Too much snow! Electrical upgrades, electricity held captive by the cold; the days will get longer and colder now; the solstice has passed. New Year's day should be on the solstice; we should stop and make more of the light, the rebirth of a new year, a new season that must be battled. What an odd, enlightening, tragic, happy, circular year it has been. What can I do to make the next year better, make my life more livable? Does sanity require identification and do i get benefits for it? Why does the evening news seem so timid and heartless? Has anyone rewound the nuclear holocaust clock lately? I wonder if all the worms are frozen, under the ground, or if they dig so deep that they don't even feel the cold.

First lines: The sky was filled with meteor trails, like fireflies streaked across the windshield while driving on the Interstate in the early evening. At 7 he was a concert pianist; at 8 he turned lead into gold; at 9 he saw God at the mall and he had been locked up ever since. Her secrets were hers no more; they were displayed on billboards all over the city. I drank until I passes out, and then in dreams I drank some more.

Is anyone polite anymore? Is anyone honest anymore? What doom will befall the world when we all close ourselves off from outsiders and sit in isolation, letting only a frightened media in on the TV or PC in through the locked doors from time to time? Do we all want to be millionaires? Survivors? Jackasses? Does anyone truly believe in what they are fighting for? Is anyone fighting for anything worthwhile, anything unselfish, anything that can't be given a ten-second soundbite and summed up like the plot to a trashy novel, all steam and heat and nothingness? I confess to being a culprit as well, I confess to being alone, does the world have a place for the best and brightest to bring reason and intelligence into the debate? Would it overload the majority mind to consider the alternatives? When did egotism become fashionable, when did self-centeredness become as sacrosanct as ancient theories of the earth being the center of the known universe? When did we start to disassociate ourselves from our selves?

Enough is enough already. I am declaring myself President of the Untied States of Amerika.

Icicle chips in my head, windows glazed over like the coating on a krispy kreme; sweet and bitter cold melts my mind; I am suspected of having a heart it's the same as the frozen layer of a pond, fish trapped in ice, physical memory wrapped in muscle tissue; the brain stem has sprouted a new leaf, ready to unfold if the neurotransmissions are right, powered by the sun and the wind and the water-wheel flow of blood churning over it, powering the soul.

Fine. Let Bush be the next president. If history repeats itself, he is destined to live in fear of an assassination attempt. Since 1840, every president elected in a year ending in "0" has died in office, with the narrow exception of Reagan, who almost died. Most have died at the hands of an assassin. Not that I relish the idea of a President Cheney, but I suspect that being the wizened political veteran that he is, Cheney would do less damage to the office than Bush.

Actually, what they should do is just call it a tie, and let Bush and Gore settle the issue with a duel at twenty paces. (It's not as if a President has never engaged in a duel; our 7th Prez, Andrew Jackson, actually killed a man in a duel over his wife's honor). They don't have to use real guns; give them paint guns or something. And run the loser out of town; maybe like out of some campy Western; strap him backwards on a horse and whip the horse, get him running at a full gallop (poll) right out of town.

Well, it would be better than letting the lawyers settle the issue. Let the courts settle it, and we lose all sense of dignity; at least a duel evokes some lost vision of honor.

I wish I could do this with some consistency. Not that my life depends on a daily outpouring of whatever scraps of thought I can dump onto this blog, but still... Just writing a little bit every day is a good exercise, it keeps the mind sharp, I think.

So much clutter in this little room. So much clutter in my little head. Could use a few days just to organize it all, make some sense out of the mess. Lucidity should be seized for the rare gift that it is.

Sick. Nyquil + coffee = jittery and sluggish. Can't wait to go to work tomorrow. Ack.

