In no particular order:

The vineyards above Guebwiller

The Medieval city of Eguisheim

Christmas aftermath

Kebob and Yufka

Don't irritate me

We finally got both our bags. On Christmas evening even. In spite of having my full selection of clothes, I'm still wearing the jeans that I was wearing when our trip began a week ago. Aaahhhhh. Vacation.

As I mentioned, Sarah and I finally made it to France, safe and sound. Our luggage, meanwhile, is nowhere to be found. Somehow, our 24 hours in Atlanta wasn't quite enough time for Delta to make sure that our luggage came with us on our plane. When we were at the airport, they assured us that they would send it via courier the next day. When we hadn't received it as of yesterday, Sarah called their lost-luggage hotline to find out what was going on. It's got to be a bad sign that they have a hotline.

The nice man on the other end of the line told her that they had one of our bags, but they were waiting to send it until they found the other one. Found the other one?! That implies you've lost one of them entirely! Perfect. Thanks Delta. While you're working on getting your head dislodged from your buttocks, I'll just keep wearing the clothes that I've had on for the last 3 days, 15 hours, and 37 minutes.

This isn't any different from my usual routine, but it's the principle of the thing that counts.

We made it! I'll post more later, but you'll have to give me a few days to get over the jet lag...

Sarah and I were supposed to be in France today. We're not. We're in an dingy Econolodge in Atlanta. And we had to pay for it ourselves. Stupid Delta.

So yesterday, we got to the Detroit airport bright and early. The weather was clear. Sunny even. Check in was a breeze. Security was a breeze. Finding our gate was a breeze. So we waited for our plane with excitement. And we waited. And waited. When our plane did finally come, the flight crew accidentally let on the wrong passengers. And we waited.

We ended up taking off almost two hours late, and by the time we arrived in Atlanta, we'd already missed our connection to Zurich. We went to the line where we were directed, and we waited. And waited. When we got to the front of the line, the agent brusquely barked at us to 'wait here' and then disappeared. And so we waited. When she didn't come back for a half an hour, we went to another line and were told to go to an even longer line. And we waited.

There were at least 50 feet of people in front of us in the new line, and we moved ten feet in two hours. I did lots of finagling. I called Delta customer service. I went to new lines while Sarah held our place in the Line. We moved another six inches in the line, and it became apparent that Delta was going to blame our predicament on the 'weather' (25 degrees and sunny in Detroit, 65 and sunny in Atlanta) so they wouldn't have to give us a hotel room or meal vouchers. At the front of the Line, they were giving out blankets and telling people they'd have to wait until the next day to leave. Stupid Delta.

And so we left. We did some more waiting, looking for an airport shuttle that would take us to a cheap hotel (as you'll note from my recent post, we're not exactly super-wealthy right now). We talked with a few shuttle drivers, and we found one who ended up giving us an employee discount on our room. Nice guy. Even if the Econolodge is a little dingy, $50 (plus a ten spot for the driver) is a pretty good deal for a reasonably clean room with free internet access, a complimentary continental breakfast, and a free trip back to the airport. And if we hadn't left, we'd probably still be standing in the Line.

For now, we're sitting in the Atlanta Econolodge, full of continental Raisin Bran, watching cable, using the internet on our laptop, and hoping and praying that we make our flight tonight, because if we don't, we'll be sleeping in the airport tomorrow.

Last January, I posted about how Sarah and I paid off her student loans, and I joked about all the things we could have bought instead. Today we did our part to continue the recession by paying off the remaining balance on my loans as well. There goes $10,723.85. This brings the grand total we've paid off to ... wait for it ... $20,623.60. Just think of all the loot we could've had.

As you might suspect, this has considerably reduced the amount of cash we have on hand for a down payment on a house when we move this summer. However, because I'm looking for as much scholarship aid as possible for seminary next year, it's probably best that we don't show a large sum of money in our savings when I apply for scholarships later this winter. If, between winter and summer, we can't manage to scrape together enough money for a 20% down payment, we'll just live in a tent or something.

What's great about paying off the loans now is that (a) we'll save over $5,000 in interest payments over the next 10 years, and (b) we're now entirely debt free.

We'll see how long that lasts.

I had my last obligation of the semester tonight. Let the vacationing begin!

Today I went to the dentist for the first time in almost seven years. I'll be honest: I was a little embarrassed when revealing that fact to them. I'll be more honest: the hygienist spent about 30 minutes scraping plaque off my molars, and she looked physically tired by the time she'd finished. At the same time, I'd also like to point out that I had no cavities, and the dentist thought that my teeth were remarkably healthy, especially given the length of time between my visits. Then she tried to sell me 4 veneers (at $1100 a veneer) for my top four front teeth so that I could "get rid of those spaces" and "hide those tetracycline stains."*

Yeah, when I win the lottery. See you in 2016.


*I also just wanted to say thanks to the dermatologist who gave me the tetracycline in 1998 to clear up my acne. If you'd mentioned it was going to stain my teeth for life, I think I would have just gone with the Clearasil. Not everyone should go to medical school.

So I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here, but as most of you know, I recently submitted an application for admission to a Master of Divinity program at a seminary on the other side of the state. Today I got an email that said I've been accepted for the upcoming Fall semester. Sarah is even more excited to move over there than I am, and it looks like things are falling into place. All we need now is a couple of jobs...

And as an added bonus, I've secured an additional three years in school after I graduate from my current program in April. The real world is, for now, still far away.

Somehow, this is shaping up to be the easiest end of the semester I've had since I started college. Normally, there are multiple final exams to study for, papers to write, and presentations to make. There's usually so much work that I feel stressed for at least two weeks and still end up staying up all night at least once to ensure that I get everything done. Not so this semester. I feel like I'm already on vacation.

Even though I'd like to take credit for myself here, I'm pretty sure I haven't had much to do with it. It's true that I've been super diligent about getting things done early; however, the reality is that I only have two finals, and they don't require any studying because they're 'open book.' I do have one final paper, but it required so little research and so much of my own opinion that I finished it yesterday with so much time to spare that I was able to go and play basketball for a few hours.

Today was the last meeting for one of the classes I teach. After I told the students they were free and could go, two students came up to my desk to turn in some papers.

Student 1: Hands me her paper. I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed this class, and I learned a lot this semester.

Me: Feeling good about myself. Really? That's great! Thanks for telling me!

Student 2: Hands me his paper. I didn't learn anything.

Me: Feeling slightly less good about myself, a number of retorts run through my mind. 1) I wonder if you not learning anything this semester has anything to do with the fact that you listened to your iPod for the entirety of every class because you thought I couldn't see the headphones under your hood? 2) Oh, if you'd just said that you already knew everything about psychology, I would have let you teach the class. 3) That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. 4) Oh, well if you didn't learn anything, then I guess I'll have to give you a failing grade in the class. Instead, I decided to go with: Thanks for telling me!

But what I was really thinking, as you may have guessed, is that not everyone should go to college.

Yesterday the fortune-telling meteorologists at the National Weather Service said we were likely to have 4-8 inches of snow accumulate last night and into the afternoon today. In adulthood, I've always contended that they just guess when it comes to stuff like this, and so I try and make fun of their predictions whenever possible. I think they shattered my snow-day-dreams one too many times when I was a child.

Anywho, I started thinking about this most recent prognostication. As you may have noticed, they recognize that they're going to be off by at least 4 inches. Let's tack that 4 inches of assumed error onto the high and low ends of the 4-8 inches. Hmm... now it seems that they've predicted somewhere between 0 and 12 inches of accumulation. That's weird, because I make that same prediction every day of winter.

How did my forecast stack up? Let's check what's happened outside. Survey says... there's approximately a quarter inch of snow in my yard. Zero to 12 inches prevails again! Hey everybody, I'm a weatherman!

