Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 614
May 11, 2011
This list sucks
Here is a list of the eight most common stroke triggering behaviors, excluding persistently high blood pressure.
• Coffee consumption (10.6%)
• Vigorous physical exercise (7.9%)
• Nose blowing (5.4%)
• Sexual intercourse (4.3%)
• Straining to defecate (3.6%)
• Cola consumption (3.5%)
• Being startled (2.7%)
• Being angry (1.3%)
This sucks.
Angry and startled are my two default states of being. Having suffered from PTSD for years, I am the most easily startled person I know. My nervous system, according my therapist, has literally been trained to startle easily.
And angry?
I can't tell you the number of things that annoy me.
Not to mention that when I'm not startled or angry, vigorous physical exercise, sex, and drinking Diet Coke are three of my favorite things in the world.
For those not keeping track, that's five out of the eight triggers.
Thankfully, my normal blood pressure is exceedingly good (they always check it twice, assuming the first reading was incorrect), and I don't drink coffee, but this list does not make me happy.
In fact, it makes me quite angry.
See what I mean?
Daytime television at its best
I can't decide which is worse:
The toy, which is simply horrifying.
The behavior of the host, which was utterly bizarre.
Her face, which looks like it is being held up by invisible wires.
This is the perfect example of why no one should be watching television at 10:00 AM.
May 10, 2011
Matthew Dicks: Under arrest
You'd think my name is difficult enough without guys like this further besmirching it.
_____________________________________
Matthew Dicks Date Booked: 5/09/2011
The rejection of a nickname should be a red flag
A man's choice about his name says a lot about him.
Some names are destined for nicknames, and those that reject these predetermined, perfectly palatable nicknames in favor of their formal and complete name leave me wondering what might be wrong with them.
A Matthew, for instance, who rejects the nickname Matt.
A Peter who rejects the nickname Pete.
A Michael who rejects the nickname Mike.
A Daniel who rejects the nickname Dan.
What causes these people to require their full name under all circumstances, when a shortened form of the name is universally accepted?
I have to believe that there is something seriously wrong with these people.
A failure of confidence, perhaps?
An uncommonly strong attachment to their mothers?
A bizarre infatuation with anything alphabetical?
I have to assume that few of them ever played sports in any serious way, because shouting "Daniel, go deep!" or "Michael, I'm open!" just does not happen on the field of play.
Sports were made for nicknames.
That said, certain rejections of nicknames are more acceptable than others. It's reasonable, for example, for a Charles to reject a Charlie or a Chuck, since both nicknames change the tenor of the name completely.
It's also fine for a Robert to decide if he will be using Bob or Rob as the shortened form of his name.
But a David rejecting the nickname Dave? Or a Jeffrey rejecting Jeff?
"Oh no, please don't call me Jeff. I prefer Jeffrey at all times, please."
Am I wrong in thinking that there is clearly something wrong with these people?
Lessons from Irving and Franzen
I learned a number of interesting things from the authors who appeared at Friday night's Connecticut Forum.
John Irving's favorite word is penis, and he claims it to be a very useful word when needing to cut through the chatter of an airport terminal in order to locate your lost child.
Jonathan Franzen credits HARRIET THE SPY as his first formative novel.
John Irving believes that all novelists should write about what they fear the most.
In terms of my position on these matters:
I have no favorite word but now feel foolish for not having one. I shall begin searching immediately.
My first formative novels were A WRINKLE IN TIME and TREASURE ISLAND.
In terms of writing what I fear most, my books would probably fall into these categories:
SOMETHING MISSING: Fear of never being noticed
UNEXPECTEDLY, MILO: Fear of never being accepted
MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND: Fear of not existing
May 9, 2011
Creative, cruel and clever
One of my students named my bald spot Jerry today.
"Hi Mr. Dicks," she said. "Hi, Jerry."
Sometimes their cruelty can be so damn cute.
Kids make me sound stupid
Last week I wrote about my opinion of the the celebrations following Osama Bin Laden's death, and while I still believe that my assertions are correct, these kids sound a hell of a lot smarter than me:
This American Life also reported on the celebrations this week, framing them within the context of people born well before 9/11 (over 30-years old) and college age students who were still children on 9/11.
It makes for an interesting distinction.
Still not enough
Cecil Rhodes, former Prime Minister of the Cape Colony of South Africa and founder of the De Beers Mining Company, the Rhodes Scholarship program and the state of Rhodesia (later separated into the nations of Northern and Southern Rhodesia and later renamed Zambia and Zimbabwe), uttered these final words on his death bed:
"So little done, so much to do."
This is my greatest fear.
Regret for what I could and should have done.
It is also the reason I do not plan on dying.
May 8, 2011
Not a happy day
Mother's Day is a difficult day for me, as I expect it is for many.
For most of my life, Mother's Day was an opportunity to tell my mother that I loved her through time and tradition and sentiment and gifts. While not as joyous as a football-filled Thanksgiving or as memorable as a twinkling Christmas Eve, it was always a day of happiness and warmth.
Then my mom passed away four years ago, and in an instant, this once warm and happy day changed forever.
Mother's Day is unusual in this way.
Rarely does a day shift so sudden and dramatically in the course of a person's life while remaining static for so many others. Today motherless men and women will find themselves at Mother's Day celebrations, and while they may smile and nod and express the expected congratulatory sentiments for such an occasion, the day will not be a celebration for them.
For many, Mother's Day is a day spent remembering what they have lost while trapped in the midst of those who have not.
It can be uncommonly and unknowingly cruel for those who not blessed to have a mother in their lives.
And while I can muster a certain degree of happiness in celebrating Mother's Day with my wife, this is a day meant for mothers and their sons and daughters.
When your mom is gone, it will simply never be the same.
Significant fringe benefits
Tonight Elysha and I had dinner with Allison, a former student who was in my class for second and third grade. After dinner she helped me choose the date for the next A-Mattzing Race and then assisted Elysha in giving Clara a bath. Then Elysha and I headed out to the Connecticut Forum while Allison stayed behind to babysit.
Last week Allison served as one of the judges for my science fair.
Earlier in the week a student from Allison's second grade class asked for help on his college essay. He needed a teacher's opinion on the appropriateness of sex education in elementary school and interviewed me for the assignment.
Another former student, also in college, wrote to me earlier this week and informed me that her second and third grade Shakespearean studies are still paying dividends, even in college. She has more knowledge of Shakespeare than anyone in the class.
Last Monday a former student now in high school finally joined our after-school basketball game after a year of trying to match schedules. He dominated.
On Wednesday I received Teacher Appreciation letters from several former students who are now attending middle school. They were humorous and humbling.
On Thursday afternoon I played golf with the father and mother of a former student.
On Friday I toured the middle school with my current fifth grader students and ran into several of my former students. Later in the day one of them showed up at my classroom door to tell me that she loved me but didn't want to say it in front of her friends.
When I became a teacher, I never expected that the relationships I forge with students and their parents would continue on long after they had left my classroom.
But they do. Sometimes for years and years later.
More often than not, in fact.
Some of my best friends are the parents of former students.
Clara's godmother is the parent of former students.
And I see and hear from my former students all the time.
It's not as tangible nor profitable as a company car or stock options, but by way of fringe benefits, there is truly nothing better.
