Traveling

I’m truly embarrassed and concerned about my recent trend in traveling. Usually I try to avoid early morning flights because of my abysmal flight catching rate. Sometimes, like when traveling east (due to the time difference), it is necessary to book an early morning flight. My flight this morning was at 6:40, which is better than say, 5:30 or 6, but is still too early for me. My first ominous sign was the failure of my watch alarm to “go off”, which is to say that I didn’t hear it. I woke up at 5, but then had to drive to pick up Jon, who was going to drive me to the airport in exchange for car borrowing services. We got to the airport roughly at 6:15, but I got confused about what airline I was flying and ended up in the wrong terminal! I then waited for Jon to drive around and pick me up so that we could go to the right terminal (I thought it would be faster than walking). I ran up to the AA counter only to learn that 20 minutes is too short a notice time to check in, so they had to rebook me on standby for the 12:20 flight (6 hours!). I was distraught and tired, but tried to be a good sport and went through the security line, wherein the MOST AMAZING thing ever happened. The man who looks at boarding passes and ID’s looked at mine and said, “USGS, right?”. At first I had no idea what was happening or what he was talking about, but then it dawned on me that he used to work as a security guard at the USGS! And he recognized me out of the millions of people for whom he has to check ID!

Once through security, I noticed that my original flight had yet to depart, so I was able to catch it, but my baggage was not, which meant that 1. I needed to drive back and get it later or 2. I could spend 6 hours in ORD waiting for it. I chose 2. due to the fact that 1. would entail the time of others and 2. would allow me to finish some work (and blogging) activities. So for the first time in my life, I’m one of those people who works on their laptop in the airport. It’s not half bad, the day has flown by and I have a newfound camaraderie with fellow airport workers!

safety first (entertainment second)

There’s nothing quite like lab and hazardous waste training to set the stage for a truly mediocre day. This is my second time attending the lab training and third time with hazardous waste, so I was very, very tired. I tried to take a few notes to spice it up. Among the amusing moments/thoughts:

“OSHA doesn’t care if you pollute the environment and the EPA doesn’t care if you kill yourself”

The phrase “face full of acid” was used on multiple occasions.

The following weird and highly unlikely scenario was described to help us visualize the disorientation possibly caused by a face full of acid and the subsequent eye wash:

Have someone blindfold you, take you out at night and push you down. Could you figure out what direction you’re facing?

Near the end, our safety guru went off about the beauty of HF (hydrofluoric acid, which can cause both chronic and acute human damage): “It’s got a blue sparkly hue with a different surface tension than water”

Babysitting is incredibly stressful and (in the babysitter’s mind) perilous

Tonight I was responsible (for 4 hours) for the care of my friend Aurelia’s baby, who is 15 months old. He was asleep when she left, but woke up after 25 minutes. At first he was extremely mad at me and when I tried to lay down to soothe and coax him back to sleep, he decided he’d rather be really, really far away--at the end of the bed. He used the entirety of his little baby strength to propel himself as far away from me as possible. Then, while sitting on his bottom, he sort of slumped over with his face in bedding. He cried off and on, periodically rearing up to let them out. After about 10 minutes, he was silent, but in a terribly uncomfortable position.

I left to get some things from my place of employment, but called my house manager about an hour later to see how the baby was doing. Incredibly, he was still asleep! I began to worry that maybe he had somehow perished due to his position at the end of the bed. My errand boy went to check on him and informed me that he appeared to still be alive. I wasn’t entirely convinced, so I drove home and then crept into the room and quietly leaned my ear towards his head to make sure I could hear breathing. I was relieved that he hadn’t passed, and continued tending to my affairs. When he still wasn’t awake after 3.5 hours, I again went in to check for breathing. “But wait,” I thought, “what if he’s in a coma?”. I’m not a doctor, so I don’t know how taking a nap might trigger a coma or death, but in the fragile state of being entrusted with the life of a helpless child, it seemed entirely possible. I debated about whether or not I should try to wake him up or call his mother, and decided to wait for her to get home on the off chance that he was perfectly fine.