Not everyone should go to meteorological college.

A few days ago, some of my relatives were talking about how they were going to go to Wal-Mart in the morning to find some of the incredible 'Black Friday' deals. Half-joking, I issued a warning about how, every year, someone gets trampled by a crush of shoppers at a Wal-Mart on the day after Thanksgiving.

It happened again this year. In Long Island, NY, a group of shoppers were pushing so hard against the doors at 5 AM that everything exploded inward. Four people were injured, and an employee was killed by the onslaught of people. When the police shut down the store for a few hours to assess the scene, the shoppers responded with complaints about how it wasn't fair because they'd been waiting so long to get a good deal.

Isn't consumerism wonderful?

I once wrote about a student who came to class with a glass of beer and who, in another incident, asked me if I thought it would be difficult to "nab a bike from Wal-Mart." Last week, that same student asked me to write him a letter of recommendation. True story.

Read no further if you're uninterested in hearing a rant.

I love to play basketball, but I'm really starting to hate playing at the rec center here on campus (the only gym I have access to on a regular basis). Most of the basketball isn't good basketball. People play bad defense and selfish offense. People cheat whenever possible so that their team will win, and they'll get to keep playing. The games are rough, and I usually come home bruised. There are usually three open courts, but there are typically up to 20 people waiting to play on the main court. If I ever say something like, "Hey, instead of sitting out, maybe we could get two more games going and everybody could play at once," but I usually find that people won't even make eye contact with me. I suspect it's because I'm white (98% of the players are black). When I do get in a game, I seldom get the ball passed to me, and I often hear people on the sidelines making fun of me or expecting me to play poorly. Again, I suspect it's because I'm white. Never mind the fact that I'm usually the most fundamentally skilled player in the gym and regularly score at least half of my team's points.

I just want to play basketball, and I'm really tired of not being able to.

Because Sarah and I will both have a few months off this summer, we figured it would be a perfect time to take an extended vacation and celebrate my graduation. We hadn't made any concrete plans until Saturday, but then I came across a cheap flight and some wheels started turning in my head...

Here's the plan. In late July, we'll fly from home to New York City, where we'll stay for a day and a half and take in any many sights as possible. From NYC, it's off to Copenhagen, Denmark via Reykjavik, Iceland. We'll only be in Iceland for eight hours, but we'll still try and do something, maybe see some ice or land or something. When we arrive in Copenhagen the next day, we hope to find Sarah's parents, who are planning drive up from France, and do some sightseeing in Scandinavia. Then, it's off to France until the middle of August, briefly back to Copenhagen (this time via Zurich, Switzerland and Dusseldorf, Germany), Reykjavik, and NYC, and then finally we'll end up back home.

The great part for us is that we get to take the adventure, AND our tickets cost significantly less than what we were planning to pay for just a flight to France. We feel blessed. And excited. Only eight more months.

Because it gives me the best chance to get a used book online, I always like to buy my textbooks for my upcoming semesters as soon as possible. A few weeks ago, I was talking with a professor who will be teaching one of my classes next term, and I asked her what books I'd need for her class. After she told me, I immediately went online to see what kind of a deal I could get.

I didn't see many bargains, and I noticed that a new edition had just been published, which isn't great because it means that the market isn't flooded with old books people are trying to get rid of. I went to my professor and asked her if she knew about the new edition. She didn't, and she suggested that I contact the publisher on her behalf and ask them to send her two free copies of the new edition: one for her, and one for her assistant (i.e., the person assisting her on this task, i.e., me).

Because I wanted to be nice, and because I was interested to see if I could get a $95 book for free, I agreed. On one hand, I can see how it would make sense for the publisher to comply. Either they do, and the 20 other students in her class buy the new edition, or they don't, and everybody buys the old edition. In the first instance, the publisher gives away $200 and makes $2000 in return. In the second instance, the publisher gives away $0 and makes $0 in return. I'm no mathematician, but last time I checked, an $1800 profit is better than no profit. On the other hand, I always strongly doubted that they'd actually send a book to me just because I asked them to do so. And yet on Monday, the books arrived in my campus mailbox.

I'm pretty sure I'll never again feel totally comfortable while buying a book.

I'm not a big fan of our mail carrier. In order to get him to pick up outgoing mail, I have to leave it sticking out of the mailbox so he can see it, otherwise he refuses to check the box to see if there's any mail inside. Yesterday, I was trying to mail two things: a Netflix movie, and a birthday card. Like usual, I bent the bright red Netflix envelope over the edge of our vertical mailbox and closed the lid down on top of it so a bunch of red peeked out of the outside. He seldom misses it when I do that. I also put the birthday card inside the box, knowing that he should see it when he opened the box to take out the other envelope.

When I got home yesterday, the mailbox was stuffed with junkmail and a small package. As I was taking everything out, I noticed that, not only had he missed the card, but he had completely smashed it when he crammed everything else into the box. And since today is Veteran's Day and there's no mail service, there's little chance the card will make it on time. Great. Thanks mailman.

Not everyone should pass the Civil Service Exam.

In my class on Wednesday, I passed back some assignments I'd graded, and then I fielded some questions from a student about her grade.

Student: Why did I get marked down right here? (pointing to a clearly wrong answer with the correct answer written beside it in my handwriting with a different color pen)
Me: Umm ... because your answer was wrong.
Student: But that girl got it right. (pointing to no one, as everyone else had gone home by then)
Me: She had this exact answer? (pointing to the answer that she'd written and I'd crossed off)
Student: No. She had this. (pointing the correct answer, written in my handwriting in a different color pen beside her answer, which was was crossed off)
Me: Umm ... I wrote that.
Student: Oh ... Well, then why did I get this one wrong? (pointing to the next question, where I'd again crossed off her answer and written the correct one beside it)

Not everyone should go to college.

I feel like I should be posting something today. I also feel like I'm going to be late for work if I don't go iron my clothes and then take a shower. I also feel like feeding a child carob cake on his first birthday is borderline child abuse. Anyone know the statute of limitations on child abuse?

I was at the gym the other day, and as I was leaving, I was walking behind two young kids (age 8-10) who were on their way home to dinner. Here's their dialogue.

Kid 1: I can't wait to get home. We're having my favorite food: baked pasta with a red sauce. What's your favorite food?
Me: Pasta with red sauce, what's your problem, kid?
Kid 2: Umm... Ummm... Steak! No, that's not what it's called.
Kid 1: I like pasta. And pizza.
Me: That's better.
Kid 1: And brisket.
Me: Brisket!? I don't think I've ever even eaten brisket!
Kid 1: And corned beef. I love corned beef.
Kid 2: Yeah, that's it! Corned beef! From Zimmerman's.
Me: Wait, what!? What's happening?
Kid 1: Are you from Ann Arbor?
Kid 2: Yes.
Kid 1: Me too.
Me: Oh. So that's what it's like to be the child of a yuppie...

I don't know how many of you looked at my sister and brother-in-law's new peanut, I mean baby, but I noticed that, when you magnify the picture of the ultrasound, the kid already looks a lot like a certain uncle to be. It's grainy, but it's uncanny really. I took the liberty of giving you the enlarged version below.

Every once in a while, I get a migraine. A lot of people say they get 'migraines,' but I'm not talking about a headache here. I mean that, every once in a while, I get a MIGRAINE. They usually hurt so much that I have to go to sleep. When I wake up, the pain is typically a little better, but I still feel like I've been hit in the head with a baseball bat. This dull ache usually lessens over the course of a few days--almost like recovering from being hit in the head with a baseball bat.

