Well, I believe it's Lindsey Clark! She may be in Malawi, but she's famous here in Little Rock.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Lindsey Clark = Arkansas Celebrity
Notice the attentive looking audience at this past semester's Irene Kahn public program. Recognize anyone? I've added a big red circle to help you out.
Well, I believe it's Lindsey Clark! She may be in Malawi, but she's famous here in Little Rock.
Well, I believe it's Lindsey Clark! She may be in Malawi, but she's famous here in Little Rock.
Willie, Where art thou? Where was I?!
A few quick notes before telling the tragic tale of July 25 and 26.
1) For the gamblers out there, the Dean has reached out to his Baggo gurus around the world. One can only presume that he is enlisting their support and training techniques.
2) A certain wife of mine is pressuring me to throw the match citing professional courtesy and my dependence on a good job recommendation from the contender once I graduate. Well, I'm not about to appease anyone...I'm here to compete. Below is a snapshot of a training session in North Little Rock yesterday.
Now, brace yourselves. The following story is emotionally draining. It has all the pieces of a classic Greek tragedy.
On the sultry evening of Friday July 25, 2008, two musical legends from different walks of life joined together for a performance unmatched in the recent history of the Rivermarket venue. B.B. King and Willie Nelson. It would be the cultural event of the summer. I left the cold and lonesome video archive filled with glee as the prospect of a great evening of music and cheer. Once at home, I heard the front door open and my wife on the phone. What? What's that I hear? Plans? Couples...date??? And then, like a wave dashed against a rocky cliff, my hopes of musical ecstacy shattered; we would go on a double date instead to the Fox and Hound not to the Rivermarket. As our evening drew to a close and we drove back over the bridge to LR, I could only hold my head out the window to try and pick a few strums and choruses out of the hot summer night.
Saturday marked a new day, and I was going to grill some ribs. I talked with BBQ legends and heirs to guarded recipes before throwing a slab o' meat on the grill. I can't even begin to explain the happiness one gets painstakingly attending the slow cooking deliciousness. The heat from the flames, the sweet pungent aromas, the sight of a true grilling accomplishment, the sound of a smooth sizzle, and the taste of a cold beer truly made this experience a pleasure for all the senses. After 2 hours, company arrived and it was time to serve. A certain wife of mine suggested that we give the ribs a few more minutes. I gave them a little more heat and tended to the ice cream churn for a few minutes. I don't know what happened next, but I turned to see oranges and yellows flickering inside the grill. I ran back to it only to find that my masterpiece was ruined. It was a cruel end to a heavenly process. They were so young and so beautiful, if only for a fleeting moment, before being taken before they could be truly enjoyed.
1) For the gamblers out there, the Dean has reached out to his Baggo gurus around the world. One can only presume that he is enlisting their support and training techniques.
2) A certain wife of mine is pressuring me to throw the match citing professional courtesy and my dependence on a good job recommendation from the contender once I graduate. Well, I'm not about to appease anyone...I'm here to compete. Below is a snapshot of a training session in North Little Rock yesterday.
Now, brace yourselves. The following story is emotionally draining. It has all the pieces of a classic Greek tragedy.
On the sultry evening of Friday July 25, 2008, two musical legends from different walks of life joined together for a performance unmatched in the recent history of the Rivermarket venue. B.B. King and Willie Nelson. It would be the cultural event of the summer. I left the cold and lonesome video archive filled with glee as the prospect of a great evening of music and cheer. Once at home, I heard the front door open and my wife on the phone. What? What's that I hear? Plans? Couples...date??? And then, like a wave dashed against a rocky cliff, my hopes of musical ecstacy shattered; we would go on a double date instead to the Fox and Hound not to the Rivermarket. As our evening drew to a close and we drove back over the bridge to LR, I could only hold my head out the window to try and pick a few strums and choruses out of the hot summer night.
Saturday marked a new day, and I was going to grill some ribs. I talked with BBQ legends and heirs to guarded recipes before throwing a slab o' meat on the grill. I can't even begin to explain the happiness one gets painstakingly attending the slow cooking deliciousness. The heat from the flames, the sweet pungent aromas, the sight of a true grilling accomplishment, the sound of a smooth sizzle, and the taste of a cold beer truly made this experience a pleasure for all the senses. After 2 hours, company arrived and it was time to serve. A certain wife of mine suggested that we give the ribs a few more minutes. I gave them a little more heat and tended to the ice cream churn for a few minutes. I don't know what happened next, but I turned to see oranges and yellows flickering inside the grill. I ran back to it only to find that my masterpiece was ruined. It was a cruel end to a heavenly process. They were so young and so beautiful, if only for a fleeting moment, before being taken before they could be truly enjoyed.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thursday Thursday THURSDAY...