Back from hiatus, for the moment. Grad school is killing me; oh, well. It's too damn cold outside, even for the first week of October. Expected to wake up and see snow. At work they want me to not exist, or expect me to be omnipresent; I'm not sure which it is. It can be quite confusing. I wonder how much I'd make as a whaler in the sea near Alaska? I wonder if the hole in the ozone layer can be traced back to the proliferation of McDonald's (tm) franchises throughout the world? Saw Chicago through a haze of beer and smoke a few weeks ago, from a rooftop, 5 a.m., amidst a philosophical discussion of personal responsibility for the fate of the world. And so on.

random thoughts...sports at midnight; wiffleball, glow in the dark golf, candlelight bowling...driving through the city on a clear night, i can see the lights from every window, the full moon smiles...at sunset, the clouds are transparent, edges glowing...walking the halls at school, a sense of urgency always; i feel like i should be wearing a siren and flashing lights...the beauitful simplicity of wood grain, the stories in the leaves and rings, i will plant a tree for every child...some days feeling lost, wondering where i'm supposed to be, is it right where i'm at or have i drifted off course?...my eyes get so tired sometimes they tingle and itch, as if the cornea were separating from the rest of my eye, yet my mind is still wide awake...i need to try harder, who knew being yourself was a full time job?

A cold front pushes in, rain, hail, thunder and lightning; energy from above in so many forms, sweeping across the ground, wind rippling through the window screen, and the hair on my arms stands on end, static and the cool breeze combining to bring my blood to life; i want to be in the clouds to watch it all, be smashed into a million droplets and come pouring down; surrender to the electricity in the air and burn up in the atmosphere, taking trees and power lines with me; the force and violence of one storm, the peace that comes after it, is enough for an entire lifetime.

What could I possibly have to say at this late hour? Yet, strangely, I do some of my best thinking when my brain should be in the "off" position.

My sleep debt finally caught up to me this week, yet now I can't sleep again. I'm not particularly amused.

Today I put pictures of my cats in frames my uncle gave me quite some time ago. Actually, I think I received the frames around the same time I last saw my cats. I miss them. Sometimes I miss my pets more than I miss certain humans. Is that bad? Or does that happen to everyone at some point?

A few gripes: I don't get paid enough. The sunlight is going away sooner. People who don't know how to drive. People who are too lazy to put their shopping carts back where they belong. Lousy presidential candidates. The stupidity of the war on drugs. Ameritech's lackluster service. Broken promises. The difficult process of losing one's gut. Chicago radio sucks.

A few bright spots: The lake on a windy day. The moon shining behind rippled clouds. French toast. The smell of freshly cut grass. People who smile as they walk past. People who take responsibility for their actions. Friends who call back. A good pun. Internet radio. Wallace and Grommit. Candles flickering in the breeze.

Identity is such a persistent yet fragile thing. People will remember you for years for something you said or did, even if it was uncharacteristic of you, while never really knowing who you really are. Some days, you don't even know yourself. You try to create your identity for fear someone else will do it for you, but it seems an impossible task sometimes. I want to be remembered for the things I did, yet I want people to forget some of those things; you can't have it both ways. And I want to know what people think of me, who they think I am, but at the same time, I don't want to know, because I have a tendency to re-shape myself into who they think I am supposed to be, and it never works.

It feels like an autumn morning. The air has a crisp chill to it, and the sunrise was a spectacle of purple and orange. Now, the sunlight is cutting through my window, highlighting the dust that floats around, little airborne dustmites being fried by the light. Leaf shadows flicker and reflect off of me as I sit here, halfway through my cup of coffee, a few moments from starting my work-day. I wonder how many promises I will keep today?

If you go to church every Sunday does that make you a better person? Maybe organized religions should work harder to realize that the house of god is the heart, not the church. That any moment we spend doing the right thing is in fact the best preaching that anyone can do. People learn by example; if you show a child how to hurt, it makes the child more capable of hurting. If you teach them the arts of argument, deceit, or even something as benign as sarcasm, then they will understand how to use those arts themselves. Religion should focus more on being at peace with the self; we are most at peace when we know we have been faithful to our ideals, our best intentions, our word. We may do wrong, we may be chastised, but those who are lost and broken are the ones who have no grounds on which to chastise themselves, for they have lost sight of what they believe in, of the good that they are capable of.

I don't go to church. I work, and live, and try to be helpful, and useful, and dependable. I make mistakes, all the time, and sometimes I dwell on them...because I'm still learning that forgiveness starts with me, and that nobody else is really responsible for forgiving me except myself; not even god. When people ask for god's forgiveness, perhaps what they really want is the strength to forgive themselves, and put their mistakes behind them, and move on. I'm afraid, sometimes, when I look around, and see a culture that preaches forgiveness, but shows much more interest in blame. Why is it so bad to take responsibility for your actions, learn from them, and move on? When will we recognize the courage it takes to do that in this world, and start teaching our children that the true heroes and role models are the people who aren't afraid to admit that they were wrong?

