I'm Not an Addict.

I know what you're thinking. The first step is just admitting you have a problem. But I really don't. I'm fine. I can live without it. I don't NEED it to carry on. I can quit at anytime. But it's everywhere. I can't do anything without wanting it. But just because I want it doesn't mean I'm addicted to it.

I'm of course talking about the internet.

What did you think I was talking about??

Yesterday Western New York had some serious high winds (85 miles/hour in some areas!), and many trees came down and with them telephone and electric wires. And even in areas where there wasn't physical damage, the high winds were enough to knock out cable and internet access. My classroom lost internet a few different times for a few minutes at a time.

BUT THOSE MINUTES FELT LIKE HOURS.

Like I said, I don't NEED to be connected to the internet. But it's a nice convenience. How did I survive before the internet? What did I do with myself? (Yes, I was actually born in the Pre-Internet Age.)  I would write letters. By hand. I would listen to music on shiny discs or (gasp!) on cassette tapes. I talked to people on the telephone. A telephone that plugged into the wall. When I wanted to see what my friends were up to, I would go to the mall or hang out with them at their house.

But that's all gone now. Now we have the internet. Luckily when the internet would go down at work, I could just get on my smartphone and see what was going on in my little world.

One of the classes I teach is a computer basics class. A majority of my students are born in the 1930s and 1940s. They're mostly retired senior citizens who have grandkids who are always on the internet. "Can you show me how to get on the book face?" is a common question I get with new students. Evidently the only way they can communicate with their children or grandchildren is to get on Facebook and Instant Message them. Or write on their Wall. These students of mine are going straight from no internet knowledge to trying to comment on a picture of their grand daughter at a frat party: "Who is that nice shirtless boy holding you upside down over that keg?" They also are attempting to learn a new language. They are trying to understand what OMG, LOL, IMO, and BRB mean. And don't get me started on LOLcats. "Why do these cats want so many cheeseburgers?"

What are you getting on about, chaz?

Yeah, I kind of went off on a tangent there, didn't I. Well, what I was trying to get around to was the fact that these Computer Basics students of mine lived 75% of their life without internet, and now the only way they can talk to family is with a computer. The only way they can book a hotel is with a computer. The only way they can find a deal on a Hoveround is with a computer. How do they deal with this take-over of technology? They all have cellphones and it takes them twenty minutes to send a 3 word text to their grandson. It must be very depressing to them. They probably enjoy when the internet goes out.

But not me. I feel completely disconnected from the world when my internet access is cut. So maybe I am addicted. A little. But at least I can admit it. And that's the first step toward recovery.

Flipping That Switch

I have been taking classes part time at Buff State for the past year.
I love being a student. I truly do. If I could stay in school forever, I would.

Hell, my student loans disappear once I die, so why not??

My problem is I am also a teacher.

I have taught high school drop outs trying to get their GEDs.
I have worked as a substitute at the high school and middle school level.
And I currently work as an instructor for a community college helping adults who want to go back to school get to the levels they need to.

Most days I go straight from work to class, and in that 20 minute drive, I need to flip the switch to go from teacher to student. To those who have been both, I'm sure you can feel my pain.

One of the reasons I love being a student is I love to learn. But this past year I have learned more than what the professors have taught. I've also picked up on their personal teaching methods. I've seen the way they approach a subject or how they deal with a snow day or getting the flu. I've also noticed the ways they don't deal with situations.

The teacher in me wants to just get up in the front of the class and reprimand the students that spend all class on their laptops playing Scrabble or wandering around tumblr and facebook and twitter. There is a time and place for that. Anthropology class is not that place. If you don't want to be here, then go back to the dorm. What's the point of taking up a seat if you're not even going to attempt to take notes? Go home!

But of course I don't do that. I keep my mouth shut. I am a student in this classroom. But it is so frustrating! It is so hard to flip that switch and go from teacher to student.

Another one of my problems is when a fellow student asks a question about something that was in the assigned reading. At one point I actually answered one of these questions by saying, "Well in the reading..." It was a very teacher-ly move on my part. But to the other students it looks like a jackass thing to do. I know this. As soon as it came out of my mouth I wanted to take it back. But seriously, do the reading!

In Canada they differentiate between college and university. College is a trade school or a two-year school or a school you attend to get a certificate in a specialized area. University is a four-year school. University is where you get a degree. I enjoy this distinction. When a Canadian says, "I attended university" you know what they're coming from. They have a degree. They were a part of the higher learning process. They weren't just in a certificate program. Not that there's anything wrong with certificate programs, but saying you went to college in Canada has a completely different connotation.

That being said, I will one day teach at the university level. Buff State is a college and even in America, there's a difference. It's a state school. Not that there's anything wrong with state schools. But from my view, they seem to have much lower standards than private universities. Of course, Buff State is the only state school I've attended. I received my Bachelor and Masters Degrees from private schools. Maybe that makes me a snob. But the students at Buff State don't seem to care as much. They dress like--

--Okay, let me just stop myself before I really sound like an jagoff.
Before I really sound like an old man.
Before I really sound like a snob.