Much has happened in Little Rock in the past 3 days which will soon be recorded on this very blog. However, top billing goes to the upcoming baggo bout as advertised by the contender himself, Skip "the Dean" Rutherford.
The contender is banking on the ungodly heat to take a toll on young Swearingen who, with a perfect yet meager 1-0 record, is still relatively new to the Clinton School baggo circuit and could be rattled by tough game time conditions. Meanwhile, Russ Swearingen, who recently bought a bicycle, expects to use precision flinging skills learned from Hall of Famers (and Dean-loyalists) Mr. Wilson, DiPippa, and Beaumont to keep the Dean at bay and off his game.
Tune in on Thursday to watch as these two competitors vie for the gold in the most anticipated rematch since Rocky II.
The contender is banking on the ungodly heat to take a toll on young Swearingen who, with a perfect yet meager 1-0 record, is still relatively new to the Clinton School baggo circuit and could be rattled by tough game time conditions. Meanwhile, Russ Swearingen, who recently bought a bicycle, expects to use precision flinging skills learned from Hall of Famers (and Dean-loyalists) Mr. Wilson, DiPippa, and Beaumont to keep the Dean at bay and off his game. Tune in on Thursday to watch as these two competitors vie for the gold in the most anticipated rematch since Rocky II.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Mosquito, Monkey, Molly, and More...
As I sit here - an unimmunized and flavorful magnet for airborne pests - the West Nile Virus has made its presence known in Arkansas during this gloriously humid and sultry summer. Joining its ranks of unpleasant and potentially deadly diseases borne through mosquitoes that recently appeared in Arkansas is St. Louis Encephalitis. And, as I happen to work within a hundred yards of marshiness and stagnant waters, I'm willing to bet that I'm walking right into the danger zone.
In other news, Lara and I - inspired by our dear friends' forays into zoos around the world - visited the Little Rock Zoo. Let's just say that on a heat index day of well over 1 double zero degrees, animals don't want to play...or entertain...or live. I think of all the animals we saw, four of them moved: a tiger, a bear, baby Mosi the gorilla, and a goat. My favorite quote of the day from an excited observer near the spider monkeys: "LOOOOOK, LOOOOOK!!! Hey. LOOOOOK! He's walking!!!!" Walking.
Soon after this rare display of jungle activity that incited the masses and a frenzy of photography, Lara and I were greeted by our dear friend Molly...as in the bird Molly that had an enchanting conversation with my classmate and human friend Molly back in October during a previous visit to the Zoo. She, the bird, didn't remember me, but did say "hello" and "pretty bird" to me.
And lastly, this weekend brought the Arkansas Democratic Party Convention to Little Rock at which I volunteered. If I may give one word of advice: alphabetize, as in "It would be genius to alphabetize the check-in list." Despite this slight oversight, Nikolai and I got the job done and were praised for our organization with accolades such as "Man oh man, you sure must have worked at the Gap; your table is neat." No. No Gap. But, at a Wal-Mart meat department, I learned the product organization/placement trade. The night was a success, so I checked off another piece of public service - done.(Nikolai would like to be a guest writer to this section, but he had to step out. However, he does say "Thank you" to Eric Wilson.)
Well, the final push of the IPSP is upon us. I hope all is well with my friends in the far reaches of the earth. Avoid the West Nile and any kind of -ephalitus and such things. But know that Arkansas will grant you no disease-free refuge upon your return.
Willy Nelson is supposed to be in LR this weekend. I'm sorry you will miss him, J.D. I hope to go...so I can scream WILLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEE really loud while wearing a bandana.
In other news, Lara and I - inspired by our dear friends' forays into zoos around the world - visited the Little Rock Zoo. Let's just say that on a heat index day of well over 1 double zero degrees, animals don't want to play...or entertain...or live. I think of all the animals we saw, four of them moved: a tiger, a bear, baby Mosi the gorilla, and a goat. My favorite quote of the day from an excited observer near the spider monkeys: "LOOOOOK, LOOOOOK!!! Hey. LOOOOOK! He's walking!!!!" Walking.
Soon after this rare display of jungle activity that incited the masses and a frenzy of photography, Lara and I were greeted by our dear friend Molly...as in the bird Molly that had an enchanting conversation with my classmate and human friend Molly back in October during a previous visit to the Zoo. She, the bird, didn't remember me, but did say "hello" and "pretty bird" to me.
