So Thursday was just a second Monday which meant that I was all grumpy and such, but it’s okay because since then it’s been happy, whether an overenergetic kendo keiko to a much better today with the wonderful din that is project-based work to reunion with both Mark and Rob and new dishes at the old Mexican restaurant.

So somewhere I missed a post. I think it’s because yesterday was so damn lethargic, because there was nothing to really do, other than the usual workout routine amidst the watching of the second Musashi flick amidst reading Musashi and finishing off the Twigger, and the taking out of new CDs at the 5-year RFR. Then I ended up somehow waiting with Mark as for his iPhone which was also my bday present to him (at least he’s clear on what he wants), which involved waiting with him and Rob at the shiny glass cube by Central Park. The Korean food, though, was worth it, as were the beers and MGS3.

So somehow I ended up in the village with Rob for lunch again, and again failed to end up at the GC for work. But it’s okay because I’m back in the saddle cookingwise, at least, even if it’s too spicy for Mark…

So today was so unproductive, right from the time when I got up and went back to sleep, to the hour or so I malingered after actually finishing my workout routine–which I had left off for a couple days because of my Sunday schedule and yesterday’s complete abdication of all responsibility.

At least I made it out to lunch with Rob, even though Ippudo was a pretty big disappointment–no chunks of meat, and the noodles were thin, and there’re few things I dislike more than thin noodles. The broth was okay, even if mine was spicy, but Minca still reigns supreme. The pint, however, convinced me to return to Queens to nap rather than making progress on this paper. This paper, which I can’t stop blogging about, is slowly eating away at me–not that I haven’t made progress, but with no firm deadlines, simply nothing happens. I should just start writing, but there’s always some excuse or another.

So yesterday was deeply relaxing, what with Mark and I going off to the Korean spa again, for what must have been over four hours, even though we didn’t quite make it into any of the novelty saunas, but did have two angry Korean men scrub several layers of dirt off of us with their scratchy mitts. The funny thing about this place is that the scrub/massage combo is done by men in swimsuits in a tiled room, so there’s much bucketing of water all around and plenty of gruff nudges. It’s clear that my kendo muscles are too tight or even overgrown (if that) and that I need to relax a great deal more in my shoulders, even though it’s my “personality” or “nature” depending on which sensei you ask.

Taiwanese food all day–who knew that Guinness is an ice cream flavor?

The Dark Knight was most satisfactory: it’s hard, meanwhile to imagine a joke which tops Rob’s, about a mixed Nash equilibrium. Hrmm… I guess that counts as a spoiler…

So somehow I neglected to commemorate in full splendour my five-year bloggiversary which was sometime last week, as like Friday as not. As you might be able to tell, I’ve been doing my best summer to resume my daily pace now that the usual excuse of not having consistent access is gone. I won’t bother now to revisit in detail where I was at five years ago–such exercises are moot at such an intermediate distance. More sobering, perhaps, is that this is the year of my tenth high school graduation anniversary, or somesuch. I be getting old.

Today was a leisurely morning with Mark as he made coffee for me and the fungus gnats and we browsed various titanium rings and their associated diamonds from past and present and then my new routine of morning calisthenics before digging up call the CST books which I’ve been leaving by the bed|wayside in order to try and make some headway this week. Making my way to Rob Chin’s for some carne guisada y pernil was the right taken, as somehow on that blacktop roof of his I managed to make some progress on how I way join that faux-cult. In particular, I think that the ways in which this will help what I’m trying to write about (social justice curriculum and course for Latino immigrant students and Spanish speakers) is to re-envision discourse in terms of limits and forms rather than the process of production. That is, looking at “what can be said” in the context of such an academic course, as opposed to affinity grouping or somesuch; looking then further at the notion of the “archive” as a methodological question: how will this ed research be conducted, while keeping in mind the injunction to ever pluralize–to see discourses, discontinuities, and resistances. The irony in all of this might be the ways in which social justice curriculum seeks to convert an informal set of practices into a more scientific or rationalized process–just add the water of our discontent? So maybe not that much progress, but at least I’m working on it.

The GC, meanwhile, is surprisingly hopping during the summer, or at least the library is as most of the faculty is on vacation and no one has summer classes. I’m rewired here and will be glad to use this as a bonus office, even though I will need to deal with MS Office 2007.

