OMG, you guys. This week is crazy and it's only Tuesday evening.
Last night:
It's been a weird day. Some of the weirdness and randomness was just the universe trying to say howdy but a good chunk was self-induced, though I tried to avoid it as much as possible. Truth be told, I'm still debating whether or not to hit the "delete" button once I finish writing this, but I feel like I need to get over this obstacle.
You see, today would have been my one year anniversary with Brandon. For those who may be out of the loop or who have just noticed the past tense, it's been over for a while. Officially it happened back in September, but actually the end may have been much earlier. Sometimes the "Sell By" and Expiration Dates are a bit different, y'know? I won't go into the details, partly for discretion, partly because I still don't have a complete understanding as to what happened.
Anyway, the day started with me receiving a copy of The Origin of Species: The Kirk Cameron Approved edition. I get to add that to my collection of unsolicited free religious texts. I guess it's a hobby?
We shot most of the multicam episode today but a number of technical problems, including micromanagement (not by me, for once), is forcing us to film on Monday. It's an unfortunate snag that allowed me to start feeling bummed out -- a feeling I was trying to avoid if possible. A few of us went out for dinner and drinks after the shoot which was nice, just not enough to lift my spirits fully.
As I walked past the front of Newhouse on the way to the bus stop there was a commotion on the path between Newhouse and Schine. I thought it might have been a pep rally or something since it is basketball season, but the News10 van indicated that something else must be going on. As I reached the crosswalk I heard someone call out for me. I saw Cyp, Kelly and Tim in the crowd. A number of people were holding signs including Tim, whose sign read "BALLS". This caused the Obie in me to amble over and see what the happs were. A man with a banner advertising an Ex-Gay ministry was being interviewed by a reporter as the students cajoled drivers to honk in support of gays. Good times indeed.
So I don't know how I feel about today. It's been at least two months, but I'm still sad about the situation. However, the sadness doesn't find its source in regret. I know my coming to Syracuse was a contributing factor to the failure, but I think I would regret not having the experiences I've had here with the people I have met.
This whole grad school thing is a process in improving one's self. An evolution, if you will. I'm hoping that by writing this I can now get out of whatever has been bogging me down. Thanks.
The other day, for no reason in particular, I was pondering one of the more bizarre aspects of my undergrad days. I lived in a housing co-operative my freshman year where all the students were responsible for cleaning, organizing activities, and basically running things with very little college intervention. Anyway, whenever the subject of house parties came up at house meetings there would be a discussion of logistics before voting on whether or not to have the party.
Typical logistic issues included the time, whether it is a house or campus party, and what bands we might be able to line up. My favorite topic was if we were going to adopt a "No Asshole" Policy. Basically, don't get so drunk you puke all over the living room, don't drink so much that you cause any fights, and if you bring any friends they need to respect the rules as well. What I love is that we always voted on if we were going to adopt the No Asshole policy. As far as I remember no one lobbied for an "Assholes Only" policy -- and this was at a school where many people use the phrase "just to play devil's advocate..."
Now for some social hygiene....
Whenever a tragedy happens, usually a celebrity death, there is always someone who will chime in "it always comes in threes." It always bugs me, because it really is a matter of when you start counting. For example, someone on my Twitter list grouped the three of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson. One of these things is not like the other...or the other. Really, aside from the fact that they are eligible for Ghoul Pool points, there isn't all that much that connects them.
That is not to say I'm not superstitious...
Let's discuss some of my major events in life, as punctuated by major events.
After my first week of high school, we had a three-day weekend for labor day. Nothing much happened to me that weekend because I was glued to the TV watching the coverage of Princess Diana's crash scene.
My second full week of college began on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.
A couple weeks ago I was wondering what would punctuate my start of grad school. Michael Jackson was not on my radar. I have to wonder how this impact on the world of popular culture will structure the curriculum in the coming months.
All I can say at this point is...wow.
I am slowly starting the process of preparing for the move to Syracuse. I'm not actually moving until July, but I know how slow I can be when packing all my earthly belongings and I really would like to avoid the inevitable situation on June 29th where I look around and say "hmm, maybe I should pick up some boxes tomorrow?"
Right now most things seem easy to condense and move, but I'm not sure what to do with some of my books. Academic books and the fiction will either go with me or get stored at my mom's new place (oh yeah, my mom is getting a new house, woo!) but I have no idea what to do with what I like to call the "expired" books. A Leonard Maltin movie guide from 1995? Course catalogs from Oberlin? A GRE prep book from before the test changed formats? I don't want to just throw them away, but no library is going to want them. Are these sort of things recyclable? And what about the text books that I don't want and can't seem to sell online? I really don't want to continue schleping these things around, but I can't draw the line between discarding books and burning them -- it makes my soul say "ouch".
Any suggestions?
Every Tuesday afternoon the bowling center I work at hosts a local senior bowling league. It's a program that works in conjunction with the town Senior Center and each month they produce a newsletter/booklet called The Chatterbox. It contains a listing of upcoming events for the month, a holiday related recipe or two, a "poem" (or whatever you call rhyming couplets based around banality) and requests for volunteers and donations. I'll usually skim through to see what sort of stuff is happening around town and see if there is anything worth passing to Passive Aggressive Notes or the FailBlog. Here is an excerpt from the newest issue:
IMPORTANT NOTICE:
It is with great regret and sorrow that Ruth and I have decided, due to massive cut backs in spending that we are no longer going to be able to publish the Chatter Box after this publication. We in the past have been running off 650 copies of each page to distribute to the general public in different public areas, hospitals, Dr. offices, living facilities. Our normal publication has at least 9 pages of information and 1 calendar page. That comes to a total of 6,500 pages for each month. The cost of ink has risen too as well as the price of paper. Not only does the increase cost affect us be we too are considering the effect on the environment by cutting so much of our tree population to produce the paper. We as a Senior Center must contribute to saving our planet. It seems like such a small sacrifice to make. I know that some of you will be upset with this news, but all we can say to you is: APRIL FOOLS!
