake off the cobwebs of a winter spent masturbating and eating Cheetos. Shortly after, he was removed by security for harassing women. But spring is not all about revealing the hidden talent and orange hands. It's about new life. And the university has given us that.

The UI gifted students with a blooming Nite Ride program. According to a DI article, the program will "expand its service to all UI buildings every Sunday through Thursday from 10 p.m. through 3 a.m., starting March 30." The new and improved "academic Nite Ride on weekdays will be considered alcohol-free, and it will not give a ride to anyone suspected of drinking." The booze cruise Friday through Saturday will remain the same.

I don't support university sponsored programs that exclude weekday drinkers. Sexist fun-haters. I think it would be better for all involved parties to let the "academic Nite Ride" reciprocate its evil, man-hating twin. The sober students who studied all day would be inspired to stay the course when some lush reeking of whisky pukes in their laps. Likewise, the drunk students would want to keep drinking when they realize how unmotivated they really are. Besides, Charles Green, the assistant vice president for the UI police, does not want people (women) to "be bashful" toward the new service. I bet he'll even help you go through your flash cards for Spanish (wink).

Since we're on the topic of drinking and spring, what happened to "back in the day?" Back in the day when people could stand outside of bowling alleys and take hits out of belt-buckle pipes and drive around with trunk full of beer. Why does no one like to party anymore? Not just get drunk, but rock out in huge open fields with live music and tons of kegs and naked people. That's the dazed and confused Iowa City I long for this spring. Not pay-to-play beer gardens, I mean patios that cram everyone so close together they can't complete a thought, let alone an effective pickup line. It'd be better if everyone adopted Hemingway's approach to new seasons, who said: "then spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself."

In all its clichés, flower blossoming, greening ways, spring really is all about new beginnings and growth. Which brings me to the final important change you need to take note of in Iowa City. I will no longer be frequenting the right side of the Opinions page. I realize for many of you - OK, mostly my parents - this will be a difficult transition. Looming life events (graduation), coupled with an almost alcoholic approach to life at 750 words a week, have prompted my early retirement. After a string of long nights spent sipping whiskey, smoking cigarettes, and texting Jon "Solid" Gold (Don't ever call me that, or I'll bevel your toes. - ed.), I've realized it's time to say goodbye. I've given you all I have for now, so if you don't mind, I'll bow out and let other, more capable writers take the center stage for a while.

DI columnist John LaRue is going to head out with his loser friends and buy Aerosmith tickets. E-mail him at:

john-b-larue@uiowa.edu.

The prestige of wrenching.

2008-03-24T09:59:00.002-05:00

I fixed a nice lady's shifting problems on the spot a couple days ago while working at Geoff's. Little did I know this would be the published result.

A Daily Iowan columnist fixed my bike!

Posted by Maria Houser Conzemius on March 23, 2008, at 5:03 PM.

I met one of my favorite columnists at the Daily Iowan on Saturday. He fixed my bike at Geoff's Bike & Ski Shop on South Gilbert Street.

On the Spring Ride, my bike kept shifting gears by itself. It was disconcerting and annoying. Norm, one of the MelonHeads, tried to fix it. Then Jim tried to fix it, and it was better, but I was perturbed that I had forgotten to get a spring tune-up.

I told Jim that I was going to stop at Geoff's Bike Shop and leave the bike there. I asked him to ride back to the car and pick me up at Geoff's.

"Just tell them what's wrong," he urged me. "Tell them to take a look at the derailleurs."

"But it's dirty," I complained.

"They won't clean it up," he said. "I'll do that."

"OK," I said, and rode through the Highway 6 intersection on Gilbert.

At Geoff's, the mechanic said he'd look at it right away, although I offered to leave the bike there. They always look at my bike right away. That always surprises me, but it's nice that they do.

John, the mechanic, was insulted that Jim thought that he wouldn't clean the bike.

"Why'd he think that?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said.

John blew air into the little wheels in the shifters and pumped Tri-Flow cleaner inside. He walked over with the bike to show me what he did. He was dragging one leg that was obviously stiff. It was kind of shocking. After paying my small bill, I put a couple bucks in the Geoff's beer fund jar.

