Few succeed from being complacent.
A few weeks ago I was watching the Minnesota Vikings lose yet another game this season. I don’t recall the opponent, but I do remember that I was at my fiancee’s parents’ house, watching the game with her father and brother as she planned on going shopping with her mother.
Occasionally I would text my coworker throughout the game. Most of it was just us ranting about the game, but for reasons forgotten I pulled out this line during our conversation: Few succeed from being complacent. About 20 minutes later, the Vikings went for it on 4th down and failed. I texted her to complain, and she responded with the very line I had said earlier.
I joked that she was just throwing that in my face, making me sound like a hypocrite, but she said that she completely agreed with the musing. We continued watching the game, dropping a text whenever we had pressing thoughts to share, and the Vikings ended up losing as expected.
Just like a voyager, I move from town to town
For I’m a puzzle piece with no box to be found
I wait for the villagers to call me their own
But perhaps a nomad always is what I’ll be known
Last week, my students were discussing the various cliques and which classmates belonged to them in our school. Now, they didn’t specifically use the term “clique,” but preferred to use the simpler “type” to describe these groups. This guy was with the jocks. That girl was in the popular group. That quiet guy in the back was one of the nerds.
As is usual in my classroom, a conversation about the students suddenly involved me. The group that was having this talk zeroed in on me sitting at my desk and wondered aloud where I belonged. However, it didn’t take very long for one of the boys to quickly exclaim, “Mr. B-G, you don’t really have a type.”
I asked him to explain himself and here’s what he said. “You like sports but you’re not a jock. You’re into video games but you’re not nerdy.” I cut him off before he went any further, not because I didn’t like what I was hearing, but because he was saying exactly what I’ve known for years: I don’t really fit in.
I collect CDs from my favorite artists.
Being a fairly young teacher can be odd at times. For one, I have a friend from working at Target Field that is just as young as some of my students. Second, I teach at the same school that currently enlists my youngest sister as a student. I could go on and on and on.
However, there is one of these oddities that will probably take years to dissipate, which is the constant flow of questions that come from my students. Within the first couple weeks, I was already receiving inquiries about my personal life, specifically about my fiancee. “What does she look like?” “Do you think she’s beautiful?” “What kind of butt does she have?” (Believe it or not, but that last question came from one of my female students. I had to have a discussion with her about appropriate questions in school.)
My doppelganger is professional golfer Rory McIlroy.
A couple years ago, I did a post about doppelgangers and how I was having trouble participating in Facebook’s “Celebrity Look-A-Like” Week, because I was completely lost with the celebrity that would receive the burden of representing me for a week. However, it was a drunk fan at a Twins game that helped me realize who I could easily impersonate.
I was working at a game in 2012 when a heavily intoxicated male approached me, circa late 20s in age. Though he was slurring his words, he wasn’t bothering anyone and the two of us were having a good conversation. Then a friend of his arrived and all of a sudden, the first guy got a big smile on his face.
My search for accessible beef curry is over.
I’m a big fan of the TV show “How I Met Your Mother,” and way back in 2008 they had an episode titled, “The Best Burger In New York.” In that episode, the gang orders a new burger at their favorite bar and everyone likes it except Marshall, who says it’s just “okay.” He then recounts the best burger he’d ever eaten in New York City, which occurred shortly after he moved to the Big Apple. However, he is unable to remember where it was located, as being new to the city, he had no idea where he was when he found it and when he left. All he remembers is that there was an autographed picture of Regis Philbin on the wall with an inscription commenting on how good the burgers were.
Marshall then makes it his goal to find that burger once again, and he visits just about every place in New York City trying to find it. On his journey, he runs into Philbin, who reveals that he’s been searching for the same place. Throughout the episode, they keep striking out with bars and restaurants, until finally they find the correct place at the very end.
“Finding a dead dove in the fridge” has got to become an idiom in our society.
As you may know, I was a math teacher trapped – I’m joking, former and future employers, if you happened to stumble upon this little bit of Internet heaven – in an available 6th grade language arts position. While teaching, one of the topics I had to touch on was figurative language, and more specifically, idioms. In between parodying the chorus of Green Day’s “Know Your Enemy” to “Do you know your idiom?” and trying for the umpteenth time to explain to the students that idioms were phrases that didn’t make sense when taken literally, I was able to witness that we have many idioms in our everyday speech.
Hell, there are even plenty I’d never even heard of, but regardless, it was interesting to think that these idioms and cliches probably were actually taken literally at one point. Well, not the raining cats and dogs one, but beating a dead horse, or putting the pedal to the metal. Those make more sense, and they just evolved until they adopted a new meaning.
As you saw in the bold headline, I have already selected my new idiom for adoption: “Finding a dead dove in the fridge.” For the uninitiated, you probably have no clue what I’m referencing, so the following is an explanation of its origination and what it should mean.
Healing cannot begin until we begin to move on.
For those of you that don’t remember, I work at Target Field as an usher for the Twins. One game last season, I was working at a gate with a girl a little older than me and we started talking about the National Anthem. In her opinion, “The Star Spangled Banner” was one of her favorite moments of a sporting event. Then there was me, that actually told her that I was ready to move on from the song. I felt (and still do feel) that it’s an unnecessary part of sports today.
Honestly, what’s the purpose of singing the song before an event (along with “God Bless America” on Sundays)? To honor America? Well okay then, let’s honor the country that meddles in the entire world’s business, has politicians that create more chaos than peace, is run by money, “Land of the Free” doesn’t apply to all, and the American Dream is now a load of bullshit.
Obviously, I’m not very enamored with our country. However, my issues with America’s structure is not the point of this post. Rather, it’s our inability to move on from tragedy.
After 9/11, our country changed significantly. “Terrorism” became a word in everyone’s vocabulary. Muslims became unfairly targeted as we failed to realize that it was extremists, not the average person, that had attacked our country. Soldiers suddenly became heroes, as we decided that defending our country automatically made you a hero.
Never mind that you may have killed innocent folk. Since it happened overseas, we turn a blind eye to it and laud you for your bravery.