What I like about this is the conversation I'm imagining took place as the author(s) were writing up this joke.
Ruth: Ooo, put in that part about saving trees
Not-Ruth: Yeah! That's a great touch! That'll really make the sale!
Ruth: Hey, wanna hop in my Hummer and knock down trees in the Arb after we print these babies?
I know that conversation didn't take place, but I think it makes their little joke that much more enjoyable.
*I attempted an alfredo style dish on Tuesday. Chop up some onions, garlic, green pepper, spinach, and various other tasty bits and set aside. Boil some water for pasta (I was using some rainbow colored various shaped pasta from Trader Joe's). Cut up some sausage (Sun-dried tomato chicken sausage from TJ's is a good choice). Heat up a skillet and pour some olive oil. Throw in all the veggies except the spinach and get a nice sizzle. Throw in the sausage and get the flavors to congregate. The pasta should be cooking at this point. Use one of those alfredo packets and follow the instructions, but add a little pesto to give it some personality. Once the pasta is ready, drain then add to the skillet. Throw in the spinach and cover the skillet. Once the alfredo is ready, add to the mix and really get everything to gel together.
I was disappointed at the initial serving -- the alfredo didn't quite congeal the way I had hoped it would. However, it has been delicious as microwaved leftovers. Go figure.
*I may have finally figured out how to get out of my bowling slump. I've adopted a point-and-shoot approach where I just pick where I will stand, pick where I'm targeting, and then go. It worked well Wednesday (bowled a 199 on Shark). Thursday it worked even better: I have a 178 average in that league and bowled a 643 series. It was the high series for the team. Unfortunately, if the only bowler on the team with a sub-200 average is the only bowler who bowls a 600+ series, then the team is going to have difficulty winning. We got swept.
*There was a book sale at the library today. I didn't plan on going -- I just happened to have books that were due. I peeked in and was a little disappointed. Not one copy of Lee Iacocca's autobiography to be found. Maybe it's a Michigan thing, but no book sale is worth its salt without at least 7 copies of it for sale. It becomes a game of hide-and-seek, since the book will be filed in biographies, automotive, history, popular, and often times miscategorized. I was at one book sale where I found 20 copies, none of which were located adjacently. The closest I got today was two copies of John Stossel's book, which managed to drown out the shrieking toddler at the sale with its shrillness. I did get a Christmas present out of the sale, so it wasn't a total loss.
*There is a potential follow-up to my last post, but it will have to wait until Sunday or Monday. I want the full story first.
I feel like posting, but I don't have any good stories. Instead, I am just going to list items I have written in my mini notebook over the last couple of weeks.
"Don't play well with others"
"She is just a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those being 'in his vicinity' and 'ever'."
"Guy in wheelchair = costume?"
"THE BUMS WILL ALWAYS LOSE."
"Invest in baby boomer's demise."
"All I know is 'LOL' and 'G2G'"
"Ivy, you're not in charge of the world. Shut your mouth."
"Why are you staring off into space? There aren't any cute boys over there."
"Carrots are nature's diabetic candy."
"Get the fuck out of my candy store."
Today was my first real day as a salaried employee of Oberlin College. Well, sort of. Mooch had asked me Saturday if I had received my letter yet, and I had no idea what he was talking about. This might have been related to my visit to Human Resources a day earlier when I tried to fill out some paperwork and they had no file of me whatsoever. Great.
When I got to work on Monday, Tom filled me in that I will need to take my letter of appointment to HR -- once I get it that is. He also said that Linda Gates was finishing those up that day, so it might be a day or two before I become for realsies. Today when I got to work, Tom left me a note saying that Linda's secretary Barb needed my address. Why that is not on file -- oh right, there is no file, even though I have been getting paychecks and W2's sent to me with no problem. Also, my suspicion is that the address is for my letter when it would have been faster for me to run across the street and pick up the letter in person. Save a stamp and envelope and let me get through the bureaucracy, please?
Not that I would have had much of an opportunity to take care of such an errand. James decided that he wanted to celebrate my new status by having some bizzaro back spasm (I told him that he really shouldn't have, but he insisted). It was totally random -- he had just gotten the oil machine in position to get lifted onto the lane and as he reached for the handle his back seized up. From what I saw and what he later confirmed, he had not yet engaged in the lifting motion, so it does not seem to be directly related to the oiling machine. Really, I think this is just his way of making sure I included everything I needed to in the Injuries section of the Worker's Guide that I wrote up yesterday. I did actually miss a step in the process, but a note in red ink would have been just as effective. He should be okay, but it will take a while to recover. The best part is that both Tom (who met up with James at Allen ER) and James reported back that the doctor suggested "let pain be your guide", in terms of how to dictate activity. Er, that sounds like a decent rule of thumb for life but okay.
Who knew that becoming salaried would be so chaotic?
