Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
dream reunion
i just had a dream of some kind of high school reunion. we were all coming back to mhs for some kind of homecoming game. only, we weren't quite so old, maybe a couple of years out of high school. all the faces were as i remembered them, with the teenager still present in the features. yet, oddly enough, there was this shimmering echo in the back of my mind, that i knew so much better, that this was so far gone as to be absurd... and yet, i played along.
it was like a repeat of facebook experiences, meeting all my friends from the past, only now, they were "grown up." and i had the dubious privilege of introducing everyone to everyone else, only, there were some awkward periods when some who claimed to be my friends, well, i couldn't quite remember their names... and the odd sensation, when someone you barely knew, for some reason, has the loudest voice, and starts calling out everyone's name, and starts narrating and steering the conversation for the most part... but somewhat pleasant, that, connecting ties that maybe should've been connected, in my "fantasy high school" (in the manner of "fantasy football.").
we passed by the "cool kids," and they were the same, maybe i knew now that they weren't quite as cool as they seemed to be (or that they wouldn't be, in a few years, with pregnancies and dead end jobs), but weird as it may seem, in this dream rendition, they were still cool, and still as hard-to-reach. they weren't but a few bleacher rows above as i passed, but it seemed as though they were staring down at me from heaven with imperious gazes... how i wanted to be their friends, how i "knew better," this being a dream, and this being a dream about reunions... but somehow, it felt as though there were a current pulling me: i'm in an "it's a small world" ride, and much as i'd like to stay on stereotyped japan or stereotyped hawaii, the ride was pulling me on and on, and i couldn't resist it.
strange.
and as i passed people i WISH i had known back then (only? it was back now?), this covered morrissey song "let me get what i want" was playing (embarrassing, but i had actually watched "sky high" with lynn once, and the thing i remembered, aside from all the corny stereotypes, etc., were the neat alternative 80's covers: it was like the soundtrack for my high school years, the music of the goths and the mods, redone disney style: weird, just like this dream). so this song was playing my heart, like maybe there was someone i really wanted to meet and talk to, especially with these twenty or so years of hindsight behind me, but i couldn't. couldn't see the person, couldn't get to her in any case. and the song kept playing: "please, let me, let me, let me..."
when i woke, it was strange, as though years had melted off me partially, and i was stuck in a place where different time periods of my life were echoing together. if i were a bat or a dolphin, echo-locating, i'd be thoroughly confused; it would be like, i had shot out a signal decades ago, and shot out a signal recently, and for some reason, they both came back at the same time, saying similar but different things... so i started seeing ghost signals, ghost walls, ghost tunnels, etc. only, i wasn't sure which was the ghost, and which was real...
i came away with a feeling of, like, whoa what did i eat last night, and then, this sad resignation. people always say, "like, if only i could go back." but in my dream reunion, even shimmeringly blessed with a "better perspective," there were currents and tides that i could not resist... dissatisfaction with my friends, longing for "meaningful relationships" ... hell, all of that has existed since the beginning of time... and much as we'd like to puzzle piece our pasts, as though it were simply a matter of finding the pieces... it really is more like a narrative stream, with currents that you think you COULD resist, but ultimately can't... after all of the effort to reach one thing, you'd lose so many others... and you'd just be tired out, and likely prey for the riptides.
i walked in the darkness, and it was really strange. REALLY STRANGE. my wife sleeping on the sofa near me, then my kids passed out in their rooms... this is my present, my beloved present... and yet, for a moment, it seemed, they, this was the ghost... or maybe i was... floating between realities... walking through walls.
sadness, regret, at times it can crush you, but at times, you realize it is the natural soundtrack of your life. it gives depth to the music you feel in the present. not all complete saccharine disney, but there's some faint undertone drifting throughout, that this present is not the only surface that could've been, but even with the absent could've beens ("with the absent???"), there is an informing, an echoing, of all possibilities... a much richer sound...
there was a story about some musician's musician, a guitarist, forget what his name was, but he was from louisiana, and one thing he did with the glass slide, well, there were two things he did that were neat. 1) he plucked the strings on BOTH sides of the glass slide, on the normal side, and on the "wild side" close up on the neck of the guitar; this created an echo, because although both plucks ostensibly produced the same pitch, to pluck both created some strange reverberation so that each note carried longer, with strange overtones; 2) he used the palm of his hand over the amplifier box (the hole) to "shape" the sound. it reminds me of this, for some reason, this dream... don't know why; simultaneous plucks, modifying amplified sounds... i guess i'm stretching it, but the dream made me think of these things in "realities," i suppose.
well, to all my friends, both dream and real, i send sweet dreams...
it was like a repeat of facebook experiences, meeting all my friends from the past, only now, they were "grown up." and i had the dubious privilege of introducing everyone to everyone else, only, there were some awkward periods when some who claimed to be my friends, well, i couldn't quite remember their names... and the odd sensation, when someone you barely knew, for some reason, has the loudest voice, and starts calling out everyone's name, and starts narrating and steering the conversation for the most part... but somewhat pleasant, that, connecting ties that maybe should've been connected, in my "fantasy high school" (in the manner of "fantasy football.").
we passed by the "cool kids," and they were the same, maybe i knew now that they weren't quite as cool as they seemed to be (or that they wouldn't be, in a few years, with pregnancies and dead end jobs), but weird as it may seem, in this dream rendition, they were still cool, and still as hard-to-reach. they weren't but a few bleacher rows above as i passed, but it seemed as though they were staring down at me from heaven with imperious gazes... how i wanted to be their friends, how i "knew better," this being a dream, and this being a dream about reunions... but somehow, it felt as though there were a current pulling me: i'm in an "it's a small world" ride, and much as i'd like to stay on stereotyped japan or stereotyped hawaii, the ride was pulling me on and on, and i couldn't resist it.
strange.
and as i passed people i WISH i had known back then (only? it was back now?), this covered morrissey song "let me get what i want" was playing (embarrassing, but i had actually watched "sky high" with lynn once, and the thing i remembered, aside from all the corny stereotypes, etc., were the neat alternative 80's covers: it was like the soundtrack for my high school years, the music of the goths and the mods, redone disney style: weird, just like this dream). so this song was playing my heart, like maybe there was someone i really wanted to meet and talk to, especially with these twenty or so years of hindsight behind me, but i couldn't. couldn't see the person, couldn't get to her in any case. and the song kept playing: "please, let me, let me, let me..."
when i woke, it was strange, as though years had melted off me partially, and i was stuck in a place where different time periods of my life were echoing together. if i were a bat or a dolphin, echo-locating, i'd be thoroughly confused; it would be like, i had shot out a signal decades ago, and shot out a signal recently, and for some reason, they both came back at the same time, saying similar but different things... so i started seeing ghost signals, ghost walls, ghost tunnels, etc. only, i wasn't sure which was the ghost, and which was real...
i came away with a feeling of, like, whoa what did i eat last night, and then, this sad resignation. people always say, "like, if only i could go back." but in my dream reunion, even shimmeringly blessed with a "better perspective," there were currents and tides that i could not resist... dissatisfaction with my friends, longing for "meaningful relationships" ... hell, all of that has existed since the beginning of time... and much as we'd like to puzzle piece our pasts, as though it were simply a matter of finding the pieces... it really is more like a narrative stream, with currents that you think you COULD resist, but ultimately can't... after all of the effort to reach one thing, you'd lose so many others... and you'd just be tired out, and likely prey for the riptides.
i walked in the darkness, and it was really strange. REALLY STRANGE. my wife sleeping on the sofa near me, then my kids passed out in their rooms... this is my present, my beloved present... and yet, for a moment, it seemed, they, this was the ghost... or maybe i was... floating between realities... walking through walls.
sadness, regret, at times it can crush you, but at times, you realize it is the natural soundtrack of your life. it gives depth to the music you feel in the present. not all complete saccharine disney, but there's some faint undertone drifting throughout, that this present is not the only surface that could've been, but even with the absent could've beens ("with the absent???"), there is an informing, an echoing, of all possibilities... a much richer sound...
there was a story about some musician's musician, a guitarist, forget what his name was, but he was from louisiana, and one thing he did with the glass slide, well, there were two things he did that were neat. 1) he plucked the strings on BOTH sides of the glass slide, on the normal side, and on the "wild side" close up on the neck of the guitar; this created an echo, because although both plucks ostensibly produced the same pitch, to pluck both created some strange reverberation so that each note carried longer, with strange overtones; 2) he used the palm of his hand over the amplifier box (the hole) to "shape" the sound. it reminds me of this, for some reason, this dream... don't know why; simultaneous plucks, modifying amplified sounds... i guess i'm stretching it, but the dream made me think of these things in "realities," i suppose.
well, to all my friends, both dream and real, i send sweet dreams...
"rite of spring" by igor stravinsky = sex!?
igor stravinsky's "rite of spring" is like sex? really? this, coming from a woman? i thought women were all like, into the strings section when it came to- well, "it." tender strains and all that. for men, well, i'm not sure they really need a soundtrack, it kinda just distracts from the single-minded focus (and it takes SO much focus), but if it wasn't some 70's "wah wah", then, well, to be honest, i don't know what it would be (i don't have much of a soundtrack, btw, it's more images and impressions)... so it's kinda surprising when anyone associates "rite of spring" with sex, particularly when a woman does. since i'm so low-brow, my only exposure to "rite of spring" was from disney's fantasia, and in that, all i remember is a lot of gas and volcanoes (AH, there you go), and tyrannosaurus rex chomping down on a stegosaurus, steggy nailing tyranno a couple of whacks with its spiky tail (AH, there you go x 2), and then this long depressing period afterwards where the dinos just kinda wilted under a blistering sun... (ah, maybe that's relevant too...).
i think, if i had to give "sex" a soundtrack, and since my creativity never wanders far, i'd have to go back to fantasia and say what captures me is "the sorceror's apprentice": especially the part with those broomsticks marching (dumpty dumpty dumpty da da da)... (i'm in a particularly self-deprecating and self-mocking phase right now, btw... :) )
i think, if i had to give "sex" a soundtrack, and since my creativity never wanders far, i'd have to go back to fantasia and say what captures me is "the sorceror's apprentice": especially the part with those broomsticks marching (dumpty dumpty dumpty da da da)... (i'm in a particularly self-deprecating and self-mocking phase right now, btw... :) )
hey hey hey
okay, this totally cracked me and lynn up... in this japanese game show, these comedians are forced to watch a video and NOT LAUGH. if they laugh, then they get punished (whacked on the rear HARD)... so the video is an english lesson... i think, even if you don't know japanese, you'd get it...
Saturday, September 27, 2008
update
just so's not to keep y'all hangin'... i did fine on my first observation. maybe too well. now, i am anxious about how to keep it up, or even raise the bar. but in any case, despite some jitters, i had fun with the kids. they are all basically good kids, and as long as i engage them, make the effort to relate to them, i think they are willing to give things a try. and besides, my cooperating teacher (formally, i kept calling her my mentor teacher, which, in truth, i feel she is) is great, and has a great system in place. to be honest, things were, in a way, too easy for me, because all i had to do was basically cue the kids in to do what they already knew they were supposed to be doing...
had to catch up on some sleep deprivation. for various reasons, i was pulling consecutive all-nighters. now, since i'm an old-timer, i can't just shrug it off and say, "i'll pay that back when i'm old." I AM OLD. so my credit's no longer good. immediate payment for debts...
am still in drift mode, though. lots of obligations, debts, dreams.