Sundays with Lee

One of my greatest pleasures in life is seeing movies. When I rounded the corner into my early 30’s I started to really ENJOY life. I believe it is no coincidence that at this time, I also started going to the Sunday matinee movies. At the theater near my house, the matinee price is only effective before 2 pm. Since teenagers are not concerned with saving money (or getting up before noon), the 11 am Sunday showing is attended exclusively by the white hairs. We all shuffle in and politely order our popcorn without butter. Then we calmly walk to the theater (of course we’re in no hurry being a solid 20 minutes early). I pull out the bottle of nutritional yeast that I have cleverly hidden in my oversized bag (free gift from Land’s End) and sprinkle a little vitamin B12 on my corn. We make sure to turn off our cell phones and not make too much noise. When the movie is over we would never dream of sneaking into another. Rather, we go home to dabble in a little afternoon gardening and then later, a rousing game of scrabble. We don’t schedule too much for our days, because bedtime is at 8. Sunday at 11 am is like Brigadoon time at the theater—emerging from the mist, magical things happen that wouldn’t otherwise and you are left yearning for more (but never too much).

in the spirit of truthiness

OK, so I haven’t been keeping up with NaBlogWriMo, but it’s not because I don’t want to! Who has time to blog everyday? Not me, especially when there are Madonna concerts on TV, episodes of Farscape to watch and trees to decorate. But I’ve thought a lot about blogging and even started entries. Plus, isn’t this month about the spirit and process, rather than the timeline? What is time anyway? I heard on NPR that the closer to the center of the earth you live, the slower time passes. Timeliness is clearly not something I’ve EVER been good at, so I’m just going to post-date some entries, even though they “technically” weren’t posted over the past two weeks. They were in my brain. What is the written word, but brain waves on paper? The brain waves occurred long before they were in tangible (paper) form. But for the sake of historical accuracy, I will post this caveat.

In the meantime, check out this picture of John Chrichton:

semi-lucid thoughts on a Friday night

Tonight the pumpkinator woke me up with the soothing melody of a gagging cat. She was outside of the bedroom and, because I was suddenly awakened and slightly disoriented, I decided to immediately clean the mess. It was near the midnight hour and I stumbled into the kitchen for resolve and paper towels. I found my way to the site of the mess and began to scrub, but realized that it was entirely too much work and that I was confused as to how to do it properly. So confused was I that the bottle of resolve was surprisingly still in the hallway the next morning! When I laid back down in bed my thought process was further evidence that I was not functioning with all cylinders. My immediate pre-sleep pondering went to an exploration of the themes in the Eminem vehicle, “8 Mile”. As I drifted into sleep I wondered if the key to being a successful rapper was winning over the home turf, or neighborhood. Is this a necessary first step, or can one catapult into superstardom with little street work? Was this the overarching theme of the film, and was it in fact a metaphor for something greater or more primordial, like tribe (family) loyalty? I concluded this line of thought determined to put 8 Mile at the very top of my netflix queue for further viewing.

tree me

Today we purchased our Christmas tree. I may not believe in the small baby Jesus nor hold sacred any of the things normally associated with Christmas, but hot damn do I love me some tree (with big ‘ole ceramic lights)! Well, anything shiny and big and good smelling, really. Why aren’t we living with trees every day of the year? Oh, that’s right, that North Face tent was too expensive. Well, there’s always next year!

It is so pretty.



May I draw your attention to this guy sitting on top:



I could not resist the urge to buy this pickle ornament.



The proud pheasant exudes grace and nobility, two very important ingredients in any dinner bird.



“Please, come see my new gourmet kitchen.”



Living in EPA, I fancy myself tough and with street cred. In addition, the Raider’s are the only professional football team I have seen play in person. Now they are a small part of my home---right next to the gourmet kitchen.

the late November eating holiday

I am loathe to say that I celebrate “Thanksgiving”. Any notions of celebrating some historic/convoluted American cultural event have been long abandoned. It’s really just about eating lots of food and hanging out with your family (or lover and cat as the case may be). This year I did most of the cooking myself, which was exciting and exhausting, but when combined with the steady imbibing of alcoholic beverages, quite fun!