Needless to say, flipping that switch is really really hard some days. But I only have two more weeks left in the semester.


I wonder where I'll go to school next...

NOT in the Mood

I know it's because I didn't sleep very well last night, but I am seriously not in the mood to be working right now.

The lack of sleep combined with having three days off this weekend has put me in a sour mood.

Adding the fact that it is seriously a thousand degrees in this building today with the lack of sleep and the long weekend has given me a feeling of unhappiness to anyone I come in contact with.

I would much rather sit here in front of the computer doing nothing due to the fact that everyone I work with (and work for) is on Spring Break, I slept horribly last night, and I'm just coming off a three-day weekend.

Hopefully I won't cause a scene.

Change is Good

A few blog posts ago I wrote about how most everything in my hometown has changed other than my parents' house.

I said: "When I was growing up I hated Niagara Falls, but I also believed it would always be there for me if things got tough in the real world. I mean, I don't think I really thought about it like I am now, but... I swear to God the only thing that hasn't changed is my parents' living room and kitchen. So I guess I still have that comfort when I need it."

But that is all about to change.
My parents are taking the leap and moving.

It's not really a leap. They've been spending the winter down south for the past few years and before that, they spent about a month every spring there. Needless to say, we all saw this coming.

But just because you're anticipating something doesn't mean it can't still surprise you, right?

Right?

Should I be sad that my parents are moving all the way across the country?
Should I be upset that they will no longer be a short drive away?
Should I be depressed that the house that once comforted me will be giving someone new comfort?

Part of me thinks that I should feel this way, but I don't.
Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet. Maybe I'm happy for them. Maybe this is just the kick in the arse that I need to change my own situation. I look to the future and I can not see a time when I can be retired or comfortable or on vacation without worrying about bills or money or responsibilities. My dad worked for thirty years in a place that at first was just a place that would pay the bills. Then he slowly moved up the ranks and was able to retire with a comfy nest egg. I have no nest egg. I have no nest. I don't even have anything to create the egg to put in said nest. How depressing.

How upsetting.
How sad.

Maybe this is my problem. Maybe I need to find a job that will pay the bills, not a job that will make me happy. Maybe I need to work in a factory or in the food service industry or back in retail so that I won't worry about those bills hanging over my head.

Change could be a good thing. I'll be happy when I don't have any money troubles, right?

Right..?

Why The 90s Ruled (to me)

Grunge.
Lollapallooza.
Doc Martins.
Nirvana.
Soundgarden.
Walking to the Summit Mall.
Out-running the cops.
Parties when Priscilla's parents were away.
Sugar.
Barenaked Ladies.
"Singles."
Dinosaur Jr.
Chuck Taylor's in every color imaginable.
The idea of Seattle.
The OJ Trial.
Mix tapes.
Vic Deep Discounts.
Being a teenager.
Being invincible.
Being sad.
This little group has always been and always will until the end. (in my mind)
Driving. Everywhere.
Red Dog.
Seeing Ween at the Icon.
Nine Inch Nails.
Ministry.
The one that got away.
The ones that didn't get away.
"Reality Bites."
My first car (a maroon Ford Taurus).
The Pixies.
Kurt Cobain.
Sonic Youth.
Shoegazing.
Pearl Jam.
R.I.T.
Band trips.
Starflyer 59.
Stone Roses.
Southern Comfort.
Drama Club.
Road trips.
Meeting The One.
Red House Painters.
That time I got lost in Pennsylvania.
That other time I got lost in Pennsylvania.
My friends.

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Thoughts On Cooking

I love to cook, but I didn't always feel that way.

In college all I cooked was ramen noodles and what I called "broccoli surprise": broccoli mixed with various kinds of mustards, a few different spices, and sometimes a salad dressing or two. All served on a bed of Cheese-its.

Part of my lack of cooking came from laziness and the other part came from not knowing anything about cooking. Let's be honest: I was afraid of cooking.
I didn't know what I was doing. I was a poor college student. I didn't want to ruin what little food I had by cooking it badly. So instead of experimenting, I just made what I knew.

Eventually that changed. I made macaroni. I made rice. I adjusted canned sauces to taste better. Soon I found a sort-of home-made recipe for pasta sauce. I watched the Food Network and learned how to cook chicken properly. I experimented some more. No more boxed Mac & cheese, I was making cheese sauce from scratch!

I was more confident. I was adjusting recipes to match my tastes and to make them more healthy. Whenever I ate out, I tried to figure out what the cook or chef did to make my meal.

Another thing that helped my cooking "career" was the fact that my cousin starting going to culinary school. My cousin and I enjoy a bit of one-ups-man-ship. He prides himself as a great cook (which he is) and he likes to teach me something new every time we hang out.

I started using fresh herbs. I started making sauces based on a Roux. I started using vegetables and ingredients I had never even heard of when I was in college.

Ten years ago I never would have dreamed I'd be saying this, but I love to cook, and I'm good at it.

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The Bright Side [image]

I need to hang this in every room of the house, in my car, and possibly on the ceiling over my bed for extra measure.

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