First World Problems

First World Problems

are minor inconveniences.
My password is temporarily blocked,
and I haven't been able to find that brand
of crackers I like.
Why do some food items appear, endear, and then disappear
forever?

The yellow plastic cap on the bathroom
cleanser popped off and went down the toilet...
course I flushed it down but worried that I might block the
pipes...It's probably at the sewage treatment plant by now.

How many days must I wait until I know
for sure

that my picture wasn't taken by the "Your Speed Is...." contraption
on Hawthorne Blvd?

I wasn't able to get the elliptical machine at the gym that I usually use. It's getting crowded
in there on the days I go most often.
Some folks don't check their email for days and I can't seem to find a morning newspaper
in the coin box anymore.
Go paperless...go paperless...go paperless..
How many passwords will it take till they know
that too many passwords have died?

Another package in the neighborhood stolen
off the front porch.
My car leaks...sometimes.
It's tax time again.

Comments

The Quality of Optimism

I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center. This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits. The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships. Apparently, there were many. I'm OK with that. I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's. There is much to be learned by writing about a quality. The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years. I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s. I took a journal writing workshop from her. Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students. 11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...

Writing on the Wall

The first time I saw graffiti that was memorable was in a middle school bathroom. As 6th graders I often walked home with friends by the middle school we'd soon be attending. A stop by the boys bathroom near the boys gym placed me face to face with a piece of graffiti that immediately madame and my friends laugh uncontrollably. On the wall above the urinals, was penned a short poem that read" This is a Teepee to take a pee pee, Not a wigwam to beat your tom tom 14 year-old humor at it's best. The laughter my friends and I experienced was cathartic. Being bottom of the barrel Freshmen could have dire consequences in the boys bathroom. Those unpleasantries would come later, but for the moment, we were ecstatic and proceeded to read all the g...

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