"What did you do to your leg?" I asked.

"Wreck," he said.

"Must 'a been some wreck," I commented.

He started explaining that he has a vascular disorder, and something clicked in my head. I looked at his face and neck again, and he smiled.

"YOU'RE the guy who writes for the paper!" I cried, pointing my finger at him.

He was clearly startled by my response.

("I'll bet," Sarah dryly commented later when told of the encounter.)

I was terribly excited to have met the young bicyclist who wrecked his bike and hurt his leg while "crop dusting" his friends. I read all about it in the Daily Iowan. John writes for the DI a lot. I always enjoy his stuff.

"Come to think of it," I added. "I write for the paper too."

He looked puzzled.

"A different paper, the Press-Citizen," I said, and gave him my card.

What a sweet kid he was. I guessed that he was a bicyclist when I first saw his photo in the DI, too. He looks happy and has a really strong neck, like a lot of bicyclists do.

To Lasik or not to Lasik

2008-03-19T10:20:00.002-05:00

I was all set to let them cut my eye open and shoot a laser into it, until my aunt called and more or less said, "seriously John...seriously." I've reconsidered for now and feel pretty good about my decision. I should have taken a hint when my doctor was wearing glasses. One of the nurses said it was because he couldn't find anyone better than him to do the procedure. Sounds like a cop out. I was just so excited for glasses free living. I guess the real lesson here is that I should be excited for living with vision in the first place. Here's an article about the downsides they don't mention in the office testimonial book.

March 13, 2008
Skin Deep
Lasik Surgery: When the Fine Print Applies to You
By ABBY ELLIN

I WAS vain.

That’s the only way I can explain why I willingly let a doctor cut my corneas with a laser: vanity.

Little did I know when I chose Lasik surgery that I would not end up satisfied like the friends and acquaintances who raved about their post-glasses existence. Instead, my days are complicated, since I am dealing with side effects that are far more bothersome than being unfashionably four-eyed.

I had been wearing eyeglasses since I was 8, and I was tired of never seeing the stars without glare, of not being able to go rock-climbing unless I secured my glasses. Not to mention the horn-rimmed barrier between me and a date.

I had trouble figuring out which side of a contact lens to stick onto my eye, so I never really gave contacts a chance.

I had been considering Lasik — short for laser-assisted in situ keratomileusis, which entails cutting and reshaping the cornea — since the Food and Drug Administration approved it in the late ’90s. Because I was not too nearsighted and not too old, ophthalmologists told me I was an excellent candidate. But I wanted to wait until more people had gone under the laser.

Roughly 800,000 patients have had Lasik annually since 2000, spending about $2.5 billion on the procedure every year, said David Harmon, the president of Market Scope, a research company for the ophthalmic industry in Manchester, Mo.

The American Society of Cataract and Refractive Surgery reports a 95.4-percent patient satisfaction rate for Lasik, based on a recent analysis of research worldwide. The researchers found 19 studies specifically addressing patient satisfaction from the last decade, encompassing roughly 2,022 patients. (Some had been post-op for a month; others for a decade).

Most ophthalmologists are confident about the efficacy of Lasik, as well as another popular procedure — photorefractive keratectomy, or P.R.K. Both are designed to correct nearsightedness, farsightedness and astigmatism.

“It’s very few people who don’t have a superb outcome, especially with the new technology,” said Dr. Marguerite McDonald, the president of the International Society of Refractive Surgery of the American Academy of Ophthalmology.

About five of my friends had undergone the surgery. “Life-changing,” they cooed. “Miraculous!” Because my 40th birthday was looming, my parents offered me either a cello or Lasik. I chose Lasik. But first, I looked up studies online and consulted three doctors. Each did a spate of tests and pronounced me an excellent candidate.

I asked about the risks, and they explained that some people come away with dry eye, double vision, decreased contrast sensitivity and decreased night vision. Some see halos around lights. I was assured these side effects were rare, and usually fleeting.

Ultimately, I chose Dr. Sandra Belmont, the founding director of the Laser Vision Correction Center at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Medical Center. Dr. Belmont also runs a corneal fellowship program at Manhattan Eye, Ear and Throat Hospital.