Anyway, before every migraine, I have a weird visual phenomena that's lets me know the pain is coming. Typically, it comes in the form of a jagged line of light that cuts through my visual field on the right side of my body. It's super annoying, and I usually can't wait for the pain to come so that it will go away, and so that I'll be sure that I'm not going blind. Almost always, it interferes with my vision for about an hour, goes away, and is replaced by the headache.

On Saturday, I'd finished my reading for the day (7 hours worth), and Sarah and I were headed to the mall to wander around. Halfway there, a jagged flash of light slashed through my left visual field; this one was spectacular, accompanied by a rotating ball of fire. Although the visual artifacts had never come on the left before, I knew what was coming.

As usual, the vision problem lasted for about an hour. But during that hour, I did wonder whether I was actually having a stroke, not a migraine. My fear started when I began having trouble seeing people's faces and reading signs: I knew they were there, I just couldn't make them out. Later, faces looked like Picasso paintings. And I mean EXACTLY like Picasso paintings. It was like I was in an art gallery. A disturbing, disturbing art gallery.

It's actually pretty scary to consider that you might be having a stroke. I even told Sarah that, if I started having trouble communicating or my face started sagging, we needed to go to the hospital. But at the end of an hour, the headache came and the vision problems went away. No stroke. Just a regular old baseball bat to the head. When I thought about it later, I realized what had been happening.

See, visual signals on the left are typically processed by the right side of the brain. That early artifact on the left was likely indicative of a problem on the right side of my brain (i.e., a migraine = swollen blood vessels; swollen blood vessels = impaired functioning) . The right side of the brain is theorized to be in charge of visual processing and facial perception. No wonder I couldn't read very well or make out faces. I even found out that there's a neuroscientist who likes to argue that Picasso's cubism was the result of migraines.

If only I could paint!

Here's where I must not have been clear in my last post:

1. There's no mystery is Joshua 2. The spies went to see Rahab because they wanted to have sex while they were on a mission from God.
   
2. Reading Joshua 2 in this light would give an entirely new meaning to the wheeling and dealing that the spies did with Rahab. She uses the information to blackmail them, and they essentially beg her to keep their 'secret' when they come back to invade (i.e., don't tell anyone what we did).
3. If you are familiar with the traditional interpretation of the passage, you will probably balk at the idea that the 'secret' might be about sex, however (a) the spies were already safe from the angry citizens of Jericho when they made the deal with Rahab, so (b) the 'secret' they want her to keep doesn't seem like it would be that they are hiding; it could instead be the embarrassing fact that they've had sex with a prostitute and non-Israelite.
   
4. I was wondering why no commentators talk about this, because it seems CENTRAL to the interpretation of the passage.

I have to go, the cat just barfed on the bathroom rug. It's a glamorous life I live.

Joshua 2:1

Then Joshua the son of Nun sent two men as spies secretly from Shittim, saying, "Go, view the land, especially Jericho " So they went and came into the house of a harlot whose name was Rahab, and lodged there.

I was reading a different translation (NASB) of this passage than I normally do (NIV), and something struck me as different. In this chapter, Joshua, the military and political leader of the wandering Israelites, has sent two spies into enemy territory to check out the land and assess for potential vulnerabilities. Here was my thought process.

1. Harlot? Why not just say prostitute?
2. Prostitute? Why do two spies stay with a prostitute?
3. Hey! I know why two out-of-towners go to see a prostitute! To have sex with her!
   
4. How come everybody always talks about Rahab's righteousness and nobody ever talks about (a) the fact that the spies were depraved, and (b) the fact that it was their that depravity almost caused them to get caught and killed?
   
5. What happens in Jericho stays in Jericho.
   

I taught about the introductory principles of behavioral psychology in my classes last week. The beginnings of the topic are pretty simple: 1) figure out what is rewarding to your subject, 2) reward the behaviors that you want to increase, 3) ignore the behaviors that you want to decrease. During the lecture, I had the following exchange with a student:

Student: I noticed that you always say "Good question!" whenever anyone asks a question in class. Are you doing this stuff to us, and like, messing with us?
Me: (rewarding the act of posing a question) Good question!
Class: (laughs)
Me: (ignoring the implication that I'm manipulating students, which I am) No, but that is a good question. What do you think?
Student: I don't know. You just seem to always be really nice about questions.
Me: (It's working! It's working!) That's true. I try to encourage participation and questions.
Student: Oh ok. I get it.
Me: Anyway, that was a good question. Does anyone else have any questions?
Class: (hands go up)

Skinner lives.

It's been a busy week. There are probably some real things I could post about (happy birthday grandma!), but this morning I'm unfortunately left with only two choices. I can either write some witty post about the religious groups who have recently been invading campus and screaming at everyone who walks by about how everybody is going to go to Hell, OR I can maintain my basic hygiene and take a shower and shave for the first time in three days.

Stupid social norms.

2008: when Chinese desserts go commercial.

Recently, I went to a local service organization to observe some kids with autistic spectrum disorders. For the most part, I didn't interact much with the kids; although in one instance, a little girl with bright eyes and a toothy smile stared at me from across the room. With a grin and unwavering eye contact, she maneuvered over to where I was sitting on the floor and then thrust her nose about an inch from mine. She grabbed my face with both her hands and exclaimed, "Aaaaahhhhh baaaaaaahhhhh!"

I was intrigued. I had no idea if this was typical behavior for her, if it was great that she was trying to initiate an interaction, or if it was inappropriate social behavior that she wasn't supposed to be engaging in. Nobody was telling her to stop, so I said, "Hi!" She repeated, more insistently this time, "Aaaaahhhhh baaaaaaahhhhh!!!" I didn't respond, and she let go of my face but continued to stare insistently into my eyes. When her mom finally dragged her away, I said "Bye!" To which she responded, "Aaaaahhhhh baaaaaaahhhhh?" I'll always wonder what she wanted.

As part of my duties at the university, I work for a few hours a week for a lab in the department. My lab is a pretty large one: it's run by a professor who is very interested in research, so we have lots of projects going on and lots of graduate students who are involved in running things. Every week, we all meet for an hour to discuss how things are going with our various projects. Lately, the professor has been assigning articles for us to read at home so that we can talk about them during the meetings and think about their implications for our experiments.

I take my duties pretty seriously, so I always take the time to do the assigned readings, ever so tedious as they may be. Most of my labmates do not necessarily have the same outlook. They usually ask me to summarize the articles for them before our meetings. And I do. Because if I don't, we'll have nothing to talk about during the meeting, and it will be super boring and awkward.

Last week when we were talking about the articles, the supervising professor was tiptoeing around things, acting as if he hadn't read them either. Later he said flat out, "I didn't actually get around to reading this article this week. I had a lot going on. Could someone summarize it for me?" As you might have guessed, all heads turned expectantly in my direction. As it turns out, one is the loneliest number.

I feel like I should be getting a bump in pay.

I was thinking the other day about 'supernatural' events. Scientists and those in the academic world have a real problem with some of the claims of Christianity, namely those that require a violation of a natural law. So for example, if I were to claim that Jesus was raised from the dead, they would say that such an event is impossible according to scientific laws and therefore didn't happen.

What I realized is that all natural laws are based entirely on observation of events. We know that objects on earth fall to the ground at 9.8 m/sec squared because every time we get out our measuring devices and start watching objects fall to the ground, they always seem to fall at that speed. In other words, a law is a law because we've never observed any violation of the law. If we were to reliably observe some violation, say an object that consistently falls at 100 m/sec squared, then we would have to rethink our law.

And this wouldn't be a problem; this happens in science with some regularity: new information leads to changes in laws or to changes in they way we think about the natural world. No one had observed bacteria in the time of Louis Pasteur, and some people ridiculed him for his insistence that 'invisible' creatures (he couldn't see the bacteria) were polluting things. However, once he found tangible evidence of microorganisms, his detractors had to rethink the nature of disease.

