Teaching

Teaching is working out pretty well. I'm enjoying it, by and large, and find that even in the parts where I'm shaky I've got a lot of support. The Foreign Language Department at school is really helpful, I'm in a class that meets after school on Tuesdays and my mother has been helping a lot, too.

I'm enjoying being back in Maine for the most part but man, I miss having friends around. I mean, there's about two here. I've joined a kickball league (through WAKA, if'n yer curious) and that's pretty cool. I play with a friend I had from long ago and some acquaintances and it seems to be going pretty well. We lose but we get to drink on the field. In the end that's what sports is really all about. To quote the great Homer, "Son, when you attend a sporting event it's not about whether you win or lose but how drunk you get." Roughly.

So apart from that I've just got Nick. And I like Nick a lot but I don't wanna be like crowding his shit or whatever. Also, he lives pretty far away. Everyone does.

So that's my gripe. I'm kinda lonely. Mum cooks for me a lot, though! So groceries are cheap and rent's minimal. I should have plenty of money for when I go to Europe next summer.

So that's that.

THREE UNDEAD BILL PAXTONS?

All right, so I've got a new job and shit teaching Spanish at Lake Region High School. But whatever, here's what I'm really excited about:

Alien V Predator 2: V Terminator. The flick has THREE UNDEAD BILL PAXTONS! I don't know anything more about it except that he's also instrumental in bringing down all three nasty beasties. In an act of revenge? Who knows!? They're undead/mindless! OR ARE THEY!!!

Oh man oh man oh man oh man.

Oh, according to the IMDb it'll actually be AVP3:VT. Whatever.


Dibs on writing it!

Writing here again. If only because it easily links to facebook.

Which just might be the lamest thing ever. But it's exciting.

The summer went well. 8 weeks of kids both smart and dumb, awesome and awful. Actually, we really didn't have many problem children and I can only think of one who was actively nasty. The others just were loud and obvious about their disdain for regular work and preference of things like bad flash games and Nelly's Trapped in the Closet. Guh.

The rest of the time in VA was pretty cool, too. Benstyn's friends are good people and I've enjoyed hanging out with them muchly. I'm headed back down there later on today, in fact, before I start my... NEW JOB!!

I am, in fact, a high school teacher. Not even any of that substitute bullshit. I'm a teacher. I'm going to earn more money than I know what to do with if I understand the situation correctly. Teachers are certainly underpaid for the work they do, but $28K is a lot of money for a single guy who lives with his mom.

I'm pretty excited. I'll be teaching Spanish 1 and 2. I have to come up with lesson plans and grade tests and papers. It's at my alma mater, too. Lake Region High School in Naples, ME. My Spanish and Latin teachers (My favorites) are still there, too. And when I told Nick's family, his brother said that he had been thinking about dropping out of Latin to take my class. Then he asked for an A.

I told him he could have one if he earned it.

Nick'll be around for the year, which will be fun, I think. He's got a job as a news editor for WGME. Right now he'll be editing tape-to-tape via tape decks but the reason they hired him is his skills with Avid. They are, apparently, getting an Avid editing system in a couple months and he's probably one of ten people in the state who even know what Avid is. Frankly, my own concept of it is rather vague and ethereal.

I suppose I'd be in remiss if I failed to mention that my dog has been rather sick lately. He's developed this nasty and persistent cough that sounds like my old car. Or rather, if my old car was Maxx, they'd sound alike. Although Maxx doesn't do it all the time and have a key stuck in his ignition.

New car runs great, though.

Well, if I'm to make it down to Virginia today, I is best to be rising up.

Krister, out.

Made it all the way to UVA without so much as an engine light coming on.

I rock. So does the car. Thanks Grammy and Aunt Lynn.

A day on the road did bad shit to my physique. Bad food and lots of sitting. Damn.

I went to Lewiston before leaving for VA. Had to sit through an additional 3 hours or so of class time because the teacher couldn't teach the class in the regular order. Normally CPR is taught at the beginning and first aid after, but someone (I'm assuming it was that miserable chickenshit God) told her she had to teach First Aid first.