About fifteen minutes after I woke up this morning there was a knock on my door. I thought I had heard my landlord's voice earlier so perhaps there was some emergency he was going around to warn the tenants about. I open the door and did not see my landlord. "I take it you are the king of this castle?" It was some kid who I would guess might be 16 or so. He was incredibly obnoxious. He kept bouncing around telling me I can help him get enough points to win a thousand bucks to go towards a trip to some mystery location. He wouldn't say where at first, but he gave me a hint: "You can't drink the water but you don't want to down the worm if you know what I mean." He confused my flat affect with ignorance as I told him to cut to the chase. But no, he wanted me to read the question written in the red box on the card he was carrying around. As I closed the door on him, he thanked me in a way that tried to make it seem like I was the asshole in the dialogue. That kid was lucky that I was already awake, because if he had woken me up he would be trying to avoid sucking up the worm with his straw.
What astounded me about the whole interaction was the extreme level of confidence demonstrated by this kid. I'm not envious, as this little exercise shows that there is an upper limit where too much confidence makes you really annoying, but I am aware that the highest level of confidence I have ever demonstrated has certainly paled in comparison. Yes, there have been instances where I have demonstrated cajones, but those were more in response to some sort of adrenaline rush or some other breaking point. I visualize confidence as sauntering, not barging in guns blazing.
One of my pet peeves when I talk to people about my job is the initial response that I get 90% of the time. "I'm the manager at a bowling center." "Oh, I suck at bowling." Usually this conversation takes place in singles chat rooms (shut up) and it certainly takes the flirtiness out of the situation. I realize that they might think they are being self-deprecating, but that would be like me responding to a guy saying "I'm in real estate" with "Oh, I suck at selling houses." To me, it's a confidence issue. I would be much more comfortable with a guy that said "I don't like bowling" than someone who immediately discounts their abilities.
It's a bit strange talking about this topic. I felt so confident leaving high school and Oberlin did a fantastic job of destroying any and all confidence I had built up in myself. It is only recently that I have finally felt like I have been coming into my own. I've been out of school for 3 years: that's a long time. Don't worry: at this pace I will be like that kid when I'm in my seventies. I'm fairly confident in that estimation.
I'm a little late getting out the post-reunion post. My excuse is that reunion weekend caught up with me on Tuesday and I'm still trying to revive.
I inadvertently scheduled myself for nine hours on Friday. Oops. When I got home I thought about just vegging out as preparation for the weekend but then the Mazurs invited me over for an impromptu barbecue. Part of the refreshments included a combination of leftover margarita mix and leftover tequila, though the proportions favored the alcohol instead of the mix. Did I mention that I adore tequila?
We played some bocce and Wii (I beat Brian in Smash!) and then I got a call from Zaldonis. Yay! Turns out he was staying with a friend who lives in another section in my building so I headed over there after dropping off some stuff at my place. It was great catching up with John and Kayla and meeting some new people talking about Oberlin, New York, and things in between. Staying up until 2 might not have been the wisest course of action with an alumni bowling tournament starting at 10am.
The turnout for the Funraiser was much higher than anticipated, even with the RSVP's from a Facebook invite. We actually had to turn people away, which was unfortunate. But I got to bowl with Clare, Meghan, and Colin and schmooze with quite a few other alums. Unfortunately, despite our camaraderie, we were not able to scrounge up enough pins to beat the current students. We'll get them next year. Afterwards we headed to Tom's house for picnicking, croquet, and cornhole. After spending almost the entire day at Tom's, I met up with Clare, Anna and Anna's boyfriend at Toooooooooo Chi-noise for dinner. We had a lovely meal and eventually made our way to South, which was the headquarters for the 5 Year Reunion. So many people!
I had to oil the lanes on Sunday and treated the afternoon as a rest period before heading out to meet Sarah on Tappan Square. We were to meet John and his crew for dinner but everything was packed. We eventually got a table at Lorenzo's and had a pretty good meal. Illumination had finished setting up as we ate, so Sarah and I wandered Tappan Square a bit until I got a call from the lanes. An emergency came up and I had to close, which put a damper on my evening.
Commencement went well. Sarah and I skipped out on most of the talking, opting to go to Feve brunch instead. We did get back in time for Fareed Zakaria's speech which was pretty good. Then people graduated. It's a little weird now: this class was the last class of students who were students while I was a student. Except for the few people on the 5+ year plan, there aren't any "peers" remaining in the student body. I'm not saying that in an elitist way, but now the students I know I met through my manager position. Eeek.
After the ceremony, Sarah and I got lunch, browsed downtown, played some Wii, then headed to the Union Street house to say "so long" to the fellas. "So long" includes GTAIV, Red Wings hockey, double entendres, and microwaving light bulbs (among other things). I'll miss those guys.
So now it's summer, I guess. Work is in a transition period and things are really quiet on campus. As for me, I met my initial weight loss goal for this year, which was to get down to or below 205 pounds (my weight at the end of Freshman year) and I now tip the scales at 195. I know! I'm using this week as the benchmark to try to lose 10% (thanks, Jenny Craig commercials) before Labor Day, which would put me at 176 pounds. Considering I've been rather lazy these past couple of weeks and have not suffered any negative consequences yet, I think once I get back into an exercise routine I should be able to meet that goal.
I have yet to give any money to Oberlin since changing my membership status from "student" to "alum" 3 years ago. It's not like I haven't tried: I filled out the "Donate my matriculation deposit" paperwork completely the day it arrived in my OCMR yet the school still sent me my check. I certainly can afford to give but I feel no guilt about my current miserly ways. I figure I am already making a contribution by working for the school (as a wage slave, no less) and actually keeping one of the few profitable parts of the campus up and running and, dare I say, more profitable. I've actually tried explaining this logic to the student fundraisers (leaving out the profits part) but it seems to fall on deaf ears. Whatever.