And lastly, this weekend brought the Arkansas Democratic Party Convention to Little Rock at which I volunteered. If I may give one word of advice: alphabetize, as in "It would be genius to alphabetize the check-in list." Despite this slight oversight, Nikolai and I got the job done and were praised for our organization with accolades such as "Man oh man, you sure must have worked at the Gap; your table is neat." No. No Gap. But, at a Wal-Mart meat department, I learned the product organization/placement trade. The night was a success, so I checked off another piece of public service - done.(Nikolai would like to be a guest writer to this section, but he had to step out. However, he does say "Thank you" to Eric Wilson.)
Well, the final push of the IPSP is upon us. I hope all is well with my friends in the far reaches of the earth. Avoid the West Nile and any kind of -ephalitus and such things. But know that Arkansas will grant you no disease-free refuge upon your return.
Willy Nelson is supposed to be in LR this weekend. I'm sorry you will miss him, J.D. I hope to go...so I can scream WILLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEE really loud while wearing a bandana.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
A Day in the Life
Now that I own and operate a clean burning and fuel efficient propane grill, I've noticed that I'm going through some pretty major changes in life - namely, I have super-human strength. I may not look like much of a beefcake, but let's just think logically here: Russell rhymes with "muscle" for a reason.
Story: I was sitting in the video archive waiting on yet another slow file transfer when all of a sudden my phone rang. It was my friend Caroline. The door to her apartment shut behind her and stuck. It would not open. She was trapped outside. "I'll be right there," I said. As my name also rhymes with "hustle," I was there in a flash.
Upon arrival, I employed my usual MacGuyver-ish skills on the door but to no avail. This was obviously not an ordinary door; I ceased my inner physics lesson about leverage, fulcrum, and durability of metals, plastics, and faux-wood. With the politeness to preemptively apologize for any property damage, I went old school and laid into that mo-fo with a BOOM! As the dust settled, I emerged triumphantly through the doorway - not a bruise, scratch or reportable property damage anywhere to be seen. With a quick readjustment of my necktie, I was on my way...another public service project complete.
Upon hearing the story, Lara was - how do you say - amazed.
Story: I was sitting in the video archive waiting on yet another slow file transfer when all of a sudden my phone rang. It was my friend Caroline. The door to her apartment shut behind her and stuck. It would not open. She was trapped outside. "I'll be right there," I said. As my name also rhymes with "hustle," I was there in a flash.
Upon arrival, I employed my usual MacGuyver-ish skills on the door but to no avail. This was obviously not an ordinary door; I ceased my inner physics lesson about leverage, fulcrum, and durability of metals, plastics, and faux-wood. With the politeness to preemptively apologize for any property damage, I went old school and laid into that mo-fo with a BOOM! As the dust settled, I emerged triumphantly through the doorway - not a bruise, scratch or reportable property damage anywhere to be seen. With a quick readjustment of my necktie, I was on my way...another public service project complete.
Upon hearing the story, Lara was - how do you say - amazed.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A Moment of Reflection
The benefits of doing my IPSP here at home in Arkansas are quite different from those of my compadres in the rest of world - different in the sense that their experiences are new and somewhat detached from day-to-day life back here in the States. My experiences outside my project on the otherhand are familiar and routine - after IPSP work, I go to the school and battle the Mac for a few hours, then go home late in the evening, get in trouble with Lara, sleep on the couch or the doghouse, and wake to start it all over again. So my social comfort zone rarely receives any threat to the norms.
So, when on June 3rd I returned from lunch to find my dear friend Allison waiting for me in my office at AEDC, I had a feeling something was wrong. I instantly knew, but hearing the words made it real. Our friend Cooper had passed away at age 26 from advanced leukemia. Though he and I had lost touch in recent years, I found myself struggling with my grief: what to do, what to say, what to think, how to act...
Soon thereafter I went up to Iowa with the intent of visiting family only to find the heartland bandaging its wounds as it began the healing and recovery process. The scars of the recent weather disasters were still very visible both on the land and in the souls of the people: towns obliterated by tornadoes and swept away by floods, people with nothing, and a fragile hope fighting to survive.
All of this made Eleanor Clift's program all the more powerful for me. The school will likely post a blog or at least a news story about her program which will tell what she said, who she talked about, and the overall impact, but I wanted to tell what I heard. Her program was powerful, informative, and candid. I'd almost forgotten what it is like to sit in a public program here at the school. Her subject? Life, death, and dealing with it all in the public and private sphere. It was nice to hear someone treat it and the issues surrounding it with candor and humor and pain. It was important to understand that we all must deal with these things at one time or another, and it was even more important to hear her say that, contrary to what is "expected," we each will have to deal with it in our own way - there is no right or wrong. We have to find a way to work through it, remember it, and ultimately inspire us.