Balls on that. Two of 'em. In a sweaty sack. On it's forehead.

Think I just thought of a good way to torture people.

Drove for 12 hours to Herndon, VA where Tristyn was gracious enough to let me crash at her place. Got about four hours of sleep (on top of the 5 from the night before). Drove to Charlottesville.

On the drive down I decided I really, really like the word Pepper. It has some psychosomatic effect on me. I can feel it wrap around the back of my head. Also the word Milk, but only if it's pronounced just right. The "k" at the end can't be phlegmy at all. A hard and crisp sound. Also, the "i" should come from deeper in the throat. Nick Cave says it admirably in one of the songs on Boatman's Call. Not my favorite of songs, but you know. Also, the dude from Type O Negative in the song Black No. 1.

Anyway, I'm gonna crash for a bit.

Although I'm discovering why I should never have created a playlist called "Songs I could listen to incessantly." Cant... stop... listening!

I'm not surprised by this:

Your Political Profile

Overall: 10% Conservative, 90% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

How Much do you like copying me?

Keep Me In Your Heart by Warren Zevon, off his final album The Wind, is perhaps one of the most beautiful, emotional and sad songs I have ever heard.

Zevon was dying of cancer when he wrote this album, the whole thing is a masterpiece, really. He got phenomenal talent to work with him and is himself quite talented. Noted accompanying stars: Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty, Dwight Yoakam, Don Henley, Joe Walsh and Ry Cooder. It ranges from fun, humorous songs (Dirty Life and Times for instance, which features the line "I'm looking for a girl with low self-esteem" and "If she won't love me her sister will") to the sad, somber songs you'd expect from a man who is reflecting on his life. Notably touching are El Amor de Mi Vida and Rest of the Night. One being an ode to lost love and the other a call to "Party for the Rest of the Night."

The album is particularly touching when you consider this is his last work. He knew it would be his last work. Instead of making a moral-spewing piece or a musical last will, he took liberty and had a lot of fun and created a really solid album. Death leaks into it all just the same, but that only binds it together and makes the gestalt sweeter.

But back to Keep Me In Your Heart. It is the last track on the album and his most focused on his imminent death. What is so wonderful about it is how simple yet evocative it manages to be. I think I've listened to it four or five times in the last half an hour and it's brought tears to my eyes every time. His words are perfect, they paint the picture without being overly dramatic or needlessly obscure. This song is about a man who has come to terms with what will happen to him, and his one last plea. Keep me in your heart for a while.

In perhaps the most startling and stirring news on this entire blog, from college acceptance to melissa and I dating to Tristyn dumping me, I am giving the Web Browser Opera. So far I find it to be much like Firefox, but I'm digging it's layout more.
Also, I hear there's a bunch of nifty keyboard shortcuts to learn. To make my web browsing a more fulfilling experience no doubt.

Ha! I'll die alone.

I spent my time in the Bahamas on the island called Eleuthera. On Eleuthera you'll find no shortage of nothing to do and many rums to complement that. Rums from The Bahamas, Jamaica, Haiti etc. Here's what my mother says about rum and nothing. "Nothing to do's no problem when there's rum. When there's rum you can just let gravity take over."

In the Bahamas you can sit in the sun and stew in your own juices while drinking iced tropical drinks from swirly straws and read books that may or may not pertain to civilization. You can't decide whether or not it pertains because you're so far from the mechinations of modern man. The world could end while you're on the Bahamas and you wouldn't really notice until you ran out of something. But that something wouldn't be the relaxed atmosphere, I guarantee you that.

In The Bahamas everyone waves. You probably don't know them, but they're nice and smile big white toothed smiles and wave pink palms at you.

In the Bahamas you drive on the left. I know this because there was a big sign in the window of my car that said "Keep Left." So I kept left. The roads in the Bahamas have terrible problems with potholes. But it seems that most of the population doesn't care and drives over the potholes and the smooth spots with equal zest. I suspect there's a fair amount of alcohol abuse in the driving practices there, but nothing too major.

To sum up: Not much to do. People are friendly. Roads are questionable. Driving's an adventure.