So today should have been lazier, given that we got back from Hellboy around 2am after dodging some drunken mics on the train who trampled poor Mark’s sandal to the point where it snapped and I had to step in and walk half-barefoot all the way home, and then lingered online for a while before hitting bed, but it felt good to hit keiko and then Rob Chin up for some authentic Frisco-beer bought in USq and spicy pickles to boot, though City Bakery ought not to smell like barf-cheese, I’m just saying. I should do more planks as my glutes need a good deal more work than they’ve been getting, perhaps. And then off all the way to Flushing for the usual 359 goodness plus even red mango, though mochis distressingly bear 62.5 calories per serving, which of course is irregular given the vicissitudes of serving size.

I’m glad that Mark and I are enjoying different wines. In the past week-plus, Mark West Pinot Noir 2006, Charmee Pinot Noir 2006, Rock Rabbit (the house white). All right, I guess it’s not that many, but at least there’s variety!

So three pilsners (urquell if lukewarm) with Rob are just about enough to cure what it was that was ailing me. Which is not to say that I wasn’t a little moonish earlier, but after a late-night session discussing crossword puzzles for mathematics learning with graduate students, a little levity is quite overdue.

Pendant lamps, meanwhile, are quite overdue to alleviate Mark’s persistent complaints re: the want of a overhead lighting in my apartment’s living room. That and a recentering of the new TV. Meanwhile, the flypapers have yet to fully exterminate the gnats.

I should really do better to reread Monkey or rather Journey to the West, Waley notwithstanding.

It remains to be seen if I can meet Rob for a paella lunch tomorrow.

So I miss Mark even though it’s been a day after our nine-day streak, as he’s all sniffly-like, and I sympathize with the sudden wall-hitting exhaustion. Rob is also off to Taiwan for a family thing.

The exciting thing at work is not so much the mysterious baby that was bornded on Monday even though we’d heard or seen nothing about it, but the possibility that I could move into a more adminstrative role next year, with a focus on data analysis, presentation, and management. I must say that after almost six years in the classroom, I do need a change of pace, or at least a chance to teach older students and harder material than I have been–I feel this all the more as I’ve benn recycling verbatim my work from two years ago…

So here is my life after 5 today.

Ran downtown for my presentation. A/V problems like mad. Mac Minis are cute and wireless keyboards are hot, but the lack of hotkeys renders GSP almost stupid.

Did some adlibbing, made some jokes about cravats and the Siamese. Rob and Laser were mostly appreciative of my jokes, which were hedges against something or another.

Several choice moments include the following jokes: (I did not tell any jokes about what’s green and really far away? What’s really far away and hard to wash off?) A teacher complains her kids can’t even draw parallel lines and I’m like, “What, their rulers have only one side?” “Why did the parabola go to the guidance counselor?” “Because she lacks direction!”

I’m told the best joke I told was about how the vanishing point moves whenever you turn around. This joke cannot be transcribed.

We didn’t make jokes about urban kids are already familiar with traintracks, thankfully.

Some pints later, I try to stagger Midtownward for Mark, sadly leaving Rob in the lurch and Laser a bit confused, but somehow got lost by heading into Battery Park City, but the ruins of the WTC made me further and further away from the subway, so I took a cab (thank goodness for ExpressPay) to near the dojo, whereupon then I hopped on the train to Mark.

It was good seeing Mark. It was great seeing Mark. It was necessary and overdue seeing Mark. I’ve missed him unreasonably. Tonight was reasonably light and relaxed and just catching up, shooting the breeze, and flirty, retracing our first date steps somewhat on this our tenth, talking about the headlong, heady pace and how much we can see a future together, as much as we are leaving our own lives intact as possible (just don’t ask me how many times I’ve skipped practice in the past few weeks). It’s almost enough to make me revive that old song, “When My Boy Walks Down the Street,” but that was another country… And this time it’s somehow much more reciprocated, nourishing, and sustaining and there is longing which is not based on what is not but what we don’t have right now because of work, life, family, and such. Happily in love.

So it has been a long week.

Chats with Kris, with Brian, with Steve, with Dan again, but no Thet.

Ran off to EVill with Rob to make a 16 bean soup (types, not tokens) with Mesclun greens (missing the toasted pumpkin seeds) and colombian-chorizo pupusas as croutons.

PB has ended well enough, but not a single Asian all season.

I’ve become a lover of tea.

It’s good to be back to work.

So more and more in my old age I realize I should have been some species of a sociologist. Rob and I went snowboarding yesterday, and I finally understand why the Japanese are so damn good at kendo.

