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in a small space

A good day for crawling back under the covers.

Sometimes coffee is just the thing. Not sure when this bitter taste became something to crave. Something about being young and having a tongue that wants whatever sweetness it can find giving way to
the bitter,
the sour,
the savory.

So I sit at this wooden table, mug in hand feeling the cold radiating from the window. The world is contained in a small radius of sensation. That’s all there is - cold, coffee and a fix on the next destination…which isn’t for another five minutes.

So this is all there is.

Simple really.

Posted 01/20/2012
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small things

It’s cold.
  I have a warm house.

The roads are slippery.
  I have a car with gas and places to go.

Things not to take for granted - good food, boots, gloves, and a hat that makes it look like I’ve got a cupcake on my head.

Posted 01/13/2012
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Oh, the Places You Go…

Sometimes things get so filled up, but they aren’t really.

I mean, there’s always stuff to do.
ALWAYS.
It’s there on the schedule, on the to do list - that thing someone else needed; the food to be prepared; the caring of others; responsibilities; responses to the outside.

Breathing wasn’t on the list. It gets done, but it wasn’t on the list.

I put it on the list.
I put it on the top of the list.
And then, I focused on doing just that one thing.
Turns out it was the most important thing after all.

Then the next thing was to salute the sun, to roll my head, to feel acquaint myself with my body - feel my feet on the carpet.

There is only one thing to do at a time. Enough of this split focus and pressing need from other bits not at the now.

Still some growing to do. Organizing my home, my head. Still going places, mostly inside.

Posted 01/12/2012
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do I really want to know?

Amidst the talk of chemistry…did you know about the potential cold fusion breakthrough?...and molotov cocktails

“Where’d you learn about those?”
“Call of Duty.”

and knife etiquette, and other things grown up boys have done, I wonder what mischief/exploration/testing-of-the-world my boys have done. I look at Connor.

“You’re enough like me that if I ask you a question, you’ll probably tell me the truth. The question is, ‘Do I want to know?’”

Matt chimes in, “I’m your uncle and I do.”
Kim, “I’ll take the other side.”

I tell him it, “Maybe it’s enough that you are hale, whole and here…and that’s a lot of alliteration.” Not asking the question is not for a lack of interest

The reality is that they will experiment to see what they are capable of doing, and discover how dangerous or safe the world is; how little or much they can control their environment; put physics and chemistry and gravity to the test and suffer slings, arrows and bumps. ow many times a day do hear “Ow.”?

There was a separate conversation about the distinction between embarrassment and foolishness. This is not unrelated.

Posted 11/13/2011
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treading water

Such good intentions to some-verb-here some-noun-here so some-personal-benefit-here.

Posted 11/03/2011
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worth it

Materials turned in. Got some lovely well-wishes. Got some fabulous letters of endorsement from graduates from 9 years ago to the present day.

So easy to get caught up in the short term. Things like this put everything into a larger context.

I have made connections with students. Many of them remain part of my life in some way. Bridget is on her way here, right now to spend the weekend. Had lunch with Badger. Will have dinner with Kim and Matt on Sunday. They’re still present.


So good.

Posted 09/30/2011
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teaching goals and approaches

I wasn’t going to go for the teaching award. It is a bit of work, but it seems right. Some students were kind enough to nominate me. I should follow through. That…and some of my colleagues seem to have lost their way. I wanted to put in words (in my own fashion) this essential truth—It’s about the students.


I am still learning.


This happens often in my job. I teach and learn - both. This is because I firmly believe that teaching is not a monologue, but instead a dialog. I share what skills and knowledge I possess, and listen to my students in turn.


It seems a fair thing to do. Communication requires all parties to be engaged.


I am open to learning from my students because I respect them. Despite our difference in age, I know they have insights different than my own. They are fresh and cognizant of what is current. So I illustrate ideas with allegory. If I make it clear enough, they chime in with their own experiences - reinforcing the underlying seed of ideas; reflecting back and augmenting what I have given them. I equate abstractions with the comprehensible. I remember teaching UNIX structures, paths and naming by reviewing Scooby Doo.


Imagine, if you will, that we have a directory called “Mystery Machine” and another called “Old Man Withers’ Place.” We move Scooby, Shaggy, Velma, Daphne and Freddy from one to the other. We rename the monster in “Old Man Withers’ Place” from “Swamp Thing” to “Farmer Bob”...and he would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids.


This is my teaching style. I use stories.


I am telling you a story right now.


I once had a conversation with Luvon Shepard, an illustration and painting professor in the College of Imaging Arts and Sciences. “Shep, how you doing?”


“Oh, I am great. The students are so good. I am like a vampire feeding on their energy.”


I laughed. I understand. I feel the same. They feed me.


We are caught in a loop of enthusiasm. I honestly feel passionate about my subject matter. The world is filled with shiny things: HCI and aesthetics, animation, and haptics, process and experience.