1) heard about "jam packs," where you can incorporate different musical instruments into the standard garage band set. there's one jam pack called "world music," that has, among other things, taiko drums, koto, shamisen, etc. coo-u-l.
2) have to get back into taiji... learn (and fully retain) other style forms. analyze the forms i do know in greater detail... sure, been saying this for some time now...
3) write a story about brocken spectres, and walpurgisnight.
4) may start posting stories and poems on webooks (from facebooks). at least there's a possibility of getting published, instead of just having these things "out there" with no (or little [but it HAS been appreciated!!!]) feedback...
5) systematizing my treatment methodologies (another thing i've been sayin' for quite some time), somewhat inspired by the organization of my cooperating teacher...
well, gotta go. the kids require assistance.
had to catch up on some sleep deprivation. for various reasons, i was pulling consecutive all-nighters. now, since i'm an old-timer, i can't just shrug it off and say, "i'll pay that back when i'm old." I AM OLD. so my credit's no longer good. immediate payment for debts...
am still in drift mode, though. lots of obligations, debts, dreams.
1) heard about "jam packs," where you can incorporate different musical instruments into the standard garage band set. there's one jam pack called "world music," that has, among other things, taiko drums, koto, shamisen, etc. coo-u-l.
2) have to get back into taiji... learn (and fully retain) other style forms. analyze the forms i do know in greater detail... sure, been saying this for some time now...
3) write a story about brocken spectres, and walpurgisnight.
4) may start posting stories and poems on webooks (from facebooks). at least there's a possibility of getting published, instead of just having these things "out there" with no (or little [but it HAS been appreciated!!!]) feedback...
5) systematizing my treatment methodologies (another thing i've been sayin' for quite some time), somewhat inspired by the organization of my cooperating teacher...
well, gotta go. the kids require assistance.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
the art of the hunt, the hunt of the art
to be artistic means to be possessed of a madness
or so it seems
there is a cunning to it
the circuitous route
and meandering
is just to lead you off the beaten path
and then throw you off the trail
so that you are hopelessly lost
in its wilderness.
after you
or so it seems
there is a cunning to it
the circuitous route
and meandering
is just to lead you off the beaten path
and then throw you off the trail
so that you are hopelessly lost
in its wilderness.
after you
wish me luck, and buy me caffeine
this morning, at 8:20, i have my first observed lesson. been working all night on the finalized lesson plan and the handouts. i will need to make copies, but am debating whether to get some sleep or just go fer it, red eye... well, i DO need to make copies, so looks like it's off to kinko's, and maybe grab something caffeinated to prop up my spine and hold my eyes open... hahaha. crap, i'm tired.
ling shu, "spiritual pivot"
in every moment
there is a core
and the spinning crust
and a centrifugal force
that pushes me out.
control depends on
where i place myself
and where i place myself
depends on control.
if you want to be the axle
not the spoke,
if you want to be the axle
not the spoke,
then it is up to you, my friend.
myself, i am made of turbid stuff
and on the spinning part
i must wait and clarify.
separate and clarify.
so tossed i'll be
until i die.
there is a core
and the spinning crust
and a centrifugal force
that pushes me out.
control depends on
where i place myself
and where i place myself
depends on control.
if you want to be the axle
not the spoke,
if you want to be the axle
not the spoke,
then it is up to you, my friend.
myself, i am made of turbid stuff
and on the spinning part
i must wait and clarify.
separate and clarify.
so tossed i'll be
until i die.
koi (come)
on may 5th,
special day
i found my eyes again
painted on a silken fish
glorious round and golden eyes
and a body long as a fisherman's tale,
maybe longer
and the wind coursed through me
in its wayward wandering
and bade me breathe:
fish must swim to breathe you know.
such a powerful swimmer i could have been
but my circled jaws
had somehow snagged on string
and i hung suspended
(when the wind released me)
like a mere flag
a symbol of something far less flaccid.
there was a reason i was there
and a reason why my painted eyes could see
there was a story on that day
so many years ago
and somehow my blindness and the story's turnings
were tied to me
as tied to me
as i was tied to this clumsy flagpole
over a field in (now a man's)
once upon a time...
special day
i found my eyes again
painted on a silken fish
glorious round and golden eyes
and a body long as a fisherman's tale,
maybe longer
and the wind coursed through me
in its wayward wandering
and bade me breathe:
fish must swim to breathe you know.
such a powerful swimmer i could have been
but my circled jaws
had somehow snagged on string
and i hung suspended
(when the wind released me)
like a mere flag
a symbol of something far less flaccid.
there was a reason i was there
and a reason why my painted eyes could see
there was a story on that day
so many years ago
and somehow my blindness and the story's turnings
were tied to me
as tied to me
as i was tied to this clumsy flagpole
over a field in (now a man's)
once upon a time...
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
another vampire reference
my friend eileen cued me into an interesting (novelty level interesting) website, as it is getting close to halloween.
http: www.emmadavies.net/vampires
if you go onto it, you enter your name, and it gives you your vampire name. here's mine:
***
The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Claudius Ruthven
Known in some parts of the world as:
Hyperion of The Cursed
The Great Archives Record:
The cursed and the curser - bringing downfall and ill favour to kings and peasants alike!
***
perhaps it shows how bored and unmotivated i am, but:
(i looked this up)
hyperion is in greek mythology the titan son of gaea and uranus (mother earth, father sky), and father of helios (sun), selene (moon), and eos (dawn).
i suppose because hyperion "fathers" and thus "frames" sun, moon and dawn (different aspects defining time), the word "hyperion" in literary theory refers to a "frame story," like in the canterbury tales...
in the context above ("hyperion of the cursed"), i guess the word is being used primarily in the sense of "fathering" all manner of the cursed... from the highborn to the low. VERY DEMOCRATIC!!!
http: www.emmadavies.net/vampires
if you go onto it, you enter your name, and it gives you your vampire name. here's mine:
***
The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Claudius Ruthven
Known in some parts of the world as:
Hyperion of The Cursed
The Great Archives Record:
The cursed and the curser - bringing downfall and ill favour to kings and peasants alike!
***
perhaps it shows how bored and unmotivated i am, but:
(i looked this up)
hyperion is in greek mythology the titan son of gaea and uranus (mother earth, father sky), and father of helios (sun), selene (moon), and eos (dawn).
i suppose because hyperion "fathers" and thus "frames" sun, moon and dawn (different aspects defining time), the word "hyperion" in literary theory refers to a "frame story," like in the canterbury tales...
in the context above ("hyperion of the cursed"), i guess the word is being used primarily in the sense of "fathering" all manner of the cursed... from the highborn to the low. VERY DEMOCRATIC!!!
naus-feratu
bad blood.
how i wish people took better care of themselves.
it screws up the entire food chain.
fast food junkies,
high trans-fat traffic jammed
in the arteries;
don't they know
it makes things hard for me?
tonight, i've got easy prey,
but i don't think i could hold it down.
what a waste.
there's nothing so pitiful
as blood that won't stay down-
i hate seeing food clot slowly round the rim
of a cold white porcelain throne.
you now empty husks
with shiny doll eyes,
what betrayal you've committed upon me
stabbing me in the gut:
et tu, then fall i must,
and heave and hurl
this mighty naus-feratu...
[sorry, as you can tell, i'm not feeling well... must be the tension wrought by impossible deadlines and impossible lacks of motivation...]
how i wish people took better care of themselves.
it screws up the entire food chain.
fast food junkies,
high trans-fat traffic jammed
in the arteries;
don't they know
it makes things hard for me?
tonight, i've got easy prey,
but i don't think i could hold it down.
what a waste.
there's nothing so pitiful
as blood that won't stay down-
i hate seeing food clot slowly round the rim
of a cold white porcelain throne.
you now empty husks
with shiny doll eyes,
what betrayal you've committed upon me
stabbing me in the gut:
et tu, then fall i must,
and heave and hurl
this mighty naus-feratu...
[sorry, as you can tell, i'm not feeling well... must be the tension wrought by impossible deadlines and impossible lacks of motivation...]
i must be in malaise-ia
above my right eye
is contained the humidity
of one southeastern nation.
it would like to sometimes
storm over in a monsoon or two
but it desires parity
with its counterpart
across the vertical equator
left eye doesn't give in.
it stalwartly sets its sight
dryly
on the next conquest at hand.
"let them sweat in misery,"
quips the p.m.
unfortunately, misery
and weather,
major exports of malaise-ia,
have a way of spreading
across the rot-orange ball
of the world.
is contained the humidity
of one southeastern nation.
it would like to sometimes
storm over in a monsoon or two
but it desires parity
with its counterpart
across the vertical equator
left eye doesn't give in.
it stalwartly sets its sight
dryly
on the next conquest at hand.
"let them sweat in misery,"
quips the p.m.
unfortunately, misery
and weather,
major exports of malaise-ia,
have a way of spreading
across the rot-orange ball
of the world.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
radiohead remix contest???
weird... you know how i've been preoccupied with breaking down radiohead songs and remixing them on garage band??? well, radiohead actually announced yesterday (via facebook) that they are having a contest for people to remix their songs. they are actually offering "stems" (the individual elements of a song) off of itunes. people can download all "stems" (bass guitar, etc.) off of itunes, and mess with them on garage band. radiohead is even making the material really accessible by delivering the stems in garage band format!
weird... am i picking up some kind of radiohead signal? i mean, i have been working on this stuff in odd moments for a little while now...
it's fascinating how radiohead is taking control of the changing scenario of the music industry, ironically by giving up control. i mean, take a look at the way they released "in rainbows," with a VOLUNTARY payment for the album. and their video contest on aniboom. and now this. i suppose one of the greatest rewards for artists and fans in the new age lies in remixing and reinterpreting work... hearing your own music through the filter of other minds...
weird... am i picking up some kind of radiohead signal? i mean, i have been working on this stuff in odd moments for a little while now...
it's fascinating how radiohead is taking control of the changing scenario of the music industry, ironically by giving up control. i mean, take a look at the way they released "in rainbows," with a VOLUNTARY payment for the album. and their video contest on aniboom. and now this. i suppose one of the greatest rewards for artists and fans in the new age lies in remixing and reinterpreting work... hearing your own music through the filter of other minds...
Panic Button
Okay, so here's a tale about complete irresponsibility and its serendipitous co-incidence with bad luck. I have this class, SPED 611... I have another class, SPED 613. For convenience's sake (both the instructors and the students), the classes were "combined," and we meet on an alternating weekly schedule; on one Wednesday, we meet for 611, and on the other, for 613... Assignments meanwhile are due online. So this week we were supposed to turn in three assignments. And as we meet on Wednesdays (again on an alternating schedule), and as all previous assignments had been due on Wednesdays, I assumed that this week's assignments were due this Wednesday (tomorrow)... But of course, bonehead that I am, I was unaware that the three assignments were due LAST NIGHT. And of course, guess what time I actually found out? At around 9:40 pm!!!
So I am driving home from ICAOM after teaching Acupoints 1, and I actually check my voice mail messages... It's then that I hear that our assignments are due that night at 11:55 pm!!! I'm in a sudden panic, racing to get back home to Mililani, to see how madly fast I can type out the bs. Of course, it didn't help that they restarted construction on the Mililani Mauka offramp; that little detour cost me an extra 20 minutes or so...
