musings from the mid-atlantic

I received a call this morning from the principal of my local middle school. Well aware of the fact that I am close to attaining my certification, last year she offered me a long-term substituting position teaching seventh and eighth grade Social Studies. I was in that particular assignment for nearly the entire school year. Today she inquired about my interest in teaching eighth grade Language Arts for the first semester of the school year. I expressed my interest and she said she would forward my name to the appropriate people, though she sounded certain that I would get the position.

In many respects, teaching Language Arts is not unlike teaching Social Studies and I look forward to finally teaching students proper grammar and punctuation without hearing the common retort, "You're not my LA teacher!" pwned.

Over the past three years, the month of August has become a month of new beginnings for me. In August 2004, I left America for Vancouver en route to Nagasaki. In August 2005, I left Nagasaki for Los Angeles via Shanghai. That same August I also returned to the East Coast.

Last August, I marked those anniversaries silently and solemnly, somewhat lamenting and regretting the life I had fallen into after having so much promise and potential only an August prior. This August, however, I plan to celebrate my new beginning and embrace the independence, attitudes and prowess I left in Japan. This Thursday and Friday I’ll be in Newark and Philadelphia with some friends, indulging our carnal and bacchanal passions. This is something I really haven’t done since leaving Japan and I am looking forward to it.

I don’t think many people – if any – realize just how much of my Japanese self has withered away these past two years. The changes I underwent were not incredible, but they were substantial. They were changes that made me more confident, more viable and more at ease with myself. I hope I can rediscover at least a little of that person this week and make steps to reintegrate him into my life.

Today my boss told me I had dry humor. What a shock, right?

I'm beginning to think that I frighten all my co-workers. I've spent the past several evening shifts singing loudly and rather obnoxiously to any song that comes into my mind. Even if I don't know the lyrics. Yeah, it's that bad.

It's odd, I start my shift with so little energy, but my energy stores just build and build as the evening progresses to the point where I really don't know what to do with myself. Tomorrow I work in the evening and I pull a double-shift on Saturday so one of the girls can go to a birthday party.

In other news, I've found ways to be malcontented with every other aspect of my life aside from work over the past week and a half. I don't know why I can't be content with the ways things are in my life, but I'm not for reasons I can't even verbalize. I've got this yearning deep down to be something better than I am and do better than I'm doing that has no explicable genesis. Is that normal? Does that even make sense?

agnosticpope poked me, said I haven't updated in ages. Pffft. What's he know? :)

Since the end of the school year, I have taken up a position as a server at Passwater's Restaurant (yes, it's called Passwater's) and as a bartender at The 1730 Tavern -- all in Bridgeville at the new Heritage Shores community. Both are good jobs, with good co-workers.

Surprisingly enough, nothing too terribly exciting has happened in the weeks between updates. Played some tennis, seen a couple movies, been to a concert. Ah, to have a more interesting life.

For those that don't know I've been suffering from asthma-like symptoms since my return from Japan. I was diagnosed with asthma when I was a child, but I've never had any problems since elementary school. While living in Japan, I went from 205 pounds to 170 pounds in the span of about three months. When I returned to America, I went from 170 pounds to 205 pounds in the span of about three months. Shortly after I began having my breathing difficulties. I was uncomfortable at 170 pounds and I'm uncomfortable at 205 pounds; I've always felt that 180 pounds suits my build the best.

For reasons of stubbornness and laziness, I've been unwilling to do anything to remedy my breathing and my weight. Until this week, that is. I've started a walking routine of 2.6 miles each evening in an attempt to improve my breathing and general cardiovascular health. I know it's not much, but I've been at it for the past couple days and I feel good about doing it. I'm hoping I can use this as a starting point for improving my health. I'm not expecting a lot of weight loss, but that's really a secondary concern at this point -- I'd just like to be able to breathe again.

I need a variety of icons for this LiveJournal. Any suggestions?

For years I had known Delaware derived its name from Thomas West, third Baron De La Warr. I just learned today that West was the governor of Virginia who arrived just in time to persuade the settlers at Jamestown to remain in the New World in 1610.

The "Starving Time" (as history books call it) was a period of precariousness for the English at Jamestown. With food lacking, spirits sagging and losses staggering (up to 80% by some estimates), not even the revered Captain John Smith could rally settlers. It seems that just as the remaining settlers were about to leave, Lord De La Warr arrived on The Deliverance with supplies and more settlers. Upon his arrival and with instructions from London, West pretty much intensified and legitmized the First Anglo-Powhatan War -- a war that would end only upon the marriage of John Rolfe and Pocahontas.

So yay for Thomas West, third Baron De La Warr.