One more chapter in the article anecdote. Here's the final (maybe?) revised edit.
And it seems some of my facts might have been a little twisted before. Just know there have now been four edits.

Squarin’ Up with God
by Krister Rollins


It’s a sweating sea of tangled, writhing bodies.

To clarify: They are all wearing clothes. And they are upright. And they are dancing. Square dancing.

The InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IVCF) decided to host a night of square dancing, lassoing, apple bobbing, and food eating in Clark Gym. Christina McKee, Outreach Coordinator for RIT’s chapter of the IVCF told me this was an “outreach event” and that they were trying to convince people that “being a Christian isn’t necessarily boring.” But the night almost didn’t happen. There was no band up until a week ago, as the previously contacted minstrels were called off to one of two other coincidental square dances held that very night. Luckily, they were able to piece a band together last minute.

The plan partially worked. There was a huge turnout, with people coming from as far off as Fredonia and Geneseo. However, it did seem like the majority of the attendees were already in the IVCF fold. But they were certainly not all familiar faces, as Christina did not recognize a bunch of people there and was also pleasantly surprised by the number of deaf people on the floor. They all had a ball. Or square. The entire night I’m not sure I saw one frown. Everyone was cheery and good-natured.

A lot of them were sweaty, too, from all the running around. I spotted three guys who were sitting up in the back of the bleachers. “Ah,” I thought to myself, “These disaffected youths will provide an opposing angle on my story.” Nope. The bleachers were rarely populated because it was always people, like these chaps, just sitting out a round to rest up.

No one seemed to mind the weird tarp covering the floor, the cut-in-half donuts, or the Drunken Interloper who came from nowhere and danced on the stage like an idiot until the guitarist politely requested he leave. Which he did.

Keith Hunt, the caller, who has been calling since the ‘50s said, “[it’s] great fun to see everyone dancing out there and having a good time. It’s really encouraging.”

What was interesting to me was how extreme everyone was in their keen intent on having a night of good-natured fun. People enjoyed the donuts, sometimes even splitting the halves in half. The non-carbonated and, you can bet your butt, non-alcoholic drinks were consumed with equal fervor. I saw more radiating smiles and glowing happiness at this dance than at any large event I have been to. Everyone was bound and determined to have a good time. And they did.

I went to a Square Dance last night for the Reporter. It was run by the InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.
I wrote an article. Sent it to Tristyn, she seemed to enjoy it. My editor liked it. He sent it to his superiors.
They found it Wildly Offensive.
So I was awoken today by Ben, my editor in this article, asking if I wouldn't mind re-editing it. So I got up and re-edited something that I had already worked hard at making not offensive.
So in the interest of...something...here's the original.


It’s a sweating sea of tangled writhing bodies.
Most unchristian.
But then, they are all wearing clothes. And they are upright. And they are dancing. Square dancing.
The InterVarsity Christian Fellowship decided to host the night of square dancing, lassoing, apple bobbing and food eating in Clark Gym this year partially because they have seen it done at other nearby schools in The Fellowship, partially because it is fun and partially because people might come and see all the secular fun these folks are having and think that attending their Friday night meetings might not be so bad.
The plan partially worked. There was a huge turnout. People came from Fredonia and Geneseo. Unfortunately, the majority of the attendees were already members of the fold, already in with The Big Guy. But they all still managed to have a ball. Or square. The entire night I’m not sure I saw one frown. Everyone was cheery and good natured.
Kinda drags you down.
Everyone there was happy and glad. A lot of them were sweaty, too, from all the running around. I spotted three guys who were sitting out one of the dances up in the back of the bleachers. “Ah,” I thought to myself, “These disaffected youths will provide an opposing angle on my story,”
Nope.
I realized something was wrong when I got back there and they were all sweaty and grinning. They told me they were up in the bleachers to get a good angle on the floor and really see everything going down while they rested up between songs. Johnny Arkansas told me he learned to square dance in the third grade. Another guy from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania told me they danced square all through high school.
Everyone there was completely happy. The bleachers were never that populated and it was always just people sitting out for a round to rest up. No one seemed to mind the weird tarp covering the floor, the cut-in-half donuts or the Drunken Interloper who came from nowhere and danced on the stage like an idiot until the guitarist politely requested he leave. Which he did.
I just didn’t really understand it.
And then it dawns on me. Little hints from over the evening; the exaggerated reenactment of the Drunken Interloper, the phrase “good clean fun,” the apple bobbing, the lasso. The phrase “a night of fun without drinking” pops into my head. And it dawns on me.
These are people with whom I have a fundamental incompatibility.
Complete abstinence is about as reasonable to me as complete indulgence. I can have fun without drinking, yes, I had a good time at the square dance. But I can also have a good time with drinking. Not too much, of course, memories are nice and I’m no fan of hangovers.
But these folks didn’t seem to have any interest in it.
I was also shocked when people started leaving promptly at 11 pm. Surely it could not have all been to go to bed. But I imagine most of the dancers also go to church on Sundays. So I guess it makes sense that they would want to leave.
Anyway, I can’t really malign the event or the attendees. Everyone was cheery and bright and had a lot of fun. I saw more radiating smiles and glowing happiness at this dance than at any large event I have been to. Can’t deny the happiness.
But you also can’t deny the extremes.

