TEDx

Today is the day to pitch a talk in Macon, GA. Most of the local talks last year were terrific. One guy did ramble. At a writer's conference, the ramblers were amazing. My favorite was the book agent who rambled and talked like little bells that went higher at the end of each sentence.

Which brings me back to Earth, what are they going to think of my five minutes of spiel. The official talk should only last 15 minutes. I would wind mine up at 11 minutes. Give folks a chance to run to the restroom, talk to their neighbor between talks. It's rare anyone complains about a talk being too short.

Why do I even want to do this? I want that confidence to speak in front of people.

Storytelling been discussed so many different ways. It's just that I have fixated on the power of stories in our lives and how they help us relate to the world. Life is difficult and stories help us navigate.

A newsfeed announced Beyonce was pregnant. I'm lucky to know who sings what on the radio.

How often have you heard the adage that assume makes an ass out of U and ME. I don't think it translates into another language.

The following story defines the problem of making an assumption.

A woman always cut the end of a ham off before she put it in the pot to cook. Her daughter asked why. 

She said, "I don't know, I'll call mom." 

"Mom, why do we cut the end off the ham?" 

"Ummm, mom always did. I know the end is always fine. We cook it in beans or greens every time. I'll ask your grandmother when she is finished napping." 

"Did you have a good nap mom?" 

"I remember when I could work all day. 

"Mom, I'm curious, why do we cut the end off the ham? 

"To get it in the pot."

What goes around, comes around.

Jealousy is a painful thing.

The three most aggressive dog breeds are 1. dachshund, 2. chihuahua, 3. jack russell terrier. Having owned a lot of dogs I concur. I got bit on the boob by my chihuahua mix this morning.

A quick decisive bite at Muffin who was laying on my side as I laid on the sofa. Like all things done in haste, a mistake was made. For the record, he was spanked. The fact is, I don't know if it does any good. He has such a possessive bone. He barely accepts the fact that my 16 year old toy poodle is my official shadow and he is the new sidekick.

I own a pitbull. She is very meek. All the chihuahua mixes have bitten her and she did not bite back. Button seeks her out for a play session which I used to break up. Now, I break it up on occasion. All Buttons wants to do is play.

I don't believe in breeding pitbulls. She is hard like a man and so very strong. If she wanted to bite, it would be the end of something. Right now, I think this is true of chihuahuas.

I'm still working on a TEDx talk proposal. I'm losing my resolve. My spiel is about how the honest story can help you navigate life. Fiction is now full of fantasy, werewolves, vampires, etc. I've always been a big fantasy, science fiction fan but like all things, there can be too much. Dragon-Con in Atlanta and similar events have stoked the fire for these genres. There is so much fun and escapism. The stories are usually honorable unlike real life. Diogenes is still searching for an honest man.

Hazards of a teaching career.

Bubblegum, beside from blowing humongous bubbles and chewing the sweet flavor out of the gum as a child, I do not chew gum. Ironic, my mother chews gum.

The first year I taught school, students could not wear hats. The assistant principal walked in my second period classroom. Every male student had a hat on.

In time, I could feel a student taking too long in the restroom. My child monitoring system kicked in.

While moonlighting at Rich’s department store in the Greenbrier Mall, I stopped a child running on the escalator.  The security guard told me good job. My child monitoring system had become an involuntary response.

Moonlighting at Wachovia Bank as a corporate remittance specialist, we would receive a check mailed that day and have it processed before morning. While working, a woman chewing gum came to me with a question.  I tapped the trashcan and told her to spit her gum out, which she did. Embarrassed, I bought her a pack of gum out of the snack machine at break and told her to chew all she wanted.  My child monitoring system had gone out of control.

Day 5 of the Blogathon - Theme: Your Favorite App - yeah right.

Sort of like my favorite toilet seat or lawnmower. I use them but I don't think too much about them. They do save time with passwords and finding what you want on a website.

I had planned to retire and live my life without using a computer. I had sat through staff development in rooms of computers for students. They seemed nifty enough. But, we had an IBM selectric at the school I worked at and I thought Why?

In the summer of 1995 I was writing a review of the literature for a class I was taking. I was doing the project wrong in that I was trying to create flow. I bought my first Mac. Sort of like when I got my first cell phone in 2000. Once you get one, you wonder how you did it without them. They are so convenient.

I have a smartphone which I use on occasion. I'm still enamored with desktop computers. I am typing this on a laptop but it is too sensitive at times. Like the time I was snooping on my high school nemesis and accidentally hit the friend request button on Facebook. What a bummer. I undid the request but I got a nasty note from Facebook about someone had complained about my abuse of befriending people I did not know. I'll let you connect the dots. 

My fitness pal will soon be my new favorite app. I need to drop weight like yesterday. Writing down what you eat is important. It is easier than you think to forget about that baloney sandwich you snacked on.

But my rebellion against technology is not over. I may be computer literate. Yes I buy used computers because I like to play with them. But don't think I have any ambition to wax abundant enthusiasm over technology. It just helps me do what I want to do.

Now ask me about my dogs. They are cool.

Super Freak.

When I read the trifecta challenge, I thought of Rick James and the song "Super Freak". Below is a 1982 video of him and the song. A fun blast from the past. I updated the post and changed it from 495 words to 323 words.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYHxGBH6o4M

Disco was over, no one did the hustle, Sara Bell wanted to go to bed and pull the covers over her head. That would mess her hair and ruin her make-up and Eric could still come.