We had:

Pan-fried trout
Non-can derived green bean casserole (sans crunchy topping)
Orange-ginger-cranberry sauce
Almond stuffing
Garlic mashed potatoes
Baked apples
Pumpkin pie
Deviled eggs w/o sweet relish (YES!)

I am confused about my feelings for Daniel Craig

I saw the new James Bond movie and my (average American movie-goer) opinion: touché. It was truly like driving from say, Boulder, CO into the mountains. At first you’re on the straight and narrow (slightly boring) path, but there are switchbacks (!) followed by near death experiences, and the invigorating combination of confusion and adrenaline. I kept expecting the movie to end, but it just kept going, plot twist after turn. It really appealed to my inner 13 year old dude. The real attraction, I suppose, is the new James Bond, Daniel Craig. My only thoughts upon watching him splash around in the ocean wearing fashionable boxer-brief-like swimming trunks were: henchman, brute. He has a weird Cro-Magnon jaw and devilish blue eyes. I found him overall charming and funny (despite what Time may say!), but so striking in physical features that I had a hard time paying attention to what was going on. Is he cute? I have no idea--maybe at the right angle? Is he debonair? I have no idea—maybe in the right outfit? There is a funny dichotomy between his physicality and the smooth character of James Bond.

for my mother and aunt Melinda

I was procrastinating when a very important thought occured to me: I’ve spent a good portion of time on the internets inquiring about former friends, but I’ve never actually googled my family! Maybe this is because I always know what my family is up to, and therefore it is uninteresting, but I thought I’d give it a go just for fun. Ultimately, it was boring, as no one in my family, save my brother with his old HSBC profile and assorted blogging activities, is googleable! There was one exception--my great-uncle (my grandmother’s brother who, along with his discordant wife, was not the nicest family member). Apparently, his wedding was reported in Time Magazine in 1948! The snippet is thus:

Married. Barbara Jo Walker, 22, Sunday-school-teaching Miss America (1947); and John Vernon Hummel, 24, medical intern; in Memphis. Some 2,000 guests were invited to the wedding; police held back the uninvited, while firemen's searchlights lit the Methodist Church like a Hollywood première.

Many questions follow a discovery such as this: were there really “uninvited” guest clamoring to get inside? It seems highly unlikely to me, but maybe weddings in the 40’s were different that they are today? And who foot the bill for that one? Is there some secret family vault of gold coins (ala Duck Tales) that I’m not privy to? And who submitted this news? The simile of a Hollywood premiere is kind of creepy yet completely in line with my view of rich segregated Southern culture.

Coming soon—the trouble with sewage

An action-packed sewage story straight from my back yard!

letter to CNN.com

I’ve had a deep, simmering resentment towards cnn.com for the past few years. I’m not entirely sure my reasoning is sound, but it goes something like this:

CNN is supposed to be user-friendly, yet have crucial, well-analyzed news. Cnn.com absolutely does not have good news, but rather an abundance of boring and extremely watery human interest or quirky stories, along with the main news of the day summarized in a rather crude way and often posted later than other news outlets. I know cnn.com has done nothing wrong, except consistently disappointment me and that I can go to good news sources, like salon, but for some reason I feel like cnn.com has betrayed me.

My patience went out the window this week when the main story on their homepage had an egregious typo (which, to their credit, was fixed after about an hour of offending me). I fired off my first ever comment to a news outlet. Of course, it didn’t get printed as it had nothing to do with any actual story, but I’ve recreated it below, so that it can at least be printed somewhere! (on a side note: I feel like I might be turning into my curmudgeonly old father)

The quality of writing on cnn.com is sorely disappointing. Often I scan the headlines only to find that they are confusing and/or nonsensical. For example, a headline written today, "UN: Deadly record Iraqis in October" is an abomination. Deadly record Iraqis? What in the world does this mean? The reader can proffer a number of guesses, but as a news outlet, it is your job to convey clear and concise writing, rather than grammatical errors and poorly constructed half-sentences.

