Sunday, Bloggy Sunday. A blog from a sleepy man.

Sunday morning early...

So, once upon a time I could play chords and fiddle around on the guitar. But I don't think I have any natural music ability, artificial music ability or preservatives. Nor do I seem to have the ability to even string my blasted guitar. The first attempt ended in strings that overlapped each other. In trying to correct this mistake I broke my string. But because I know that I am shall we say stringing-challenged. I'd bought a second pair so I strung that up very nicely and just as I was getting my guitar perfectly in tune the same bloody string snapped. I haven't even gone to bed yet and Sunday has already been incredibly frustrating. I'm hoping that upon awakening the rest of the day will be a bit more baby's bottom. I think I may be having brunch with Lady R who will finally get to meet my wife, Penny. I suspect that despite the complete lack of things they have in common they will get along nicely. You see I go to graduate school with 97% women in all my classes so she just sees me talking to these young women on the phone, or Instant Messaging them and if I were her I would be wondering. Fortunately for me, Penny attends design school, so the one straight guy in the program Whoa! The thing that I took to help me sleep has clearly just kicked in and I'm finding it difficult to think clearly and type. I wanted to share that I rented the movie In America by Jim Sheridan. It's about an illegal Irish immigrant couple who move into a cruddy neighborhood. It's set in the 80's. It was truly an excellent film. Incredible performances writing and directing. It was intense at times and I was so immersed in the reality of these characters and their struggles with day to day problems, both big and small, that I was weeping at the end of the film. Not simply your usual sensitive guy tears or like the single tear streaking down the cheek of the American Indian on that anti-litter commercial from the 80's - You know the one. We are talking sobbing like a four-year old who's favorite pet just got mangled in a thresher. More tears than I cried for Old Yeller. I have not cried like that since I was 8 and my grandfather died. I may not even post this because it isn't the slightest bit amusing and because I can't keep my eyes open any longer. Perhaps because it's 4am and I took a sleeping pill. I'll give you loyal readers something juicy later on. Something to pep up your Sunday. I may be working as a substitute teacher this August. I'm excited about getting back in the classroom and I even figured out a game that involves counting the dots on dominoes. It's competitive and educational. Perhaps the kids and I will drink some 40 ounce malt liquor while we play dominoes as part of "Gangsta Appreciation Day." I'm excited to be that fun teacher who does really cool projects has amazing guests come to address the class and somehow amongst all the festivities the kids end up learning something. I wish I had me as a teacher when I was in elementary school. Perhaps cloning technology or time travel will make such a thing possible in the future. Until then my bed is calling be in it's seductive, enticing way.