Today I received a troubling e-mail. Here is how it began:
Dear Michael,
Hello, fellow classmates! I hope that this letter finds you well. I am not the most articulate when writing these types of letters. And, like you, when I see a letter asking for money, I simply throw it into the recycle bin. This letter, however, is different. The purpose of this letter is not simply to ask you for money, rather it is a letter designed to evoke your emotions and thus make you want to give back to Oberlin College.
Don't you love it when a form letter tries, and fails, to seem all personalized? I do give it points for the "throw it into the recycle bin" part -- I usually throw mine in the trash. Save your tar and feathers, it gets better.
I was thinking about starting this letter with some type of antidotal story, but I was not able to think of one. Then, I was thinking that I would just quickly tell you about the many changes at Oberlin, but the reality is that things haven't changed much in the past two and half years. While Oberlin does have a new president, the student body is still liberal, and they are still trying to change the world one person at a time.
"Antidotal"? Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! This person is trying to convince his fellow college graduates to donate money by using not just the wrong word but a word that Firefox is currently underlining with red? And Oberlin not changing that much in the last 2.5 years? Are you kidding me? There is a controversial new slogan, a couple new programs of study, new village housing with additional construction projects on the horizon, new scholarship and financial aid programs...none of these are worth highlighting?
He goes on to talk about the alumni website, which is a helpful resource from the various "antidotes" I've heard from others. But then:
While some of these options may not interest you, or you might be like me and want to do more, you can also give back with a monetary donation. The amount you donate does not matter because, like you, I know that things are financially hard being a recent grad. Nevertheless, I have decided to give back to Oberlin yearly because I want current students to have at least the same, if not better, experience that I had while at Oberlin. Furthermore, donating to Oberlin helps increase alumni participation rates. This is important not only for national ranking in U.S. News and World Report, but also for grant funding, which most ask for participation rates.
Besides the dubious politics of the U.S. News and World Report rankings, that seems like a pretty lousy reason to donate to the school. I would much rather my (currently hypothetical) donation go towards developing something more positive than elitism.
He concludes with:
I challenge you to walk with me in the pursuit of bringing Oberlin to the next level. If you have any questions, comments, or intelligent thoughts, then please do not hesitate to contact me.
Whenever I hear the phrase "bring [blah] to the next level", I immediately think of America's Next Top Model, where that phrase loosely translates to "we're dying your hair blonde." I don't think Oberlin would look good as a blonde -- it's more of a brunette.
As for intelligent thoughts: PROOFREAD.
Then I read the signature and busted out laughing. Apparently our '05 alumni shill happens to be a person who holds the distinction of saying one of the stupidest things I have ever heard in my time at Oberlin (7 years and counting). It was sophomore year in Dawson's Intro to Government class. A bunch of students were up in arms over some auxiliary staff getting sacked (this was when the College's financial future started looking gloomy). They wanted us to donate the class treasury (money collected from people who showed up late to class) to help out the recently jobless. This person made the argument that we should help them pay their cable bill, to which I asked "if times are tight, why not get rid of the cable?" His response: "But there are a lot of good shows..." We ended up donating the money to a recovering cancer patient. The alumni fund was not proposed.
With March Madness approaching, I'm actually finding myself anxious about selection Sunday and going into Bracketology discussions about a subject that I really know nothing about. Last year my pick of Albany going all the way to the Final Four was described as "Ballsy" in a "Bless his heart" kind of way. Although I actually enjoy watching college sports, I find rallying behind teams almost impossible -- and I hold my education fully responsible.
I have come out on the loser end of the mascot lottery since kindergarten. I went to Woodworth for K-4 where we were the Hornets. Since inter-school competition doesn't really start until 5th grade it's a little difficult to get jazzed about a purple and gold bug when there's nothing to root for. I spent fifth grade at Henry Ford Elementary where we were the Pintos. Theoretically, we explode on the basketball court -- usually with the lightest of impacts. Moving on to middle school, we were the Stout Falcons, a place where I got fat and had my soul pecked away by predatory birds. Boo metaphorical interpretations.
While most of the people at Stout moved on to Edsel Ford (the same namesake for the car), I moved on to Fordson where we were, wait for it, the Tractors! Because at the time the school was built, the Fordson Tractor was one of the most popular Ford products. Fifteen years earlier and we could have been the Model-T's. How do you rally behind a piece of farm equipment? I suppose it was somewhat fitting that I went on to Oberlin to become a Yeoman. Not because of the farm connection, but because of the "what the hell kind of mascot is that?" question.
The evolution continues. This morning I received my decision letters from Syracuse. I got in to both the Advertising and Television Studies programs. It still hasn't fully sunk in yet that once I send my deposit check I will be an Orangeman. Not orange the color, orange the fruit. For a school in Upstate New York. The student webpages are referred to as "MySlice". There is an orange with a couple of leaves at the top of the Financial Aid page. Dan speculated that it was along the same lines as the Stanford Cardinals: not the bird or the religious figure, but the color Cardinal Red.
I'm sure there are worse mascots out there. They just better not screw up my bracket.
This past weekend was the 39th annual Hoosier Classic bowling tournament in Indianapolis and the Oberlin College team was in attendance. Surprisingly, the level of drama was significantly lower than the high-water mark established in years past. I'll try to make this post interesting.
We only sent five bowlers this time around which made logistics and budgeting significantly easier. Since there were only 6 people traveling we decided to rent a minivan from the College. Advantage 1 of being the coach: I get to be a control freak when it comes to transportation. I didn't think I would like driving a minivan but I really liked our car -- a Toyota Sienna. The part I liked was that the back row of seats can fold into the floor (as they were when I picked up the van), but when they were pulled out there was a sunken in storage area that was perfect for bowling equipment. It was also a very comfortable ride and really user friendly.