I'd also like to say that stories related to the cracking of Jessica Simpson's voice or the divorce of Britney Spears do not warrant placement in your latest news bar.

If cnn.com wishes to be considered serious news, I suggest it screen it's writers and editors a bit more seriously.

Coming soon--book reading tendencies (aka Average American)

I'm now on a one book a year schedule!

Coming soon--fun and games!

A description of a few games that I like to play with my roommate friend. They all loosely fall under the "hypothetically speaking" format.

love harvest day four

Lycopenealicious!

love harvest day three

Peas go nicely with a variety of foods, among them fish and perhaps a grilled cheese sandwich.

love harvest day two

Miso hungry...for soup

love harvest day one

My companion of nearly 10 (maybe not continuous, but does it really matter at this point?) years recently went shopping at the local Japanese stationary store and brought home some delicious erasers! Is there anything better than cutesy Japanese paraphernalia? (answer: no)

Hmmm…I love corn in the fall!

bed time reading

Last Thursday, I prepared for bed and was pleasantly surprised to find that my bedmate had nicely made the bed and fluffed the pillows. It was a cozy and inviting picture of domesticity. I then glanced at his pillow and saw that he had laid out his night time reading material. Was it Plato’s Republic? Maybe Ulysses? Perhaps the poems of Hesiod? No, no, it was the Macy’s weekend sale catalogue.

public school lessons

One of the requirements to begin a teaching program in CA is to observe a public school classroom in the subject you wish to teach. I spent 10 hours observing two middle school science classes at the EPA charter school. It was an experience I’m still internalizing for a variety of reasons: how different it is from my current job, the lack of technology, the fact that middle school brains boggle my mind. There were a couple of interesting lessons. As part of their school day, the boys and girls separate and participate in an “advisory” session, where they talk about broader life issues, like peer pressure and family dynamics. One of the activities for the advisory session was to assess risky vs. safe behavior. I talked to one group assigned to draft a course of action for a teenager contemplating withholding information about a weekend party from her parents. When I asked one of the students what he would do, he said he’d tell his parents about the party “because the bible says to obey your parents”—an important lesson for my own possible future child-rearing. Another phenomenon I’ve noticed is a fashion trend towards the “bubbling” of pants. It is done in the following way: the girls pull up their pant legs to about mid-calf and then adhere a rubber band to the bottom of the pant, letting the excess pant fall down their leg, thereby creating the bubble effect. Also, girls will gather up their excess shit material on their backs, and tie it with a rubber band. It all looks ridiculous, but being a product of the 80’s, who am I to judge?

The most important lesson I’ve learned is that middle school science is a lot like DIY projects or crafting. Being in public/charter schools necessitates thriftiness and the creativity to teach lessons with common items (genetics with ordinary beans or acidity with cabbages!). It’s kind of cool to design projects for 25 kids with a $10 budget. And because this isn’t ground-breaking science, it was really entertaining. I have to admit, though, that comparing a kidney bean to an egg and a white bean to a sperm seems a bit dangerous in terms of future conceptual knowledge.

silver nebula lining

I have to take astronomy this winter in the treacherous pursuit of meeting the CA state “standards” for teaching general science to children. The logic of this move is completely lost on me. I do not understand state mandated “standards” and why if I am already considered competent in geoscience, I would have to take another class under that category of science to then teach the more general science. Education, thou art but a wily and ambiguous beast! I’m looking on the bright side of this new development. I’ve come up with three things to look forward to:

1. Wooing my companion with a stellar knowledge of constellations (ha!).

2. Being THE guy for a handful of trivial pursuit questions.

3. The applicability of the material to my love of sci-fi! Now I can understand how John Crichton got shot through a worm hole and into another part of the universe. Maybe I’ll learn a space fact that could hold the key to the secret of the black cloud. I welcome the ability to write some serious fanfiction.

business plan

FACT: Kids love ice cream.
FACT: Kids love the ice cream truck.
FACT: Parents want kids to eat healthier foods.
BUSINESS: Organic ice-cream truck!

