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Call Me Mr.

On Friday, I received some exciting news.

I have been offered a teaching position at a high school.

Interaction between teacher and children, funny class in schoolI am thinking he just asked who wants candy. Otherwise, that is way too many hands.

After believing that I would be dining in the soup kitchen, and working on my 300 line, “Tonight, we dine in Hell,” I will no longer need such devices. It is a fantastical sensation. To put down my hedge trimmers and no longer need to lock down my landscape position in front of Home Depot. It is a relief. Plus, I was not corralling the highest amount of praise for my Sonic the Hedgehog lawn design. I guess interest in Sonic died with Sega. I’d mow a Mario, but it is not in my drawing repertoire, in fact nothing else is. That, and it would most likely end in a racial depiction of an Italian with a crooked moustache. Nobody wants that.

By becoming a teacher, I receive a contract. It is a one year contract that dictates what I will be required to do. Teach, obviously.

I am treating it like I am an unrestricted free agent. People do not just happen across a gem like me, alright? The Alexandrite. Game time was fast approaching, and they realized they had a gap to fill in the roster. Enter me. I go in and sign this contract today. I have it all thought out. I’m taking my agent with me to negotiate a good deal.

Hint: I am the agent.

Hint #2: I’ll be accepting the first number they throw at me.

Also, like any good free agent, before I sign, I want to be courted too. I want to feel the love. In the teaching world, courted equates to someone holding the door open for you once. Secondly, I want a signing bonus. And by a signing bonus, I mean high fives throughout the office. Are low fives back in? Hugs, maybe? I’ll choose my targets wisely. Ladies…

In truth, I am excited. This is a great opportunity for me to begin the career of my choice. The past five years have come to fruition and I am now a full-pledged teacher.

Oorah! Or whatever the Marine equivalent is for teaching? Apple!…?


You’re Absolutely Left

It is said that roughly ten percent of the world population is left-handed. I am proud to be part of that ten percent (I would really love to be in the one percent economically speaking). I take pride in my left-handed ability. Why not? It is rare and has a multitude of advantages.

1)      Lefties have high IQs (Although didn’t Rainman score 87 on IQ? So much for knowledge.)

2)      Lefties make more money than righties. (If only…right?)

3)      Lefties have better underwater vision. (I am not sure if I believe this one…)

4)      Lefties are better at multitasking. (Not to be sexist, but I believe this is a gender thing.)

5)      Lefties tend to have better memories. (What was this blog about again?)

6)      Lefties are better at video games. (There we go! Agree.)

7)      Lefties recover better from strokes. (That is always comforting.)

8)      Lefties are more visual and artistic (Concur. We are amazing.)

9)      Lefties learn to drive quicker. (Sure, why not. I’ll take it.)

It is not always  convivial and merry. There are certain impediments to the left-handed gift. I will not reverberate case records that document the benefits and encumbrances of handedness. That would be too logical and time consuming. Instead, I will share a serving of my own experiences; my personal discrepancies.

As a young lad, I wore a lot of cowboy boots. That was all I wore until I was about five. My style was impeccable. I was blonde, with big heavy glasses, a blue shirt (with awesome marshmallow art on it), grey sweatpants, and cowboy boots. Not only was my style impeccable, I was the epitome of IT. Now, I did not know then what I know now. I stuck with cowboy boots to avoid tying shoes. I was horrible at it. My parents would teach me the tricks. A bunny here a hole there, a loopity loop here and a flick of the wrist there, and we have a knot. Yeah. I was not getting it. Then my grandma, who is also left-handed, taught me and I learned. Now, I am not sure how the right and left handed ways differ, but there is something to it. I know I am knot retarded.

Then there are scissors. Arts and crafts turned out like sharts and laughs. My cutting lines were jagged, if existing at all. Cheap right-handed scissors and left hand precision cutting was an evil combination. I have received my fair share of  strange looks in school by asking my neighbor to cut my design out for me. They just do not understand. There is a positive to this though. I learned that if you have a left-handed suicidal friend, and they are attempting to end their life with scissors, they are not serious about dying because those things won’t cut.

There is one true way to spot a left-hander (when they aren’t involved in handed activities). Check the side of their palm for ink or lead smears. I mention this as a hindrance because some left-handers hate turning in smeared papers. Not me. I believe it gives the paper some flare. A three-dimensional look if you will. It is also a reminder that left-handers push and right-handers pull. While right-handers are constantly pulling through life, left-handers are pushing on through to the other side.

Albeit our pushing does not produce award winning calligraphy. That is a problem, but it is not our fault. Do you see what we write on? Have you seen a left-handed desk? What’s going on there? Are only oompa loompas and munchkins left-handed? It is as if they ran out of supplies and used scrap material to piece these tiny rickety desks together. They figure it looks functional, and hell, only ten percent of the world is left handed. This has restricted our penmanship to penboyship.