The drive down was not that bad. James volunteered to navigate and took his role almost too seriously (which is actually pretty helpful when you need assistance opening a Nalgene or regulating the temperature). Brad brought a DVD player for himself, so he was pacified and out of my hair. Everyone else was quiet for the most part -- not that I demanded that but I think I was able to make better time since I wasn't overly chatty. Of course, Tom was nice enough to let me include travel time on my timecard, so I guess that worked against me in a sense.
We got to the hotel at about quarter to eleven. I was pleased with the accommodations. The first time we went to the Hoosier, we stayed in these ridiculous suites that, while very comfortable, must have cost a fortune. The second time around, we went the cheap route and stayed at the Knight's Inn (one step above paying-by-the-hour lodging). While that one was cheap, there was significant travel involved in that location. If you look at a map of Indianapolis, I-465 circumnavigates the city. I-70, the road we come in on, is at 3 o'clock, the bowling center is at 12, and the Knight's Inn is at 6. The Days Inn we stayed at was at 1 o'clock, so it was quite convenient and not all that expensive. Considering how late we made our reservations I'm surprised they still had space for us. As I checked in, there was a complicated series of Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine room assignments. For some reason, Brad wanted to room with Avi and would not budge from that position. James and Max didn't seem all that invested in where they slept though Ra'Mar seemed to have a strong preference as he kept pushing more RPS matches. Once I got the keys, I took one set for my room and gave Ra'Mar the other set. This seemed to bring about a much quicker resolution than the "best 14 out of 27" situation that was developing.
The rooms were quite nice, especially considering the price. There was a mini-kitchenette (kitchenetteette?) with a sink, but there was also a sink and counter space in the bathroom. I know it's not that big a deal, but I so prefer to do all of my morning ablutions in private, not just the nudey ones. The only downside that we, well Max, found was that the beds didn't have bottom sheets -- only the top sheets just sort of laying on top of the mattress. Kind of weird, but certainly not the weirdest thing I've encountered in bowling team travels. After everyone got settled, we had a mini-powwow to go over what would be happening in the tournament, looking over printouts of the oil patterns and answering any lingering questions.
The alarm went off at 6 the next morning. I usually don't feel so good if I wake up after a reduced amount of sleep, but Saturday I felt more like I was exhibiting symptoms rather than general fatigue. We met down in the lobby for breakfast where I choked down half a bowl of raisin bran and thanked my lucky stars that I didn't have to bowl today. The team seemed to be in much better shape than me, so that was a promising sign. We headed over to the center and promptly checked in. One of the things I love about this tournament, besides its Top Notch status, is how well organized the event is. I have never felt confused about what was going on at any point and even if I did I knew I would get a quick and clear answer from the tournament staff. As I waited in the arcade for the coaches meeting, a person a few feet away looked at the lane assignment list and said "Oh, Oberlin is here." It's an awkward situation because I could say something, but the way he said it could have been followed with "It'll be nice to see them" or "What the hell?" I'll just assume that it would be the first one and smile quietly. We have arrived.
Another plus of this particular tournament: Since we had only one team going, they would get my undivided attention. With other tournaments, I would often find myself running back and forth checking in on teams and trying to address the most pressing issues but in ways that never really seemed to instill confidence in the bowler. In this situation, I could provide significantly better advice since I could watch every shot made by our team and by the other team on the pair.
Unfortunately, there were difficulties. First off, the patterns were extremely challenging. This wasn't a surprise, but I think the level of difficulty was probably at 9 when we were anticipating maybe 7 and a half. In these situations, breakpoint theory is the way to go. Basically, the breakpoint is the spot on the lane where the ball will break out of its skid and start to hook. If you find the optimal breakpoint, your ball should go into the pocket. If you don't get a strike, you have a strong chance of leaving a makable spare. Although it may sound easy in that explanation, it is incredibly challenging to execute effectively. Although a couple of the bowlers have been lightly exposed to breakpoint theory through the Bowling II class, this was a crash course in the concept for all five members of the team. I will say that I am impressed with how well they rose to the challenge in terms of executing shots and making adjustments to help play to the proper breakpoint.
Despite this, the scores for our team were quite low. The two problems that kept coming up was a lack of momentum and what I consider to be poor spare shooting. The momentum aspect really kind of baffled me. For some reason the energy was lacking for most of the day, though it didn't seem to be caused by fatigue or bad chemistry. There were sparks here and there, but we just couldn't get the fire started. Though maybe the spare shooting is to blame. Most bowling matches are won when all spares are picked up and all splits are maximized. There were far too many spares left uncovered during the first day and I think our overall score was a few hundred pins lower than it should have been. That's not to say there was no effort -- in fact there were many splits converted when all we ask in that situation is that the bowler tries to get as many pins as reasonably possible. Of course, when you as the coach realize that the spare shooting is one of the main problems, telling a bowler to pick up their spares is 1) ineffective and 2) just adding to the disappointment/frustrated feeling that the bowler is already experiencing. You just have to add it to the "Things to work on" list and move on.