Did anyone else know all this about Thomas West and just choose not to inform me?

Until last evening's seminar -- my last class for my Master's degree, I might add -- I was unaware that a woodchuck and a groundhog are one in the same. What is wrong with me?

Ottawa in five. I was close.

The cliche says you should leave it all on the ice, but the Penguins must not be big into cliches. The effort wasn't really there after the first Ottawa goal early in the second period and it was downhill for Pittsburgh after that. But hey, Wayne Gretzky's postseason career began with a first round loss, too.

Mark my words, the Penguins will win their first round series next season.

The mayor of my adopted hometown of Nagasaki, Japan was assassinated this morning by the second-in-command of the local yakuza, Testuya Shiroo.

"Shiroo reportedly clashed with Nagasaki city officials in 2003 after his car was damaged when he drove into a hole at a public works site. He tried unsuccessfully to get compensation from the city after his insurance company refused to pay up, according to Japanese broadcaster NHK."

The odd part about this (aside from the ridiculousness of it)? I may actually know the assassin. Daniel, a colleague of mine in Nagasaki, had some "friends" in the world of organized crime and I had the pleasure of meeting some of them once. Not sure if Shiroo was one of them, but as soon as photographs are released, I'll be able to confirm or deny.

And I used to walk/ride past that train station every day. agnosticpope and I watched some drunk guys dance on a pedestrian overpass once. Ah, good times.

What did I say?

"We all know where the real battleground is," wrote Kansas City Star columnist Jason Whitlock. "We know that the gangsta rappers and their followers in the athletic world have far bigger platforms to negatively define us than some old white man with a bad radio show."

As quoted from an article entitled "After Imus storm, rap at the fore" from CNN.com

Is it just me or is Pittsburgh Penguin star Sidney Crosby getting special treatment by the referees through the first three games of their playoff series against Ottawa?

I don't mean that Crosby draws unnecessary penalties against Ottawa players or that Crosby is getting away with hooking and interference. No, it looks to me like the referees are swallowing their whistles when it comes to Ottawa's players obstructing him. I distinctly recall three four incidents over the course of the three games that would usually be called for Crosby (or any other player) during the regular season -- punches to the face, slashes to the stick, that sort of thing. And now? No such luck.

Have the referees decided they want to welcome Crosby to the playoffs in their own special way? Has his so-called whining finally gotten the better of him? Time will tell, but for now I'm a bit disgusted by the way the officials are botching the calls.

I watched Game 1 of the Ottawa-Pittsburgh series at home with Rob. I clutched my newly-arrived edition of The Hockey News and even pulled on a Penguins jersey. Needless to I was not pleased with the 6-3 loss.

The two teams meet again this afternoon in Game 2 which will be broadcast on NBC at three o'clock. I'm here at Jill's and that's where I'll watch it. No magazine, no jersey, just me and a television. If Pittsburgh wins this game, they're still alive in the series. Should they lose, well... let's just say I'll become an ardent Devils fan for the next two months.

I've got great hope for these Penguins, but let it be said that I selected Ottawa in 6 before the series started. My Stanley Cup final matchup? Buffalo over Anaheim.

While driving yesterday evening, agnosticpope called me and we talked for about an hour. It certainly made the drive quicker; whenever I talk to him, I can't help but think back to my younger, care-free days. As per his custom, conversation eventually turned to current events and then almost immediately to Don Imus and his great kerfuffle. I have never really liked Don Imus (but nor have I ever disliked him), but -- as my father is fond of saying -- Don Imus got a raw deal.

The double-standard that exists in this country when it comes to what white Americans can (or can't) say and what black Americans say all the time irks me beyond belief. Were Snoop D-o-double-jizzle to go on MTV and refer to the ladies of the Rutgers basketball team just as Don Imus did, America would either laugh or shrug it off as one of Snoop's antics. However, when a popular white American -- in a position to reach far fewer Americans, I might add -- mockingly refers to the team as such, the Reverends Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson (or Reverend Al Jackson as I slipped yesterday) unleash holy hell upon the man (well, CBS they say) until corporate America has no choice but to kowtow and placate these men.

*sigh*

I am reminded of an Al Sharpton blurb I read a few days ago on CNN.com: "We cannot afford a precedent established that the airwaves can be used to commercialize and mainstream sexism and racism." In my opinion, that precedent was set years ago in the comedy clubs and record companies who legitimized these terms long before Imus made his fatal mistake. I can hardly think of the last time a rap artist referred to one of his many female companions as 'hos' and was reprimanded.

All the self-serving intentions and actions of Sharpton, Jackson et al have done is further legitimize the double standard that exists between white and black America. Congratulations to you, sirs.