A doctor who was a patient of hers recommended her. She charges between $4,500 and $5,500; I paid $4,500, nearly $1,000 less than other quotes I had received, a consideration since my insurance, like most, does not cover elective surgery.

I signed a consent form confirming that I understood the risks. I thought I did understand them. I did not know then that 5 to 10 percent of patients need to have their vision fine-tuned — or in industry parlance, “enhanced” — after surgery because of an under- or over-correction, according to John Ciccone, a spokesman for the American Society of Cataract and Refractive Surgery.

Nor had I spoken to any individuals who wished they had never had the procedure — of which, I have since learned, there are plenty.

On April 13, 2007, I had the surgery. Dr. Belmont’s colleague examined me the next day. My vision was a little blurry, but apparently that was normal. Dr. Belmont said that everything looked good on subsequent visits, too. But the blurriness never went away.

At night, I saw halos around streetlights; neon signs bled; the moon had two rings around it like Saturn. My eyes felt sore, a result of dry eye, which also causes sporadic blurriness.

Dr. Belmont told me that sometimes women of a certain age who are undergoing hormonal changes or who take certain medications get dry eye. It would have been nice if I’d known my advanced age (39) might be problematic before I sat in the chair.

I cut out all prescription and nonprescription pills. Didn’t help. The doctor told me to use Refresh Plus, over-the-counter drops that temporarily help dry eye. The drops cost around $12 a box; I go through two boxes a week. She also prescribed Restasis eye drops, which can help increase tear production. They didn’t for me.

True, I no longer wear glasses. But the 20/20 line on the eye chart is blurry. I can make it out only if I squint, and it takes about a minute to read. My doctor views this as proof of the surgery’s success.

“I do see it as a success,” Dr. Belmont told me in a recent interview. She also has said repeatedly that these troubles will pass. “In 18 years of practice, I’ve never had a patient whose symptoms don’t go away. Most patients take three to six months to heal.”

But I see my slow-squint reading as a sign of failure. I thought I’d be able to decipher words in the real world at a glance. My consent form said: “The patient understands that the benefit of the Lasik/P.R.K. procedure is to have an improved uncorrected visual acuity.” I took that to mean that my eyesight would be 20/20. Most doctors, on the other hand, focus on the words “improved uncorrected visual acuity.”

“Not every patient has the potential to see 20/20,” Dr. Belmont told me this month. So, if your eye can see 20/20 with glasses or contacts, the doctors try to replicate that, but there are no guarantees. Dr. Belmont said, “You do the best that you can.”

On its Web site (www.fda.gov/cdrh/lasik/risks.htm), the F.D.A. cautions patients to “Be wary of eye centers that advertise ‘20/20 vision or your money back’ or ‘package deals.’ ” (Still, some refractive eye surgeons’ phone numbers end in 2020.)

Nearly a year later, my problems remain. Still, I’m not mad at my doctor. I’m mad at myself. No one forced me to do it. In our quick-fix culture, we forget that there are risks with any surgery, elective or not.

Between 1998 and 2006 the F.D.A. received 140 negative reports relating to Lasik, including double vision, dry eye and halos, said Mary Long, a spokeswoman. Granted, this is not that many, but Ms. Long said, “If this many people are responding to an adverse event, there are probably others who are not.”

After concluding that too few well-designed studies have examined quality of life after Lasik, the F.D.A. put together a task force in 2006 to design a clinical trial to explore the subject. A pilot study is now under way at the National Eye Institute in Bethesda, Md.

LOOKING back, I do not think my doctor and the other experts I consulted adequately represented the pitfalls. It’s one thing to say that dry eye is “annoying,” as Dr. Belmont did; it’s another to explain how feeling as if your eyes are coated in Vaseline may make every waking moment a chore.

Perhaps it depends on what your definition of success is.

“People say, ‘Well, you don’t wear glasses anymore,’ ” said Barbara Berney, 53, of Rockford, Ill., who had the surgery in 2001 and now reports dry eye, night blindness, dimmed vision, halos and starbursts. “Unless you see what I see, you have no frame of reference.”