At the end of Saturday we were all feeling pretty tired. However, the head of the coaches' association wanted to have a meeting after the last game and I had to stay for that. It was actually a pretty interesting meeting, though it devolved into people talking about all of the second- and third-order decisions which of course made the meeting that much longer. So long, in fact, that Avi called me during the meeting to make sure that I didn't leave the bowling center without the team. I clocked in a 7am on Saturday, clocked out at 7pm. And then we had to figure out dinner. It didn't help that everyone was extremely tired, I was feeling really gross and the only people who had real opinions on the subject were throwing out suggestions that made me feel even worse than I already did. We eventually decided on Fazoli's. When we went inside, the fluorescent-lit menus and the red trays caused a majority of us to say "can we go somewhere else?" I was experiencing Killer Fatigue at this point which is never a happy place and causes you to say things like "I just want to eat somewhere where I don't have to bus my own table." Although others agreed with me, there's really no way to say that without sounding petulant. Avi, James, Max and I ended up at this sushi restaurant while Brad and Ra'Mar went to Steak N Shake (I'll spare you the really obnoxious things I said about that). It's a shame I wasn't feeling better because it sounds like everyone had some tasty dishes. I just got soup which was good but it would have been nicer to have something more extravagant.
When we got back to the hotel, we ended up splitting into our rooms -- Max, James and me in one; Ra'Mar, Brad and Avi in the other. I don't know how they passed the time in the other room, but we spent the night talking about some heavy duty stuff. Max and I accidentally grilled James on libertarian fiscal policy, which...no. Granted, I'm in favor of the idealized impractical economic theory at the other end of the spectrum (socialism) but I'm not as passionate about it. I've accepted that my preferred theory would never work and I've moved on and perhaps someday James will do the same. Based on the conversation I've pretty much concluded that a libertarian economic system would essentially be a form of neo-feudalism which would totally suck because I would so end up being a serf. I DON'T WANT TO TOIL IN THE MUD! Eventually the topic got around to gay rights and how Dale v. BSA is the most awesome Supreme Court case ever. That's right -- we know how to party in Indianapolis on a Saturday night.
I woke up on Sunday feeling worse. First, I have a tendency to wake up in anticipation of alarm clocks because I hate being startled by loud noises. I think I went to sleep a little after 12:30 and it felt like 5:45. I look over at the clock: 2:30. Ugh. All in all, not a good night's sleep. The routine was essentially a repeat of Saturday, only instead of raisin bran I barely choked down a third of a piece of toast and we had to check out of the hotel. Apparently I missed Tony Reyes checking in. The PBA World Championship is this week and will be bowling in the same center that our tournament was at.
We eventually made our way to the center for the last three games of the tournament. My Killer Fatigue had not completely worn off yet and people were tap dancing on my nerves. The first game seemed to be a continuation of the problems from the day before. I soon realized that part of the problem involved how we practice back at Oberlin. Before tournaments, we play a game called +1/-1. On the first ball of a frame, if you get the ball in play (hitting the ballside of the head pin) you get +1. If you are out of play you get -1. If you strike you also get +1, so an in play strike is +2, an out of play strike is 0. If you leave pins, you get +1 if you make the spare or -1 if you miss it (if it is a split and you maximize, you get 0). Here is the problem: If you get an out of play strike, you get 0 but it is a wash since you have the strike helping out your score. In the current structure, If you get an in play hit that leaves a corner pin, you have +1. If you miss your spare (a bowler really shouldn't be missing a corner pin spare) that is -1, making a total of 0. However, this is not a wash since you do not get a score boost in terms of regular scoring. If anything missing a spare (that isn't a split) should be -2. So for the second game, I started keeping track of the team's +1/-2 scores and the results were eye-opening. As I explained to the individuals on the team as they saw what I was doing I was hoping to raise the standard that bowlers should be holding themselves to. I heard at least twice that "it sucks to lose 3 points in a single frame." This was not stated as a gripe but more as a realization. I think I made a breakthrough.
Game 9 started against UNLV and Oberlin was still in next-to-last place (thanks Notre Dame!). The UNLV team seemed extremely frustrated and were having slide issues that no one on the Oberlin team seemed to experience. Both teams had a somewhat rough start, though Oberlin was slightly ahead. As I stood towards the back of the settee area, I felt someone tap my shoulder. It was Chris Loschetter, the PBA bowler who practices in our center. You know, there's something truly magnificent when the 14th best bowler in the world (according to the current rankings) is not only hanging out with one of the least impressive teams at a tournament, but that he was actually looking for us so he could say hi. Even better, he could totally commiserate with the team, telling us why he dislikes sport shots and how he doesn't really like team bowling. He was only on our pair for about ten minutes, but that was enough to get our fire going. Max bowled the high game for Oberlin with a 196 and we ended up beating UNLV (who were ranked 29 prior to that match). So awesome.
The drive back was a bit of a challenge, given my fatigued state, but we made it back safe and in good time. Although there was a great deal of frustration in terms of the conditions and Oberlin's performance, I think we did a good job and I'm optimistic that we have figured out areas that we need to work on. And although it was a challenging weekend, I think I did a good job.
About once a month I get to leave the office to run errands downtown. Exciting, I know. I do get to leave the office pretty much whenever I please (sometimes it's even work related), but occasionally I have to pick up supplies at Ben Franklin and exchange some money for coins. I'm still waiting to hear from Syracuse.
Anyway, today was one of those days when I got to journey into town. The MO is consistent: Go to Ben Franklin first, pick up the supplies (usually four or five boxes of tissues), head to the post office (if necessary), then make the bank the last stop. The lanes go through tissues at about the same rate we go through quarters, which I think is kind of funny since the two are otherwise unrelated. I got the tissues, four boxes neatly placed in a plastic bag, and headed to the bank.
