Oct. 15th, 2004

la_belle_laide: (hula)
These are the Christians I mean when I occasionally make the sweeping statement, "Christians scare me."

Okay, so now I know that there are Christians who believe that Halloween and everything about it is SATAN'S BIG DAY and all, and would love nothing more than to ban it completely, but the folks in that link up there just want it moved to the 30th this year. Why, asks any reasonable person? Well, because the 31st of October falls on a Sunday this year, and that's the lord's day, don'tya know. Says one nut: "You just don't do it on Sunday," said Sandra Hulsey of Greenville, Ga. "That's Christ's day. You go to church on Sunday, you don't go out and celebrate the devil. That'll confuse a child."


Here's what confuses this (soon to be 32 year old) child:

""It's a day for the good Lord, not for the devil," said Barbara Braswell, who plans to send her 4-year-old granddaughter Maliyah out trick-or-treating in a princess costume on Saturday instead.

Right, so go and celebrate the devil Saturday, says the Jesus Freak. Because that's all right!

Jesus!

So anyway. This time next week I will be in Hula class in Indiana, working my butt off in basics, and then shortly after that, sitting down for a lecture from Kumu Keali'i Reichel, getting my brain filled with all sorts of wonderful and interesting things. Then, as usual, the next two days will be all about dancing until my legs bleed. When I think back on past seminars, I can remember standing there in my row, about three hours into class, thinking, "I can't do this dance again, I'm going to stop or I'm going to die!" And I guess many of the other dancers are thinking the same thing. But yet we all come back each time! I can't wait. ^_^

And the week after that is Halloween, and we have our work Halloween party Saturday night at this place close to work, with dancing and a costume contest. That promises to be loads of fun, especially since a co-worker is trying to fix me up with her boyfriend's roommate. Normally I hate getting set up, but it's not an obvious thing this time; it's that we both happen to be going to the same party. So, there is always the easy opt-out. I'm going as the Angel of Death again this year, with the wings and all, but I thought of many ways to improve the costume, specifically some leftovers from my Raistlin costume (Death with hourglass eyes, that's cool, right? :D ) and I'm adding a few things to the wardrobe part of it, if I have time.

A cool thing happened to me Wednesday. I was out shopping with my Mom and Grandma, and on a whim, I said, "let's stop at the florist!" Actually it's a greenhouse and a florist; a little expensive, but they get some exotic things in once in a while so it makes it worth the trip. So we went there, and of course my Gran bought like a thousand plants. As we were checking out, I heard an oddly familiar laugh ahead of me. I looked up to see my tentch grade biology teacher, Mr. Jester, buying a bouquet.

Some notes on Mr. Jester: He was the teacher that everyone loved and wanted to please. He could turn around the most disinterested student. It wasn't just that he explained things clearly in a way that made sense (although he did,) it was that he was just so damned freaking funny that kids flocked to him in the halls and sometimes even at lunch. If he teased you, you felt special the rest of the day. And he would really tease, too, like if someone mouthed off to him, he'd retort, "Your Momma and your seven posssible Daddies," or "Go carry out binary fission." I remember his catch phrases. If students bitched about homework (always lightheartedly--no one wanted to be disrespectful to him,) he'd say, "You gotta play the game, folks." And if you did well on a test you "blow it out out of the water," and when finals came around, "T.P.R.O. The Party's Really Over." I also remember that he was one of the finalists for the "Teacher In Space" program of 1985 on the Challenger. And, thank goodness, he wasn't chosen.

And on the side, he was a chimney sweep. O_o

One thing I remember clearly about Mr. Jester is that sometimes former students would come back to see him, or he would tell a story about someone who had been in his class years ago and he'd say, "I don't remember names, but I remember where everyone sat. This one guy, he sat in the third row in the back...." and then tell the story about the student. I remember sitting in his class, second row, all the way on the right, thinking, "He can't possibly remember everyone." But at the same time, I'd make up these stories where I'd get out of high school, go straight to LA, get rich and famous, make records and do tours and then finally marry a rock star. Then one day in like 2000, I'd go back to his class (in my rock-star-marrying fantasies I always had super long black hair with dyed streaks of white,) and all the students would know who I was, and Mr. Jester would say, "This girl used to sit in the second row, all the way on the right!"