Unhappy Lasik patients, some with worse experiences than mine (one man I spoke to needed a corneal transplant), have created about a dozen Web sites. The 12 patients I talked with all reported feeling as I did, gaslighted. They said they kept telling their doctors that they couldn’t see, and that their doctors kept telling them that they could.

A few doctors have told me that they think they can help my dry eye, but I worry they will suggest more surgery, and I haven’t gone to see them. A few optometrists said they could fit me with special lenses to moisten my eyes, and I may have to go that route.

Meanwhile, I walk by eyeglass shops and wish I needed to go inside.

Vagabonds

2008-03-14T08:23:00.000-05:00

There's lots to do after graduation. Just ask my friend Zach Kmiec, who picked up his bike last October and hasn't looked back. Except for getting caught in New Orleans for a few months (that happens to everyone), it's been pure pavement and bicycle touring. I was able to catch up with Zach and find out how his travels were faring. Here is the last, edited correspondence received from the UI's own 23-year-old heady traveler.

Zach got into bicycles through the assembly route. His mom landed him a job at a local Madison bike shop and after "spending all day putting bikes together and hanging out with bike geeks, then biking home or going on a lazy, beery group ride," he just fell for it. He came back to Iowa and after failing to find a shop that was hiring he joined the Bike Library, where he was able to continue working on bicycles.

Bike touring isn't for everyone, but neither is the 9-to-5 job market. He needed something different after graduating and decided on the open road after "thinking about two good friends of mine who had forsaken academia to find their own paths. They were traveling all over the country, having real experiences, living off the fat of the land - you get the idea. I was in some dorm room trying to avoid doing real work, jealous of their vagabonding."

Of course, cycling isn't the only alternative route to "real-life" alternatives, but Kmiec chose to travel on two-wheels, because "going so slow is like zooming in on every detail; instead of big cities being the relative points of interest, individual counties become important. It's a good way." Anyone whose ever MapQuested a road trip knows that it takes a load of effort to encourage your computer to give you any route that doesn't involve an interstate or superhighway. It's nice to get away from the superfast. Besides, traveling in a car usually requires a bankroll - a bankroll lots of people don't have right now.

Money is a big problem for about everyone at present. So it was sort of a shock when I got this e-mail from him and found out he was still getting by without any financial problems. However, when you're not shelling out a monthly rent check, lots of things fall into place. While in New OrIeans, he "worked for a little more than a month, flipping eggs and selling chocolate (two different jobs, mind you), and that got me pretty much set for the next leg of the trip. All my expenses were food-related. Peanut butter, peanut butter, peanut butter."

It hasn't all been easy going. America isn't exactly designed to accommodate vehicles rolling along at less than 20 mph. However, Tennessee has 7-foot-wide shoulders that are pretty nice when cars are zooming by at 65 mph. This made for a nice scenic route into his current abode, New Orleans. And aside from a Shell Oil refinery that looks like "the opening scene of Blade Runner and lots of shotgun "Creole Cottages," the culture shock has been mild. He's slept in farmers' fields and on porches, couches, and a rooftop.

That's where his journey has brought him thus far, but his adventures are not over. When I asked him where he thought he'd end up, he wrote back, "I'm headed for Georgia, apparently. Athens has been my imagined destination since I hit the road back in October. I've never had a reason for this other than I like the sound of the name and its location on the map. Recently, though, I've heard that there's a guy there who looks like me, so y'know … now, that's why I'm going there."

It's important to realize that not everyone has to dive headfirst into the job market right after school. You're done. Enjoy it before you enter the cubicle farm. What's the hurt in taking a few months off to enjoy the fruits of your academic labor?

DI columnist John LaRue bought Zach a spork, which is a combination of a spoon and a fork. E-mail him at: john-b-larue@uiowa.edu.

Barack Obama on net neutrality

2008-03-13T11:23:00.000-05:00

Strange reunifications in bloggery

2008-03-12T11:47:00.005-05:00

Until about two days ago, I had no clue that my good friend David Earl had a blog. He's never mentioned it to me so I was excited to stumble upon his tech ramblings the other day. Look here as he glibly deconstructs the Java programming revolution. Whether you understand it or not, you have to admit, he has a way with words.

