Holiday story

Tis the season and all that. So here is a story from my childhood.

One year my Grandma came to stay with us for Christmas. By that point in her life she slept maybe five hours a night. So she was in bed by ten and up by three or four in the morning.

So naturally she was up by the time myself and two of my sisters were awake. (At this point there were only two official Sisters of Professor Matthew. The Youngest was yet to join the party).

Somehow we convinced ourselves that rather than waiting the relatively reasonable amount of time for our parents to wake up that it would be acceptable for us to begin since with the presence of Grandma we had an adult observer. Surely that is all that is required on Christmas morn.

And somehow we convinced Grandma this must be true.

Shortly after we began opening the offerings under the tree, our mother struggled halfway down the steps. Not surprisingly, she was in no way full of Christmas cheer.

We were ordered to re-wrap all of our presents and then to return to our beds until released.

Let us just say that I was particularly ... enthusiastic that year about the unwrapping. And in case you were wondering it is a huge pain in the ass to try to cover presents when all that is left is scraps. It took a lot of time and tape just to get them up to half-assed.

Once my parents actually got up they took extra time preparing coffee before we were summoned from our rooms.

To this day I am still not sure how we decided that it was okay for us to unwrap without our parents there. And I am really not sure how we managed to trick our Grandma in to this (pretty shitty that we took advantage of an old lady like this).

So happy holidays to y'all.

And I'm sorry Grandma.

More tales from graduation

Fall graduation today. At least it was short.

Our commencement speaker deserves a post but probably would reveal too much information that could get me in trouble. So let us just say that he managed to really speak to to certain portions of the audience and piss off most of the faculty at the same time.

Two observations I do want to share:

1. I admit to having an ... unique sense of fashion and walking to the beat of my own drummer. But I don't get why a large portion of female students thinking dressing professionally means wearing stripper heels. Seriously. Some of them were four or five inches in length.

I'm not a prude obviously. But hooker shoes or fuck-me boots really aren't sending the message to take you seriously.

And some of them need to remember to practice walking in them before hand. Someone is going to snap an ankle one of these years climbing stairs.

2. If you are a professor sitting on the aisle and one of your students walk by, shake their hand or high five them or give them some kind words. But don't be the "hug it out" professor. Seriously. Every time one of your graduates walk by if you have to jump up and hug them you've moved away from the "cool professor who cares" and into Creepy Uncle territory. Or lawsuit territory if the hug goes on a little too long.

So don't be that guy.

It needs to be said

College football is way more fun to watch than grading papers.

I mean I know I'm being paid to do the grading so I better get it done. But some days I wish I taught in a field that only had objective grading. Teaching Math is probably hell, but there is something to be said for homework that only has one right answer and either you get it or you don't.

Here piggy, piggy, piggy

Spoiler alert, this story may upset some people (if curiosity got the better of you M. then "hey there!").

So a Friend of Professor Matthew and her wife got a couple of cavies as pets (that's the technical name for guinea pigs. Now you've learned something). And that reminded me of a story from before I was Professor Matthew and was just Youngster Matthew.

The Sisters of Professor Matthew frequently had cavies as pets. So when Middle Sister of Professor Matthew asked for one as a present for her birthday one year, the Official Parents decided that she was old enough to handle the responsibility (which meant that she was old enough that Official Father would not end up doing all of the waste management).

Off to the pet store we went. Official Middle Sister picks one out. It gets brought home and put in a temporary home. We children observe it. Much speculation is made that it is acting odd. But if you've ever had a cavy as a pet you know that pea brained and nervous rodents. How can you describe them anything they do as odd? Odd is standard operating procedure.

Still, this one seemed "Just not quite right."

Next morning Official Older Sister and I are first up. We head to the kitchen for breakfast and also to check on the critter. It is not moving.

OOS: "I think its dead."

Me: "Nah, it's breathing."

"No, it's dead."

"It's asleep."

"You're wrong."

"I'll show you." And with that I scoop it up.

It was stiff. Dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in. I responded with something eloquent like "Glaaaah!" and dropped it.

To this day I will swear that it bounced a little.

For a sense of closure, I'm pretty sure that the corpse was taken back to the store and exchanged for a more "alive" one. I'm not sure if a receipt was necessary.

My life remains odd

So why so few posts posts over the last few weeks? I got busy with real life stuff that would have made for some interesting posts if I could have made time for writing.

There was a Film Seminar on campus that I got busy helping with. I might do a post or link to that soon, still deciding. We had a visit from a different documentary filmmaker, Helen Whitney, that ended up providing me with some good ideas for an upcoming class. The Official Parents of Professor Matthew came to visit for a weekend and we managed to avoid any real fight, only one small loud disagreement that ended quickly. Anyone who knows of my relation the the Official Mother of Professor Matthew should be shocked and amazed by this. Oh, and I presented my research project on porn at an academic conference.

"What's that?" you might be thinking as you read this. "Porn?"

Yes, porn. I have now added Porn to the list of my research topics. You may adjust your disgust or jealousy levels accordingly. Think about how much time and money is spent making and consuming it. And yet not many academics are willing to be associated with researching it and the stigma that it brings.

But I've never been someone who has done the "safe" thing. Or the "intelligent" thing for my "career." I'm not great at avoiding being an "embarrassment" to "myself" and "others."