(Tangentially, I clearly remember my first day in his class. It was tenth grade, and I wore new jeans that were too tight, and a Poison T shirt I'd got at the mall. I didn't have big hair, even in the 80's, but my hair was vey black. My notebook was already covered in scribbles about DEF LEPPARD and LED ZEPPELIN, my Stephen King book crammed in with my schoolbooks, and I was just terrified and horrified about being in school in general, intimidated by the fact that lunch was coming soon and I'd have to go and hide somewhere, and, well, you get the picture. Anyway, Mr. Jester came in, greeted us, threw around a few jokes, told us about the class, and by the end of it I had forgotten many of my worries and was convinced that I would completely love the class and would ace the finals. I did, actually.)

So there we were at the florist on Wednesday, and I look up to see him there, hardly having aged a day and I go, "Oh my god...Mr. Jester?" He turns around and, I swear to you, without missing a beat, says, "Hi! I don't remember your name, but you sat in the second row, all the way on the right." I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. This was sixteen years ago he was talking about. Well, I just gave him a big hug and started babbling about how I'd stayed in biology through college and done really well in it, how I'd tried to keep a grasp on it over the years, and never forgot certain things, especially human biology, anatomy and physiology, and all because of him. He was glad; he thanked me and told me to come down to the high school to catch up sometime soon, because hearing about how his students' lives were going meant more to him than test grades.

You can read some about Mr. Jester here on this page if you scroll down.

Good teachers were hard to come by in my high school, but I did have a few. In my senior year, I took College Reading/College Prep with Mr. Kozyra, who, like Mr. Jester, was a whole different level of cool. Students didn't adore him the way they adored Mr. Jester, because he wasn't as warm, but to the ones among us who got him, he was like a guru. His was the first class in which I could go absolutely nuts on a term paper, and actually think instead of copying down facts. In general, I was a C student, completely unmotivated; all I wanted to do was get the holy hell out of school. Homework was nearly out of the question for me; I used to simply not do it. But I did every assignment Mr. Kozyra gave us, and I aced them all. He was a brave teacher. I came back to visit him (and Mr. Jester) about two years after going grad, and we chatted. He said he missed me, that there was no one interesting in his class. ^_^

I should go back there soon.

What else? Actually, Wednesday was all good, because I also got a letter from this online company telling me that they finally, finally have the Cloud Strife statue that I've been looking to buy for, like, five years! And they're sending it next week. I am rolling on my floor in complete joy. See me roll!
la_belle_laide: (hula)
These are the Christians I mean when I occasionally make the sweeping statement, "Christians scare me."

Okay, so now I know that there are Christians who believe that Halloween and everything about it is SATAN'S BIG DAY and all, and would love nothing more than to ban it completely, but the folks in that link up there just want it moved to the 30th this year. Why, asks any reasonable person? Well, because the 31st of October falls on a Sunday this year, and that's the lord's day, don'tya know. Says one nut: "You just don't do it on Sunday," said Sandra Hulsey of Greenville, Ga. "That's Christ's day. You go to church on Sunday, you don't go out and celebrate the devil. That'll confuse a child."


Here's what confuses this (soon to be 32 year old) child:

""It's a day for the good Lord, not for the devil," said Barbara Braswell, who plans to send her 4-year-old granddaughter Maliyah out trick-or-treating in a princess costume on Saturday instead.

Right, so go and celebrate the devil Saturday, says the Jesus Freak. Because that's all right!

Jesus!

So anyway. This time next week I will be in Hula class in Indiana, working my butt off in basics, and then shortly after that, sitting down for a lecture from Kumu Keali'i Reichel, getting my brain filled with all sorts of wonderful and interesting things. Then, as usual, the next two days will be all about dancing until my legs bleed. When I think back on past seminars, I can remember standing there in my row, about three hours into class, thinking, "I can't do this dance again, I'm going to stop or I'm going to die!" And I guess many of the other dancers are thinking the same thing. But yet we all come back each time! I can't wait. ^_^

And the week after that is Halloween, and we have our work Halloween party Saturday night at this place close to work, with dancing and a costume contest. That promises to be loads of fun, especially since a co-worker is trying to fix me up with her boyfriend's roommate. Normally I hate getting set up, but it's not an obvious thing this time; it's that we both happen to be going to the same party. So, there is always the easy opt-out. I'm going as the Angel of Death again this year, with the wings and all, but I thought of many ways to improve the costume, specifically some leftovers from my Raistlin costume (Death with hourglass eyes, that's cool, right? :D ) and I'm adding a few things to the wardrobe part of it, if I have time.