What's worse: one of the assignments required us to post a comment on a blog on RTI (response to intervention)... and after I posted it, it didn't show up!!! I assumed that there was some lag time between posting and publishing (a lot of blogs screen the commentarium to assure that things are sanitary)... but then when I checked again this morning, it still wasn't up. So I tried to post another comment, just as a test, and OF COURSE it worked...
I wrote email messages to my prof, explaining my sorry ass. Of course, no one else had the same problem, just the idiot who was out of the loop. I feel most sorry for my partner for one of the assignments. I managed to make my contribution and we turned in a solid assignment, but jeez I was cutting it close. It's okay if my ass is on the line, but I'm afraid that there just isn't enough room on it for two...
Well, that's life in the fast lane. Serves me right...
Getting things done in the 11th hour only works if you know for sure when the 12th hour is coming. Just FYI.
So I am driving home from ICAOM after teaching Acupoints 1, and I actually check my voice mail messages... It's then that I hear that our assignments are due that night at 11:55 pm!!! I'm in a sudden panic, racing to get back home to Mililani, to see how madly fast I can type out the bs. Of course, it didn't help that they restarted construction on the Mililani Mauka offramp; that little detour cost me an extra 20 minutes or so...
What's worse: one of the assignments required us to post a comment on a blog on RTI (response to intervention)... and after I posted it, it didn't show up!!! I assumed that there was some lag time between posting and publishing (a lot of blogs screen the commentarium to assure that things are sanitary)... but then when I checked again this morning, it still wasn't up. So I tried to post another comment, just as a test, and OF COURSE it worked...
I wrote email messages to my prof, explaining my sorry ass. Of course, no one else had the same problem, just the idiot who was out of the loop. I feel most sorry for my partner for one of the assignments. I managed to make my contribution and we turned in a solid assignment, but jeez I was cutting it close. It's okay if my ass is on the line, but I'm afraid that there just isn't enough room on it for two...
Well, that's life in the fast lane. Serves me right...
Getting things done in the 11th hour only works if you know for sure when the 12th hour is coming. Just FYI.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
distant worry
so: grandpa hashimoto and aunty irene will be going on a monthlong trip starting monday. that crimps my style, because normally, grandpa hashimoto picks aiden up from school, and watches him in the afternoon/evenings... in addition, lynn will be going away on a business trip in the first week of october... so there will be a double scramble for me to pick up the kids and coordinate care for them between classes and work... i'm usually up to the challenge, but not particularly now... i'm really tired and apathetic, not a very good parent nowadays... all i'd like to do is sleep and kill time.
i keep listening to various radiohead songs and trying to deconstruct them, trying to isolate the voices/instruments within the mix... i want to reconstruct them on garage band. WHY???
i don't quite understand this blah-ness within me. i'm operating by reflex. somebody wake me up... on second thought, don't...
i keep listening to various radiohead songs and trying to deconstruct them, trying to isolate the voices/instruments within the mix... i want to reconstruct them on garage band. WHY???
i don't quite understand this blah-ness within me. i'm operating by reflex. somebody wake me up... on second thought, don't...
violins (read violence)
i'm going to interrupt the peaceful suburban airwaves again.
that old fable was about ants and grasshoppers,
but tonight i've recruited the crickets.
unconscionable, perhaps, but i've found a way
to get horsehair to stroke across wire
to produce a weapon.
eerie vibrations.
sonic warfare.
perhaps the neighbors, in the
comfort of an evening slumber,
will wake, disturbed, by the
sounds, not just the scritching
high pitched screech of it,
but the bark behind:
the aggression and
drive for conquest
of a middle class nobody parent
is as unbounded
as a 1940's blitzkrieg general.
and just as futile.
that old fable was about ants and grasshoppers,
but tonight i've recruited the crickets.
unconscionable, perhaps, but i've found a way
to get horsehair to stroke across wire
to produce a weapon.
eerie vibrations.
sonic warfare.
perhaps the neighbors, in the
comfort of an evening slumber,
will wake, disturbed, by the
sounds, not just the scritching
high pitched screech of it,
but the bark behind:
the aggression and
drive for conquest
of a middle class nobody parent
is as unbounded
as a 1940's blitzkrieg general.
and just as futile.
consistency
the double meaning of the word "consistency" is interesting. one meaning has a more "spatial," or rather, materialistic bent to it, while the other is only manifest in "time." on the one hand, we usually ask of a material what kind of consistency it has (of what does this consist?). sometimes the answer is a breakdown of materials, sometimes it refers more to the "viscosity" or feel of a substance (i.e., this has the "consistency" of honey).
the temporal aspect of the word refers primarily to repetition. someone is held to be "consistent" if they repeatedly engage in a given activity.
when we apply the word "consistent" to a person, then, we are referring to some kind of "material" (what are you made of?) that only manifests through repetitive engagement. you have the "consistency" of a writer if you repeatedly engage in the practice of writing... and so on...
we are not given our identities or roles, or at least, we are not given them in our entirety... what we consist of (our "viscosity," our composition) is in part determined by our consistency (our capacity and willingness to repeatedly engage).
to be, do. to do, be.
(yeah, yeah, and that old frank sinatra/philosophy joke: do be do be do...)
the temporal aspect of the word refers primarily to repetition. someone is held to be "consistent" if they repeatedly engage in a given activity.
when we apply the word "consistent" to a person, then, we are referring to some kind of "material" (what are you made of?) that only manifests through repetitive engagement. you have the "consistency" of a writer if you repeatedly engage in the practice of writing... and so on...
we are not given our identities or roles, or at least, we are not given them in our entirety... what we consist of (our "viscosity," our composition) is in part determined by our consistency (our capacity and willingness to repeatedly engage).
to be, do. to do, be.
(yeah, yeah, and that old frank sinatra/philosophy joke: do be do be do...)
rambling stream of consciousness: pulled under
cold and tired. at this moment, i float. people are always at two levels. on the one hand, everything rises up to the surface, to show the "google earth" satellites something good and happy... but on the other hand, there is something deep and unseen and mysterious going on, maybe something at odds with the surface. me, at times, underneath, there is something heavy going on, a churning and thrashing, like treading water with this concrete weight tied to my ankle... i don't know how much longer i can keep it up.
i remember swim practices at rec. center 1, and how we would have to tread water in the deep section with our hands above our heads, while the coach walked at the periphery and waited to deck one of us with his slipper if he saw us slip under... i remember being very young at sandy beach, and how the wind was so strong it was whipping the sand up and stinging my skin and my eyes, and how i wandered too close to the waves and was pounded and turned end over end under the water, and how when i briefly surfaced, all scared and gasping, the only sound i heard was my family laughing... and when i got my bearings, and my feet and hands crawled in the soupy sand, how the water gradually drew back and back and back, and i realized that it was all going to happen again, and how everyone just sat back and waited for the next part of the comedy show...
there is a point where a person just gives up. the conditions of the game have been set up such that you can't win. and what they want is to see you struggle, to see you make an ass of yourself. i didn't want to play. so i just gave up. i learned how to sink, and then how to float.
it takes too much strength to hate. that wasn't what i wanted to do or feel... i just wanted, i don't know, to be taken seriously...
relevant.
not a joke.
the odd thing was, i learned precisely how to be a joke (to not be taken seriously) in order, ironically, to BE taken seriously (or rather, to be "serious"). the world wants to beat me down into something that it doesn't have to consider, a non-threat; i never wanted to be a threat to begin with, for me, the game was something and somewhere else entirely... the game was about something else. and pretending to be a "sucker" and lose was the most efficient way to get up and get out of the game... "okay, hahaha, now here's what i want to do..."
... but... is it the world that beats me down, or do i do it to myself? because, even without its influence, i feel this heaviness within, this tendency to implode. and the "jokes" i tell, these words i write, they are all, they all feel like, distractions from the inevitable... something, maybe "me," though it doesn't feel like me, is waiting in the dark, waiting for me to sink and drown, so that it can snicker: "didn't you know? this is where you belong."
i couldn't save my sister. no, let me amend that, it sounds too certain, and it isn't. but what is certain: i didn't save my sister... and now, all my efforts are motivated to prove that something i do CAN make a difference in this world, something i do CAN keep the world afloat, keep it from imploding and sinking (as i feel myself do)... to "keep hope alive"...
... i just want to know that you're okay, you're all okay... and then, i wouldn't mind, i wouldn't mind falling asleep.
i remember swim practices at rec. center 1, and how we would have to tread water in the deep section with our hands above our heads, while the coach walked at the periphery and waited to deck one of us with his slipper if he saw us slip under... i remember being very young at sandy beach, and how the wind was so strong it was whipping the sand up and stinging my skin and my eyes, and how i wandered too close to the waves and was pounded and turned end over end under the water, and how when i briefly surfaced, all scared and gasping, the only sound i heard was my family laughing... and when i got my bearings, and my feet and hands crawled in the soupy sand, how the water gradually drew back and back and back, and i realized that it was all going to happen again, and how everyone just sat back and waited for the next part of the comedy show...
there is a point where a person just gives up. the conditions of the game have been set up such that you can't win. and what they want is to see you struggle, to see you make an ass of yourself. i didn't want to play. so i just gave up. i learned how to sink, and then how to float.
it takes too much strength to hate. that wasn't what i wanted to do or feel... i just wanted, i don't know, to be taken seriously...
relevant.
not a joke.
the odd thing was, i learned precisely how to be a joke (to not be taken seriously) in order, ironically, to BE taken seriously (or rather, to be "serious"). the world wants to beat me down into something that it doesn't have to consider, a non-threat; i never wanted to be a threat to begin with, for me, the game was something and somewhere else entirely... the game was about something else. and pretending to be a "sucker" and lose was the most efficient way to get up and get out of the game... "okay, hahaha, now here's what i want to do..."
... but... is it the world that beats me down, or do i do it to myself? because, even without its influence, i feel this heaviness within, this tendency to implode. and the "jokes" i tell, these words i write, they are all, they all feel like, distractions from the inevitable... something, maybe "me," though it doesn't feel like me, is waiting in the dark, waiting for me to sink and drown, so that it can snicker: "didn't you know? this is where you belong."
i couldn't save my sister. no, let me amend that, it sounds too certain, and it isn't. but what is certain: i didn't save my sister... and now, all my efforts are motivated to prove that something i do CAN make a difference in this world, something i do CAN keep the world afloat, keep it from imploding and sinking (as i feel myself do)... to "keep hope alive"...
