Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 343

Five of my more anomalous wedding anomalies (i.e. strangest clients ever)

I have worked as a DJ at more than 400 weddings over the past 19 years, including:

A groom's first and second wedding (different women each time)My ex-girlfriend's weddingMy other ex-girlfriend's weddingMy wife's ex-boyfriend's weddingMy ex-wife's ex-husband's wedding (where I also served as the minister)

Slate's The Gist appearance: Where to Find the Best Stories

My most recent appearance on Slate's The Gist features my secret for finding great stories in your life, and even if you're not a storyteller, for changing your life for the better forever. 

Lip-syncing made hilarious

I'm not sure who is funnier here; The guy lip-syncing the songs or the annoyed woman sitting beside him. Either way this video brought great joy to my heart.

A hidden penis is always a problem

My kids were playing in the backyard with the hose.

Clara, my six year-old daughter shouts:

“Charlie, I can’t spray your penis because I can’t see it!”

My former students occupy such important spaces in my life

There have been so many unexpected benefits to my teaching career, but none have been more surprising than the lifelong relationships that I have established with so many of my students.

I first got to know these people as seven or eight or ten year-old children, and so many of them are now adults who occupy such an important space in my life.

My wife posted this on Facebook last night about one of those former students:

“Kate, babysitter extraordinaire and former student of Matt (grade 3) and mine (grade 5) just sang a lullaby over speaker phone to Charlie who wouldn’t go to bed without hearing a song that only she knows. Can I just tell you how special it was for me to hear a kid (well, not anymore) who I taught 12 years ago when she was ten sing my little one to sleep? (The answer is: pretty damn special.) Kate, thank you for making Charlie’s and my night.”

— Elysha Dicks

Not every teacher chooses to forge such close ties with their former students, but I can't for the life of me understand why.

Brazilian exit signs are unnerving

These are not emergency exit signs. Just standard exit signs. And they make me anxious. 

When you're transmitting information to an audience, be entertaining. Even if it's simply a sign.

Filmmaker Kevin Smith argues that every time you are speaking to a group of people of any size, you have an obligation to be entertaining. 

I could not agree more. Whether it's a staff meeting or professional development or a sales conference, you have a duty to engage and amuse your audience while transmitting the necessary information.     

I think this rule can also be applied in other types of communication as well. Cleverly designed 404 pages that delight the reader and amusing road signs are two examples of opportunities to stand above the crowd and entertain your audience while also transferring the necessary information. 

Here is another example of a sign that we see all the time, except in this case, it has been brilliantly written to delight its audience:

The plague of the mason jar: Let us pray that it has reached its peak.

I suspect (or perhaps just hope) that we've reached peak mason jar, because those goddamn things are everywhere.  

Mason jars are lovely pieces of glassware, and if you have some peaches or prunes in need of preservation, I would be the first to recommend them.

But as for the drinking glasses, mason jars kind of suck. Unlike the standard drinking glass, with its smooth, uniform rim that allows easy transfer of liquid from glass to mouth, mason jars have a thick, irregular rim, designed for a metallic lid and not the human mouth, and are therefore simply not as pleasant or efficient for drinking.

Standard drinking glasses are also sized so that they fit easily into a human hand. Mason jars are large, clunky containers not meant to be picked up and put down repeatedly. Little kids have difficulty even lifting a mason jar unless they use two hands.    

Mason jars are also jars. They look like jars. They act like jars. When I see them on a table, I think jar. 

Even when they are transformed into things like this, I still see jars in need of pickles:

I understand why people are using mason jars as drinking glasses. They believe that mason jars will project a home-spun, old timey, seemingly effortless DIY aesthetic. They think that mason jars on the dining room table will add a sense of nostalgia and the ease of country living to their home. 

"Oh dear! All of my drinking glasses are down by the creek, waiting to be washed. But fear not, friends. We haven't harvested our cucumbers from the upper field yet, so we can drink from these empty jars today."

I understand the sentiment. I just think it's dumb.

I also think that mason jars become so ubiquitous and pervasive that they have ceased to appear different or special. About half of all pages on Pinterest and Etsy feature mason jars in some way. You can find them at restaurants and bars and hotels.

You can find mason jars in 7-11.

As a wedding DJ, it is rare for me to work at a wedding that does not feature mason jars in some way.

Mason jars are everywhere. They are the locust of the glassware universe.

Perhaps someday - sooner than later, I hope - we will return to a simpler time, when lemonade is poured into tall, thin drinking glasses and pickles and peaches are sealed into mason jars and stored in root cellars and overstuffed pantries for a later date.

That is real nostalgia.

How the brain got its name

Deep thought:

Since human beings gave the brain its name, the brain therefore named itself.

Right?

When it comes to Brazil, I am basically an infant.

I've been in Brazil for three days, and in many ways, I can't help but feel like an infant.

I don't speak a word of Portuguese, and the little bit of Spanish and French that I know does me absolutely no good. Wherever I go, I am under constant escort from one or more of the teachers who work at the school that I'm visiting. They put me in taxis and inform the drivers that I know nothing. 

I can't order food for myself (or even read a menu), and even when I see the food, I'm often can't tell what it actually is. 

On top of this, my American dollars are useless here, and the hotel where I am staying is in a less-than-safe neighborhood. As a result, I have been told not to leave the premise unless I am with other people. I can almost see the school where I will be teaching from my hotel, and yet a taxi will be transporting me to the gates every day. 

For a guy who prides himself on independence, it's been strange. I feel as if I should be strapped into a stroller and given a pacifier.   

But on Sunday, I spent the afternoon and evening touring Vila Madalena, a Sao Paulo neighborhood known for its concentration of graffiti art. Beco do Batman (Batman Alley) is an especially popular tourist destination, and from the photos that we took that day, you can probably see why. 

The graffiti was incredible.

I spent the day walking the streets with a Canadian, talking about the graffiti, Brazilian culture, teaching, writing, and stories from our lives.

Later, we joined an Australian and two Americans for dinner. I tried acai for the first time. I dined on Brazilian beef and drank traditional Brazilian alcohol while listening to music and learning about some of the culture from my dinner mates.

I was advised by a friend to try to allow the Brazilian culture to wash over me, and that is what I did on Sunday to great effect. 

There were still moments when I felt like an infant. When it came time to head home, my friend had to put me in a taxi, explain to the driver where I was going, and then took the taxi driver's business card, just in case I didn't get back to the hotel. I felt like a ten year-old boy being sent across the city for the first time.

But still, it was a fantastic day, and even as an infant, I feel incredibly lucky to be here.