I am

so very tired. I haven't been sleeping that much lately and that is my own fault. I picked up a few extra classes and they are taking their toll. However, I will be able to sleep in tomorrow and that will be grand. I felt fine until literally three and a half minutes ago. It might have been the shear physical exhaustion but I think my body is saying, goodnight to all, I don't care if he agrees. I have no choice but to comply. I will change my alarms and charge into bed. Not the right phrasing to fall into a peaceful slumber but it works. I am one step closer to reaching my goal of watching all, and I mean all, of the movies nominated for an Academy Award this season. I watched "Julie & Julia." I've had this movie for some time, but it got swept under the rug of preference. So far, the only one I was really disappointed with was "Nine." Daniel Day-Lewis couldn't even save this movie. It had no direction yet an amazing cast of Hollywood starlets from around the globe; Spain, France, England (The Dame Judi Dench), the U.S. and even Australia. The songs didn't mesh and it had no story. I didn't feel bad for the character, I neither hated nor loved him. Indifference is something no artist wants to see. I give it a "Meh." That is only because of some of the costumes the ladies wore. One of these days someone will appreciate what I have to say about movies. As for now , it's you.

Dustin

Twas

a lovely day around San Francisco. The gods smiled on St. Valentine to make sure everything went according to plan. The sun was out, people were in good spirits and the pillow fight ensured that the streets will be filled with feathers for a week or two. Apparently they have this all over the world, at the same time. It was good to see, but I could tell the type of people who wanted to actively participate. It seemed they had some rage built up. I, however, do not have such rage so I was content to sit back and watch. My afternoon included a walk around the North East side of the city with a beautiful lady, a pillow fight, and dinner. Doesn't seem like much but I had a good time. I was thankful that I could walk around with the sun shining. I don't usually do this, or if I do then I just walk to get where I'm going, that's it. Now my stomach is full, I am tired and I picked up some extra hours, (Thanks Angie). So, it is off to bed. I will return tomorrow. Yes you may be able to tell I am in higher spirits. It seems that sunshine is a mood changer just like the wind, snow and rain can be.

Valentine's day

So, in the recent years I haven't really thought that much of Valentine's Day. I gave presents and gifts and received them but saw it as just another holiday. People think it is magical. Love is all around; romantic, platonic, motherly, fatherly. There are things we do for each other. There are things that are done for us. I was sure that I would sit this year out. Let the other lovers have their day. I would be a spectator of nothing. However, I have a date. You need not know who. It is odd to see it on a Sunday. I thought the term "Valentine's Day" was strange since love, romantic love happens at night. I'm not talking about sex, well not entirely. With the night comes the unknown, the unseen. Half of the world is wrapped in darkness and mystery. The night belongs to lovers. With Valentine's Day on a Sunday something is lost. There is work, for most of us. Our teases and our trysts, our flings will end earlier. The farewells will come sooner. We want the warm embraces that are needed on this February holiday to last. Practicality subdues this. For the truly romantic, they will sacrifice some sleep, some levelheadedness and some mental clarity the next day to see their lover's smile last longer. They are also the ones who didn't bring any cards, chocolate or gifts. They show up with one single rose and a smile, and a plan to win the heart of their lover for the first time, or once again.

Happy Valentine's Day

I like the fact

that I can wiggle my ears. I can also wiggle my nose and raise my right eyebrow all by itself. The left one, I can't and I hate it for that. That's why he doesn't come to Thanksgiving. I wonder how many people out there appreciate the small gifts from their genes that either, have no purpose, or that purpose hasn't been made apparent. I like that I have almost no pinky nails on my toes. Sure there are things other people notice, get complimented on and take credit for. Some examples are height, eye color, hair color (if natural), and skin tone (if not in a regularly sunny climate or cheating with fake sun.) What can we do in that situation? I think that we are not really being complimented on our looks but rather on how we use these gifts to our advantage. If we have a good skin tone, then maybe we show a little more shoulder. I also like the fact that I can grow a full beard. Some people pine for this. I also grow a pretty sweet mustache-see any picture taken of me in the past two/three weeks. (Thanks Dad!).