I think you can see the problem with claims against Christian belief in 'supernatural' events. Jesus was raised from the dead you say? We've never observed anything like that before. It must not have happened. There are germs contaminating our milk you say? We've never observed anything like that before. It must not be happening.

You can feel free to drink all the unpasteurized milk you want, but I'm going to go ahead and assert that, until we've been able to observe everything in the universe for all of time, scientific laws are always going to be subject to change, and it's always going to remain a scientific possibility that Christ was raised from the dead.

Bruce Springsteen is coming to town for an Obama rally, and students, faculty, and staff at my university are eligible for free tickets. The students don't seem very excited about it, but the *ahem* 'mature' ladies I work with at the counseling center are ridiculously giddy. On Thursday, a bunch of people left in the middle of work to go down to the box office to pick up their free tickets. I'm not going to the concert, but someone asked if I would come down as well--so she could have my ticket. We were waiting for the ticket window to open when I observed the following interaction between a 30-ish female cowoker and a young male student who happened to be walking through.

Student: What's with this line?
Coworker: The Boss is coming!
Student: The who?
Coworker: (Incredulous look) The Boss. Bruce Springsteen. He's giving a concert!
Student: Bruce who?
Coworker: (Dejected look) Springsteen. Bruce Springsteen.
Student: Oh! Is he that old guy who plays acoustic guitar?

Everyone gets old sometime. Today just happened to be her day.

I was prepping a class for a quiz yesterday, and I was just about to pass it out when I was interrupted in the middle of, "So if there are no more questions..."

Student: I wasn't here last week, what should I do?
Me: (dumbfounded silence)
Student: (dumbfounded silence)
Me: Well, you have two options: (a) take the quiz, or (b) don't take the quiz. Best case scenario, you get 100%. Worst case scenario you get 0%. If you don't take the quiz, you automatically get a zero, so taking the quiz would probably be helpful.
Student: (thinking about what to do)
Me: (dumbfounded silence)
Student: I guess I'll take the quiz.

Not everyone should go to college.

A lot of people are worried about the economy--and with good reason. But the media isn't helping. Yesterday the stock market "crashed," and all the news outlets reported that the Dow recorded the biggest one-day point drop in the history of the world. Great news. Bad math.

While it's true that the Dow fell 777 points, it began at 11,142. This means that the average fell about 7%. Compare that to Black Thursday (Oct. 24, 1929), where the Dow fell about 13%, a drop almost twice as large as yesterday's. By November 11, 1929, the market had fallen over 40%. In order to see a similar drop today, the Dow would need to fall to 6685 by mid-October. Now that would signal a disaster.

Furthermore, big drops in the Dow don't necessarily indicate impending financial collapse. On Oct. 19,1987, also known at Black Monday, the average fell almost 23%. As you'll recall, there was no "Great Depression" of the late 80's. (In fact, stocks rallied and posted a record gain the very next day).

The point of all this is that these may seem like difficult economic times, and things are harder than they have been in the past few years, but life in the United States is still good, no great. We have food; we have shelter; we have all the IPhones money can buy. How's this for difficult economic times: the unemployment rate in Zimbabwe is currently estimated to be 85% (6.1% in the US), with an inflation rate of 10,000,000% (the next highest inflation rate is Burma, at about 40%). Try buying an IPhone when they cost $3,000,000,000 (that's 3 billion with a B), and you don't have a job.

Yesterday I was working out when the doorbell rang. There was no one immediately visible when I opened the door, but I peeked around the corner of the doorframe and saw that a smallish man with glassy eyes was standing on the porch. He was holding a half-empty Heineken underneath crossed arms, and his breath smelled a lot like the drink wasn't his first of the day. In an Caribbean accent that I couldn't quite place, he slurred, "I'mmm frommm nexxxt dooorr, annd I waas jusst wonder-ring ... doo youu haave a blaack annd white caat? Because itt's a nice caat, buut sometimessss it bugss mee. Look, it'sss righttt there inn my yarddd." He pointed to a cat-sized rock in his yard. Interesting. I looked at the rock for awhile and finally decided, "Nope, that's not ours. We do have three cats, but they stay inside all the time. Our other neighbor might have a cat, but I don't know." To which narrowed his eyes and replied, "Whaatever," as he sauntered back to his porch with a gate that made me wonder if he might have a wooden leg.

In other news, I'm never letting our cats outside--too many pirates around here.

This week, in the classes that I teach, the first assignment of the semester was due. For some reason, a few students always have trouble with figuring out what to do. Since the directions for the assignment are expressly laid out in the textbook in five bullet points, I usually say something like,

"For the love of all that's good in the world, please read the directions and then follow them exactly. It's really important that you do, because some of them are really easy, and I would hate to have to take points away for something silly. For example, look at point number two. It says, 'For one point (out of ten), staple or paperclip everything together.' So, please, please, whatever you do, staple or paperclip all your pages together. That way, I won't feel like a jerk for taking off points for something stupid, and you'll get all your points."

I had this conversation three times:

Student: I don't have a staple.
Me: I'm sorry to hear that.
Student: What should I do?
Me: It's actually totally up to you.
Student: (Confused look) So it's okay if I turn it in?
Me: (smiling/blank expression)
Student: So should I just put my name on everything?
Me: (smiling/blank expression)
Student: (Annoyed look, turns in unstapled paper and leaves)
Me: Have a good day!

Not everyone should go to college.

Yesterday I was at school from 8:30 AM to 8:30 PM. Tomorrow I'll be there from 7 AM to 7 PM. I don't really have any comments about these data, I just thought you should know. Something else you should know? The word "data" is indeed plural (see usage above). Datum is singular. Correct usage = "The data show that..." Incorrect usage = "The data shows that..." That is all.

Revealing thought of the day: The cats frequently make me sneeze. For retribution, I sneeze on them whenever possible.

Yesterday, I was teaching a class in a computer room in the library. The assignment was for the students to use PsychInfo, a database of scientifically-oriented articles related to psychology, to find two scientific articles that were related to both psychology and some interest of theirs (e.g., about sports psychology, motivation, emotion, whatever). When everyone was working on this, a student called me over to her computer and said, "I'm not finding the kind of articles I want." I looked at her search terms. They were "sexuality," "sexual attractiveness," and "sex." As her results showed 817 scientific articles, I wondered two things: (a) what was it, exactly, that she was hoping to find, and (b) whether she would be smart enough to finish this particular search in a dark room at home.

I have a few minutes before I have to leave for my 7AM meeting, and I thought I'd share a quick story. I've don't know my new students very well yet, but I'm becoming familiar with one of them pretty quickly. On the first day of class, he came a few minutes late. No big deal. He wasn't wearing shoes. No big deal. And he was carrying a glass of beer. I knew it was beer because I said, "So ... that must be apple juice, right?" To which he replied, "If you want it to be." Big deal? I'm not really sure...

Yesterday, he asked me, "Hey, how hard do you think it would be to nab a bike from Wal-Mart?" (As in, steal.) More on him as things develop.

Probably because the media streams it into every waking moment of my consciousness (metaphorically speaking, of course), I've been thinking a lot about the upcoming presidential election. I've come to the following conclusions.

1. John McCain is not my ideal candidate
2. Barack Obama is not my ideal candidate
3. If Barack Obama died in office, Joe Biden would not be likely to do something stupid that might irrevocably alter world history
4. If John McCain died in office, Sarah Palin might do something stupid that would irrevocably alter world history
   
5. John McCain might die in office (old age, disease, disaster, etc.)
   
6. I haven't been convinced to vote for Barack Obama, but I have been convinced that I can't vote for John McCain because of Sarah Palin

Update as of 11:35 AM

Let me clarify: I don't think she's any more intelligent than your average hockey mom, which is exactly who she claims to be. I don't think she's qualified to lead a major city, much less a world superpower (previous experience = short stint as mayor of a town of 9,500 + short stint as governor of a state of 670,00). I don't think she's been entirely honest with the American public (for example, see her comments about her positions on the "Bridge to Nowhere" and "earmarked" funds). I don't think she'd be on the ticket if McCain hadn't wanted to pander to the evangelicals/white, middle-class women.