... i just want to know that you're okay, you're all okay... and then, i wouldn't mind, i wouldn't mind falling asleep.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
impromptu
so today was my third day for student teaching. if i haven't mentioned it earlier, my mentor teacher is great; she's really organized. for the past couple of days, i've just more or less been observing her do her thing, occasionally serving as a kind of drifting teacher to give individual assistance. but today, after the first period i observed, someone called her out of the room; and suddenly, without warning, i had to take over, and complete the lesson! actually, it was not a big deal, because 1) i had an e.a. (educational assistant) who knew the class routines, etc.; and 2) i had already seen my mentor perform the lesson with the first period of the day. so i kinda winged it, and with a little help from the kids (who were really positive!), we got a lot done. we wrote a paragraph on what we as individuals could do to make the world a better place... after the mentor teacher returned, she asked how everything was. i was a bit frazzled, to be honest, but on the whole, i'd enjoyed the experience. so, the third period of the day, i got to teach again. and that was great.
i know i've got a lot to learn. i know that some of my explanations tend to be "over the top." but i believe in these kids, and i also believe in (to a certain extent) my ability to reach them. i hope to be as good and organized as my mentor teacher, but even if i don't attain that level, i feel i could not only "get by," but do a good job teaching (and maybe inspiring) kids...
i know i've got a lot to learn. i know that some of my explanations tend to be "over the top." but i believe in these kids, and i also believe in (to a certain extent) my ability to reach them. i hope to be as good and organized as my mentor teacher, but even if i don't attain that level, i feel i could not only "get by," but do a good job teaching (and maybe inspiring) kids...
the dry and fruitless season
for certain periods, the ground must lie fallow.
in those seasons, allow the leaves to fall and settle
to clarify the skeletal shapes:
what holds will hold
what hasn't the grip will fall away.
death is a part of life:
it is without us,
lonely, and briefly touching
and transforming our faces
in its image.
we are its reluctant masterpiece
and through it, we see
ourselves.
death is a part of life:
it is what is in us,
the inmost secret blossom
waiting and
holding itself back in dreams.
how it wants to wake us up.
for certain periods, let us lay fallow.
let the death in us do its silent work
its clarifying work,
until we can see
our edges and our hollows.
in those seasons, allow the leaves to fall and settle
to clarify the skeletal shapes:
what holds will hold
what hasn't the grip will fall away.
death is a part of life:
it is without us,
lonely, and briefly touching
and transforming our faces
in its image.
we are its reluctant masterpiece
and through it, we see
ourselves.
death is a part of life:
it is what is in us,
the inmost secret blossom
waiting and
holding itself back in dreams.
how it wants to wake us up.
for certain periods, let us lay fallow.
let the death in us do its silent work
its clarifying work,
until we can see
our edges and our hollows.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
self-deprecation
etymology of deprecation:
deprecation
1490 (deprecative), from M.Fr. deprécation, from L. deprecationem, from deprecari "plead in excuse, avert by prayer," from de- "away" + precari "pray." Sense of "show disapproval" is first attested 1612.
... to pray away ...
... to avert by means of prayer ...
with relation to "self," what could this mean? ...
deprecation
1490 (deprecative), from M.Fr. deprécation, from L. deprecationem, from deprecari "plead in excuse, avert by prayer," from de- "away" + precari "pray." Sense of "show disapproval" is first attested 1612.
... to pray away ...
... to avert by means of prayer ...
with relation to "self," what could this mean? ...
re-visioning
we meet our eyes halfway
razors edge our irises
they slice and dice the images
as they pass, and splice them
back together again with tears,
in tragic orders fit for screening.
and on the floor of the
editing room, the excised
portions of filler time
writhe and curl like
yakuza pinkies...
razors edge our irises
they slice and dice the images
as they pass, and splice them
back together again with tears,
in tragic orders fit for screening.
and on the floor of the
editing room, the excised
portions of filler time
writhe and curl like
yakuza pinkies...
real-ization
i am i was i will be nothing real
and what i held i hold like onion peel
each new layer pretends something to feel
and leaving tears and nothing to reveal.
and what i held i hold like onion peel
each new layer pretends something to feel
and leaving tears and nothing to reveal.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
strange and stupid etymologies: "preoccupation"
in my simplistic word analysis, "preoccupation" means "before work." as in all the stupid things you do to put off serious work (your "occupation").
right now, i am in a serious "preoccupation" mode, cycling between meaningless (but FUN!) facebook entries and putzing around on the piano and joking around with the kids (right now, of course, they are playing together in the bathtub). what's the deal with me? i have things to do, but somehow i just can't get around to doing them. there's a resistance within me that is less a wall, and more a magnetic storm that twirls my compass needle around until i'm thoroughly lost ... and while there normally would be some anxiety and anger in my recalcitrant "lost state," nowadays, today, i hardly care. "it's the way of the universe, which is the way within me," i mutter nonchalantly.
... but even the fool within me knows: the waterfall is coming...
tomorrow, i'll start my student teaching at aiea intermediate. it looks to be fun... i also have my acupoints class to teach in the evening... things need to be done for both. preparation. and perhaps the eleventh hour will find me doing those things. but right now, i'm "preoccupied" with- i don't know- picking at the knot within me, teasing strands apart... this gordian knot. a tangle. a complex. hairball.
i've been using my sister as some kind of excuse for this hypomania. for the swinging nature of my emotions, which can never find balance. (another funny word play: "see saw." as in, what i see is always what i saw... think about it when you "walk the plank." you'll never arrive at where you'd like to be [in the air], because as soon as you get there, it won't be where you are, but where you were... "see saw.") but it really is an excuse. bottom line: i've got to get my butt in gear. starting with: getting the kids out of the bathtub, doing the compulsory violin lessons with them, reading stories, "cuddling," getting the cup of water (before they ask), and making sure they're asleep by nine...
...
...
...
...alright, alright, i'll do it!!! jeez, just get off my back.
right now, i am in a serious "preoccupation" mode, cycling between meaningless (but FUN!) facebook entries and putzing around on the piano and joking around with the kids (right now, of course, they are playing together in the bathtub). what's the deal with me? i have things to do, but somehow i just can't get around to doing them. there's a resistance within me that is less a wall, and more a magnetic storm that twirls my compass needle around until i'm thoroughly lost ... and while there normally would be some anxiety and anger in my recalcitrant "lost state," nowadays, today, i hardly care. "it's the way of the universe, which is the way within me," i mutter nonchalantly.
... but even the fool within me knows: the waterfall is coming...
tomorrow, i'll start my student teaching at aiea intermediate. it looks to be fun... i also have my acupoints class to teach in the evening... things need to be done for both. preparation. and perhaps the eleventh hour will find me doing those things. but right now, i'm "preoccupied" with- i don't know- picking at the knot within me, teasing strands apart... this gordian knot. a tangle. a complex. hairball.
i've been using my sister as some kind of excuse for this hypomania. for the swinging nature of my emotions, which can never find balance. (another funny word play: "see saw." as in, what i see is always what i saw... think about it when you "walk the plank." you'll never arrive at where you'd like to be [in the air], because as soon as you get there, it won't be where you are, but where you were... "see saw.") but it really is an excuse. bottom line: i've got to get my butt in gear. starting with: getting the kids out of the bathtub, doing the compulsory violin lessons with them, reading stories, "cuddling," getting the cup of water (before they ask), and making sure they're asleep by nine...
...
...
...
...alright, alright, i'll do it!!! jeez, just get off my back.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
insomniac
i can't sleep! and i can't make this time productive. i amble about, eat, get on the computer... the air is chilly (by hawaii standards), the rain outside, i can feel it seep in through the screens and kiss my exposed skin (i'm NOT nude, btw; an ugly image, sorry).
there is no rest.
i think of radiohead lyrics:
"we're too young to fall asleep
too cynical to speak
we are losing it-
can't you tell?
scratch our eternal itch
our twentieth century bitch
we are grateful for
our iron lung."
-iron lung
or:
"it barks at no one else but me
like it's seen a ghost.
it must see the sparks a-flowing
no one else would notice...."
-the tourist
i blame my mental perambulations (right word? right context?) on my sister... maybe wherever she is (in an undisclosed location), her thoughts are running like rats in mazes, and myself, an epiphenomenon of her, am simply having thoughts jog, they suffer from "restless leg syndrome" and they haven't the peace to settle in and sleep...
i hate myself relentlessly, but what good will it do? i distract myself relentlessly, but what good comes of it? the minutes, the seconds, they stretch onwards towards no conclusion.
outside, the rain is pouring harder. no doubt, the feral cats (there are two, a mother grey-striped, and her kitten, black with white socks) are snuggling somewhere in my backyard, perhaps under the junipers, or perhaps beneath the corner snow bush. sometimes, when it is raining really hard, i can hear them mewling, as the water streams down the valley behind the house into an audible surging rush, into the darkness, relentlessly down and away... i worry at times that something will happen, and the kitten will succumb. (there used to be two kittens, by the way...)
[tangent]
sometimes in the morning, the cats walk by the screen as we're eating breakfast. for some reason, although they supposedly have damned good sight at night, they don't see us through the screen, or perhaps we're only dim shadows. the mother cat is always so cautious, hanging back, while the kitten prances inches away from the screen. sometimes i put a plate of milk out, and i notice that, though the kitten incautiously laps it up, the mother cat is always a distance away, "on guard."
it must hurt terribly to have lost a child.
[return]
the force of the water surging in the valley is sometimes so strong that there is a geyser that is visible when it tries to enter into the underground gutter. detritus and garbage have dammed up the entrance, and the water has no choice but to slam at it and rebound upwards (temporarily) to the sky. i remember it strange seeing this dim and silvery shape (like a ghost) in the valley, in the dead of night, in the middle of a storm, with its hissing, thundering voice.
how the rain washes the world away. but it has a violent pull to it at times. and if we're not careful, how it steals the baby with the bathwater.
...
people are unpredictable. they pretend facades are real, that they have it all "together" under their skins. and yes, in my working world, in my daylight life, i must support that illusion, i must make people believe in their skins and their eyes. it is the best thing i can do in this world. but in my insomniac dreamless nights, i can't contain my guts, everything spills out, and even these rambling words cannot contain the water of this storm...
you can't walk on people. you can't depend on them. if you do, they may cave in on you. or cut you. tread carefully in this world. have a care for it, because there may be sinkholes or broken glass... the nighttime speaks this truth to me, the lie of the daylight world: surfaces are fictions that ultimately do not hold.
...
do i care, or do i merely pretend to care? if i really cared, then wouldn't i have prevented things from happening? i had my suspicions and doubts, but i didn't act on them. and even without those doubts, i did nothing to "keep in touch." i used the stock excuse, "i'm busy, i'm busy, i have my own life, my own responsibilities."
maybe it was the same a couple of decades ago, when i went away to college, when problems surfaced, all i could do was mewl about how lonely i was up in massachusetts, always thinking the balance of angst and ennui was on the far side of the north american continent, surely not in the middle of the island in the middle of the pacific, surely not within my sister, in beautiful f**king mililani town!?
take me back. i want to go back and redo it all over. this time, i'll know what was important, and the words i should've said, and the ... i don't know ... the mistakes i should've avoided. and my little dramas, i'll have seen them for what they were, nothing at all.
the real problem was at home.
it is always at home, restless, sleepless, insomniac.
there is no rest.
i think of radiohead lyrics:
"we're too young to fall asleep
too cynical to speak
we are losing it-
can't you tell?
scratch our eternal itch
our twentieth century bitch
we are grateful for
our iron lung."
-iron lung
or:
"it barks at no one else but me
like it's seen a ghost.
it must see the sparks a-flowing
no one else would notice...."