Officially,

it has been over a week since I last wrote here. I apologize for that. I haven't been too busy, it hasn't slipped my mind. I just wanted a fresh approach. I'm not going to change anything, I just wanted to make it less of a chore. Now, I normally don't think as writing as a chore, I am finished with college. However, I don't think I need standards right now. I will do this, or not. Take it or leave it, as I was told. I will tell you this though, it does feel good to hear my fingers typing again. I like the fits of keystrokes and I hate the interruptions of errors, misspelled words, spaces between commas, missing the capitalization of an "I." It throws you off course. Now, the thing about writing, at least what I have experienced, and everyone is different, is you need to figure out your own schedule. Sure it is good to have deadlines, but those come with a price. One of my writing professors told me that you need to write a million words. After that, if you have talent, your writing will be the way you want it. Some of you might be thinking that is not so many. In this paragraph alone I have already written a hundred or so. It is a number that people know but don't understand. I have written over two dozen short stories, each around three thousand words. That is only around 73,000 words, not even a tenth of the million word mark. I have filled about a book and a quarter in another book, hand written, we'll say that's another forty thousand words. Now, for the most part I am not counting what I have written here. This is just rambling. You can't simply write a word and have it count. It has to mean something. You can't write potato salad 500,000 times and then expect your writing to take shape. Someday I think about this and I can't wait to spit out these million words. Nonetheless, we do not live in a fairy tale. Walls are not made of chocolate and the princess doesn't wake up. With all goals worth achieving, there has to be some sacrifice. For these million words to mean something, you have to understand that they don't mean anything. This is not me being bleak, maybe a little downtrodden but I will succumb to what is to be made of me. I will write those million words and then keep writing. After those million, that is when the battle begins. Before, that was just boot camp.

I don't have anything to say.

However, I will write something. I don't think I know how much I impact other people. I spend hours in front of people five days a week. It took me by surprise when some of my students compared me to Hugh Larie. You know the guy from House. He is fifty years old. Now I'm not saying that's old, yet it is almost twice my age. Then people commented on how I dress, that I scare them if I don't say anything. It all took me by surprise but I guess it shouldn't have. I guess this has always happened (How many of you didn't comment on your teachers at least once), but now they can be more vocal about it. It might be a cultural issue but I don't think I ever would have told a teacher straight to his/her face how they looked or of whom they reminded me. Today was one of the first times I had felt self-conscious about my appearance. It was what I said or how I acted that made me feel uncomfortable, not how I looked. I'm not a slob, I might even consider myself unique, compared to other teachers, in my dress. I wonder if other teachers get this. Anjana, a co-worker, has her own style, I'm curious what her students say to her. Mike do your students comment on what you wear? Dave, Angela? Anyone? I won't change anything but I'm more aware. That makes me a little nervous, a little more guarded. I'm sure I'll forget about in a few days. I had something to say. That reminds me of a great although now defunct, band called "The Kinison." One of my top favorite songs of all time, is New Way to Dance. I used to sing that until I thought my lungs were bleeding. College was an emotional time.
Dustin

This is Jeff

He works in accounting. All he wants to do is make you smile. He makes a mean risotto. Oh, and he has the most interesting story about when he went to Vietnam. "Jeff, come over and say hi to Mike, he's new here."

That was how I met Jeff. I have to say that I was taken aback by his facial expression and the bags under his eyes. Oh and the fact that the top of his head is a spinning vortex. I don't really know how he functions. Apparently, last year he caught a mistake that could have cost the company millions. he is divorced with an eight year old daughter. I did ask him about his time in in Vietnam. he told me how when he wanted to go water skiing they took him to a place he thought was the beach but it was a mountain. They thought he was crazy but they indulged him. Anyway, he tells it better.