I go to First Merit to exchange the money since it is closer and I can hit the ATM if I need to check my personal accounts. As I reached the door, there was a sign that read "You are entering an irritant-free zone." Given the starkness of the sign and the choice of font, my first instinct was to check for hazmat crews entering or exiting. When I realized that this was actually a new promotion, I couldn't help but laugh. Even hazmat crews couldn't make First Merit irritant-free and I consider myself a satisfied customer.
I got up to the counter, placed my bag of tissues on the floor, opened the canvas deposit bag from the lanes and asked the teller for 13 rolls of quarters. "Wowwww," she said, as if I made a poopy all by myself. I think the fact that I pulled the money out of a bag and not my wallet is a sign that this isn't laundry money. She then went into this extended narration as she processed the transaction, including going through every detail of how she had to get an additional rack of quarters. See, NOT irritant-free.
After I gathered the quarters, I put them in the canvas bag and placed that in my Bomp messenger bag. Quarters are heavy, and as a result of being in a messenger bag I was walking a bit lopsided. Having the bag of tissues didn't help in the lopsidedness. Nor did the flash of realization that the only time I deal with the tellers in First Merit directly is when I am doing the quarter exchanges. With a bag full of kleenex boxes in my possession. Maybe it was because I was feeling a bit frumpy today but...I can't help but feel that I am projecting a really weird image. "Look, it's the kleenex guy who asks for lots of quarters." Eww, I just thought of the implications of that. Gross!
Maybe I'll switch up the order from now on.
Applying for grad school = not hot.
Really, the whole process has been pretty daunting. Even more so now that I'm actually following through and doing it, instead of my usual method of talking a big game and then hiding in the bathroom until the coast is clear. This whole process was a lot easier in high school. Back then I had awesome grades, extracurriculars that didn't require a paragraph of explanation, and an army of of people who could write awesome recommendations. And the common application. Oh, how I miss that xeroxable form. Especially since it implied that I had as many options as I had copies.
Now, not so much. I'm applying for television studies to the one school that has a program that matches my interests perfectly. And it is the #1 school. And I'm also applying to its advertising program (top 10). I can't help but feel that I may be overreaching. It has taken me forever to write personal statements -- one for each program. The advertising one has me particularly freaked because I have it set in my mind that if I can't sell myself to the school then I will be beyond any help the program could provide. I think I did alright with it, much better than with my television studies one. The TV one is so gushy but I don't know if I have much more I can add. I just need to remember that a bad PS will keep you out, but a good PS won't get you in and my PS is not bad.
The supplemental documents are really killing me.
Resume: I'm actually really okay with mine, I just don't know how "Bowling Center Manager" is going to read.
Grades as Index of Abilities: This is where I get into trouble. I was a B student at Oberlin, and I have no idea how that translates in academia. In the grand scheme of things (as in, the Universe) I think a B average is a major accomplishment. It is nowhere near the 3.4 that Syracuse uses as a benchmark.
Academic Honors/Leadership: Yeah, you don't get academic honors or special recognition with a B average.
So I have to focus on all the co-op stuff which is going to require a lot of context. I feel like my application is so text-heavy already.
Qualifications for Teaching Assistantship: This is where my ExCo will come in handy. Though again, texty.
The good news is I'm almost done. I think. I hope? I'm not brimming with confidence, but I've had that feeling quite a few times and things have turned out OK. Usually a B+.
Geez, Oberlin really destroyed my self-confidence. Just for that, I might go to work late...at some point...maybe.
Memo to 2007: Fuck you.
That is all.
Okay, fine. There were some good moments:
I know I've been complaining about my job a lot lately. Since mid-July, things have been pretty much non-stop with renovations, new staff, new leagues, and a whole bunch of people asking questions that I'm supposed to know the answers to. Despite all of the stress and hullabaloo, this weekend is a perfect example of what I enjoy about my job.
Today was the first intercollegiate bowling tournament of the season. Typically this event is held at Rebman's up in Lorain, but this year it was moved to Pittsburgh. The last time I was in Pittsburgh for a bowling tournament, things were less than stellar so I approached this weekend with a certain level of skepticism.
Due to the distance, we stayed overnight. Since we didn't leave Oberlin until well after 7pm Friday, no one was really up for extensive partying and many of us turned in relatively early. Somehow even with 4-5 hours of sleep, just about everyone seemed refreshed going into practice at 7:45 this morning. Tom's goal with the tournament, and with every tournament really, is that every bowler bowls to the best of their ability, supports their teammates, and has a fun learning experience. For some reason, everyone took those criteria seriously. People on both the Crimson (A) and Gold (B) teams were winning their head-to-head matches and also bowled some big scores on really challenging conditions. I don't think the energy dipped once on the Gold team, which featured many bowlers who have not gone through the gauntlet of a bowling tournament. The Crimson team had a slightly more challenging road, but they managed to win 3 out of 5 head-to-heads in their match against Saginaw Valley (the 2-Time defending National Champions) and only lost the team total by 25 pins. I know that sounds like "umm, that's great? I guess?", but if you told me that was going to happen today I probably would have stopped paying attention to you. The coach from Wright State (a really nice fella who has been extremely helpful on several occasions) even commented that Oberlin's marked improvement over the last couple of seasons is creating a buzz among the other schools.