Maybe conservatism isn't always bad...

Professors Robert Dewar and Edmond Schonberg recently published an article lamenting the current state of Computer Science education. Particular attention/derision was devoted to the growing use of Java as an educational language. The authors contend that Java is inappropriate as a first programming language, and argue that the result of this trend is a growing number of undereducated graduates. Being an anti-Javite of fluctuating fervor, the article resonated strongly with me. I've been cooped up in this ivory tower for about seven years now, and in that time, one of the most elusive mysteries has been the rise of Java. Like, seriously, I don't get it. I see more and more people using it. I hear more and more people talking about it. The breaking point was when a professor--presenting some algorithm that I've since forgotten--gave code samples in Java. What. The. Fuck.

Say what you will about C, but the fact remains that to be good at C, you've got to have your shit together. You have to understand memory management. You have to understand pointers. In short, you have to understand how a computer actually works. Let's face it; C is the de facto standard language--for better or worse, it is our lingua franca.

"Science proceeds one funeral at a time" - Max Planck

I've been thinking about this article, and the ramifications that it suggests. Where will we be in thirty or forty years when all the old school programmers are gone? When the new crop of Java disciples are calling the shots? Will the Gospel according to Kernighan and Ritchie survive? Will it be passed down in shadowed ceremonies, uttered only to the chosen few? Or will the Java trend fade away and die an unremarkable death. Something tells me that isn't going to happen.

Road House - For Your Consideration

2008-03-08T10:45:00.000-05:00

What price humor?

2008-03-07T11:17:00.002-05:00

Pressing my hand to my hip I feel the blood rushing out of broken veins and into the surrounding tissue. The bleeding starts to cramp my hip flexor, and I trot around in a circle whispering through clenched teeth, "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."

"John, are you OK? That didn't look too good."

"You might want to sit down for a second, man."

I look back at my riding partners and grimace. "Just give me a second, I'll be fine."

I crawl onto my single-speed Fuji with a basket and start to ride, using only my right leg. The rushing sensation becomes more intense as we near the crest of College Street. And I think to myself, "Dammit, am I going to have to go to the emergency room?" An ensuing jolt of electrified bear-trap pain says, "Yes, yes you are."

The UI Hospital and Clinics ER makes do. Upon arrival, my comrades in two wheels helpfully lower me and my expanding hip tenderly into a chair at the receptionist's station and I painfully let her know my situation.

"I was riding my bike, and I hit an ice patch, and now I'm here. I have a pre-existing vascular disorder in my left leg that makes me susceptible to clotting and internal bleeding. Could I please see a doctor as soon as possible?"

It all seems a little overwhelming to her. "Do you have a photo ID?"

Jesus, I'm going to bleed out in a waiting room. After my initial screening, in which my vitals are taken (blood pressure 163/85, heart rate 97) I'm called upon by the receptionist.

I drag my wounded appendage looking like a 100-year-old man, not a 22-year-old cyclist, back into a family waiting room turned examination room. There I shakily rest on a sofa from a Brady Bunch garage sale until the doctors come through. My friends have stayed by my side the whole time. Hospitals are scary, systematic places, and it's always comforting to have someone there to let you know when you're hanging out of your gown.

After an hour or so I'm visited by a vascular surgeon who has some knowledge of my ailment.

She sits close by and asks me questions about the accident.

"Describe the pain, one being no pain and 10 being excruciating."

"Three."

"Has anything like this ever happened before?"

"Once, in rec basketball."

"Have you been drinking?"

"I'd had a beer about an hour before the accident."

"You know drinking can have an effect on a number of activities, including bike riding."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"I'm checking your blood levels to find out whether or not you were intoxicated."

"That's fine."

A sort of nervousness hung over the room after she got up and left, but I wasn't sure why. I hadn't been drinking, the blood test would come up zero, but why did I feel like a shitbag?