There is a difference between getting trapped in personal sentiments and in mourning a loss. Often we linger in the former. In this sense grief is understandably a personal and selfish emotion; a past but very real part of our own lives is lost in the tragedies before us. However, because we live and because we are untouched, we are in a sense sad because our past is now and forever only a memory. And, that hits home very hard. In another sense though, grief is also a very communal emotion. In my recent experiences, two communities held close to each other in effort to usher everyone through the toughest of times. I think that grief and sadness are all too often the unfortunate glue that holds together the bonds of humanity. However, it is from those bonds and those collective experiences that we can move on and find inspiration in them.
Here at home, I have found myself debating myself on many things in the past several months: what is right, what is appropriate, what to do, etc. And I think Ms. Clift is correct; we must all handle these situations as is appropriate for each one of us and not hold others accountable to our personal mettle. I am sorry to ramble on and on. Ms. Clift's program gave me an opportunity to reflect and try to make sense of some things. If anything, her message and her story were therapeutic for me.
So, when on June 3rd I returned from lunch to find my dear friend Allison waiting for me in my office at AEDC, I had a feeling something was wrong. I instantly knew, but hearing the words made it real. Our friend Cooper had passed away at age 26 from advanced leukemia. Though he and I had lost touch in recent years, I found myself struggling with my grief: what to do, what to say, what to think, how to act...
Soon thereafter I went up to Iowa with the intent of visiting family only to find the heartland bandaging its wounds as it began the healing and recovery process. The scars of the recent weather disasters were still very visible both on the land and in the souls of the people: towns obliterated by tornadoes and swept away by floods, people with nothing, and a fragile hope fighting to survive.
All of this made Eleanor Clift's program all the more powerful for me. The school will likely post a blog or at least a news story about her program which will tell what she said, who she talked about, and the overall impact, but I wanted to tell what I heard. Her program was powerful, informative, and candid. I'd almost forgotten what it is like to sit in a public program here at the school. Her subject? Life, death, and dealing with it all in the public and private sphere. It was nice to hear someone treat it and the issues surrounding it with candor and humor and pain. It was important to understand that we all must deal with these things at one time or another, and it was even more important to hear her say that, contrary to what is "expected," we each will have to deal with it in our own way - there is no right or wrong. We have to find a way to work through it, remember it, and ultimately inspire us.
There is a difference between getting trapped in personal sentiments and in mourning a loss. Often we linger in the former. In this sense grief is understandably a personal and selfish emotion; a past but very real part of our own lives is lost in the tragedies before us. However, because we live and because we are untouched, we are in a sense sad because our past is now and forever only a memory. And, that hits home very hard. In another sense though, grief is also a very communal emotion. In my recent experiences, two communities held close to each other in effort to usher everyone through the toughest of times. I think that grief and sadness are all too often the unfortunate glue that holds together the bonds of humanity. However, it is from those bonds and those collective experiences that we can move on and find inspiration in them.
Here at home, I have found myself debating myself on many things in the past several months: what is right, what is appropriate, what to do, etc. And I think Ms. Clift is correct; we must all handle these situations as is appropriate for each one of us and not hold others accountable to our personal mettle. I am sorry to ramble on and on. Ms. Clift's program gave me an opportunity to reflect and try to make sense of some things. If anything, her message and her story were therapeutic for me.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
the Mac and Me
No, I'm not talking about a nostalgic trip into memories of the great 80's movie about a little alien stuck on Earth. This "Mac" is the computer in the video archive. It and I are engaged in a great and epic battle...a techno-battle for all time, I think. And I am losing. It has broken my will time and again - I will feel victory in my clutches only to watch helplessly as the MAC dooms yet another project hopeful just as it nears completion. It is sucking my soul from my body as I am left to launch unspoken expletives time and again at the machine to no avail. So, I've drawn Nikolai into this conflict as well...he's useless, plain and simple. Just kidding.
Today, however, marked a turning point. Programs ran correctly for the most part, and I successfully navigated through trials and errors to complete the necessary sortie. Until today, Mac has owned me. But this day, it all changes. EAT IT, MAC! Your reign of cyber-terror is over! You will not hurt these people again!
I am proud of myself and I just thought everyone should know. And perhaps, I've gone a bit crazy.
Today, however, marked a turning point. Programs ran correctly for the most part, and I successfully navigated through trials and errors to complete the necessary sortie. Until today, Mac has owned me. But this day, it all changes. EAT IT, MAC! Your reign of cyber-terror is over! You will not hurt these people again!
I am proud of myself and I just thought everyone should know. And perhaps, I've gone a bit crazy.
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