Going to church doesn't make you a better person. You are a better person simply by making the choice to be better, and working at it every day. Many religions provide perfectly good instructions on how to be a better person, but you still have to work at it, and do it in the way that makes the most sense to you. Maybe that's why I never had much use for weekly visits to church; I don't need to be preached to or forgiven, not when I know the difference between right and wrong and reserve the privilege of my own forgiveness.

So I have this habit of being friends with my ex-es. What kind of person does that make me? Is it weak? Is it strong? But they all know me so well, and it's so hard to throw that away. They know how I like my coffee, my favorite musicians, my poems, my dreams, my heart turned inside-out. How can you know a person so well and just give that up? It's so difficult to know people, it seems, it takes time, and people guard their time so well...how much of my time have I given away? You only get so much, isn't it the ultimate sacrifice?

Been away for a while. Uninspired. Nothing worse than that. Busy with grad school. Busy trying to reconcile the messes in my life. So much fun. Now, back to this little outlet of nonsense. I think I'll vote for myself in November. What if everyone did that? The entire nation, just writing themselves onto the ballot. That would send a message. It's my life, and I'll take control of it, thank you very much. Shakespeare said, first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. No. They can wait. Let's rid ourselves of the politicians first. They are the greater evil. Public servants? No. They serve themselves. Don't we all? So why are we ever surprised that they do what's good for them? It's a natural act. Charity, indeed, begins at home.

Michael Moore is so awesome. Go check out grassroots to read his latest observations on life in these (dis)united states.

Barnes and Noble.com has pissed me off. Stay away from their out of print book department; they have been giving me the run-around on a book for the past two months. They have gone so far as to send me invalid e-mail addresses to send my complaints to; made a series of unkept promises, and still no book. If you're looking for something out of print, Alibris is more reliable, it seems.

Would anyone out there be able to recommend any brands of clove cigarettes? I have tried Sampoerna, Nat Sherman's, and Djarum. The Sherman's have hardly any clove taste to them at all; much too bitter as far as I'm concerned. I haven't had a Sampoerna for a file; I remember being a little harsh but definitely clove-y. The Djarum brand is by far my favorite. They have a whole asortment of varieties; they produce two called Splash and Bali Hai which, admittedly, seemed to be aimed at guys in their late teens/early 20's based on the light blue package and images of fish and surfers and whatnot. Packaging aside, both of these varieties have a good, sweet flavor and a nice consistency. My favorite, at the moment, is a line called Djarum Black; these are a little more rich and give off a pleasant aroma whilst burning so slowly that my friends can smoke two regular cigarettes in the time it takes to smoke my one clove.
Supposedly cloves are worse for you, although to me it seems a toss-up. Especially when one considers that cloves generally burn longer (requiring fewer overall to be lit up) and seem (by my observation, which I can't substantiate with any scientific evidence) to be less addictive.

On a lighter note...nothing better than ritz crackers and jelly. Yum!

The death penalty is only a deterrent for people who are rational and have a sense of their own mortality. I think that it is time to explore new ways of punishing people in our society. It is also time to stop punishing people who do no harm to others, but only (debatably) to themselves.
Gangbangers should be forced to dig graves--they wouldn't get a good shovel, either, they'd have to use a little garden shovel. (Obviously they couldn't be sent out to dig actual graves for people; the grave-diggers union would have a fit). When they were done they would have to lay in the grave for 8 hours or so. They wouldn't be allowed to get out of the hole for any reason. After the time was up, they would have to fill in the hole. People who, in the past, would have been eligible for the death penalty could be dealt with in other ways: They could be airlifted to the south pole and dropped there. If they find a way to survive, good for them. If they freeze to death in 24 hours, well, tough shit. If you're blood runs cold enough to kill in the first place, then a deep freeze shouldn't be such a bother. Oh, I suppose this is still a death sentence, and maybe it's cruel and unusual punishment. But people who are murdered don't generally ask to be killed, do they? An alternative to the death sentence might be something that sounds even more bizarre--ship the murderers up to the moon. Use them as labor to build a moon colony. Hey, it worked for Australia, right? See, just take the prositutes and people who got caught with a bit of pot out of the jails, and send a few of the losers up to the moon, and pretty soon we'll be able to stop building new jails every week.
Right. I'm not usually so political. It's just a hot topic lately, it seems.

