Saturday, June 23, 2007
What do you want to read?
OK. After just publishing a post on a Sharpie pen, I have come to the realization that this blog is pretty shallow. Is there anything that you want my position on, or should I just go on talking about harmonicas show some more clips of Bulgarian Bagpipers?
Most Useful Computer Tool
After sorting through about 200 un-labeled CD-Rs, I have decided that everyone who owns a computer should have one of these. I don't know how many copies of SUSE Linux I had (none of them actually worked by the way). I am thinking about putting a pen holder on the side of my computer so I will never be without one. I hear they come in colors now.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Sgt. Peppers
Tomorrow Sgt. Peppers is 40 years old. I was listening to NPR talk about the album. They were discussing the mono mix being much superior to the stereo. I also read this in a guitar magazine. The magazine liked this because it was more guitar heavy. I went home and pulled out my vinyl copy that I bought for 99 cents at Goodwill. I noticed that the previous owner had written 1967 on the cover. Hmm. I did a Google on the the album number MAS 2653. Turns out I have the rare Mono version and the first American pressing. Mint condition that is a $300 record. My copy is not quite that good but it is still pretty cool to have such a rare record. The mix is different. Lovely Rita is quite a bit better. I need to listen to it more carefully to find all the differences. The funny thing is I bought the record for the cover art. I plan to clean up the record and burn it to disk. Very cool.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Fear vs. Trust in the Classroom
I have been reading this book called "Teaching With Your Hair on Fire". I have not got very far but the first chapter has been wonderful. The author insists that the majority of classrooms in the US are based on a system of fear. The child behaves and does assignments purely out of fear of punishment. The teacher is obeyed because they are feared. In fact, he says that teachers even think they are doing a good job when they are feared. They are often proud of the fear they strike into their students' hearts. The rub is that they really do have the child's best interest at heart. Teachers think that this is the way to reach children. This is partly the way I have thought students can be reached as well. I have been struggling in my student teaching with this issue. It was a breath of fresh air to see that this is not how a class should be run. That is good because I make a terrible tyrant. Instead, the class is built on trust. The teacher must earn trust by showing that they care. This is the part that I am not good at explaining. I think that if you want to know more you should look at this NPR link on the author.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Poem?
This is another piece of writing from my literature class. I think it is a little sappy but it made some of the people in class cry. Tell me what you think
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I hear the voice of my friend, my brother in arms. He came here to fight for freedom. He signed up when the buildings fell. He will shed no tears today for me. He has a job to do. It used to be to free this land, now it is to get out alive.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the man whose life I have taken. We are leaving this world together. He was fighting to save his land. How can we both be fighting to save this land? In a better world we would have a few beers and tell a few stories. I don’t know where he is going, but I hope it is a better place.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the young boy in the mind field. He is looking for scraps to sell. He knows it as dangerous but it is the only way he can eat. I remember this boy. I gave him a candy bar. He did not eat it. He took it to his younger sister and gave it to her. Oh, he is so close to the mines. Please God, don’t take him today. Take me. But I suppose I am too far gone for bargaining.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see that man. I only saw his eyes. I still feel the hate. I still feel the fear. To him I was an animal needing extermination. These are the guys who get to you. So full of hate. I hope the next world is free from men like this.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the woman, the one who would sell her self to me. Those sad eyes of hers. She was someone’s wife, someone’s sister, someone’s mother. I gave her all the money I had with me. The others laughed at me for not taking my turn. I hope that she has found a better way.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the rich politician. He cares not for these people. He has not fear for the freedom of his land. This war makes him giddy, it makes his wallet fat.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see another politician. His heart is breaking as the numbers rise. He said yes to this war, when all he saw were the towers coming down. WMDs, WMDs, we must stop the WMDs. Then there were none. Free the people, free the people, he holds on to the only thing he can. But more people are dying and freedom seems so far away. The politician feels hopeless and unable to change the fate of this land.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see a yard full of yellow ribbons. Yellow ribbons on the trees. Yellow ribbons on the bushes. Yellow ribbons on the fence. Yellow ribbons tacked to the house. Yellow ribbons on any little flower that will hold them. It is Mom and Dad’s. They are so proud of me. But they want me home. They are praying now, like they always do for my safe return. I will be with them always, but I will never walk the sidewalk to their house again.