Personally, I don't feel comfortable with the idea of Palin, or any other hockey mom, presiding over the Senate and having the potential to step in to the most powerful position in the world.

When I suggested that my behaviorally-oriented professors were using too many behavior modification techniques in teaching my classes, I didn't realize that they are actually required to do so by their certifying board.

From the Behavior Analysts Code of Ethical Conduct:

5.07 Providing Behavior Analysis Principles in Teaching

The behavior analyst utilizes as many principles of behavior analysis in teaching a course as the material, conditions, and academic policies allow.

What!? So, I'm confused. Is this a cult or a science? I'm going to go ahead and cry foul over illegal wedding of church and state. Stop trying to shape me with your voodoo, or I will have to show you the love of Christ during class. Then you'll be sorry.

You may recall that behaviorism is a movement that emphasizes the reinforcement of desired behaviors. In the classroom, this translates to (a) rewarding students who participate in class and punishing those who do not, and (b) giving assessments often, which is intended to reinforce those who choose to do the out-of-class work and punish those who do not. The idea is to encourage students to participate actively in class and at home. My classes this semester are taught by behaviorists. Here are some observations.

1. I am a graduate student
2. I already know how to learn
3. I am good at learning
4. My learning style does not fit in your box
5. Clarence Thomas hasn't spoken in open court in 31 months: I'm pretty sure I shouldn't lose points if I don't ask a question or make a comment in every class
6. I don't pay $450 a credit hour to listen to my classmates talk about their personal lives and ask irrelevant questions; I pay for you to tell me what I need to know

I spent all weekend reading. I have to go read now.

My rants about Sarah Palin continue. I read an article yesterday that described how Palin, when addressing a group of ministry students, said that the United States sent troops to Iraq to execute God's will. She also said that it was God's will to build a 30-billion-dollar natural gas pipeline through Alaska.

Was it? I'll have to check again, but the last time I looked, there was nothing in the Bible about the Iraq war or a pipeline through Alaska. Perhaps she deduced these things from biblical principles, I don't really know. I'd really like to believe that she did, and I applaud the openness with which she discusses her faith. But it makes me VERY nervous that she's using the "God's will" card to justify her political policies and personal opinions. I'm sure you'll recall a little something I like to call the Crusades. And the Spanish Inquisition. And Nazi Germany. And Jihad against the West. And on and on and on.

Who is privy to knowing the mind of God?

I had my first day of the new semester today, and I learned an important lesson.

(20 hours at the counseling center) + (20 hours of teaching/research) + (full course load) = (really busy week)

(really gross week) X (30 weeks) = (really gross year) = (I wish there was something I could do about it) = (there isn't anything I can do about it)

This math makes me want to throw up.

Sarah Palin made two announcements today. First, she noted that she hired a lawyer to defend her against claims that she tried to have her former brother-in-law, a state trooper, illegally fired. Then, she said that her 17-year-old daughter is pregnant. (The PR machine put a positive spin on the affair, noting that the girl would both bring the pregnancy to full term and marry the father.) We Christians are big on leaders who can manage their own households. I'm not sure if this qualifies as effective management.

I am decidedly NOT anti-Republican. I am against voting for people SOLELY because they share your denomination. I still don't who I'm voting for. Let's not be rash.

The Evangelicals are crowing because John McCain's choice for vice president, Sarah Palin, was raised in a Pentecostal church and is herself an evangelical. Her shining quality seems to be her strong and proven commitment to the Pro-Life movement. Which is great. Unless you're a salmon. Or a bear or giant crab. Or apparently any type of animal.

Palin, an avid hunter and lifelong member of the National Rifle Association, is not shy about her passion for killing our furry woodland friends. Which is fine: I am in no way comparing abortion to hunting. But I am wondering why the Evangelicals have so quickly thrown their support behind Palin. Do all of them love to kill animals too?

Or have they been so excited that they've forgotten there are other issues to be considered. The Pro-Life movement doesn't always focus on the fact that a large percentage of all abortions occur in women of low and low-middle economic classes, accounting for 78% of all abortions in a poll conducted by Forbes. Palin can be as Pro-Life as she wants, but if her economic policies are bad, more abortions will be sought. So perhaps her economic policies should be viewed with extra scrutiny, because sadly, the person who fixes the economy is the person who decreases abortions.

Furthermore, there are other issues at hand. Last time I checked, millions are dying in Africa due to genocide, AIDS, and hunger. Millions. Global sea levels are rising, threatening the homes, livelihood, and lives of millions elsewhere. Millions. What's her plan for this stuff? What's your plan?

In general, I'm not suggesting that she will be a better or worse VP than Joe Biden, but I am suggesting that there are multiple issues on the table here. Let's not throw our unquestioning support behind candidates about whom we know little. Think about ramifications before you vote.

Sarah told me this evening that her school is gearing up to ban certain foods for the upcoming year. A health advisory committee will be making decisions about foods that the students will no longer be allowed to consume on campus. Even if they're sent from home. Cake, cupcakes, and brownies were the first to hit the chopping block.

Sarah also tells me that the people on the health advisory committee are the school's PE teachers. Really? These are the people qualified to decide what we feed our children? The people who teach them how to play kickball and touch their toes? The people who took 4 years of EDUCATION courses in college? They undoubtedly love teaching and are highly qualified to TEACH, but the last time I checked, the minimum requirement for advising me on what to eat were the letters "M" and "D" bestowed by a medical school. Even then, I'm not so sure how I feel about that.

Furthermore, one question. Are we in some sort of Bizarro world? I was under the impression that this was America, not some sort totalitarian regime where agencies of the government regulate what foods we feed our children. My mistake.

Last time I checked, this wasn't Cuba or China or North Korea. This was the United States of America. And this isn't just about food. It's about the fact that all of us have been standing passively by as our freedoms are degraded in the name of health and safety. I'm not just talking about the Patriot Act and the Department of Homeland Security.

It's true that trans fats are bad. Does this mean the government should be able to tell me that I can't eat them if I want to? In California and New York City, apparently so. But not getting enough sleep is bad. What are they doing about that? Are they going to tell me I can't drink caffeine or exercise before bed? Why not? What's the difference? High fructose corn syrup may have a link to diabetes. Are they going to outlaw Coke, Pepsi, and Mountain Dew? Why not? Over-consumption of red meat has a fairly strong relationship with heart disease and high cholesterol. Are they going to tell people they can't eat steak? Why not?

The bottom line is that the government can give us all the advice it wants, but when it starts telling us what to do, it's no longer a representation of "we the people," it's a regime of "them the rulers." Our borders are closing, our homes are being taken away, our economy is faltering, and our freedoms are eroding beneath us. Something is happening here, and I don't like it.

Call your congressman. Call the ACLU. Call the police. Most importantly, call your friends. This needs to be discussed. This needs to be stopped. This needs to be done together, and it needs to be done NOW. All six of you who are reading this have to do something. Do it. Now.

Sarah is wordier than I am.

I spent most of the day today doing nothing. I can only hope for more of the same tomorrow.

I'm back. We had a good time. Now I sleep.

I'll be gone for a few days. I'll probably come back. We'll see.