A cool thing happened to me Wednesday. I was out shopping with my Mom and Grandma, and on a whim, I said, "let's stop at the florist!" Actually it's a greenhouse and a florist; a little expensive, but they get some exotic things in once in a while so it makes it worth the trip. So we went there, and of course my Gran bought like a thousand plants. As we were checking out, I heard an oddly familiar laugh ahead of me. I looked up to see my tentch grade biology teacher, Mr. Jester, buying a bouquet.

Some notes on Mr. Jester: He was the teacher that everyone loved and wanted to please. He could turn around the most disinterested student. It wasn't just that he explained things clearly in a way that made sense (although he did,) it was that he was just so damned freaking funny that kids flocked to him in the halls and sometimes even at lunch. If he teased you, you felt special the rest of the day. And he would really tease, too, like if someone mouthed off to him, he'd retort, "Your Momma and your seven posssible Daddies," or "Go carry out binary fission." I remember his catch phrases. If students bitched about homework (always lightheartedly--no one wanted to be disrespectful to him,) he'd say, "You gotta play the game, folks." And if you did well on a test you "blow it out out of the water," and when finals came around, "T.P.R.O. The Party's Really Over." I also remember that he was one of the finalists for the "Teacher In Space" program of 1985 on the Challenger. And, thank goodness, he wasn't chosen.

And on the side, he was a chimney sweep. O_o

One thing I remember clearly about Mr. Jester is that sometimes former students would come back to see him, or he would tell a story about someone who had been in his class years ago and he'd say, "I don't remember names, but I remember where everyone sat. This one guy, he sat in the third row in the back...." and then tell the story about the student. I remember sitting in his class, second row, all the way on the right, thinking, "He can't possibly remember everyone." But at the same time, I'd make up these stories where I'd get out of high school, go straight to LA, get rich and famous, make records and do tours and then finally marry a rock star. Then one day in like 2000, I'd go back to his class (in my rock-star-marrying fantasies I always had super long black hair with dyed streaks of white,) and all the students would know who I was, and Mr. Jester would say, "This girl used to sit in the second row, all the way on the right!"

(Tangentially, I clearly remember my first day in his class. It was tenth grade, and I wore new jeans that were too tight, and a Poison T shirt I'd got at the mall. I didn't have big hair, even in the 80's, but my hair was vey black. My notebook was already covered in scribbles about DEF LEPPARD and LED ZEPPELIN, my Stephen King book crammed in with my schoolbooks, and I was just terrified and horrified about being in school in general, intimidated by the fact that lunch was coming soon and I'd have to go and hide somewhere, and, well, you get the picture. Anyway, Mr. Jester came in, greeted us, threw around a few jokes, told us about the class, and by the end of it I had forgotten many of my worries and was convinced that I would completely love the class and would ace the finals. I did, actually.)

So there we were at the florist on Wednesday, and I look up to see him there, hardly having aged a day and I go, "Oh my god...Mr. Jester?" He turns around and, I swear to you, without missing a beat, says, "Hi! I don't remember your name, but you sat in the second row, all the way on the right." I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. This was sixteen years ago he was talking about. Well, I just gave him a big hug and started babbling about how I'd stayed in biology through college and done really well in it, how I'd tried to keep a grasp on it over the years, and never forgot certain things, especially human biology, anatomy and physiology, and all because of him. He was glad; he thanked me and told me to come down to the high school to catch up sometime soon, because hearing about how his students' lives were going meant more to him than test grades.

You can read some about Mr. Jester here on this page if you scroll down.

Good teachers were hard to come by in my high school, but I did have a few. In my senior year, I took College Reading/College Prep with Mr. Kozyra, who, like Mr. Jester, was a whole different level of cool. Students didn't adore him the way they adored Mr. Jester, because he wasn't as warm, but to the ones among us who got him, he was like a guru. His was the first class in which I could go absolutely nuts on a term paper, and actually think instead of copying down facts. In general, I was a C student, completely unmotivated; all I wanted to do was get the holy hell out of school. Homework was nearly out of the question for me; I used to simply not do it. But I did every assignment Mr. Kozyra gave us, and I aced them all. He was a brave teacher. I came back to visit him (and Mr. Jester) about two years after going grad, and we chatted. He said he missed me, that there was no one interesting in his class. ^_^

I should go back there soon.

What else? Actually, Wednesday was all good, because I also got a letter from this online company telling me that they finally, finally have the Cloud Strife statue that I've been looking to buy for, like, five years! And they're sending it next week. I am rolling on my floor in complete joy. See me roll!

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