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see them. The two of them together, my daughter and my wife. They are making cookies together. They are laughing and free. I am glad they will never know that this was the exact moment. I would not want this moment to be destroyed. They are having so much fun. What I would give to walk in that door from a hard day’s work. My daughter would run to me and leap into my arms. My wife would wink at me from the kitchen while drying off her hands. My daughter would know who I am. Now I am just the man on the phone. I wonder how long it will be before they know.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands, I feel my life slip through my hands.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I hear the voice of my friend, my brother in arms. He came here to fight for freedom. He signed up when the buildings fell. He will shed no tears today for me. He has a job to do. It used to be to free this land, now it is to get out alive.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the man whose life I have taken. We are leaving this world together. He was fighting to save his land. How can we both be fighting to save this land? In a better world we would have a few beers and tell a few stories. I don’t know where he is going, but I hope it is a better place.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the young boy in the mind field. He is looking for scraps to sell. He knows it as dangerous but it is the only way he can eat. I remember this boy. I gave him a candy bar. He did not eat it. He took it to his younger sister and gave it to her. Oh, he is so close to the mines. Please God, don’t take him today. Take me. But I suppose I am too far gone for bargaining.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see that man. I only saw his eyes. I still feel the hate. I still feel the fear. To him I was an animal needing extermination. These are the guys who get to you. So full of hate. I hope the next world is free from men like this.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the woman, the one who would sell her self to me. Those sad eyes of hers. She was someone’s wife, someone’s sister, someone’s mother. I gave her all the money I had with me. The others laughed at me for not taking my turn. I hope that she has found a better way.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see the rich politician. He cares not for these people. He has not fear for the freedom of his land. This war makes him giddy, it makes his wallet fat.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see another politician. His heart is breaking as the numbers rise. He said yes to this war, when all he saw were the towers coming down. WMDs, WMDs, we must stop the WMDs. Then there were none. Free the people, free the people, he holds on to the only thing he can. But more people are dying and freedom seems so far away. The politician feels hopeless and unable to change the fate of this land.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see a yard full of yellow ribbons. Yellow ribbons on the trees. Yellow ribbons on the bushes. Yellow ribbons on the fence. Yellow ribbons tacked to the house. Yellow ribbons on any little flower that will hold them. It is Mom and Dad’s. They are so proud of me. But they want me home. They are praying now, like they always do for my safe return. I will be with them always, but I will never walk the sidewalk to their house again.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands:
I see them. The two of them together, my daughter and my wife. They are making cookies together. They are laughing and free. I am glad they will never know that this was the exact moment. I would not want this moment to be destroyed. They are having so much fun. What I would give to walk in that door from a hard day’s work. My daughter would run to me and leap into my arms. My wife would wink at me from the kitchen while drying off her hands. My daughter would know who I am. Now I am just the man on the phone. I wonder how long it will be before they know.
As I close my eyes and feel my life slip through my hands, I feel my life slip through my hands.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Pineapple - A Short Story
This is a short story I wrote for our literacy class in the MAT program. The mini-pineapple in my last post made me think of it. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think?
The Pineapple
by Colby Spell
My brother's name is LokomaikaiKeAkua. That is probably quite mouthful for you mainlanders. Fortunately, my brother was obsessed with Western movies and insisted on us calling him by the name of Shane. This was convenient for my mother because, as much as she had to yell at us, “LokomaikaiKeAkua and Kolupi” would have exhausted her long before the day was done. Shane and Kolupi, that's my name, were much quicker to say when parenting was necessary. In spite of the best efforts of my Mom and Dad, we were trouble. It is not that we were bad kids, we just had a lot of energy and above average curiosity. If I told you all the mischief that we made before the age of 12 it would fill a whole book. I will tell you this one story though.
We spent a lot of time at the beach. We would often spend hours by the waters edge looking for shells, rocks and other treasures of the sea. There were these really slimy gobs of seaweed that would wash up on the shore. Since there were copious amounts of the stuff there was really only one thing that could be done. Thats right, seaweed fights. The seaweed was perfect for throwing. It would make such a satisfying “schlop” sound as it splattered all over its target. If you were lucky you would hit your opponent in the face where the salty shrapnel would find its way into an open eye. Oh the exquisite pain. Mind you, this usually resulted in a spanking, but it was still satisfying. I guess maybe we were not the nicest of children. Still, it was basically good clean fun.