I come from a culture that relishes food. Important things happen over meals and drinks. Starting in December of 2007, I initiated a Facebook Group called “Oh yes, the Capstones Will Be Done”.


While there have been occasional breaks, the then monthly dinners - now a weekly thing - have been a place for a sharing of ideas and opportunity for my various graduate students, teaching assistants and undergrads who pursue independent studies with me to share their expertise and ideas with one another.


Two (then) graduate students still come to my home for these dinners. They still work on their research interests. They reign over the newcomers. They now are adjunct professors in our department.


These bonds have persisted. I am still their teacher. I am still learning. (Though, in this case, in addition we are fed well).


Mi casa es tu casa. My home is their home.


I groan because one of my students is not getting enough sleep nor food. One of my colleagues said (only half-jokingly), “It’s not our business. Oh, right. You care.”


I do. I feel I am entrusted with their well-being.


As an advisor, as a mentor, as an adult who has earned trust - it is right to be there to listen if they need someone to listen. It is important to direct them to help when they need it.


This is my philosophy. These are some of my approaches.


What are my goals?


As an artist who plays with sound, image and words - it is important to continue to search for information. I can only express what I know. The richness of my expression is directly proportional to the experiences I gain.


The students feed that.


My goal is to create understanding, to provoke, to engage through sound, image and words.


This really is a perfect job for me.

Posted 09/28/2011
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stewing

Chalk this up to things-that-are-good-for-you. Trying to get that word slinging mojo, elusive as that lovin’ feelin’. Turns of phrases, sweet and smokey: savory and layered. Write like I cook. What else to do on a warm evening sans distraction?

Going to let a thought marinate.

Posted 09/26/2011
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Fall


“Alice in Wonderland” by Annie Liebowitz

The Queen: Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!

There has been a whirlwind of activity through the Summer and now, three weeks into Fall. “Fall” seems apropos. There is a constant state of moving speedily…I brace for impact.

Posted 09/25/2011
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bit e me

The trickle of birthday wishes is starting in advance of tomorrow…and all I can think is

49 can bite me.

My body and mind are zinging. My kids are smart, beautiful and genuinely good guys. My extended family is warm and fun and loving. I have the best friends in the world.

Posted 07/17/2011
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paper

Found two black and white pictures. They’re the only things that survived the great purge.

“Why’d you destroy everything?” he asks.

“Because it hurt too much to remember.” But these images don’t hurt. “What should I do with them?”

“Keep them. Or throw them away—it’s only paper. You can make more pictures to replace them.”

It sounds so simple. Every action doesn’t have to be laden with symbol. But they’re the only ones left. I put them in a pile of papers to be filed away. I can forget them a little longer.

Posted 07/14/2011
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my room with a backpack

my room with a backpack

Hung up the backpack. Object with meaning - it’s the one bought last year for the trip to Italy and Prague. This specific backpack means travel, and memory and independence. So it’s up there to remind me I gots stuffs to do.

The next thing I touch is an orange leather bound journal. It says, “I bought this book at the Tate Gallery in London after seeing a Kandinsky exhibition. I am sitting on the floor taking a break from seeing - resolving that digital work does not leave tracks of existence.”

I forgot I was in London.

Shuffle through other pages. There was the train trip with Eli and Paul through Morocco.

Everyone should leave their comfort zone, all things familiar and cozy. There should be a law. They should be forced to go to another land and find how they are the same and how they are different. Bonus points for sharing genuine laughter without a whit of common spoken language.

I forgot that too. On purpose. Stupid to forget the good things, to avoid dredging up the painful ones.

It didn’t hurt.

I am surprised.

So the backpack is hanging. Going to take it on that cruise, fill it with light and little nothings and bring it home chock full of ephemera that I will take care to remember.

Posted 07/10/2011
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with Joy

It’s an amazing thing to see how much weight can be piled on someone and see them take it. But she’s resilient, always has been.

(Not me, if you’re speculating).

But we all do it. The things we face every day become the norm. We deal. We suck it up. We take it. We spin it into something emotionally tolerable if not palatable, until it ain’t but a thang.

She has no choice. The world was remade anew overnight, and an essential piece is gone; literally - a piece of her heart.

It was a rushed morning of trivial tribulation. Then an afternoon of Joy. And everything becomes the nothing it is.

Posted 07/07/2011
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a sigh

Emotion leaks out in a whisper. I don’t even know I’m doing it half the time. Is it contentment? Tiredness? Some

thing?

Whatever it is - my cup overflows. It’s just a breath before the next one.

Posted 07/06/2011
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a challenge

Suppose I believe I am beautiful after you have told me so
because you told me so
will I still be beautiful when you are gone?

If I am healthy and whole, maybe I will. That is a heavily loaded “if.”

That’s what I mean.

That is the challenge;
to take these gifts as they come
and believe in their permanence, even if the moment they are given is ephemeral.

Because, ya know, every moment is ephemeral.

Posted 07/05/2011
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