A few reasons came to mind. I felt bad for this lady because I'm guessing a large percentage of the student clientele in the hospital on a Friday night are probably straight-up blotto. From a medical standpoint, maybe it's safer to assume guilty until proven innocent. I'm sure alcohol can interfere with a number of treatments and diagnoses. Wouldn't want to be euthanized because of excess Guinness.

However, the largest and most gripping reason for my feelings of dejection is because I'd scared the hell out of my parents for a dumb reason. (Really dumb. -ed.) Talking to them on the phone at 2 in the morning after being admitted to a room for observation, they sounded like they were giving me my last rites. I haven't told them this yet, but I'm sure they'll find out. You see, when I fell off my trusty bicycle that night, I was out of the saddle and angling for the front of the group so I could crop-dust the other riders. Forgive the scatology, but in case you're unaware, crop-dusting, in its most basic definition, is farting while walking. However, in my case, it was farting while riding, and it nearly turned out to be lethal. Why I'm telling you this I do not know. Perhaps it is the copious amounts of Vicodin flowing through my veins, which - ironically - makes you constipated. Lesson learned. So ride safely this winter.

DI columnist John LaRue would like to thank Bonkosi, UIHC, and that warm fuzzy blanket called Vicodin for taking such great care of his stupid self. Send good will to:
john-b-larue@uiowa.edu.

Ever enough?

2008-03-04T14:23:00.002-05:00

“…as a people we have become steadily less concerned about the primary needs -- food, clothing and shelter . . . we now demand a broad list of goods and services which come under the category of "optional purchases." . . . "Optional consumption," … determined by the tastes of the consumer or the nature of the appeals made to him by the industries…, presents one of the marked characteristics of the recent economic situation . . . [T]he survey has proved conclusively… that wants are almost insatiable; that one want satisfied makes way for another. The conclusion is that economically we have a boundless field before us; that there are new wants which will make way endlessly for newer wants, as fast as they are satisfied. . . . By advertising and other promotional devices… a measurable pull on production has been created... it would seem that we can go on with increasing activity. . . Our situation is fortunate, our momentum is remarkable.”

-Hoover's Committee on Recent Economic Changes-1929

Painful week

2008-03-02T21:15:00.008-05:00

It's been a rough week on my bod. Upon entering the bike shop to work the other day I was beamed in the back by a day old hot-dog launched off the trusty arm of this guy. That pain was quelled by the joy in my heart when I discovered that my 29'er had been delivered! It's very tall which and it feel like I'm riding a small pony but I think I'm going to dig those big wheels. Below is battle wound #1.

Battle wound #2 was inflicted Friday night during a towney ride with Joe Lazio (yes, the Joe Lazio) and Nick. Drawn out by the beautiful weather we couldn't resist rolling some of Iowa City's beautiful pavement-turn-moonscape (have you seen all those potholes?). Personally, the most dangerous ones are filled with water so you don't know their depth. Anways, we were heading up College St. towards Summit St. and I tried to get in front of Nick when my front wheel hit a slick spot and sent me down on my left leg which has an abundance of varicose veins because of Klippel Trenaunay Syndrome. The result was a softball size hematoma that landed me in the hospital overnight. Once home and sufficiently drugged Steve came and visited me which made the afternoon go a little quicker. I'm sure he enjoyed the spacey vicodin conversation. I'll be holed up most the week so be careful out there and come a watch a movie with me!

Future block

2008-02-29T11:01:00.001-05:00

On a recent trip to our nation's coastal capital, I had the good fortune to reflect on science in the 21st century and all of its empty promises. My meditation started as the result of two mistakes. The first was getting a coffee from the stewardess. I have an unnatural sensitivity to caffeine, so after about two sips of the sludge at 30,000 feet, I was contemplating doing handstands in the lavatory to burn off the excess energy and avoid screaming at clouds. Nevertheless, I took a different course of action that led to my loss of faith in the ideals of progress.