The secretary for the graduate program has been telling people that I am a "psychology rockstar." When I walked into class today, one of my classmates had just finished calling me a "genius." A while back, I wrote an essay that heavily critiqued (i.e., ridiculed) some papers on free will that were written by three famous scientists/philosophers (Donald Hebb, Herbert Feigl, and Sir Karl Popper), and today my professor told me that she found herself mocking her TV with the logic from my essay. Things have been going well for me this summer. A little too well.

Nothing good can come of this.

I just finished my final paper for my final summer class. I didn't actually think I was going to finish so early (figured I was going to have to stay up all night tonight), so I'm pretty happy to be done with it, but I'll only get excited when I finish my final exam tomorrow. Too many finals around here.

For one of my essays, I wrote a four-page allegory depicting a dystopian society of farm animals who won't consider the new agricultural techniques suggested by an outsider. It's really about how graduate students shouldn't be deterred when professors won't listen to them. It's called, "There's a Pig among Us." I doubt my professor will see many similar pieces (ever), and I'm pretty sure my choice of topic and and means of conveying it indicate that I am (a) officially a grad student, and (b) not shy about discussing the shortcomings of "the man."

While taking a break from reading for my class, I was reading an article on ESPN.com about Michael Phelps' latest triumph, a gold medal in the 200m butterfly. The author declared,

In the fly, his signature stroke, Phelps was second at the first flip, then pushed it into another gear, his long arms gobbling up huge chunks of water as he literally sailed along atop the surface. He touched the wall in 1 minutes, 52.03 seconds, breaking his mark of 1:52.09 from last year's world championships.

Well no wonder the guy is the best swimmer the world has ever seen: he's a frickin cheater! Sailing along atop the surface?!? Does everybody else get a boat too? I'm shocked that he hasn't been disqualified.

Here's a tip for all you professional writers out there: use of the word "literally" indicates that something is actually happening in real life. As in, I'm literally not sure how this story got picked up by the AP without basic editing. I think you meant something along the lines of, "Michael Phelps was figuratively sailing along atop the surface." You actually meant to say the antithesis of what you did indeed write. Oops.

Of course, it's not as bad as the NPR reporter I heard a while back. She was talking with a woman and noted that she could "literally see dollar signs in her eyes." In her eyes? Help! Someone call an ophthalmologist!

Crunch time. And unfortunately, I'm not talking about Doritos.

For a while, the tabloids have been claiming that John Edwards fathered a "love child" out of wedlock with a former staff member. Edwards had been vehemently denying those claims, but earlier this evening he admitted to having an extramarital affair back in 2006. This story is unfortunate for several reasons: (a) he actually had the affair--devastating his family, (b) he gave some undue legitimacy to the National Enquirer, and (c) he disappointed me personally--his activism for the plight of the downtrodden and his engaging and sensitive personality gave me some hope for the future of the Democratic party (no offense to Senator Obama). While he is still the same person he was yesterday, he's now just another name on the long list of politicians who publically stump from a platform of morality and values but 'privately' stoop to the gutter of sexual indiscretions.

We all have our vices, but the lure of sex seems particularly strong for politicians. Even the moral ones. I wonder how much more work would get done in Washington if we just mandated that everybody on Capitol Hill take Depo-Provera (an agent used in chemical castration) for the duration of their terms?

Let's get that on the next ballot.

Today in my history of psychology class my professor was lecturing about Friedrich Nietzsche, who has been historically seen as very anti-Christian in his views (he made the famous proclamation that "God is dead"). My professor said that Nietzsche is one of her favorite writers (both for the quality and content of his writing), but as she was explaining his three main problems with religion, my professor kept her back turned to the class for an extended moment and finally exclaimed, "I just can't look at Max when I'm saying this."

Some say it's difficult to be a Christian in a secular university, but apparently it's actually us who are making them uncomfortable.

I've been busy this past week with my midterm essays for my summer class. Unfortunately, now that I've finished, there are only two weeks left in the term, and I'm going to have to hustle in order to get everything done for the final. I'm pretty sure it's still better than having a real job.

In other news, my real job (adjunct lecturer, if you'll recall) has been going well. I'm pretty sure that working 5 hours a week is a pretty ideal situation. Other than the money thing. That's how they get you.

Perhaps you'll remember that time two years ago when my young life was nearly cut short by a horde of angry yellow jackets. At the time, the doctors said that I'd be in trouble (i.e., dead) if I got stung again. Since then, I've been cowering/running away like a little girl at the very thought of bees, much more the sight of them.

On Monday, Dad and I were golfing, and we thought I'd hit my ball into a bush near the green. While we were poking around in there, we must have disturbed a family of yellow jackets, because the next thing I knew, I was once again being assaulted by angry hornets. They're aggressive little suckers. In the end, I got stung four times in the shoulder (and Dad got a bunch too).

You'll note that I'm not dead. Also note that the worst effect occurred on my scorecard. Turns out, fear of imminent death is distracting. I blame the doctors. They made me paranoid: I duffed three chips in a row and then three putted. Thanks guys. Although my shoulder has been itchy and a little swollen ever since, IT HASN'T BEEN DEAD. Two years of fear for nothing.

Score: Doctors: -4, Me: 472, (Bees: 1,887)

(Also, Detroit Tigers: negative infinity. Here's a tip: DON'T TRADE A HALL OF FAME CATCHER FOR A RELIEF PITCHER. ESPECIALLY TO THE YANKEES. I'm going on record as being fundamentally opposed to this.)

If you haven't been following along at home, here's a quick quiz to help get you up to speed about what's going on in Detroit, or as I call it, Michigan's anus. (Can he say that? What a gross body part. How inappropriate. Someone call the police.)

Detroit's mayor, Kwame Kilpatrick, has gotten himself into trouble recently by allegedly*:

(a) Awarding lucrative city jobs and contracts to friends and family
(b) Becoming implicated in the murder of a stripper
(c) Feloniously perjuring himself to hide an affair with a subordinate and the illegal firing of whistle blowers
(d) Using $210,000 in city funds to lease cars and buy massages, dinners, and alcohol
(e) Assaulting a police officer
(f) Using portions of the "Kilpatrick Civic Fund" (intended for city improvement) to take a vacation to a 5-star resort in California
(g) Using his position to help dismiss court cases
(h) Being named in a slander lawsuit
(h) Funneling $175,000 of state grant money to his wife via a dummy corporation
(i) Throwing a wild party with strippers at the official mayoral residence (the Manoogian Mansion)
(j) Seizing a Harley from the Detroit police for personal use
(k) All of the above

In other news, a dog is running for mayor in Fairhope, Alabama. If he wins, I move that we try and orchestrate some sort of a mayor exchange program.

*Source: Wikipedia, daily news coverage, your mom

I just realized that I've been blogging for 3 years (and 6 days). Thanks for reading. Also, you're welcome. Also,

Ever wondered about the mental health of a cat? Today's topic: "Cats with Pica: Help, we can't stop eating non-nutritive and potentially deadly substances that look nothing like the things in our typical diet." Here's a supporting anecdote: Sarah was emptying the litter box the other day and found one of her elastic hair ties inside some cat poop.

Question 1: why was Sarah looking inside the cat poop?
Question 2: stop eating things that aren't in your typical diet and could get caught in your intestines and make you die!
Fact: I was able to salvage the hair tie (don't tell Sarah).

Tomorrow's topic: "Cats with omnibuphobia: Scaredy cats, fraidy cats, and the humans who shout unexpectedly and watch them scramble away in hilarious fear for their lives."

Sarah recently posted about autism being a silent illness that is difficult for some outsiders (those not in the 'know') to understand. Highlighting this perfectly, Michael Savage, America's third-most-popular talk radio host (8 million listeners) recently suggested that 99% of children with autism are actually just "brats." He believes that they just need to be told to "straighten up" and stop acting like "idiots," contending that autism is a money-making scam invented by drug companies and physicians.

Ignorance may be bliss, but sometimes it really makes you look like a baboon.