This idea came to me on election night. I took a leisurely stroll to the voting hut and along the way, the EPA ice cream man did pass me by. It was a familiar site: boxy truck, with happy non-descript music spilling out. This truck, however, also had the strong scent of incense billowing from the windows that thrilled my nose when it passed—a unique feature of the EPA truck? Or is this a characteristic of the ice cream truck that I don’t remember? I thought to myself that it would be nice to have ice cream after voting against parental notification for abortions and for the alternative energy bill. Unfortunately, the pictures of ice cream treats were unappealing and standard, and I shoved my dollar further into my pocket. It’s then that I realized that I live in one of the wealthiest communities in the country--the kind of community that likes 100% juice bars and tofu cuties. For only a little investment (truck, freezer, cream), I could have my very own business! It could be a side project—I imagine parking my truck near the many Palo Alto soccer fields and children’s museums--maybe even at a few Stanford games. I could work my own hours and drive around all day. I have the dream, now I just need a business plan and investors (I’m looking at you Will)—it’s the American way!

pictures from my favorite learning facility

can't get enough

I’m too wrapped up in election coverage to blog tonight (about my cat). The frustrating thing about not having cable (besides not being able to watch shows on HBO, Comedy Central, MTV, VHI, E!, or any other quality channel) is that my election coverage consists of one weak C-SPAN channel with a deer-in-headlights anchor taking alternating calls from members of both parties. She does have legitimate talent, though. She stares directly into the camera and conveys no emotion at anything anyone says, even when callers say things like, “The Republicans shouldn’t be criticized so much because they do stuff.” Viva la casa (de representatives)!

description of measures taken against fleas

The apple of my eye, Miss Pumpkin “fleabag” Pruett has been stricken of late with a pesky case of the skin critters. This is a much better condition than her previous ailment, kidney failure, in many, many ways (such as money, time and personal grief). It remains, however, a matter of much perplexity. How does one get rid of fleas? When I first saw the tiny worms moving under her fur I rushed to the pet general store and picked out a flea shampoo and some sort of elixir that was to be rubbed into her neck.

When I got home I gave pumpkin her first ever person-administered bath. It was nearly murderous for the both of us, with much crying, howling and clawing. Somehow I managed to keep her down and lubed up for five minutes, as per the shampoo bottle instructions. When it came time for the rinse, the bathtub filled with red, diluted blood, that I came to understand was flea poop (which is the dried blood of their prey). After about an hour she was willing to let me inspect for fleas and it looked good, or at least hopeful. I found a few carcasses and most of the peppery poop was gone. I repeated the bathing ritual every few days for several weeks. I then stopped the bathing only to learn that I was getting her clean, but I wasn’t killing the fleas. I decided to pull out the chemical elixir and rub it on her back. This did nothing except give her a short-lived life purpose (lick it all off).

I went back to the pet supply center to try the flea comb and the flea collar. Whilst in the store, a friendly employee persuaded me to buy a special “all natural flea spray” and the most expensive cat food on the shelf (under the auspices of it containing garlic, which fleas hate). She also happened to have a roll of manufacturers coupons which would save me two dollars! At the time it seemed like a good idea, but when I got the bag home, garlic was not listed anywhere on the ingredient label! I really AM the average consumer! Never again will I think myself savvy about consumer trickery and money. How did that happen?

The first product I tried was the comb. I managed to comb out 10 fleas which I then dumped into a bowl of water, so it’s the most successful flea killer so far! I then tried the spray. I’m not sure it worked, but the first ingredient in the spray is cinnamon! It may not kill fleas, but now pumpkin smells like a brisk autumn day at grandma’s house (or Christmas, or an oven full of pumpkin pie). It’s marvelous!