Then one day it crossed the line. We had just cut an unripe pineapple and we were playing soccer with it. It was not a great ball but we had nothing better to do. It did not take long before there was some disagreement as to whether the dead seagull counted as in bounds or out of bounds. Push came to shove and we were throwing seaweed. On accident, my brother picked up a jelly fish and flung it at me. My mouth happened to be open and, you guessed it, I got a mouth full. I just lost it. I picked up our little green pineapple and whiffed it at him. It hit him above the eye hard enough that I knew it would leave a mark. “Yes!” I said. “He kâkalaioa!” he yelled back. Just so you know, that is not a very nice thing to say. But he was very mad. He grabbed the rock-hard pineapple, reared back and threw it me as hard as he could.
That is when it went horribly wrong. At first I thought luck was with me but I was wrong. “All right” I said as it whizzed safely past my ear. The pineapple hit a coconut tree behind me with a horrible “thunk”. “Oh crap” I said as I heard the tell tale sound of swish, whack, swish, bang, swish as a coconut smashed through the branches of the Monkey Pod Tree above me. I ran in a panicked circle like an Ghost crab running from an Albatross. After that everything went black.
I don't remember much after that. I remember Mom yelling and Shane crying. But that I don't remember clearly. All I remember is that I had a headache, Shane had a black eye and we had Haupia for dessert that night. That must have been what happened to the coconut.
The Pineapple
by Colby Spell
My brother's name is LokomaikaiKeAkua. That is probably quite mouthful for you mainlanders. Fortunately, my brother was obsessed with Western movies and insisted on us calling him by the name of Shane. This was convenient for my mother because, as much as she had to yell at us, “LokomaikaiKeAkua and Kolupi” would have exhausted her long before the day was done. Shane and Kolupi, that's my name, were much quicker to say when parenting was necessary. In spite of the best efforts of my Mom and Dad, we were trouble. It is not that we were bad kids, we just had a lot of energy and above average curiosity. If I told you all the mischief that we made before the age of 12 it would fill a whole book. I will tell you this one story though.
We spent a lot of time at the beach. We would often spend hours by the waters edge looking for shells, rocks and other treasures of the sea. There were these really slimy gobs of seaweed that would wash up on the shore. Since there were copious amounts of the stuff there was really only one thing that could be done. Thats right, seaweed fights. The seaweed was perfect for throwing. It would make such a satisfying “schlop” sound as it splattered all over its target. If you were lucky you would hit your opponent in the face where the salty shrapnel would find its way into an open eye. Oh the exquisite pain. Mind you, this usually resulted in a spanking, but it was still satisfying. I guess maybe we were not the nicest of children. Still, it was basically good clean fun.
Then one day it crossed the line. We had just cut an unripe pineapple and we were playing soccer with it. It was not a great ball but we had nothing better to do. It did not take long before there was some disagreement as to whether the dead seagull counted as in bounds or out of bounds. Push came to shove and we were throwing seaweed. On accident, my brother picked up a jelly fish and flung it at me. My mouth happened to be open and, you guessed it, I got a mouth full. I just lost it. I picked up our little green pineapple and whiffed it at him. It hit him above the eye hard enough that I knew it would leave a mark. “Yes!” I said. “He kâkalaioa!” he yelled back. Just so you know, that is not a very nice thing to say. But he was very mad. He grabbed the rock-hard pineapple, reared back and threw it me as hard as he could.
That is when it went horribly wrong. At first I thought luck was with me but I was wrong. “All right” I said as it whizzed safely past my ear. The pineapple hit a coconut tree behind me with a horrible “thunk”. “Oh crap” I said as I heard the tell tale sound of swish, whack, swish, bang, swish as a coconut smashed through the branches of the Monkey Pod Tree above me. I ran in a panicked circle like an Ghost crab running from an Albatross. After that everything went black.
I don't remember much after that. I remember Mom yelling and Shane crying. But that I don't remember clearly. All I remember is that I had a headache, Shane had a black eye and we had Haupia for dessert that night. That must have been what happened to the coconut.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Richard Thompson
A cool song and this video shows you what he is doing with his hands. I could never tell from the recordings.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Factory Conditions
OK, so I did a little searching on conditions at guitar factories around the world. I found nothing. I suspect that even if conditions are good, the logging practices for the wood is not. Of course, this is a problem in the States as well. Many woods used in instrument building are found in the rain forests. So that is another ball of wax there. You can get wood from certified sources that replant and use good practices. So I guess by the old stuff may be the best way to go. So I will have to get that '56 Strat I always wanted.