I got an email from a student today. It read,

Hello
I was

I'm not really sure what he was going for there, but it must have been over my head.

I haven't been posting much of life's minutiae lately. In case you've been wondering, here's my typical week this semester.

• Monday: get up; read for class; play guitar; go to class; enter data for 2 hours; watch TV/exercise; go to bed
• Tuesday: get up; prepare for teaching; teach; enter data for two hours; go to the gym; watch TV; go to bed
• Wednesday: get up; read for class; play guitar; go to class; enter data for two hours; watch TV/exercise; go to bed
• Thursday: get up; prepare for teaching; teach; enter data for two hours; go to the gym; watch TV; go to bed
• Friday: get up; read for class; play guitar; enter data for two hours; go the the gym; watch TV; go to bed

There seems to be a pattern in there.

Let me ask you this: I don't have much to update.

Turning off the lights when you go to bed: typical
Turning off the lights when you go to the bathroom: unorthodox

Petting a cat after a long day at work: soothing
Petting a cactus after a long day at work: prickly

Using an umbrella in the rain: preventative
Using an umbrella in the shower: ridiculous

Going to the park and luring birds with breadcrumbs: enjoyable
Going to the park and luring kids with breadcrumbs: arrestable

Practicing your punting by drop-kicking a football: advisable
Practicing your punting by drop-kicking a rabbit: dissatisfying

Picture it. Do it. Picture it.

Raising your hand before addressing your teacher: polite
Raising your hand before addressing your mail: awkward

Drinking cool water from a glass: refreshing
Drinking cool water from a toilet: disgusting

Putting your cat in a kitty carrier for a car trip: necessary
Putting your kid in a kitty carrier for a car trip: abusive

Asking a friend for directions: prudent
Asking a dog for directions: insane

Ever make yourself laugh out loud? Me too. Every single time I read that last one.

Yesterday, I alluded to the fact that our interpretation of an action is often entirely dependent on the setting of that action (and to some extent, the differences in our personalities). On one hand, it's strange that we have these double standards, but on the other hand, it's completely appropriate.

Waving frantically for a taxi: necessary
Waving frantically in someone's face: annoying

Bikini at the beach: popular
Bikini at the dentist: lewd

Taking pictures with your family at a restaurant: normal
Taking pictures of someone else's family at a restaurant: creepy

This is comedy people. I could go on like this all night.

You're in a supermarket. People are milling about. Someone you don't know sidles up to you and exclaims, "Hi. I'm So And So. Would you like to be my new friend and come to my house for an intimate dinner with my closest friends?"

Explanation: you may have just met a serial killer looking for victims.

(Alternative explanation: you may just met my extroverted father-in-law.)

You're in a place of worship. People are milling about. Someone you don't know sidles up to you and exclaims, "Hi. I'm So And So. Would you like to be my new friend and come to my house for an intimate dinner with my closest friends?"

Explanation: you may have just met a Christian looking for fellowship.

(Alternative explanation: you may just met (a) the serial killer, or (b) the father-in-law.)

Speaking as an introverted Christian, I'd like to know why this has become common practice among us. Let's slow the fellowship process down a tad. It'll take a while for me to get comfortable enough to start rifling through your fridge, using your toothbrush, and wearing your underwear. But give it time. I'll get there.

I've begun to hope that, as I age, either (a) the people around me will begin to recognize that I have important things to say, or (b) I will begin to recognize that I don't have important things to say. If reality doesn't approach one of those outcomes, I'm envisioning some combination of a mountaintop hideout, excess facial hair, a 1200-page manifesto, and a lot of shouting at no one in particular.

In other news, our important things keep breaking, and I'm finding it increasingly irritating. In case you'd been wondering, this is why I can never bring myself to spend any of the money you've been sending for my birthday and Christmas gifts. A gas leak in the engine compartment, eh? Well, let me just plug it with these checks I've been hoarding for just such an occasion ... and they're a perfect fit! Good thing I didn't buy that Martin acoustic guitar I'd been 'saving' for: it wouldn't have fit under the alternator.

See what I did there?

A few minutes ago, one of the cats barfed on the floor. While I was in the other room convincing Sarah that I shouldn't be the one to take care of it, a second cat was busy doing the job for us (read: eating the puke). While Sarah thinks it's inestimably gross, I'm really not seeing any sort of downside here. As I write, the third cat is even trying to use (invisible) sand to cover up the spot on the carpet. They're like teenagers who threw a kegger and are trying to piece the lamp back together before Mom and Dad get home. If we can just get them to start emptying the litter box... (and if they'd stop leaving their beer cans behind the couch, that would be great too).

I thought that I should write something.
I thought and thought a lot.
I thought that I should write something.
So I will.

See what I did there? In other news, I've officially started my summer session of classes. I'm taking only 1 class this time around, but I'm also teaching a lab section of Intro Psych. I've taught a number of these sections (6) in previous terms, so there's nothing all that new about it--except for one important semantic distinction. The difference this time around is that the university has officially labeled me an "adjunct lecturer" for the next few months (I mentioned this possibility a while back) . It really doesn't mean anything (I'm doing the same job as when I am a graduate assistant during the regular school year), but it can now be officially installed as the centerpiece of my resume.

10,000 words about Montreal

As you may have noticed, I've been feeling somewhat restless lately. I'm pretty sure that I'm just in the mood to get away from routine for a while, so Sarah and I are going to make a brief jaunt to a strange and far-away land. Some refer to this place as Canada; others call it the Icy North; a few people don't call it anything but wish it would stop touching us and give us a little personal space.

Whatever you call it, we're leaving for Montreal on Thursday morning and coming back on Saturday night (to Lapeer--this serves as your notice of our ETA for Hannah's birthday exgtravaganza Mom and Dad). It should be fun: they speak another language there (by provincial law, French is the official tongue), it's supposed to be a nice city, and the 10 hours of drive time (each way) should help cure my recent wanderlust.

Things to do before leaving: (a) take my psychopharmacology final, (b) mention to Sarah that, while she was sleeping, I unilaterally decided that we were going to take a trip to Montreal and booked two nights in a hotel there.

Partially kidding.

I'm hear.
Nothing's knew.
Finals weak.
Eye only have won.
Still halve two study.
Goodknight.

My spring semester finishes up on Wednesday evening. I've been trying to figure out what sort of great vacation I can take from Thursday to Saturday-ish. I haven't really come up with anything yet. Maybe I could go for a walk. Exciting.

What will I write about today?
False.
Better luck next time.

P.S. Here's something to think about:

Played golf today.
Great time.
Shot an 81.
Should be happy.

Not so fast.

Could have been a 79.
I don't blame the divot.
Near the 18th green.
Still could have made par.

Didn't.

Recently, a tornado struck a remote camp in Iowa where a group of teen-aged Boy Scouts were having a leadership retreat. Nearly fifty people were injured, and a few kids were even killed. When emergency crews arrived at the scene, the Scouts had already set up a makeshift triage unit and were doing their best to treat the injured and limit loss of life. The news media immediately hailed the helpful survivors as heroes.

I don't deny that this was a horrible event. At the same time, it made me wonder about what the word "hero" means to us. These kids certainly did well, did what what right, but didn't they simply do what anyone should be expected to do in a similar situation? They helped people who needed it: they didn't go out of their way, they worked together, they came to the aid of their fellow human beings. This is how we define heroism? Helping someone even though you probably won't get anything out of it (other than not seeing your friends die). Really?