The real point of the tedious story is that I apparently have fleas now too. I started out as just a few bites around my ankles. For the past two nights, however, I have awakened in a scratching frenzy. They’re up to my knees now and the migration will surely continue, but I’m only mildly inspired to do anything about it. I mean, clean the sheets and vacuum? That’s not (this) lady’s work.

The Zoological Society

On Saturday I went to the SF Zoo with my roommate. Zoo-going is a topic of much debate, I know. As educated and liberal nature lovers shouldn’t we scorn the imprisonment of animals? Does the educational benefit far outweigh the cost? The SF zoo is kind enough to give the history of most of the animals, which is by and large sad. My companion is 100% in favor of zoos and attributes his love of animals to seeing them in person, so I guess it’s A-OK in my book too.

The best part of the day (by far) was hearing the silver-back gorilla fart not once, but TWICE in the five minutes we observed him. We thought we got a good smell, too, which is difficult to classify—maybe a little grainy and like a more robust manure smell, if that makes any sense. Gastronomy is fascinating, especially if you come from the Pruett family, so this is the best possible angle through which I could glimpse an animal’s life.

Gassy McGas



And a lion

though this is my space, it will thankfully never be myspace

About a year and a half ago, I had a complete mental breakdown brought on by my identity on friendster and my obsessive stalking of former friends, enemies or general human curiosities. This breakdown basically consisted of me talking through my issues with the wonderful Katy and Laurel and then deleting my profile. My beef boils down to the fact that it’s a construct. The friendster profile is like super-ego diarrhea. It’s an outpouring of the self-concept that cannot possibly be checked though interaction. It’s deliberate and pre-meditated and not at all real. It’s a world in which everyone is 1.witty, 2.smart. 3. happy and 4.exceedingly deep as partially evidenced by points 1 and 2. Though it might be argued that the face and personality we present every day of our lives is also a construct, it’s at least one that requires constant challenge in the form of shifting interpersonal conversations and situational needs. It is therefore about as close to real as can be achieved, unless of course you’re a sociopath or pathological liar. (Coincidentally I’ve met both! (Yay college!)). My breakdown came after looking at the profile of someone I was extremely close to at one point in my life and feeling like I didn’t know them AT ALL. This leads me of course to the successor of friendster, myspace.

My mind has been repeatedly blown that so many people I have known are on myspace. It’s like the great internet equalizer—the place where everyone, even the technologically challenged, can have their very own webpage. I understand its utility for musicians. It’s a good source of news and new music. But I do not understand the utility for anyone else, and maybe it doesn’t even need to have utility. I guess my main point is that I have gotten some truly fantastic internet stalking accomplished over the past few weeks. I think it’s safe to say I never need to go to any kind of reunion ever again, because I know roughly what everyone is doing. It breaks down like this (generally)*:

K-8 associates:
Republican, going to lots of rodeos, into nascar, listening to country music, live in Missouri, no college.

High school associates:
Republican, like to drink A LOT of beer (and possibly lift up shirt if given the right set of companions), design myspace page with very flashy/trashy graphics like huge American eagles or flashing pink hearts, live in Arizona (Oklahoma is also apparently popular), no college or took 6 years to finish associates degree.

College associates:
Democrat, in grad school or just finished grad school, live all over, lots of pictures of pets, not married.


*(Granted, my categorization scheme might bias my conclusions)

awesome-o

Today I came across this…




while google-imaging my college roommate (of 2 years), Stephanie Christensen. It’s a creation by a different Stephanie Christensen in Madison, Wisconsin. It makes me a. want to move to Madison and b. want a snake-themed wedding.

The Societal and Legal Issues Surrounding Cyberspace: an essay written as a component of the “technology challenge” at San Jose State University.