-the tourist
i blame my mental perambulations (right word? right context?) on my sister... maybe wherever she is (in an undisclosed location), her thoughts are running like rats in mazes, and myself, an epiphenomenon of her, am simply having thoughts jog, they suffer from "restless leg syndrome" and they haven't the peace to settle in and sleep...
i hate myself relentlessly, but what good will it do? i distract myself relentlessly, but what good comes of it? the minutes, the seconds, they stretch onwards towards no conclusion.
outside, the rain is pouring harder. no doubt, the feral cats (there are two, a mother grey-striped, and her kitten, black with white socks) are snuggling somewhere in my backyard, perhaps under the junipers, or perhaps beneath the corner snow bush. sometimes, when it is raining really hard, i can hear them mewling, as the water streams down the valley behind the house into an audible surging rush, into the darkness, relentlessly down and away... i worry at times that something will happen, and the kitten will succumb. (there used to be two kittens, by the way...)
[tangent]
sometimes in the morning, the cats walk by the screen as we're eating breakfast. for some reason, although they supposedly have damned good sight at night, they don't see us through the screen, or perhaps we're only dim shadows. the mother cat is always so cautious, hanging back, while the kitten prances inches away from the screen. sometimes i put a plate of milk out, and i notice that, though the kitten incautiously laps it up, the mother cat is always a distance away, "on guard."
it must hurt terribly to have lost a child.
[return]
the force of the water surging in the valley is sometimes so strong that there is a geyser that is visible when it tries to enter into the underground gutter. detritus and garbage have dammed up the entrance, and the water has no choice but to slam at it and rebound upwards (temporarily) to the sky. i remember it strange seeing this dim and silvery shape (like a ghost) in the valley, in the dead of night, in the middle of a storm, with its hissing, thundering voice.
how the rain washes the world away. but it has a violent pull to it at times. and if we're not careful, how it steals the baby with the bathwater.
...
people are unpredictable. they pretend facades are real, that they have it all "together" under their skins. and yes, in my working world, in my daylight life, i must support that illusion, i must make people believe in their skins and their eyes. it is the best thing i can do in this world. but in my insomniac dreamless nights, i can't contain my guts, everything spills out, and even these rambling words cannot contain the water of this storm...
you can't walk on people. you can't depend on them. if you do, they may cave in on you. or cut you. tread carefully in this world. have a care for it, because there may be sinkholes or broken glass... the nighttime speaks this truth to me, the lie of the daylight world: surfaces are fictions that ultimately do not hold.
...
do i care, or do i merely pretend to care? if i really cared, then wouldn't i have prevented things from happening? i had my suspicions and doubts, but i didn't act on them. and even without those doubts, i did nothing to "keep in touch." i used the stock excuse, "i'm busy, i'm busy, i have my own life, my own responsibilities."
maybe it was the same a couple of decades ago, when i went away to college, when problems surfaced, all i could do was mewl about how lonely i was up in massachusetts, always thinking the balance of angst and ennui was on the far side of the north american continent, surely not in the middle of the island in the middle of the pacific, surely not within my sister, in beautiful f**king mililani town!?
take me back. i want to go back and redo it all over. this time, i'll know what was important, and the words i should've said, and the ... i don't know ... the mistakes i should've avoided. and my little dramas, i'll have seen them for what they were, nothing at all.
the real problem was at home.
it is always at home, restless, sleepless, insomniac.
nude 5: jazzed up
okay, i think i'm onto something here. i redid the song, this time formally using the metronome and 3/4 time signature. and then, just for a lark, i upped the tempo. it actually sounds pretty neat at a faster beat... listen.
the prisoner
another show i always tried to watch (this one on saturday afternoons), but i had koteki band or something or other. but it's a really cool show, very philosophical... starring patrick mcgoohan (sp?), a great actor (longshanks from braveheart, also dumbledorf from the first two harry potters)...
dr. snuggles
i always used to try my best to get up early on saturdays to see this show... somehow i always missed it. it's a pretty neat cartoon. check out one of the authors of this episode: douglas adams, from "hitchhiker's guide to the universe" fame...
Friday, September 12, 2008
2 month gap
never thought about it, but: have you ever noticed?
sept ember: sept means seven.
oct ober: oct means eight.
dec-ember: dec means ten.
there's a two month discrepancy in the naming system for months. apparently something happened when we shifted over to the gregorian calendar system. i don't know why they didn't just shift these month names over... but i guess it's too late now. "december chill" doesn't sound so chilly when we're just talking about a little fall breeze when you're wearing your halloween costume... and "christmas in september" sale; it just doesn't sound right.
sept ember: sept means seven.
oct ober: oct means eight.
dec-ember: dec means ten.
there's a two month discrepancy in the naming system for months. apparently something happened when we shifted over to the gregorian calendar system. i don't know why they didn't just shift these month names over... but i guess it's too late now. "december chill" doesn't sound so chilly when we're just talking about a little fall breeze when you're wearing your halloween costume... and "christmas in september" sale; it just doesn't sound right.
ihp
i was thinking: in special education, there is a document called an iep (individualized education program) that summarizes the strengths and needs of individual students, and outlines plans to address those needs... and i thought: we should have an ihp, an individualized health program! i was thinking about this primarily as an organizational tool for diagnosis and treatment with "alternative therapies." for myself, i find myself "wrestling" internally with issues of how best to treat my patient's problems. health problems, you see, are multi-faceted. simplistically, we could say that patients suffer from: structural issues, physiological imbalances, psychological knots, etc. and although it is convenient to "box" the problems into separate categories, it's very true that in many cases, things are interrelated. example: the structural issue (severe back pain) could cause depression. or, the strained pec minor/scalenes could lead to chronic hypoxia (because of shallow chest breathing) resulting in some physiological impairments. (notice the bias towards structure!)
in sped, there are situations where a child has multiple disabilities. commonly, children with learning disabilities also suffer from "adhd" or "ebd." and there may be ways to address each type of disability individually. but it would be more efficient to take everything into consideration, and consciously create a plan that will help the child with the least effort (both for teacher and for student): "kill two or more birds with one stone."
i was thinking, again, about this model with respect to treatments. if we clarify all deficiencies/needs of all considered aspects (at least within any given practitioner's scope of practice), then we may formulate more efficient, streamlined treatments without always feeling "well, there's something i could've done better" or "maybe i could've looked at it this way." and maybe the answer would be "less efficient" in the sense of trying to address all aspects of the problem at once; but at least with awareness of all of those aspects, the practitioner won't feel like s/he is "neglecting" the patient in any way.
...
i also thought of the sped concept of response to intervention with regards to treatment. response to intervention or rti is an alternative way to "assess and address" children with learning disabilities. in the past, learning disabilities could only be "discovered" when there was a significant discrepancy between a child's expected and actual performance. for example, by iq tests, the child would be normal, but the math performance would be very subpar. the problem with the discrepancy model was that it often took 3 years on average for the discrepancy to even show up; and by that time, it would be much harder to "catch up" and correct the problem.
rti is basically the idea that full accommodations (or at least full to a reasonable extent) are placed into the general curriculum from the start. this way, you eliminate some minor ld issues from the start, simply because their needs are met by the "accommodating" curriculum. if students have problems even with these basic supports, then you would see it immediately; you wouldn't have to wait 3 or so years. thus, no time lag.
with regards to acupuncture/herbalism: maybe there are fundamental "patterns" that we could treat ALL patients with, in order to rule out their influence in "rarer" and less likely patterns... well, maybe not. there is something to be said for a purely "individualized" treatment that meets what is discerned of an imbalance precisely... but i guess in very complex cases, it would be a more systematic approach... oh well.
in sped, there are situations where a child has multiple disabilities. commonly, children with learning disabilities also suffer from "adhd" or "ebd." and there may be ways to address each type of disability individually. but it would be more efficient to take everything into consideration, and consciously create a plan that will help the child with the least effort (both for teacher and for student): "kill two or more birds with one stone."
i was thinking, again, about this model with respect to treatments. if we clarify all deficiencies/needs of all considered aspects (at least within any given practitioner's scope of practice), then we may formulate more efficient, streamlined treatments without always feeling "well, there's something i could've done better" or "maybe i could've looked at it this way." and maybe the answer would be "less efficient" in the sense of trying to address all aspects of the problem at once; but at least with awareness of all of those aspects, the practitioner won't feel like s/he is "neglecting" the patient in any way.
...
i also thought of the sped concept of response to intervention with regards to treatment. response to intervention or rti is an alternative way to "assess and address" children with learning disabilities. in the past, learning disabilities could only be "discovered" when there was a significant discrepancy between a child's expected and actual performance. for example, by iq tests, the child would be normal, but the math performance would be very subpar. the problem with the discrepancy model was that it often took 3 years on average for the discrepancy to even show up; and by that time, it would be much harder to "catch up" and correct the problem.
rti is basically the idea that full accommodations (or at least full to a reasonable extent) are placed into the general curriculum from the start. this way, you eliminate some minor ld issues from the start, simply because their needs are met by the "accommodating" curriculum. if students have problems even with these basic supports, then you would see it immediately; you wouldn't have to wait 3 or so years. thus, no time lag.
with regards to acupuncture/herbalism: maybe there are fundamental "patterns" that we could treat ALL patients with, in order to rule out their influence in "rarer" and less likely patterns... well, maybe not. there is something to be said for a purely "individualized" treatment that meets what is discerned of an imbalance precisely... but i guess in very complex cases, it would be a more systematic approach... oh well.
"yoki kempo"- eclectic martial arts with ties to tenrikyo
i stumbled across a website describing "yoki kempo," a self-described eclectic style borrowing from, among other things, hsing yi and choy lee fat. but what really interested me was the reference to the ten divine providences (complete with a "bagua-like" chart), a tenrikyo concept. perhaps the concept of the providences was borrowed from traditional shinto ideas (many of the providences share the names of shinto deities, particularly izanagi, tsukiyomi, etc. [and by extension, "itachi techniques..." wotup, naruto fans! :P]), but their organization is clearly tenrikyo.
as i was scanning through the history of the style, i discovered that there was indeed a tie to tenrikyo, something about how the founder (?) was healed by miki nakayama, the foundress of tenrikyo... fascinating stuff.
just google "yoki kempo" and it should pop up.
as i was scanning through the history of the style, i discovered that there was indeed a tie to tenrikyo, something about how the founder (?) was healed by miki nakayama, the foundress of tenrikyo... fascinating stuff.
just google "yoki kempo" and it should pop up.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
despair
the frankly sitting weight of time
precipitate the cloud sublime
and drown me in my dropping reign
and rust away my crown my name
i never wanted it to heal
i only wanted not to feel
to forget all and all forsake
erode me gone, gone my mistake.
precipitate the cloud sublime
and drown me in my dropping reign
and rust away my crown my name
i never wanted it to heal
i only wanted not to feel
to forget all and all forsake
erode me gone, gone my mistake.
feedback loop
[intended to be a "loop"]
tell me what i want to hear
you tell me what i want to
hear you tell me what i want
to hear you tell me what i
want to hear you tell me what
i want to hear you tell me
what i want to hear you tell...
tell me what i want to hear
you tell me what i want to
hear you tell me what i want
to hear you tell me what i
want to hear you tell me what
i want to hear you tell me
what i want to hear you tell...
