Rasta lifestyle
Good morning, blog, and guess what I've been doing. Guess what I've been doing. The answer is playing Halo. It's been a gawtdang Halo renaissance here over the past few days. Tuesday I huffed the dust off that disco and slid it into the entertainment machine and got my ass transported back to my Edenic apartment back in the paradise of Ames, where my only concerns were whether or not I'd spent enough time drooling fiction into my computer and if we had enough beer and frozen pizza and how Goathead was faring with his assault on the enemy team's base. (Take that to mean whatever sick thing you like.)
This pot-confessing business in the sidebar sounds stupid, I know, but it's haunted me since it happened. What happened was that in a conference room where two people were talking about hookas. One of my students stopped by outside (the room is glass-walled) and I went to talk to her and when I came back they said something like, but you, are you a newbie smoker? Oh yeah, I said. Yeah, I can't remember the last time I even had a cigarette. We knew it! they said, and after further discussion I realized that the word was doobie and not newbie but I didn't know how to gracefully slip out of that situation and so let it go.
What about me begs for such identification? Is it my green suit or my leaf medallion?
Is it my Rasta lifestyle?
As some of you know, my previous plans to return to Iowa fell through. Or maybe you just know that they were in danger of falling through. The original plan was to return during the school's academic break, but I'm now training for a different position on the other side of that break that will actually give me some damned health insurance, all right. I'll shoot for December instead and so the only part of this that makes me sad is that my plans to swing through the auditorium and carry Goathead into the rafters during Reefer Madness will have to be cancelled, or at least carried out by Morgan. But seriously I do regret missing the show, particularly after my earlier VOW to make it.
Although I would like to weigh in with something timely and political I can't muster the vigor. I'm sort of in the Kevin camp, in the things-will-be-stupid-regardless camp. Or at least in the acknowledgement of the prevalance of stupid things camp. Although I plan to vote vote vote. And this year I won't write in 'Time Travelin Ross Perot.'
Sarah and I have been enjoying Universal's Halloween-themed event lately. Halloween events seem to be a good purpose for theme parks to put their resources to; if you're going to have people in wolf suits, why not send them around in the dead of night when the only light comes from pumpkins strung in trees or liquor stands or fires burning over a lake? Hell yes. I wish my everyday life was more like this.
This pot-confessing business in the sidebar sounds stupid, I know, but it's haunted me since it happened. What happened was that in a conference room where two people were talking about hookas. One of my students stopped by outside (the room is glass-walled) and I went to talk to her and when I came back they said something like, but you, are you a newbie smoker? Oh yeah, I said. Yeah, I can't remember the last time I even had a cigarette. We knew it! they said, and after further discussion I realized that the word was doobie and not newbie but I didn't know how to gracefully slip out of that situation and so let it go.
What about me begs for such identification? Is it my green suit or my leaf medallion?
Is it my Rasta lifestyle?
As some of you know, my previous plans to return to Iowa fell through. Or maybe you just know that they were in danger of falling through. The original plan was to return during the school's academic break, but I'm now training for a different position on the other side of that break that will actually give me some damned health insurance, all right. I'll shoot for December instead and so the only part of this that makes me sad is that my plans to swing through the auditorium and carry Goathead into the rafters during Reefer Madness will have to be cancelled, or at least carried out by Morgan. But seriously I do regret missing the show, particularly after my earlier VOW to make it.
Although I would like to weigh in with something timely and political I can't muster the vigor. I'm sort of in the Kevin camp, in the things-will-be-stupid-regardless camp. Or at least in the acknowledgement of the prevalance of stupid things camp. Although I plan to vote vote vote. And this year I won't write in 'Time Travelin Ross Perot.'
Sarah and I have been enjoying Universal's Halloween-themed event lately. Halloween events seem to be a good purpose for theme parks to put their resources to; if you're going to have people in wolf suits, why not send them around in the dead of night when the only light comes from pumpkins strung in trees or liquor stands or fires burning over a lake? Hell yes. I wish my everyday life was more like this.
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