The culprit in our story is a 129-page glossy consumerist devil named Skymall. At first glance, it looks harmless enough - like the electronics section of the JCPenney catalogue I used to marvel at as a child. But then you dig deeper and begin to realize that there is much more to the high-flying catalogue. It's a death sentence for any form of productivity you hoped to make on your travels. Why bother looking over your notes from class or reading that novel you never get to when you can marvel at the practicality of the enormous magnifying glass that doubles as a floor lamp for only $249.95. And think what your friends will say when you show them your "Asian Scene Fountain." This eclectic little piece details as follows: "Wearing a traditional cheongsam (gown) and broad-brimmed sun hat, a man gently pours water from a jug into a stone-filled well." How harmless, how precious, how very white of me to own this.

Home-décor section aside, it's time to address the real problems associated with the consumerism opus that is Skymall. Our journey takes us back to the section that sucked most of brain out through my eye sockets - Electronics and Gadgets.

I like to think of myself as an amateur futurist. I'm concerned with the coming world both technologically and socially, which is why Skymall concerns me. I want flying cars (that way they'll avoid me while I pedal on the ground) and robots. That's all I've asked for. Nothing fancy, just these two little things to make my life a little sweeter. Frankly, I'm pissed. Competitive consumerism has done nothing to deliver on these science-fiction promises of old, as I will now demonstrate.

Let's start with flying cars. They're all over the place in Star Wars, not to mention such movies as Blade Runner and The Fifth Element. It seems impossible to me that we have not achieved a way to effectively harness the awesome force of the Earth's magnetic field to zip around at the speed of sound while rocking out. The alternative that Skymall's consumerist innovation has offered us is to be content zipping around on the battery-powered Cruzin' Cooler. This alcoholic chariot is "perfect for football games, camping, golf, and grocery-store trips, this motorized ice chest holds up to (24) 12-ounce cans of your favorite beverages, and thanks to a built-in motor, you can travel at up to 13 mph while sitting on a comfortable padded seat." So instead of coming up with something potentially mind-blowing and life-changing like a flying car, Skymall wants us to be content getting fucked up and riding around on a battery-powered tricycle.

Onto robots. Inevitably, they will take over the world and destroy civilization as we know it, but first someone needs to create one that can navigate carpet. I don't understand the rage surrounding Honda's Asimo. In a commercial I saw, the little space man was delivering drinks at a convention. Is that the only vision we seem to have for our robots? Skymall has already perfected this novelty in the Remote Controlled Beverage Buggy, and I'm betting it didn't cost millions of dollars to innovate.

Where do we go from here you may be asking? How do you keep your nerdy, tech-fabulous self satisfied when there are so many market letdowns? The answer involves a three-pronged approach - books, video games, and movies. Immerse yourself in the fantasy worlds of others until the day our robot messiah comes waltzing out of a flying car with a laser pistol ready to liberate you from the boredom of the real.

DI columnist John LaRue will spend spring break riding around on his custom fitted Cruzin' Cooler until he gets his license back. E-mail him at:
john-b-larue@uiowa.edu.

Amazing person III

2008-02-25T20:51:00.002-05:00

After a long hiatus from my Amazing People series here's one from home:

Casino fires man for repeatedly requesting prostitute
By Associated Press

DES MOINES — A judge has denied an Iowa man's claim that he shouldn't have been fired for repeatedly requesting help to procure a prostitute.

Neil Jorgensen, 62, of Kalona, worked at Riverside Casino and Golf Resort in Riverside and was given a gift certificate and free night's stay at the casino hotel to mark a year's employment.

After eating and drinking at a casino restaurant, he returned to his hotel room about midnight and later called hotel managers about hiring a prostitute. When managers refused to help him, he made a call to the adjacent resort and made the same request.

"The advertisement is that it's just like Las Vegas, so I thought I was in Las Vegas," Jorgensen testified at a hearing regarding his request for unemployment benefits.

Hotel workers were sent to Jorgensen's room to ask him to stop demanding prostitutes. When they arrived at his room, Jorgensen answered the door in the nude, human resources director Tim Donovan said.

Jorgensen was fired the next day.

At the hearing, Jorgensen said his actions didn't hurt the casino, and he said he'd received strong performance reviews. He also blamed the restaurant for serving him too much alcohol.

"I was absolutely plowed," he said.

Administrative Law Judge Terence Nice turned down Jorgensen's claim for unemployment benefits.