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
i wanna hold your ...
aiden is somewhat like a parrot... aside from imitating some radiohead songs that i tend to listen to too much, yesterday, out of nowhere, he started singing the beatles. "i wanna hold your hand." lynn and i thought it was funny, cute. with the attention he got from us, he tried to modify the lyrics. he sang: "i wanna hold your pupu."
we have this on again off again policy of cracking down on "inappropriate words." my friend kendall (fan of george carlin) will likely have a field day with this, but... i think that certain words, like pupu or dodo, are okay depending upon context. i mean, it's not like they don't have those things in their lives... pupu-head or dodo-head are wrong, simply because they are ALWAYS pejorative. so too, ironically, are common use words like "stupid" or- (and this is much harder to enforce) words like "kill" or even "shoot." i know some parents will think we're ridiculous- and it's not like we're naive about our control over where they learn language... i suppose we just want to teach them to have a certain awareness of CONTEXT with regards to how they use their language. and right now, we would like them to speak to others with respect.
ANYWAY, so we have that policy. and lynn was pretty good at highlighting to aiden that maybe that wasn't so appropriate. but me, i just started cracking up. i really couldn't help myself. don't know why, not like it was very funny or anything. maybe it was the image of it, particularly in that "nice" beatles song. maybe because, at certain points (like on maui) i actually DID hold his poop in my hands... but i guess in yesterday's instance anyway, i kind of undermined the whole "pupu" thing...
we have this on again off again policy of cracking down on "inappropriate words." my friend kendall (fan of george carlin) will likely have a field day with this, but... i think that certain words, like pupu or dodo, are okay depending upon context. i mean, it's not like they don't have those things in their lives... pupu-head or dodo-head are wrong, simply because they are ALWAYS pejorative. so too, ironically, are common use words like "stupid" or- (and this is much harder to enforce) words like "kill" or even "shoot." i know some parents will think we're ridiculous- and it's not like we're naive about our control over where they learn language... i suppose we just want to teach them to have a certain awareness of CONTEXT with regards to how they use their language. and right now, we would like them to speak to others with respect.
ANYWAY, so we have that policy. and lynn was pretty good at highlighting to aiden that maybe that wasn't so appropriate. but me, i just started cracking up. i really couldn't help myself. don't know why, not like it was very funny or anything. maybe it was the image of it, particularly in that "nice" beatles song. maybe because, at certain points (like on maui) i actually DID hold his poop in my hands... but i guess in yesterday's instance anyway, i kind of undermined the whole "pupu" thing...
down
i suppose i've been feeling down a lot since i found out about my sister. don't know how my parents can handle it. i suppose that they are much better at either hiding things, or at sublimating what they feel (or the greater brunt of it at least) into useful action. myself, most of the time, i think i can appear okay, but i notice i'm a lot "tireder" than i should be, and, well, much less responsible. not that i don't take care of things, but that i simply don't have the will to do them. no enthusiasm. i am, as they say, "going through the motions."
i wonder what life must be like for her. at night, when i have restless "nightmares" (not anything concrete, more like this dark reflection of life, this sinking feeling of despair), i imagine that a piece of what she dreams/lives passes into me... and i can't answer the feeling in the dream, or the feeling that resides within me afterwards, with all of my comfortable platitudes.
what is hope, anyway? what is despair?
when i was little, i always used to wonder about this. of course, i always liked superheroes, because somehow they carried hope within them: hope that situations of fear and despair could be turned around, hope that not everything was lost. i would try to imagine what a superhero would do in situations of utter despair... there were many scenarios in which the superhero COULDN'T do a thing; but i still retained a "hope" that the superhero would remain unmoved, "refractory" (to use that word in a more proper context). at the very least, i believed that a hero would not be "transformed" by his scenario; he would, even by his resistance, maybe even transform his situation, even slightly...
within myself, i have this image of a hero, and aside from that, i believe in certain vague things, like god and love... but i wonder about many people, about their lack of hope. i wonder about how to communicate hope. not in some proselytizing fashion, because no matter what people may say, hope is not something that can be instantly imbibed like pennicilin. i wonder how to communicate hope in a real way, to give people inspiration IN THEMSELVES and in, if not their ability to deal with their circumstances, then at least in the security of their perspective, that somehow something of themselves mattered... and yes, that they were loved by someone.
i met with my sister privately on many occasions. i thought that i could be her big brother, and that she would, if nothing else, take comfort in the fact that i would always be that for her, someone who couldn't help but believe in her... yet, nothing ever changed from our sessions together. sometimes, in fact, things got worse. i often wonder about my influence upon her; i often think of how responsible i may have been for her...
how, again, can a person communicate hope?
there is a point at which people just let well enough alone. and maybe i should abide by that. but there is also something in me which resents that sort of attitude. there are many who feel so comfortable in the "clarity" of their lives, in the way they can "write off" others with a flourish of the wrist... and as one who dwelled in obscurity and ambiguity for portions of my life (or at least a very small, pale measure of these things), i- a piece of me- rebels against that kind of "simplicity." life is messed up, but you don't make anything better by pretending it's otherwise. you have to find a way to own it, to thoroughly own it, before anything has any "hope" of getting better...
i don't know.
sometime today, i will have to write my sister a letter.
and i will have to make greater efforts to be a good uncle to my nephew and two nieces. and a better son to my tired parents.
i wonder what life must be like for her. at night, when i have restless "nightmares" (not anything concrete, more like this dark reflection of life, this sinking feeling of despair), i imagine that a piece of what she dreams/lives passes into me... and i can't answer the feeling in the dream, or the feeling that resides within me afterwards, with all of my comfortable platitudes.
what is hope, anyway? what is despair?
when i was little, i always used to wonder about this. of course, i always liked superheroes, because somehow they carried hope within them: hope that situations of fear and despair could be turned around, hope that not everything was lost. i would try to imagine what a superhero would do in situations of utter despair... there were many scenarios in which the superhero COULDN'T do a thing; but i still retained a "hope" that the superhero would remain unmoved, "refractory" (to use that word in a more proper context). at the very least, i believed that a hero would not be "transformed" by his scenario; he would, even by his resistance, maybe even transform his situation, even slightly...
within myself, i have this image of a hero, and aside from that, i believe in certain vague things, like god and love... but i wonder about many people, about their lack of hope. i wonder about how to communicate hope. not in some proselytizing fashion, because no matter what people may say, hope is not something that can be instantly imbibed like pennicilin. i wonder how to communicate hope in a real way, to give people inspiration IN THEMSELVES and in, if not their ability to deal with their circumstances, then at least in the security of their perspective, that somehow something of themselves mattered... and yes, that they were loved by someone.
i met with my sister privately on many occasions. i thought that i could be her big brother, and that she would, if nothing else, take comfort in the fact that i would always be that for her, someone who couldn't help but believe in her... yet, nothing ever changed from our sessions together. sometimes, in fact, things got worse. i often wonder about my influence upon her; i often think of how responsible i may have been for her...
how, again, can a person communicate hope?
there is a point at which people just let well enough alone. and maybe i should abide by that. but there is also something in me which resents that sort of attitude. there are many who feel so comfortable in the "clarity" of their lives, in the way they can "write off" others with a flourish of the wrist... and as one who dwelled in obscurity and ambiguity for portions of my life (or at least a very small, pale measure of these things), i- a piece of me- rebels against that kind of "simplicity." life is messed up, but you don't make anything better by pretending it's otherwise. you have to find a way to own it, to thoroughly own it, before anything has any "hope" of getting better...
i don't know.
sometime today, i will have to write my sister a letter.
and i will have to make greater efforts to be a good uncle to my nephew and two nieces. and a better son to my tired parents.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
interesting error: definitions of "refractory"
i intended to use the word "refractory" to describe the "bending" of light when it encounters, say, a prism. apparently, refraction is applied in different physics contexts, with very different meanings. in the context of light, it does refer to the changing of the wavelength (and directionality?) of light as it encounters a change in the medium (for example, from air to water, or from air to glass). it is in this context that i originally intended to use the word "refractory" in the previous "poem."
however, the more common definition of refractory seems to derive more from its application in metallurgy, where (as an adjective) it refers to that property of a substance which makes it resistant to heat (to melting, etc.). thus, substances like molybdenum and tungsten are said to be "refractory."
apparently, the etymology of "refractory" seems to connote obstinacy. in fact, that is the "common" usage of the term; it refers to someone or something which is "stubborn" or "obstinate" or "resistant to change."
i'd like to think that this extends the meaning of the previous poem, but to be honest, it is completely unintended, and therefore, takes it somewhere i don't think is appropriate... i do think that "truth is refractory" in the sense that it is "resistant"; however, i also think that truth is not some tungsten-like material (that is, unchanging). the resistance of truth in my mind has more to do with the way a single strand of hair "resists" being captured when floating in water; that is, ephemeral resistance. the resistance of withdrawal...
and besides all this talk of "resistance," all i wanted to talk about was "refraction."
willow apparently learned something of rainbows today, and was talking about how rainbows form when "blank" light hits droplets of water. i started trying to sound all "mr. know it all" and referred to "refraction," and tried to contrast it with "reflection." don't know if she really understood it, but it added yet another word to her vocabulary list anyhow...
from refraction to refractory... who knows that i'd pass from simple rainbows to obstinate unmeltable resistance? this is "refraction with words" if i ever saw it...
however, the more common definition of refractory seems to derive more from its application in metallurgy, where (as an adjective) it refers to that property of a substance which makes it resistant to heat (to melting, etc.). thus, substances like molybdenum and tungsten are said to be "refractory."
apparently, the etymology of "refractory" seems to connote obstinacy. in fact, that is the "common" usage of the term; it refers to someone or something which is "stubborn" or "obstinate" or "resistant to change."
i'd like to think that this extends the meaning of the previous poem, but to be honest, it is completely unintended, and therefore, takes it somewhere i don't think is appropriate... i do think that "truth is refractory" in the sense that it is "resistant"; however, i also think that truth is not some tungsten-like material (that is, unchanging). the resistance of truth in my mind has more to do with the way a single strand of hair "resists" being captured when floating in water; that is, ephemeral resistance. the resistance of withdrawal...
and besides all this talk of "resistance," all i wanted to talk about was "refraction."
willow apparently learned something of rainbows today, and was talking about how rainbows form when "blank" light hits droplets of water. i started trying to sound all "mr. know it all" and referred to "refraction," and tried to contrast it with "reflection." don't know if she really understood it, but it added yet another word to her vocabulary list anyhow...
from refraction to refractory... who knows that i'd pass from simple rainbows to obstinate unmeltable resistance? this is "refraction with words" if i ever saw it...
refractory
bring me blended light
the blank transparent
and invisible; and
i will parse out the
story of the world,
distinguish the motes
of its continuum.
the way each hue has
separated and claimed a word
and a place, settled onto
the world like a skin to
blank and naked bones.
the way each burns impatient
to steal through your
keyhole iris and take
a piece of your perspective.
i will tell you this
and it will be lies and truth
it all is and isn't
it's enough to make one blind
or make one see.
truth isn't in reflection,
mind you:
it's refractory.
the blank transparent
and invisible; and
i will parse out the
story of the world,
distinguish the motes
of its continuum.
the way each hue has
separated and claimed a word
and a place, settled onto
the world like a skin to
blank and naked bones.
the way each burns impatient
to steal through your
keyhole iris and take
a piece of your perspective.
i will tell you this
and it will be lies and truth
it all is and isn't
it's enough to make one blind
or make one see.
truth isn't in reflection,
mind you:
it's refractory.