I recognize my left-handedness as a unique trait and something that separates me from others. I do have one confession though. I am not a complete left-hander. I play sports and guitar right-handed. I believe I naturally developed that instinct in sports, but I was told to switch with guitar. I always imagine how much better I could have been. Nevertheless I still consider myself left-handed. I have overcome the trials and tribulations. We are not only different, we are better. We are never wrong. Left-handers are right! Wait a tic…Oh, well. Left-Handers Unite!

Original Facebook Status:

Are left handed people generally shorter? Left handed desks are so much smaller than right handed desks.

It’s Business Time!

Here I am, sitting in a small study cubicle on the campus of a school I no longer attend. This is what happens when I have no internet.

I still have research to do, so I inhabit the campus. I am a busy man. I have a lot of big deals cookin’. Actually, I do not have many big deals. I have been graduated for four months now. I have only been actively searching for better career prospects for the past two. The search has supplied me with some nibbles, but no solid bites. The job market is a treacherous one. There are just too many fish in the sea. If I am not the quickest and the largest fish to the hook, I am not getting the bait. I figure as long as I keep swimming and growing I will preserver.

In order to nab a career job one has to dress for success. As Barney Stinson would exclaim, “Suit up!” If one does not have a suit (I don’t), then dress in nice business apparel. This I can do. I have my dress shoes, black socks, black slacks, blue buttoned shirt, and a tie.

First off. About that tie…It just needs to be around my neck, right? It doesn’t need to look good? Cause let me tell you, for something called a tie, it does not do so easily. I was in the Boy Scouts for awhile when I was young. I learned how to tie a variety of knots, but they did not teach me how to tie a tie. I can tie 99 knots, but a half Windsor aint one. I equate tying a tie with doing a five-star magic trick. Only magicians are able to perform such feats. I found an app that would teach me how to tie a tie. It only taught me that I was capable of being further confused. I might go tie-less for my interview tomorrow. Judging by how my first attempt went (on your left, my left too) it might be beneficial to my cause. Of course, there are clip-ons, but I am a MAN. I should be able to tie a tie.

Secondly, I believe that we should be able to wear any type of shoe. Shoes add personality to the get-up. If I want to wear some clean Nikes to an interview and drop some swag on the meeting, I should be able to. At my current place of employment, we are restricted in our shoe choices. They have to be black. Personally, I think colored shoes make people appear more jubilant. Not that it matters now. I no longer have white shoes, so I no longer need an excuse. Still, let people choose their shoes without judgment. If someone is dressed in a suit with a pair of running shoes on, I say hire him. Not only is he business style-savvy, but he is all about multi-tasking and getting the job done in a speedy fashion.

What I am trying to say is that I am going to do things my way. When tomorrow comes, you better know that I will do what I want…::cough:: Which means I will be wearing a tie and black dress shoes.

(Ha. I bet you thought I caved to the societal business structure didn’t you? Wrong. What I forgot to mention is that is all I will be wearing. Birthday Suit Up!)

Getting Down With the Sickness

This has not been the best week of my life. If they were to do a breakdown of the “Best Of” moments from Kenny’s life, this would not be among them. If they were also doing the “Worst Of” moments from Kenny’s life, this would still not be on the countdown. It is just a week in which I have been blessed with the influenza. When inquired about my temperature and status I could be mistaken for a radio station. “What’s your temperature?” I answer with, “102.1 K-W-J!” Yes, it is crucial that I say my initials after I give my temperature and say it in my best disc jockey impersonation. So this started Monday, and I went to see the doctor on Wednesday. The medical assistant escorted me to a room and began to question me. The questions were the usual basic questions and then she blindsided me with a pretty hefty one. She asked, “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how sick do you feel based on your entire life experience?” I did not know what to say. There is a lot to take into consideration. The first thing I thought was if I answer ten do I get more drugs? Unfortunately, that was not the case. I was given no drugs. After being treated like I had the H1N1 virus, with all the masks coming at me, the doctor concluded that I was suffering from strand A influenza. Today is Friday and I believe I am coming to the end of its effects. Took a little longer, but better late than never (A quote that derived from a pregnancy scare.)

I cannot remember the last time I had the flu. I do not usually get sick. It has cost me two days of work, but luckily it happened during a time where I am not in school. Which by the way, it feels amazing to not have the weekly stress of having to read four to five hundred pages a week and write two to three thousand word papers every month. Although I do want to go back to school to try something out. I want to be given the assignment of writing a three thousand word paper. When the assignment is due I will hand in one paper with three pictures on it and at the bottom it will read, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” I am curious as to how this would go over. Alas, that idea will have to wait.

So like I said, it is neither the best week nor the worst week. Hopefully the coming days and week will improve. Maybe I will be lucky enough to get a picture and some new music. That is contingent on certain things happening, which is quite a difficult task all to itself, but I will keep trying.