Prep blog

Well, I found a few minutes to dash off one more blog before the semester starts. This is in response to the fevered outpouring of insistence that I continue to write at all costs. Yes, in my book one polite mention that it might be a shame for me write less frequently amounts to a feverish outpouring. Of course that very polite person, who now ranks among my favorite people in the world, had never read the blog, but that makes little difference. I encouraged him not to read it. It is far better, I said, that he use his imagination to picture pure sublimity of wit, substance, and form, thus integrating himself into the blog. My purpose in giving this advice was to keep me and my blog in his good opinion. Upon further reflection, however, it would have been better to have said nothing and hope he would simply forget. If he takes my advice he will someday grow curious, read the blog, and have his faith in wit, substance, and form destroyed.

Yes, the semester is less that twenty-four hours away from starting. I am in the midst of preparing my self for action. At present this preparation involves Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor and a bowl of ramen noodles. I will be meeting later with my kung-fu instructor who is teaching me the art of classroom self-defense. Six year olds are dangerous. I think I will wear my black belt right into the classroom to intimidate them. Our warm-up games for the first classes will involve the students holding various objects that I will kick, punch, or slice through. Later on I will have to gear up for parents who will demand to know why their budding genius is not progressing in the acquisition of English at a crisper rate. Oh, I will be ready for them.

My preparation has now moved to Toby Keith's I Should've Been a Cowboy and a mango.

Note to anyone related with my school or any person considering putting their child in my school: The only true parts of the previous paragraph come in the first three sentences. I do not know kung fu, and even if I did would never use it in the classroom or on parents of my students, no matter how badly I might want to do so. They specifically trained us not to hit the children.

I finally played my first actual game of baseball after weeks of practicing. The cold hard facts are as follows: We won 4-3, I went 1-2 with a single, and played nearly flawless defense. I must admit that I was not a vacuum at third today (maybe I should get rid of my cleaning lady). I flubbed one play, but in my defense, it was a little tricky. It was also my first game in over a decade, so I don't want to hear anything from my brothers (With that statement I just guaranteed that I will indeed hear from my brothers.)

When I was out there playing, I really felt like I stood out like the oft mentioned sore thumb. I just couldn't figure out what made me so different. Then it struck me; I don't smoke. Everyone else who plays smokes religiously. They smoke between games, between innings, between pitches. If I would just smoke a cigarette here or there, I am sure that no one would even look twice at me out there. It might also improve the team's play by promoting team unity. I don't think I could ever take to cigarettes, though. Being a more homey type of person, I would have to go the pipe route, were I to take up smoking for the good of the game. But then I would still stand out because no one else out there has a pipe. Oh well, I guess I will just have to stand out. There is no way around it.

The guys on the team, being mostly university students, seem to be related to that breed we call the "party animal." Here, at least, I can relate to them is some way. Those who know me know I party hard. You can bet I have already had some raucous times in my little apartment. Why, just last night, around 10:00 o'clock, I busted out some Jeeves and Wooster and watched a whole episode. Yes, those rumors floating around that I have even had people over to watch Jeeves and Wooster are true. Then there are the many hours I have spent reveling my way through Don Quixote. There is 940 pages worth of party right there. I have even been so bold as to take Don Quixote out to different places to read as well. Faced with the combination of the Don, Jeeves, Wooster, and me, I don't think the rest of the team can keep up when it comes to partying.

My preparation has moved to KISS' "I wanna rock n roll all night" (can I get a certain someone, you know who you are, to finish that line please?) and a banana.

Well, I must close now. Before I do, though, let me impart a word of advice that some friends of mine found on a sign at a crosswalk here in Taipei. This simple piece of advice is as axiomatic as any I have ever come across, and I adjure you to keep it always near at hand. Without further ado, here it is, "Jaywalking leads to regretting." Live by it, my friends.

My preparation has moved to "Mr. Sun" and bubble tea.