Friday, September 5, 2008
insight: you only see beauty after you fall in love
i wanted to write something, a sort of reversal of conventional thinking... including the whole "love at first sight" thing (something which i have never personally experienced, unless of course you smudge over "ove" and replace with "ust"). the real beauty i have seen in people has always been somewhat "shy," that is, not apparent at first glance. it's only when i got to know them, when both i and the other relaxed into ourselves, that i started to notice how beautiful they really were. their smile. their little habits...
and i would also like to say something about "love." i like to pretend i'm a gardener, on those rare moments when i can sneak solitary time away from the wife and kids and work to putz around outside... and i like to draw metaphors from gardening. one metaphor, which has surely been overused (like over-used soil), is that between love and the nurturing of a gardener. but i think it applies. gardening requires a certain patience, and a certain faith. you provide the right conditions (soil, water, sunlight, shade) and then you draw back and wait. and if you're lucky and diligent (both), maybe something grows and blossoms into something beautiful. but it only happens if you're willing to put in the effort AND willing to wait (with enduring faith, a "no matter what" kind of acceptance)...
in a way, for me, anyway, love isn't something i really chose to "do." the seeds of love were always already planted. it's just that i couldn't cultivate and care for every one, and because i couldn't make a "democratic investment," i can only truly appreciate the beauty of those who i gave time and care to...
(there's much regret in that, to be sure, but i'm only one gardener...)
and i would also like to say something about "love." i like to pretend i'm a gardener, on those rare moments when i can sneak solitary time away from the wife and kids and work to putz around outside... and i like to draw metaphors from gardening. one metaphor, which has surely been overused (like over-used soil), is that between love and the nurturing of a gardener. but i think it applies. gardening requires a certain patience, and a certain faith. you provide the right conditions (soil, water, sunlight, shade) and then you draw back and wait. and if you're lucky and diligent (both), maybe something grows and blossoms into something beautiful. but it only happens if you're willing to put in the effort AND willing to wait (with enduring faith, a "no matter what" kind of acceptance)...
in a way, for me, anyway, love isn't something i really chose to "do." the seeds of love were always already planted. it's just that i couldn't cultivate and care for every one, and because i couldn't make a "democratic investment," i can only truly appreciate the beauty of those who i gave time and care to...
(there's much regret in that, to be sure, but i'm only one gardener...)
Thursday, September 4, 2008
a nude mess- yet another fragmented crappy cover
another favorite radiohead song... working on it periodically.
alaya vijnana
in omori sogen's book on zen meditation, there is reference to a concept in buddhist philosophy/psychology known as "alaya vijnana" or "storehouse consciousness." it is from a classification of consciousness known as "astavijnana" or the eight consciousness model. it is a system that stratifies consciousness into "layers" which must be progressively "penetrated" to achieve enlightenment.
the first five "layers" or "consciousnesses" are tied to each of the five senses. the sixth layer relates to "manas." and no, the "sixth sense" is not psychic ability. it is simply the thinking consciousness which coordinates the previous five sense consciousness, and formulates "thoughts" based on (and often times independent of) what it perceives. the seventh layer can roughly be correlated to the jungian concept of the individual unconsciousness. it is variously perceived as an "obstruction" or "defilement" layer. this is perhaps the most difficult layer to penetrate. if, however, it is passed, then the practitioner reaches the eighth consciousness, known as "alaya vijnana" or "storehouse consciousness." omori sogen ties this level to the collective unconsciousness. according to buddhist theory, realization of this layer allows one to perceive the "seeds" of all karma.
aside from providing for a "model" of consciousness, astavijnana also has an explanatory role for one of the most dangerous and "sneaky" problems involved in meditation: "maya" or the "illusory end." if a meditation practitioner "clears" the first six levels (the five senses and mind), then, paradoxically, the objective of enlightenment suddenly becomes HARDER. this is because the seventh layer, that of the individual unconsciousness (and variously associated with defilement or obstruction), freed of the shackles of the previous six layers, is able to impose its individualist, "selfish", egocentric "hold" on consciousness. it will produce all manner of "maya" or illusions to maintain its grasping/attachment on reality. some of these maya are unpleasant (nightmares, demons), but the more insidious and dangerous are those maya that are pleasurable (for example, psychic phenomena). the practitioner is urged to "push onwards" and pay little attention to either the "good" or "bad" products of the seventh layer. it is only through consistent and unflagging efforts that the practitioner has any chance of reaching the "alaya vijnana" and complete enlightenment.
the first five "layers" or "consciousnesses" are tied to each of the five senses. the sixth layer relates to "manas." and no, the "sixth sense" is not psychic ability. it is simply the thinking consciousness which coordinates the previous five sense consciousness, and formulates "thoughts" based on (and often times independent of) what it perceives. the seventh layer can roughly be correlated to the jungian concept of the individual unconsciousness. it is variously perceived as an "obstruction" or "defilement" layer. this is perhaps the most difficult layer to penetrate. if, however, it is passed, then the practitioner reaches the eighth consciousness, known as "alaya vijnana" or "storehouse consciousness." omori sogen ties this level to the collective unconsciousness. according to buddhist theory, realization of this layer allows one to perceive the "seeds" of all karma.
aside from providing for a "model" of consciousness, astavijnana also has an explanatory role for one of the most dangerous and "sneaky" problems involved in meditation: "maya" or the "illusory end." if a meditation practitioner "clears" the first six levels (the five senses and mind), then, paradoxically, the objective of enlightenment suddenly becomes HARDER. this is because the seventh layer, that of the individual unconsciousness (and variously associated with defilement or obstruction), freed of the shackles of the previous six layers, is able to impose its individualist, "selfish", egocentric "hold" on consciousness. it will produce all manner of "maya" or illusions to maintain its grasping/attachment on reality. some of these maya are unpleasant (nightmares, demons), but the more insidious and dangerous are those maya that are pleasurable (for example, psychic phenomena). the practitioner is urged to "push onwards" and pay little attention to either the "good" or "bad" products of the seventh layer. it is only through consistent and unflagging efforts that the practitioner has any chance of reaching the "alaya vijnana" and complete enlightenment.
i was seven
seven was my number
a hand and two more
the hand was so i could hold onto you
and the two fingers were left
to represent us.
seven meant paper and scissors
the blank canvas of our stories
and the tool that won it all
and framed it with its deadly kisses.
but my reach and my grasp
never held the space between away
and how it opened up,
and empty closed the "paper" into "stone."
so now i am two, but not really.
because now the teeth of my two fingers
at a loss
grind and dull themselves
against stone.
a hand and two more
the hand was so i could hold onto you
and the two fingers were left
to represent us.
seven meant paper and scissors
the blank canvas of our stories
and the tool that won it all
and framed it with its deadly kisses.
but my reach and my grasp
never held the space between away
and how it opened up,
and empty closed the "paper" into "stone."
so now i am two, but not really.
because now the teeth of my two fingers
at a loss
grind and dull themselves
against stone.
big mouth, big pen, a-type-ical
yes, you've said too much.
you've betrayed yourself.
the eyes that held now
drift away, the bridge
has snapped and now hangs limp
and dangling you in between.
careful, mouth, let no secrets out.
catch them in the pursed lips.
the world is puzzle pieces
and everyone wants a picture
of congruence and consistency:
everyone wants to
be surprised in the
expected ways.
if you let it out,
you'll find no one there to meet you
only your naked odd and awkward parts
unmet.
you've betrayed yourself.
the eyes that held now
drift away, the bridge
has snapped and now hangs limp
and dangling you in between.
careful, mouth, let no secrets out.
catch them in the pursed lips.
the world is puzzle pieces
and everyone wants a picture
of congruence and consistency:
everyone wants to
be surprised in the
expected ways.
if you let it out,
you'll find no one there to meet you
only your naked odd and awkward parts
unmet.
return to sender, address unknown
no one sent the words
that drifting came back to me
in bottles floated under birds
wandered mazes on the sea.
no one gives a sound
to the faded scratched out scrawls
to the half-heart pleas long drowned
to the quartered tired calls.
that drifting came back to me
in bottles floated under birds
wandered mazes on the sea.
no one gives a sound
to the faded scratched out scrawls
to the half-heart pleas long drowned
to the quartered tired calls.
the mess of the american educational system
it's been said before, and often with greater eloquence, but i'll say it again: the american educational system is a mess. perhaps the easiest way to characterize this is to point out the schizophrenia engendered by the two most influential recent legislature governing public education: nclb and idea 2004. nclb is most well known for its call for standardized testing (and arming the test with teeth). one thing to note, fyi: the testing is far from standardized. each state has the discretion of choosing its own "norm-based standardized test." thus, some states mysteriously have "pass-rates" that are higher than we would expect... to compare "progress" of one state over another thus is like comparing apples and oranges, pineapples and silicon... there is no universal standard.
note that under nclb, all children with disabilities (special education children) are also accountable. only 2% (initially it was only 1%) are allowed to take "alternative assessment tests" (i am truly uncertain how this figure was pulled out of the hat). if sped kids do opt to take the test with accommodations, then much documentation is needed to justify those accommodations... furthermore, any accommodations for the test must have already been provided consistently for the student in the everyday class.
here's an example. to qualify to have test instructions and questions orally read to a student (something i would imagine would be reasonable, given that some students simply are not literate), the student must be classified as a NON-READER (NOT a poor reader, not a kid who reads below grade level, but a NON-READER, i.e. a kid who will NEVER read no matter how much you try to teach them-- itself a qualification requiring much documentation, etc.). thus, if you apply for this accommodation, you are basically saying your kid is hopelessly illiterate...
idea (individuals with disabilities in education act) 2004 is focused more on special education, as implied by the name. at its core is the iep, or individualized education plan, which is a document formed for each child qualifying for special education services. the iep serves as a blueprint of sorts for the strengths and needs of any given special education child; it outlines goals that can be reasonably expected for the child, as well as methods of assessment for fulfillment of those goals.
in addition, idea 2004 states that all children will receive fape (acronym for "free appropriate public education") in lre (acronym for "least restrictive environment"). the latter (lre) has been interpreted to imply what is called the inclusion model: that is, all children, to the greatest extent possible, are included in the general education classroom. the inclusion model has been pushed lately because it has been found that some sped students may benefit (primarily socially) from participating with the "norm" peers...
okay, so here's one level of the schizophrenia: on the one hand, you have idea 2004 which pushes for the centrality and importance of the iep, an INDIVIDUALIZED education plan that documents accommodations, etc. on the other hand, you have nclb, which pushes for a STANDARDIZED anti-accommodation testing, with dire consequences. what's the deal with this???
are sped teachers supposed to fulfill the requirements of the iep, or are they supposed to push for improvements on the standardized test? these goals are NOT compatible in most cases...
***
i've tried to articulate the schizophrenic nature of the current educational crisis by noting that, at its fundamental roots, our expectations for what public education is supposed to accomplish are "two-faced." on the one hand, we expect public education to be democratic and egalitarian, accepting and serving all (including the disadvantaged and disabled). on the other hand, we expect the deliverance of QUALITY education. with regards to the latter, there is a hidden (unspoken) agenda to QUALIFY students, that is, to make the aggregate mass of students "settle out" into distinct layers, a heterogeneity, with some being "high end achievers", others the "average kids," and towards the bottom, the "manual labor types", "social deviants," etc. the problem with the public educational system is that it attempts to fulfill both agendas AT THE SAME TIME. it's something that realistically can't be done, because the two agendas are sometimes diametrically opposed to one another.
the imposition of a "standardized test" by its very nature is supposed to establish a standard, and the "norm" is determined (by definition) by a statistical bell curve. "standardized tests" are attempts to improve the QUALITY of the educational system, but again, by nature, such tests point out the (natural?) heterogeneity of the school populations. some kids STATISTICALLY will test high, a majority will test in the middle, and some kids, NO MATTER WHAT, will test low...
to "believe in the test," to "teach to the test," is a simple way of pushing the agenda of QUALITY down the gullets of teachers/students... it pretends to be blind to that other agenda of the public educational system, the demand to be inclusive, to take in all comers, to address the INDIVIDUALIZED needs of the diverse student body...