Who do I blame for this? Me? Certainly not. You? Probably not. The news media? Absolutely. Keep your eyes peeled for more on my growing irritation with the ever-increasing negative influence of this group of headline-grubbing, attention-diverting, fear-mongering individuals, but here's a sneak preview: I don't care what John McCain and Barack Obama had for breakfast. I don't care what they said to some guy at Arby's in 1987. I want to know what they're going to do about energy. About health care, poverty, foreign policy, social security, the subprime mortgage fiasco, and the world's food supply. I want to know who they are as men, fathers, and leaders. I want to know about their spiritualities, their personalities, and their humanities. Make it so.

And speaking of the candidates, I'm sure that both of you are reading this right now, so let me go on record by saying: cut the crap; I'm tired of the political rhetoric; if this is going to work, you have to cooperate too; when someone asks you a question, answer it directly. If what you have to say keeps you out of office, then you weren't the right person for the job to begin with. Done and done.

Bad news.
I ate some carrots.
They gave me gas.

Not the expensive kind.
There's an idea.
A methane-fueled car.

Yesterday we had a big storm. It only lasted for 20 minutes, but when it was done, our street was littered with tree branches, and a giant tree had been uprooted and was resting on our neighbor's house. Apparently, much of the area saw similar problems, and I found the response of the local ABC affiliate to be a little absurd. For the remained of the evening, they had an information bar scrolling across the bottom of their programs. Among the messages about power outages and weather updates suggesting that viewers email their photos and videos of the storm to the station.

Let me get this straight. They want ME to send the news to THEM? What? Isn't this precisely the OPPOSITE of what's supposed to happen? What's the rationale here? Yeah, ahh, we're really swamped right now covering high gas prices and the presidential election that doesn't take place for five months, so if you don't mind, would you do our jobs for us?

Yeah, no problem, and I'll also come down and wipe your butts for you after use the restroom.

There once was a house that was much too hot.
Just sitting around you'd sweat a lot.
The sun beats in.
It's hotter than sin.
I'm going to leave.
Or buy another fan.

Line 5 doesn't rhyme with lines 1 and 2.
It's supposed to.
That's what makes a limerick and limerick.
Well, then this isn't a limerick.
I guess not.
Okay then.

Let's drop it.
Drop what?
I don't remember.
Who are you talking to?
To whom are you talking.
That's what I said.

That's the problem.
Wasn't this a poem?
No.
Okay then.
I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree.
I refuse to do that.

It's hot.

The Detroit Red Wings (hockey), my hometown team, won the Stanley Cup (NHL championship) tonight. On my scale of exciting life moments, this ranks as a 6. But the scale goes up to 400 zillion, so I don't think this event was quite as high ranking as you were initially led to believe. I just wasn't raised to be a hockey fan.

Here's a question for you: I'm going to go to bed.

Top tens signs I'm not motivated to post today:

10. I do a top ten list regarding signs that I'm not motivated to post today
6. I skip numbers
3. I don't finish the list

I stayed up two hours too late doing statistics. And not for fun. Not at all. Then again, who says Beta Coefficients aren't fun. Actually, I say that. Especially when you don't know what they are. That makes two of us. And 20 of us, if you count everybody else in my class, which I do.

In other news, we have ants. Big black ants. Two or three a day. Generally upstairs. I'm pretty sure that, one day soon, hoards of them are going to break through the wall and carry us away. I'll call it "Mold Debacle Two: Ant Boogaloo." You probably didn't get that. I'm going to bed. (Because I'm being wisked there by ants.)

Golf tournament tomorrow. Hopefully no thunderstorms as predicted. Pistons tonight. Hopefully no losses as not predicted. Okey dokey.

Never trust the Pistons. Deeetroit Basket-ball!!! Stupid sports. (If this doesn't make sense, you probably have a life.)

I'm studying for an exam.

Once again, I'm simultaneously watching basketball and posting. ESPN360 might be my new best friend. In other news, Sarah and I had a pretty restful weekend. We mostly hung out at the house, but we also saw a movie (had a gift certificate), ate out (gift certificate), went for a couple of walks, and had take-out from a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant we found while walking. It was cheap and authentic; can't really ask for more (except a gift certificate).

Today in Grad Stats II we were talking about linear regression equations, which sounds scary but is actually just a fancy name for a procedure that allows you to predict one thing on the basis of another thing (e.g., predicting a person's height based on her weight)." Simple, right?

In the course of lecture, my professor passed out this handout (click it to enlarge).

He said, I kid you not, "This should make things a little more clear."

Game 1 of the Pistons-Celtics series is tonight, and I was a little upset about the fact that it isn't on regular TV (just because I don't pay $70 a month for cable, I don't get to watch basketball on a Tuesday night??? Come on!!!!). Then I realized I could watch the whole thing online via ESPN360. I'm watching it right now. And writing this. And eating pie. (You caught me, there's no pie.) Have I mentioned how fantastic the internet is?

Update: although, as of right now, I'm not that pleased with the Pistons being down 11 in the 4th quarter.

Update: I'm not pleased, and the game is over.

Tonight, Sarah and I went and saw the new Chronicles of Narnia movie (Prince Caspian). In general, I'm not a fan of fantasy (see, The Lord of the Rings, etc.), but The Chronicles of Narnia (by C.S. Lewis) are some of my absolute favorite books. Now, I'm not normally the type of person who bashes the cinematic adaptations of literature (if you can tell me the story in 90 minutes and save me 6 hours of reading, more power to you ... ), but ... I'm slightly disappointed with the producers, screenwriters, and directors of this movie.

I'm sure all those people worked really hard on the film, and they certainly succeeded in making an action-packed, family-friendly, blockbuster-sequel-type movie. Unfortunately, they steamrolled Lewis's literary creation. They added 30 minutes of unnecessary action and deleted what probably amounted to 150 pages (out of 200) of Lewis's intricately crafted plot and character development, taking characters in strange directions (e.g., adding conflict and romantic interests where there were none) in the process.

It was clear to me that this departure happened for two reasons. First, Disney (the production company) wanted to appeal to as large an audience as possible so that they could make as much money as possible (hence the extra action and additions of conflict and romance). Second, and more sadly, they had ZERO recognition of the complex theological tensions weaved subtly under the story's surface. (In their defense, I think they understood and referenced the major theological themes, but their changes to plot and characters really shortchanged some important topics.)

Prince Caspian isn't just a tale about a magical world where good triumphs over evil, a lion is king, and some kids kick butt, learn lessons, and fall in love. Prince Caspian is a story about the ultimate failings of reliance on self, about God's command (not ours) over all creation, about the universal human response to the temporary absence of a visible God, about the wrenching struggle between faith and doubt.

I would imagine that 98% of the people who watch the movie won't notice its departation from the book (or will think the changes are positive), and I would guess that many people, both Christians and non, will say that this is a good/great movie. And it was enjoyable to watch, but in the filmmakers' zest to make a maximally-profitable, widely-appealing blockbuster, I think they lost sight of Lewis's larger vision.

I'd guess Lewis himself would be a little saddened by this. I know I am.

I'm pretty sure the cat just barfed. I heard it harking in the other room, and now I'm faced with an unfortunate moral dilemma. Do I go and look for it, or do I wait for Sarah to stumble on it ('slide on it' would probably be a more apt description) when she wakes up in the morning? On the one hand, I don't like cat barf. On the other hand, cat barf isn't liked by me. I think we have arrived at our answer.

It might sound like I'm making this up, but the Vatican's "chief astronomer," the Rev. Jose Gabriel Funes, said today that the Vatican officially allows people to believe in aliens. To be fair, I'm pretty sure he meant that faith doesn't necessarily preclude there being bacteria in another galaxy (all part of God's creation). I'm actually more concerned about the fact that the Vatican has a chief astronomer. This implies that there's a whole team of them.

Mr. Ratzinger, I'm sure you're reading this, and I'm just wondering, is this the best way to allocate your resources? With so many astronomers, how will you adequately pay your geologists, meteorologists, and acrobats?