Back to the flies, because I'm sure you are dying to know.
When I got home a few days ago my window was basically covered in very large houseflies. The proper term for buggies like this is "filth flies" and (as my sister researched, having run into a similar situation living above me) they live in dead things and are used to declare the time of death based on their arrival-- also called "flesh flies". I spent a good amount of time separating the ones that were merely caught between my screen and window from the ones who were actually in my room. These more urgent situations were caught under cups and flung outside-- the others left to hang out in limbo until they either found a way back out or bellied up on the windowsill. The critters had discovered a third option, which was to shimmy their way into my room.
2am EST, the killing began. More detailed accounts of how this is done can be found here at my sisters blog. I was not so impassioned with my delivery, but you get the idea.
I have an interval timer.
I use it sometimes.
Yesterday I was going to use it to do a 5 minute paylgae.
I had made the emotional, spiritual, and mental commitment to do this early in the day. I went through some preliminary movement to cause some heat that would carry me through to the afternoon. Started the adventure about 2..
I got to the fourth position, starting to feel out the best way to breath and relax, and who should come around the corner but some old guy and his gas powered push mower, ready to spend the next hour mowing the small yard I was standing on. A man came out from the building across the way, and actually started to try to have a conversation with the guy mowing the lawn OVER the noise of the lawnmower. They remained stationary at one end of the yard, screaming at each other while I weighed my options. In spite of my drive to conquer time and space that afternoon, I decided to heed the direction given to me not twelve hours earlier, and find a healthier environment in which to practice.
Anyway. I've planted the seed. I will do it-- probably more than once. Just not sure when.
We've been having some scrummy lightening storms lately. I'd just as soon be out in one of those.. .. .. than not..
I get to be a real jerk when I get bored, by the way. Mostly in an educational environment, where I don't think I'm being challenged, I don't feel welcome, or more specifically, I feel that my time is being wasted.
I had a professor at MECA who was probably much dumber than a bag of hammers, who taught a Generic World History class. He kicked off the semester with the information that the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights were the FIRST and ONLY documents that outlines the rights and responsibilities of the people at that time. Bullshit, says I. I'm not going to give loads of examples here to illustrate what kind of smarty pants I am-- it doesn't really matter what I know about this. What does matter is that statement is SO not correct. He earned my distain pretty early on by being slightly racist and classist in his lectures, so I rewarded him with snarky hand raising and ironic (but frustratingly correct, over achieved and always polite) test answers. I recall one test at the end of the whole affair that had a bunch of true/false, essay, and multiple choice questions of which we only had to answer 50%. Because I'm an ass, I answered 100% of the questions in 50% of the time it took the rest of the class (art school), some of the answers were as described above. For the vocabulary part of the exam, in the "Synchronicity" slot I wrote down "a connecting principle linked to the invisible" (a là The Police-- which is.. a right answer, kind of) and for "Umma" I wrote down "the first side of a Pink Floyd record". Because it is.
I am only slightly less juvenile about these things at this point in my life. Though usually I don't put myself in a position to have my time wasted. The mind boggles for a while, and then it wonders. If it is not led to boggle at first it merely wonders.. I can't help but daydream sometimes that certain acronyms must be really good at doing the robot, or certain others may enjoy singing karaoke, wearing funny hats, playing the.. tuba? poker..? ddr..?
I was told once (jokingly?) while running the school in Portland that spies from down south were a possibility. Because I am completely irreverent about such tremendously useless, dishonest, and disrespectful activities, all I could do was picture a HB, full uniform, leaning on a street lamp reading a newspaper. He would be well equipped with false facial hair (placed over already established facial hair of similar form but probably of different color), possessed of dark glasses, a sombrero, probably leading an elaborately saddled donkey from stake out to stake out. All this in downtown Portland.