And now, for your reading and comparing pleasure, the re-edit.


It’s a sweating sea of tangled writhing bodies.
Most unchristian.
But then, they are all wearing clothes. And they are upright. And they are dancing. Square dancing.
The InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IVCF) decided to host the night of square dancing, lassoing, apple bobbing and food eating in Clark Gym this year partially because they have seen it done at other nearby schools in The Fellowship, partially because it is fun and partially because people might come and see all the secular fun these folks are having and decide to attend the group’s Friday meetings.
Christina McKee, Outreach Coordinator for RIT’s chapter of the IVCF told me this was an “outreach event.” That they were trying to convince people “Being a Christian isn’t necessarily boring.” But the night almost didn’t happen. There was no band up until a week ago as the previously contacted minstrels were called off to one of two other coincidental square dances held that very night. Luckily, Ben Proctor was able to piece a band together last minute.
The plan partially worked. There was a huge turnout. People came from Fredonia and Geneseo. The majority of the attendees were already members of the fold, already in with The Big Guy. Christina did not recognize a bunch of people there, and was also pleasantly surprised by the number of deaf people on the floor. They all had a ball. Or square. The entire night I’m not sure I saw one frown. Everyone was cheery and good natured.
Kinda drags you down.
Everyone there was happy and glad. A lot of them were sweaty, too, from all the running around. I spotted three guys who were sitting out one of the dances up in the back of the bleachers. “Ah,” I thought to myself, “These disaffected youths will provide an opposing angle on my story,”
Nope.
I realized something was wrong with my cynical approach when I got back there and they were all sweaty and grinning. They told me they were up in the bleachers to get a good angle on the floor and really see everything going down while they rested up between songs. Johnny Arkansas told me he learned to square dance in the third grade. Another guy from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania told me they danced square all through high school.
Everyone there was completely happy. The bleachers were never that populated and it was always just people sitting out for a round to rest up. No one seemed to mind the weird tarp covering the floor, the cut-in-half donuts or the Drunken Interloper who came from nowhere and danced on the stage like an idiot until the guitarist politely requested he leave. Which he did.
Keith Hunt, the caller, who has been calling since the ‘50s said it’s “great fun to see everyone dancing out there and having a good time. It’s really encouraging.”
What was interesting to me was how extreme everyone was in their keen intent on having a night of good natured fun. Nothing about the evening upset anyone. Ben and Keith had a jocular exchange exaggeratedly imitating the drunken cavorting of the interloper. People happily enjoyed the donuts, sometimes even splitting the halves in half. The non-carbonated, and you can bet your butt nonalcoholic, drinks were consumed with equal fervor. Everyone was bound and determined to have a good time.
And they did.
Everyone was cheery and bright and enjoying themselves. I saw more radiating smiles and glowing happiness at this dance than at any large event I have been to. Can’t deny the happiness.
But you also can’t deny the extremes.

Enjoy.