***
ultimately, i believe teaching AND ALL WORTHWHILE AND EFFECTIVE INTERACTIONS occur at the ground level (ground being the simplest level, the one on one interactions, the PRACTICAL level). standards, norm-based testing, etc... all of that is a top-down attempt to impose uniformity and control over the "ground up" teaching interactions that occur in classrooms. sure, we need standards. but an emphasis on "top-down" approaches, when it is delivered too heavy handedly, accomplishes nothing on the "ground up" level where ACTUAL TEACHING OCCURS...
...well, i'm starting to really ramble. just wanted to get some thoughts down.
also thinking about this dilemma with regards to parenting... the dual nature of parenting, particularly when considerations of public schooling are taken into account. on the one hand, parents wish to "protect" and "nurture" their child, but there is also an awareness that at some point kids must learn to "find their way" by jumping into the fray of society... oh well, i think i really am rambling, just struggling to come to terms with a variety of issues...
note that under nclb, all children with disabilities (special education children) are also accountable. only 2% (initially it was only 1%) are allowed to take "alternative assessment tests" (i am truly uncertain how this figure was pulled out of the hat). if sped kids do opt to take the test with accommodations, then much documentation is needed to justify those accommodations... furthermore, any accommodations for the test must have already been provided consistently for the student in the everyday class.
here's an example. to qualify to have test instructions and questions orally read to a student (something i would imagine would be reasonable, given that some students simply are not literate), the student must be classified as a NON-READER (NOT a poor reader, not a kid who reads below grade level, but a NON-READER, i.e. a kid who will NEVER read no matter how much you try to teach them-- itself a qualification requiring much documentation, etc.). thus, if you apply for this accommodation, you are basically saying your kid is hopelessly illiterate...
idea (individuals with disabilities in education act) 2004 is focused more on special education, as implied by the name. at its core is the iep, or individualized education plan, which is a document formed for each child qualifying for special education services. the iep serves as a blueprint of sorts for the strengths and needs of any given special education child; it outlines goals that can be reasonably expected for the child, as well as methods of assessment for fulfillment of those goals.
in addition, idea 2004 states that all children will receive fape (acronym for "free appropriate public education") in lre (acronym for "least restrictive environment"). the latter (lre) has been interpreted to imply what is called the inclusion model: that is, all children, to the greatest extent possible, are included in the general education classroom. the inclusion model has been pushed lately because it has been found that some sped students may benefit (primarily socially) from participating with the "norm" peers...
okay, so here's one level of the schizophrenia: on the one hand, you have idea 2004 which pushes for the centrality and importance of the iep, an INDIVIDUALIZED education plan that documents accommodations, etc. on the other hand, you have nclb, which pushes for a STANDARDIZED anti-accommodation testing, with dire consequences. what's the deal with this???
are sped teachers supposed to fulfill the requirements of the iep, or are they supposed to push for improvements on the standardized test? these goals are NOT compatible in most cases...
***
i've tried to articulate the schizophrenic nature of the current educational crisis by noting that, at its fundamental roots, our expectations for what public education is supposed to accomplish are "two-faced." on the one hand, we expect public education to be democratic and egalitarian, accepting and serving all (including the disadvantaged and disabled). on the other hand, we expect the deliverance of QUALITY education. with regards to the latter, there is a hidden (unspoken) agenda to QUALIFY students, that is, to make the aggregate mass of students "settle out" into distinct layers, a heterogeneity, with some being "high end achievers", others the "average kids," and towards the bottom, the "manual labor types", "social deviants," etc. the problem with the public educational system is that it attempts to fulfill both agendas AT THE SAME TIME. it's something that realistically can't be done, because the two agendas are sometimes diametrically opposed to one another.
the imposition of a "standardized test" by its very nature is supposed to establish a standard, and the "norm" is determined (by definition) by a statistical bell curve. "standardized tests" are attempts to improve the QUALITY of the educational system, but again, by nature, such tests point out the (natural?) heterogeneity of the school populations. some kids STATISTICALLY will test high, a majority will test in the middle, and some kids, NO MATTER WHAT, will test low...
to "believe in the test," to "teach to the test," is a simple way of pushing the agenda of QUALITY down the gullets of teachers/students... it pretends to be blind to that other agenda of the public educational system, the demand to be inclusive, to take in all comers, to address the INDIVIDUALIZED needs of the diverse student body...
***
ultimately, i believe teaching AND ALL WORTHWHILE AND EFFECTIVE INTERACTIONS occur at the ground level (ground being the simplest level, the one on one interactions, the PRACTICAL level). standards, norm-based testing, etc... all of that is a top-down attempt to impose uniformity and control over the "ground up" teaching interactions that occur in classrooms. sure, we need standards. but an emphasis on "top-down" approaches, when it is delivered too heavy handedly, accomplishes nothing on the "ground up" level where ACTUAL TEACHING OCCURS...
...well, i'm starting to really ramble. just wanted to get some thoughts down.
also thinking about this dilemma with regards to parenting... the dual nature of parenting, particularly when considerations of public schooling are taken into account. on the one hand, parents wish to "protect" and "nurture" their child, but there is also an awareness that at some point kids must learn to "find their way" by jumping into the fray of society... oh well, i think i really am rambling, just struggling to come to terms with a variety of issues...
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
the last link complains the most, energetic catharsis
okay, so here's a further realization i've been coming to, based upon structuralist analyses of bodies. the last link in the chain complains the most. if a patient comes in for, say, pain radiating down the arm (anything from carpal tunnel to tennis elbow), and local work hasn't resolved it, and neither has work on the scalenes (which tend to produce much arm pain; "thoracic outlet syndrome"), try checking things out on the OPPOSITE side of the body. of course, things are much more complex than this, but: i've noticed that on many patients, although the pain/numbness symptoms run on one side of the body, the actual culprit tends to be on the opposite side. for example, the scalenes on the left side are really short and tight, BUT the symptoms all exhibit on the right side. this actually makes sense: the left scalenes are short (maybe asymptomatic), but they PULL the head to the left, thus putting constant strain on the right scalenes. if the LEFT scalenes are addressed (lengthened), then presumably the already long right scalenes should be given a chance to relax, thus reducing symptoms.
this is yet another reason why "chasing pain" in terms of working local or ipsilateral doesn't necessarily work. it is important to "look" and "feel" the problem to get a sense of the lay of the land that could be causing the problem. unfortunately, this global perspective tends to be much more involved: the pain in the neck could actually be caused by structural aberrations in the torso or even in the feet...
we can extend this "perspective" to many other sorts of problems, from the psychological to the political. we look at problems, for the most part, from a superficial perspective (localized), and thus our "solutions" to them tend to be very superficial (bandaids). i think it's important to realize that "the last link complains the most" but is not necessarily the heart of the problem. it's important to follow the chain backwards, to see what PULLS the last link... this is ultimately a more efficient way to work problems out. conventional (shallow) understanding won't "see" the rationale of such efforts ("hey, that's not where the problem is... you're going the wrong way"), but then again, much of the time it is conventional understanding (lack of awareness) that got us into the problem in the first place...
which brings me to certain issues. proper body mechanics (which i myself never exhibit) are a necessary part of therapy. i do think taiqi is a great way to improve structural integrity, but it is a cultural thing, and not necessarily ideal for all individuals in all activities. but it is a start, at least emphasizing groundedness and an individual's relationship to gravity... i am looking into feldenkrais, some alexander technique...
on an unrelated note, kendall turned me onto lowen (sp?)'s bioenergetic technique, a kind of bridge between "mind" and "body" and also "energy" and "structure." my understanding of such things is very superficial, but i kind of heard about reichian psycho-energetics, and a lot of it was kinda "sexual", in the sense of seeing orgasm as a kind of necessary catharsis or "release valve" for tensions in the body... sure, i can see that... but to extend this as a therapeutic model seems, i don't know, kinda icky. in any case, i intend to explore "bioenergetics."
*an interesting note: ever notice how "energy" as spoken of in certain psychoanalytic traditions, tends to be "cathartic" and explosive (i.e. emphasis upon "release"/"liberation"), whereas "energy" spoken of in qigong and chinese culture in general tends to be much more normalized (i.e. emphasis upon a controlled and comfortable flow); also, there is more emphasis upon the interactional nature of energy... just a thought. yet another way to explore differences in east and west.
this is yet another reason why "chasing pain" in terms of working local or ipsilateral doesn't necessarily work. it is important to "look" and "feel" the problem to get a sense of the lay of the land that could be causing the problem. unfortunately, this global perspective tends to be much more involved: the pain in the neck could actually be caused by structural aberrations in the torso or even in the feet...
we can extend this "perspective" to many other sorts of problems, from the psychological to the political. we look at problems, for the most part, from a superficial perspective (localized), and thus our "solutions" to them tend to be very superficial (bandaids). i think it's important to realize that "the last link complains the most" but is not necessarily the heart of the problem. it's important to follow the chain backwards, to see what PULLS the last link... this is ultimately a more efficient way to work problems out. conventional (shallow) understanding won't "see" the rationale of such efforts ("hey, that's not where the problem is... you're going the wrong way"), but then again, much of the time it is conventional understanding (lack of awareness) that got us into the problem in the first place...
which brings me to certain issues. proper body mechanics (which i myself never exhibit) are a necessary part of therapy. i do think taiqi is a great way to improve structural integrity, but it is a cultural thing, and not necessarily ideal for all individuals in all activities. but it is a start, at least emphasizing groundedness and an individual's relationship to gravity... i am looking into feldenkrais, some alexander technique...
on an unrelated note, kendall turned me onto lowen (sp?)'s bioenergetic technique, a kind of bridge between "mind" and "body" and also "energy" and "structure." my understanding of such things is very superficial, but i kind of heard about reichian psycho-energetics, and a lot of it was kinda "sexual", in the sense of seeing orgasm as a kind of necessary catharsis or "release valve" for tensions in the body... sure, i can see that... but to extend this as a therapeutic model seems, i don't know, kinda icky. in any case, i intend to explore "bioenergetics."
*an interesting note: ever notice how "energy" as spoken of in certain psychoanalytic traditions, tends to be "cathartic" and explosive (i.e. emphasis upon "release"/"liberation"), whereas "energy" spoken of in qigong and chinese culture in general tends to be much more normalized (i.e. emphasis upon a controlled and comfortable flow); also, there is more emphasis upon the interactional nature of energy... just a thought. yet another way to explore differences in east and west.
new pics up!
so i just posted roughly 270 pictures up in picasa. you can check some of them out on the slideshow, but on the blog, only a fraction of them cycle through. double click on the slideshow, and you can visit the full gallery to view all the pictures at a larger size. the pics span pretty much the entirety of the summer: maui trip, going to the bon dance, coloring mushrooms, etc.
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