What is the fastest thing in the universe? The speed with which your bright ideas disappear right out of your mind.

A thought--if men got pms the world would have been nuked into oblivion a long time ago. [sorry if that sounds sexist or anything, but do you really disagree?]

Ah, there is nothing more fun than filling out financial aid forms. Except perhaps for shoveling elephant dung, or watching reruns of Rosanne, or attempting to build a fire with twigs, rocks, and paper cups, or wrestling with the moral and philosophical questions surrounding genetic manipulation. Yep.

Hey, if you are in any way responsible for staff development in technology in a school district, drop me a line. I'm always looking to share ideas or hear new ones. Check here for an idea of what I do in my district. I can be reached at
badrozd@sd104.s-cook.k12.il.us

Chicago radio and my personal re-emergence as an advertising target marget: Chicago radio sucks. The supposed "alternative" station, Q101, plays music for 16 year-old boys to commit senseless acts of road rage to. Meanwhile, all of the car commercials on TV seem to be playing songs from 1992. (And if one more advertiser uses the Soup Dragons cover of "I'm Free", I'll puke. And I won't even touch the economic irony inhernet there). Ah, if only I could seize control of the airwaves for a day...

Obscure Greek and Roman gods: Atlas held up the world. Another god ran in place, spinning the world as he ran. Since Nike is already taken, we'll call him Bono. There was a god who used a large needle to poke holes in the black sky, creating new points of light that the humans referred to as "stars". Then there was goddess (whose name is lost) who would shape the clouds; sometimes when she was displeased with her work she would squeeze them dry (rain) and start again. Her reach was long but not entire, hence the areas of desert around the world.

What I do: I am a Technology Coordinator for a K-8 school district. No, wait, it's not as glamorous as it sounds. It's a stressful, overworked, underpaid type of position. Yeah, typical. I'm not complaining. I like my job. I'd like it more if they gave me a big fat raise, but hey, who else wouldn't say that?
When I'm not in the mood to work, I'll visit MozillaZine or Suck.

Author recommendation: If you haven't read anything by Jonathan Carroll, you're missing out.

Music recommendation: The band: National Skyline. The lineage: Hum, Castor, cross reference: Champaign-Urbana. Their eponymous disc now available through Parasol Records. A moody, uplifting, too short effort from this side project that eclipses the recent work of its' "parents". Organic synthesizers and a voice so imperfectly matched to the tone of the music that it functions as carrier wave all its' own. I haven't acquired a disc so worthy of the repeat button in a while, but this one definitely merits it.

Story idea: A man who lives his life entirely according to percentages. He has studied the numbers, knows the odds of any particular event happening. He knows that he has a 1 in 975 chance of stumbling over any particular crack in the sidewalk. He knows the odds of being struck by a car, knows that he has a 1 in 460 chance of being infertile. He lives his life this way, going so far as to woo his wife through the use of gifts, compliments, and actions that he knows have the best odds of pleasing her. He raises his children this way, choosing everything from their breakfast cereal to their sneakers to their schools in this fashion, and he knows they will be healthy and graduate in the top 2% of their class. He even knows, within 3 weeks, when he will die.
There are no revelations for this man; his nature has discarded such a possibility outright. He has faith, but only in situations where the odds favor it. He can predict your future as well as any fortune teller, but he generally won't; odds are that he can't make a living that way.
He won't find a way out. Maybe someone will give him one, though...

Where I work: Cook County School District #104, and, Where I sometimes play: Amp Comics.

First official post--Alright, I finally got this thing to work. Welcome to the diary of the vortex. From time to time I will toss my rants, raves, insecurities, small victories, and jalapeno dip recipes out here for the world to wonder at. If any of it makes sense, well, small miracles are happening all the time, all around us...if we only stop long enough to notice them.