The representation in terms of New York City-ers was relatively low despite the perfect weather, coldly crisp and still lightly snowing with no wind to attack my delicate pores. What was interesting to watch throughout, however, was the ways in which the teaching of skiing and boarding was taught, the socialization throughout.

I started out in a group lesson, with three kids whose combined age just might have exceeded my own. My instructor couldn’t even shave, and the emphasis was on language (toes, heels) rather than on the real effects, and on communication, something I paid especial attention to since there didn’t seem to be all that many ELL’s hanging out on the slopes. The idea of a group lesson and the lack of reiho were notable, in that the goal was transmission and all learning was at a distance, done by speech.

The difference might have been the ways in which the local parents were training their little ski-kids with harnesses or cradled between their legs, steering their way, and yelling out things like, “Pizza slice” (in order to slow down, apparently), which of course as a culturally-sensitive/relevant/responsive teacher I find offensive to our Sicilian students, or even weaving down “Lover’s Lane” holding a little kid’s hand, exclaiming, “Isn’t this fun?” Of course, private tuition costs a lot more, and there was a mix of parents who were doing their own teaching and a stable of redcoated instructors who of course got preferential treatment in line.

From the point of view of teaching and Mountainous Education, however, I found it helpful to look at these contexts with fresh eyes, and thinking about the ways in which the “model” or philosophy of instruction is far different from the transmissionist ways in which we are still stuck in schooling. Further, I’m deeply jealous of the ways in which little kids can just take things up, in ways that they have a hard time describing or even articulating (as my instructor shows), with a confidence that adult learners like me lose in our self-questioning and doubting….

Since the last post, one long sentence per day:

Th: managed to get a nap in before winning my shiai match with two kote after having my men taken. See the other blog.

Fr: didn’t get a date, went home and passed out, was already observed in class, and managed not to chaperone the school dance.

Sa: woke up, dim summed with gbf in the F-shing, walked to the Horace Harding Expwy, went to the mall, bought some bars and china, hit keiko and drew, No Country, stood up Rob.

Su: keiko, losing horribly, bought some incense and did a BBB run, slept, but had a two-hour conversation with Thet that cleared a lot of things up–we’re moving forward, but he’s dating other people, but that’s okay.

M: blindsided at work and furious, I feel like a first year teacher again, try to nap but fail, go the the GC and get some reviewing done, reunite with HS chum, come home. Have a date tomorrow–and not at the expense of kendo!

Smiling

So two things: first an Asianboi roundup (thanks to reviewing my blog from four+ years ago):

DoEun has gone dark, but I’ve gone matchmaker.
EnDee has finally arrived, but I’m not helping him enough.
HoEn has graduated, but still wants more.
PeeTrk has plenty of nice clothes, but still worries about everything.
RoCh has painted his room, but might miss tomorrow night.
xyFee has a new secretary, but is still on Guam

Thet has got me wrapped around his little finger but doesn’t know it.

The shocking thing is looking back how much was captured by this blog, and how much I’ve lost in the interim. For example: the two Sundays past:

Sunday last: got up early, went to practice, Sensei in fine form, getting up from Sensei I twist my back and am in excruciating pain. I use all my kiai and tanden power to make it through practice. Run to duane reade and buy patches. Rob is showing his apt and so I go to the GC to internet for a while. Join my classmates (two mothers and a layover) for drinks (3 guinnesses), before meeting up with GBF for the usual crappy but adequate sushi. Then off to Rob for drinks at the pub (2) before to USQ to write my kendojournal. Run into Andy before my drink of the night. Stagger home.

Sunday this: got up early, went to kendo, back burning but i make it, somehow. Contact GBF and Andy about Flushing, planning for the LIRRst, but make it, somehow, way too early, hanging out waiting around for Thet’s call, but knowing I don’t really need it. Meet up eventually and go to a subpar Thai place, followed by hitching a ride with GBF’s fugly ex to the mall. Purchase energy bars, antenna, router (not necessarily in that order). Come home to talk to fam, watch the Giants pull it out, heart it out with Andy. Then drink again and now here. Sundays can be pretty great.

So it’s been a singularly unproductive sort of day, beginning with an early rise into work and then a schlep with the kiddies (who have transmuted into mostly-uncommunicative but buffoonish Chinese boys who were poor math students in their unspecified native country) to the nomadic museum, a vaulting space of sepia. After that it was some Rob Chin aimlessness which lasted quite some time, before I ended up here, trying to take a nap, but somehow failing before kendo.