Ukulele
My parents gave me some money for my birthday. I ended up buying a ukulele. I have wanted one for some years but I could not fine that middle of the road uke between touristy piece of crap and ultra expensive koa pro model. It is not a bad ukulele, it does not have a solid top but for as much as I will play it that is OK. I have been having a lot of fun with it and I have been surprised at how you can get some pretty sounds out of it. It is more than a vaudevillian play toy. The uke I got was made in China and I wonder about that. I don't know how folks are treated in those factories. I hope well. I think if I ever buy a new one, I will get one made in Hawaii. Or go used. Used is a pretty guilt free option. I have only bought a couple of instruments new. German harmonicas, 2 US guitars and one Indonesian. The rest were all used. It would be interesting to look into how folks are treated in guitar factories around the world. Hopefully the fact that there is a lot of craft involved, will make the employees more valuable and thus treated better. Of course there is a lot of CNC and other automation in the biz these days so maybe skill workers are no longer as necessary as they were 20 years ago. Today is a wonderful time to get a cheap but really well made nice sounding guitar. I just wonder how much someone else has to suffer for it. I will have to look into this. I do not mind buying foreign goods as long as people are payed for their labor. Anyway, the ukulele is bought. I need to enjoy it and figure this out before I buy another foreign instrument.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Worst Blogger Ever
I can not believe that it has been this long since I have posted. I guess I don't have a lot to say. Either that or I am lazy. So I will catch you up. Since my last blog entry I have started a MAT program, gotten married, became an expectant father and quit my job to student teach. This has been the fastest paced year of my life. I regret that time that I have not been able to spend with my friends in the last year. There has been so much going on. I am looking forward to things slowing down somewhat next year. Of course, if things go well I will be starting a new teaching job. That will mean I will be busy. But hopefully not as busy.
My next batch of student teaching will be in a fifth grade classroom. These are kids from a wealthier area than I am used to. I absolutely loved working with the many migrant children at my last assignment. They were great kids and did not have that apathetic-entitled attitude that I have experienced with wealthier children. But, I will be able to do some things that I could not have before. I am going to be doing some research on incorporating wiki and podcasting into literacy. I was talking to some of my friends about this idea and one teacher friend had already done some of this. Here is something that she made as a demo. My wife got me a video camera for Christmas so that was perfect timing. It will be interesting to see what happens. I am not sure if this will be successful or not.
So here I am quietly click, clacking away. My wife is morning sick on the couch. She had a miserable night. I guess the holiday diet did no sit well even though she was not even close to over indulgence. This was the first Christmas I have spent away from my parents. That is a very strange experience. It was also my parents first time in 37 years that none of the kids were there. Kind of sad, but Mom needs rest from her surgery and the resulting Guillain-Barre nerve condition. I was glad to get the video camera so I could send her video of the kids opening her presents.
I will try to be more active on this blog so stay tuned.
My next batch of student teaching will be in a fifth grade classroom. These are kids from a wealthier area than I am used to. I absolutely loved working with the many migrant children at my last assignment. They were great kids and did not have that apathetic-entitled attitude that I have experienced with wealthier children. But, I will be able to do some things that I could not have before. I am going to be doing some research on incorporating wiki and podcasting into literacy. I was talking to some of my friends about this idea and one teacher friend had already done some of this. Here is something that she made as a demo. My wife got me a video camera for Christmas so that was perfect timing. It will be interesting to see what happens. I am not sure if this will be successful or not.
So here I am quietly click, clacking away. My wife is morning sick on the couch. She had a miserable night. I guess the holiday diet did no sit well even though she was not even close to over indulgence. This was the first Christmas I have spent away from my parents. That is a very strange experience. It was also my parents first time in 37 years that none of the kids were there. Kind of sad, but Mom needs rest from her surgery and the resulting Guillain-Barre nerve condition. I was glad to get the video camera so I could send her video of the kids opening her presents.
I will try to be more active on this blog so stay tuned.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Blogging
Why blog? I think that the reason blogging appeals to me is that it forces me to order the thoughts in my head. That is my hope. This is my first post so I really have no idea. So far my thoughts don't seem any more ordered. Well none of y'all will really see this until I have some interesting things to say. Right now, just getting it set up.
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