Three of the many odd realizations you have when you are looking at pictures of naked people for a living:

It becomes work! Sure, it's better than grading lousy student papers. But it is weird when you attach a sense of responsibility to nudity.

You reach a point when you think you are getting boring or monotonous wanting to talk about your conclusions with people. "Hey, you wanna know what else is fascinating about porn? No? You're leaving? Okay, maybe we can talk about it later...."

I started to get very paranoid while analyzing the photos that I would come across someone I knew. Luckily I did not. Oddly, I did find out I have friends who do know people who have posed for or photographed porn.

I have future research ideas, so I'm not done with the topic. Professionally that is.

And what do you want to bet that I get at least one or two extra hits from this post and that those people are upset when they realize what I'm actually writing about.

I didn't know

I realize I got way distracted by work but I didn't realize it had been almost two months.

Sad that one of my students actually pointed this out to me.

As a way to make it up to you with something funny, here is a link to a hilarious explanation of independent film-making, courtesy of the brilliant minds over at Homestar Runner. Amazingly enough, my college blocks access to this site. Maybe they are worried that students will get too distracted if they are exposed to too much funny business. Or that they'll consider doing something creative. I have no idea myself.

Tomorrow perhaps I'll put up a post about what I'm planning on working over the semester break.

If anyone is still out there and interested that is.

I know I'm preaching to the converted but...

Odds are pretty good that anyone coming here already agrees with me. Or is so opposed to me that nothing I say is going to change your mind.

I'm not asking you to agree with me. But I am begging you to get educated. Learn the facts. From multiple sources.

We will rise only through knowledge and education. But this country will drown if its citizens allow themselves to remain ignorant.

And never put something on a sign or t-shirt unless you know what the fuck it means. For real people.



Just a couple of hints. Medicaid is technically socialized medicine. And our military is supported through those taxes you don't want raised. The same military you want to stay in Iraq to protect us against the terrorists.

I've got a pain in my ass.

Literally.

When I was a child, one winter they plowed the street I lived on and it left a huge snow mound in the middle of our cul de sac. Well, huge in relation to a skinny boy in the fourth grade. And I had a great time climbing to the top and leaping off, sliding down the sides.

It started getting late. I realized I should head home for dinner. One more jump, just one more leap before I had to abandon the fun.

I landed, straddling something hard and frozen. The pain and shock knocked the wind out of me. It shot up my spine. Breathing hurt. Trying to stand was impossible. I have trouble still finding the right words to describe what it felt like but try to imagine pain so bad that it feels like everything above the waist is being driven away from everything below the waist. And remember what I just wrote about having trouble breathing? So I couldn't make enough noise to yell for help.

What could I do? I could crawl. Combat crawl that is, on just my elbows and forearms. Forget using my legs. I mean I could feel my feet and legs and all. But my spine hurt so anything that required using it or my legs was out of the question. And my house was the distance equivalent of a city block and a half away.

I crawled across the frozen road till I got to yards and then I crawled through snow. I can't remember how long till I could put weight on my knees, let alone get through the front door.

It was bad but for some reason my parents didn't take me to get x-rayed till the next morning. At the time I was told the x-rays were negative for a break, just a really bad bruise. I sat on foam padding for days. If I wasn't already developing a reputation for being a freak this might have hurt my social standing.

This summer the pain came back. A few days have been bad and sometimes when I sit on the wrong type of seat or in the wrong position it comes back. Never as painful as that first time but a nuisance. So Wife finally talked me in to getting it checked out.

New x-ray revealed that all those years ago I didn't bruise it after all. I broke it. Not that they could have done anything really back then besides hope for the best. There is a small piece in my tailbone not connected to anything anymore. I'll probably develop arthritis in it as I get older. I could get surgery to have it removed. Which would take a long time to heal up.

But the fun thing is it is not bad enough to really demand that path. It is just going to be this thing that I have for the rest of my life. Unless it gets worse. Most days it doesn't bother me. Till I get reminded. Because I sat wrong.

Do you realize how much time we spend sitting?

I don't get it, well I do, but.....

Why was it when "we" made statements like "He's not my president" we were helping the terrorists and anti-American?

Yet when "they" pray for Obama to die and bring guns to events they're being patriots and to question or criticize them is to deny them their First Amendment rights?

You don't need to respond to that. They're rhetorical questions. As a member of the liberal elite I also know other big words.

Like hypocrisy.

What next?

Strange days lately. I realized that I've pretty much accomplished my major goals in life. I have Wife. I have Dog and Cat. I have my scooter and a pretty decent car. We have the house. I have a job I love (except that it could pay a little better) that allows me to occasionally travel. Pretty sweet. Other than seeing more of the world before I die and buying more toys and tattoos, those are what I've wanted to do and more.

Kind of left with a sense of "now what?" I mean, besides enjoy it of course.

It is kind of a strange feeling. A little restless. And really, what else is there?

More travel? Sure but no rush.

More pets? That's a maybe but Cat is getting older and we really don't want to stress him out with new additions that disrupt his well being.

Kids? Hell no, not even if they come with huge stipends and an army of paid for nannies.

Maybe I just need to get back to teaching next week and I'll be too busy to think about it.