Picking up the newspaper to read, that damn dog downstairs was yipping.  

Stomping to the refrigerator and back, Sara makes an angry burst of stomps.

Old lady Mauldlin hits the ceiling. Sara walks into the bathroom, turns on the shower and focuses the water so it will leak in Mrs. Mauldlin’s bathroom.

Taking a triumphant stomp, the floor collapses beneath her right foot. Steam envelops her. 

Kneeling in pain, willing herself not to cry, tears flow.  

She told Mrs. Mauldlin if she had a BB gun she would shoot her yapping dog this morning.

Mrs. Mauldling called her a “trumpet”. She told her mother later that afternoon.

“Sara, why would she call you a “strumpet”.

“I don’t know. She is a mean old bag.”

“Are you having multiple sex partners.”

“What? Why would you think that?”

“She’s not calling you a trumpet, she’s calling you a strumpet. She’s saying you’re promiscuous.”

“I’m not a freak.” Sara slammed the phone down.

Something sharp prevented her from pulling her leg from the floor. Mrs. Mauldlin and the building manager talk.

“There’s her foot. She’s not responding.”

Sara talks to them but they cannot hear.

Mrs. Mauldlin says call 911.

The building manager says, “We don’t need to do that.”

The door closes downstairs. Mrs. Mauldlin speaks to 911.

The floor isn’t sturdy under her left knee. Water was trickling down the wall to puddle on the linoleum under Sara.

The manager argued with the firefighters.

The firefighters removed a section of the floor. “We’re going to lift you on three.”

The bruises faded to green, her knee aches before it rains, the long angry scratch healed. Sara helped Mrs. Mauldlin move. Sara hung up on Eric when he called.

The well is out.

Last night, the well went out. The circuit breaker reset on the well; but, it tripped two more times yesterday and one time this morning. I'm waiting on the well repair man.

You can get philosophical, high brow and discuss art. If the water is not running, you can come down to Earth fairly quick.

I one of those people who questioned my life choices the past few years. I've got a lot of living to do. Being in my fifties, I recognize that life is finite and you certainly can't skip off and redo career choices. My big regret is not taking writing more seriously.

Lately, I find I made a good choice. I have friends in their fifties like me who cannot support themselves. With the economy and their age, they really are having a hard time. I've never known all these starving artists and it is not fun.

Not being able to help and/or not wanting to be taken advantage of is depressing. I have worked many less than dignified jobs to keep myself afloat. I expect others to do the same. The only problem is that even those jobs have to be appreciated. I am reluctant to suggest them because I know that the person may have been trying and could not get a job.

There is a balance. Juggling two jobs most of my life, living a little leaner and playing a little more would have been a better investments of my time. I was the beaver who worked and didn't play like the squirrel. Hindsight is definitely twenty twenty. You have the benefit of knowing the ups and downs of the economy.

Dolly Parton said she wouldn't give a million for the lessons learned from her poverty stricken childhood and would gladly not have to pay a million to relive it. Like Parton, there are lessons I learned that will help me write. I have no desire to stalk a sexy vampire. There is plenty of fodder here and now for me.

The well repair man has left. Lightning struck the control box. $213. Good thing I was a beaver.

Two days into the blogathon, my senior office staff have gathered with the token cat. Each member of the staff settles into their beds, licks one paw and cleans around the pad. The old man of the crew does  plenty of gratuitous scratching. Sort of like post planning at the end of the school year. It's work as usual but so much easier without the junior staff. The junior staff are in the backyard digging holes.

I've decided to try a TedX talk. Petrified is how I feel. Why I would want to step out of my comfort zone baffles me. My topic will be "The Story in Us All". I began the spiel last night. Jotting down my thoughts. I will add to it until I can truly create a big funny monologue with a point.

I was a funny teacher. We all have our tactics. When things were bad as a child, my dad would inject humor. My dad used humor for its God given purpose which was pleasure. He also used it to defuse a situation.  I learned from him or it could be my Irish roots showing.

Students do not take autocratic control well. The only teachers I knew who were able to use it had a spouse on the school board or some other similar tactic. The rest of us had to project authority and respect. Having felt on the outside looking in most of my life, my tactic was humor.

By the end of my career, my favorite student was the male summer school student and some of the girls. They failed not from lack of ability. They failed because they did not turn in a critical report. It was not unusual for them to be smarter than average. They were born with a cynical gene.

I got along with the girls but since the guys liked me, the girls had to like me too.

Summer school lasted about six weeks. The worst class was like holding back the sea for about two weeks. It was miserable. Then it always happened. It was the easier class. The guys came in happy. Not too fond of the coursework but they did it without complaint. That's when the jokes began. I would have one of them prod me until the zinger came. Satisfied, they did their work.

Now, I am not a particularly chatty or lively person. That alterego just came out in the classroom. I've been trying to get her to show up in my writing. She is there. It is just slow. subtle, unbidden and cannot be forced. 

Hindsight is twenty twenty. I think my greatest power as a teacher was I cared for my students. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I never realized I had the power to return home. 

Maybe I'll get picked for the TedX. I can feel the punchlines coming.

Junior staff member taking a well deserved rest. The bed is so much more comfortable without that pesky stuffing.