The biggest game of the day happened in the final baker series between the Crimson team and the University of Cincinnati C team. Going into the set Oberlin was leading Cincy by about 50 pins in the overall standings. Cincy won the first match by about 20 pins and they earned a 20 pin bonus for winning the match. Cincy earned another bonus after they took the second game by 10 pins or so. Going into the 15th baker game of the day (which followed 5 team games), everyone was ready to go home and tired of the ever-frustrating lane conditions. Bryan led the charge by chucking the ball as hard as he could, as speed and power were what the lanes called for. The other guys decided to follow suit and managed to string together a 5-bagger that gave them a score of 223. At this point Cincy was mathematically eliminated from winning the third game and the 20 bonus pins. Cincy ended up bowling a score that completely canceled out their advantage from the first two games, allowing Crimson to maintain their position in the standings.
As Crimson finished, the Gold team was in the 2nd game of their final baker series against OU-Chillicothe. Chillicothe joined the conference last year and the best way to describe them would be "ragtag". But like the A-Team, not like the Island of Misfit Toys. The people on the team are really nice and they remind me of the Oberlin C team when I first started. Due to the lower strike percentages on both of these teams, the rest of the center had pretty much cleared out while they finished up. After every shot there was sincere cheering and support within and between both teams. At this point, Tom declared the match-up as the championship final, since both teams were meeting the criteria he established prior to the tournament. The Gold team took all three games, but there was so much mutual admiration between the teams that we were all winners. It's rather Montessori, I know, but doggone it I much prefer leaving a tournament with none of the bowlers pissed off about something. Everyone had some victory or positive experience to take from the tournament and I am now filled with optimism about this season. Afterwards, Brian invited us all to this pizza place in the city that allowed everyone to relax and have a good meal before hitting the road.
No one got lost. No one blew up in the parking lot. Everyone bowled well. Pittsburgh has redeemed itself.
Today was one of those days where I really wish I could shoot lightning out of my fingertips. Not to hurt anyone, mind you, just enough to intimidate. That would have been useful today.
Let me back up. For those of you who have escaped my summer kvetching, work has been horrendous. It has been just me for a week and a half with another week to go. Last week I had two 11 hour days, five kids groups, four leagues, open bowling, and a general feeling of endlessness. If I never have to work another kids group with glow bowling, I will be very happy. Ain't gonna happen until September, but whatever. We close for renovations Friday and I can't wait.
But I have to get through this week first. And as a warning to everyone, the safety on the bitch switch is off. Open bowling today was okay, but there's that moment of dread that hits at about 1:35 on Mondays when I realize that the Boys and Girls club will be invading. I am not fond of this group. First of all, when they set up their activity, they gave us an estimate of about 20 kids a week but today they had 7. That's been about average. Of course, we did our pricing based on 20 kids so we are getting totally hosed on this deal. Also, even though we quoted and reconfirmed a rate of $2 per kid, each kid is sent with $5. Not only do our 1's get drained but now all these kids are armed with vending machine money. Oh my fucking God. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if Uptown Girl wasn't there. I call her that not because she's been living in a white-bred world (wh-oa-whoa), but because she looks like a cross between Brittney Murphy and Dakota Fanning. I shit you not. If that hybrid wasn't bad enough, she doesn't fully form her words when she speaks (a trait I assume was described as "cute" by some drunken aunt and therefore reinforced the behavior) so I'm put even more on edge. Gah.
Then the basketball camp. With the boys age 10-14. Who of course make fun of the way I talk. Fuckers. Aside from trashing the place, the counselors were under the impression that payment was supposed to be collected (we bill, so no). Unfortunately, the counselors are not helping in the fight against the "dumb jock" stereotype. They decided the best way to collect payment was to use a plastic bag to actually collect the cash and have everybody get in line to pay at the end. As soon as they started their announcement I said to myself "Nope. That idea is not going to work." And it didn't. Not that it matters to me since, like I said, they aren't paying directly and I think it is more of a scam than anything else. How that basketball camp has stayed in business is beyond me.
Four days to go. Gotta make it to Friday.
Try not to write anything unfavorable about a game show contestant on the interwebs -- it can be far more annoying than it is worth. VH1's second edition of its awesome summer series The World Series of Pop Culture started this week and I have been fairly active in the conversation about it over at TWoP. This show only has a single thread rather than a forum, so all discussion -- be it the reactions to an episode, clarification about questions, and chatting among past and present contestants -- is confined to the same space. On the first night, there was a category requiring players to identify 80's songs from a given lyric. One contestant, rather than take a wild guess when it was her turn, opted to use the excuse that she wasn't born until 1982, therefore she didn't know the answers. This caused a minor shitstorm about strategy, "easy" questions, and the inevitable "How did she get on the show?" The arguments go as follows:
A. This player/team sucks (based on personality traits)
B. Those players/teams are awesome (based on knowledge)
A. They may know their stuff, but I don't want to be locked in a room with them.
B. I don't see you trying out to be on the show.
Repeat as Unnecessary.
As an added challenge, the actual contestants have started to post in the thread (the episodes were taped a couple months ago). I mentioned in one of my posts that I didn't particularly care for one team, that I thought they "bugged" during their exit interview (they were eliminated) and that ruffled the feathers of one of the people on the team who posts. What followed was essentially a call for an inquisition on all the "haters". That is so Jenny Jones I don't even know where to begin.
It is so trivial...yet I feel compelled to write about it.
Speaking of trivia, an interesting thing happened at work today. The Friday City Recreation "group" (two kids "supervised" by two adults) was bowling and the adults were engaged in a round of Bible trivia. Let's break this down. "Trivia", by definition, is "useless knowledge". Now, those who excel at Bible trivia would have to know the book pretty, for lack of a better word, religiously. Yet would those who excel at Bible trivia ever call it "useless knowledge"?
This is what happens when I'm left unsupervised with my own thoughts.