As you might know, I am hurling myself down the road to legitimate teachering. Though in my youth I might have entertained the notion of and even participated in things such as “americorps”, “volunteering” or even “teaching” at a “community center”, I am now jumping through hoops to become a state-certified “teacher” (as opposed to lee-certified dabbler with no legitimacy in the eyes of the man). So far it’s been a rather amusing process that’s entailed things such as taking very simple tests designed (apparently) for 4th graders (with questions like: “How long is a pencil?” and “If Suzy did better than 4 students in the class and there are a total of 20 students, what percentage of students did Suzy outperform?”) and sitting down with an “assessor” to assess my subject matter preparedness. It could very quickly become not amusing (like if I’m forced to take astronomy 101 at the local junior college because my course titled “magmatism and the early solar system” from college is not broad enough to meet the astronomy requirement or have taught me things like: the order of the planets, diurnal cycles, and constellations).

By far, my favorite part is the essay writing. I’ve had to write two essays now, one as a part of a test on “technology” and another as a test of my “writing ability”. Essay 1 was on “threats to children in cyberspace”, while essay 2 was a “letter to students explaining why taking a course in (fill in blank) is important”. When I sit down for these writing exercises I do something akin to getting into character. I channel my feeling for educational bureaucracy and mix it with the soul-crushing streamlining that is part of any publicly funded organization and I write. I suppress my intellect and understanding of the nuance in this world and I make a shallow, yet reader friendly, PC essay. It is what I imagine life is like for a writer at a local or national news outlet.

I had a lot of fun with my technology essay because I found a way to both mention and applaud the D.A.R.E. program. I got my score back and was dismayed to discover that I passed all sections except WORD PROCESSING. How, I wondered, would I fail something as basic as word processing? The “task” was to edit a letter. Apparently I was supposed to sign the letter, which I didn’t do. So I failed. Even though signing my name has in fact nothing to do with the task on which I was being assessed, namely the use of a word processor. But whatever, such is the field of education.

For your reading pleasure, here is my essay analyzing the “cybernets” (written on the spot at SJSU).

Internet access is of priceless benefit to children in the learning environment. The monetary costs of the technology are generally low due to the decreasing price of computers and the nearly negligible cost of obtaining internet access. Children are able to use it as a tool for further research to explore concepts that might not be within their primary teacher’s knowledge base, or quickly obtain an informative image and description of certain subject matter. Educators, museums, and researchers are among the people that can easily provide information that is usable for everyone. The universality of the internet is a double-edged sword, however. The ease of access is perhaps both its greatest strength and weakness.

In addition to educational resources, the internet contains information and images of nearly every subject imaginable. One challenge in the school environment is ensuring that children are not exposed to objectionable material. Given the difficulty in monitoring the internet usage of an entire classroom, one common solution to this problem is to install internet filters. These filters make it impossible for anyone using school computers to access unauthorized or unconfirmed web pages. Many places of business also use this method.

Another potential threat to children is unsolicited e-mail or instant messages from child predators. Restricting access to chat programs and web-based e-mail on school computers is one way to prevent this. In general, I believe an important component to safe internet usage is open communication and a frank discussion of the risks of communicating with strangers and browsing questionable material. Indeed, a well-developed internet usage program akin to a D.A.R.E. program is certainly the most pressing need for our technological age.

nablowrimo

Last year, I really wanted to participate in National Novel Writing Month (nanowrimo). Unfortunately, my co-worker Mark didn’t bring it’s commencement to my attention until halfway through November, making it really hard to catch up. I vowed to do it this year, but somehow this doesn’t feel like the “right” year either. Thank goodness I can play along and participate in national blog writing month instead! It’s basically the same idea as nanwrimo, with a goal of writing everyday. Luckily it’s a blog entry, so there doesn’t have to be a consistent theme. Hopefully I’ll have something to say everyday.

Halloween recap:
Bags of candy purchased: 3
Number of trick-or-treaters: 0
Total number of irresistible calories sitting on bedroom floor: 9,240
Number of days of caloric life support: approximately 4.5

It sounds like a dream, really, to subsist for a week on nothing but M&M’s, Reese's peanut butter cups and Hershey's kisses. Unfortunately, I’m too frightened to try such an experiment since I read about a college kid who gave himself scurvy by eating a similarly balanced diet.