The thing I miss about playing soccer and sports in general is the heady adrenaline rush athletes feel after success. The feeling of striving for that one perfect moment and reaching it. The feeling of being in the "zone". The poetry and power of that single moment when you feel absolutely invinvincible, when baseballs look as big as beachballs, when baskets look as big as buckets, when defenders seem to freeze, when soccer balls seem to move at your command and only at your command, and the world is completely silent - you feel like you are in a church during a secret and holy ceremony and raucous cheers have become soundless whispers. I doubt that sexual intercourse could be much more pleasurable than that feeling. But that feeling is oh so fleeting, and once you've had it, you'll do anything to get it back. There are times when the zone is extended and it feels like a real physical place, you pile up astounding feat after feat, and you feel as if you can do no wrong. Some people seem to have taken up permanent residence in the zone, and the rest of us can only watch in envy. God, I would like to get there.

You know, I was just thinking, I am striving to achieve unconcious charm, being so cool it's effortless - I don't even realize I am doing it. But how will I know when I have done it?

I had a very vivid and disturbing dream last night. Disturbing because sometimes my dreams come true exactly giving me the creepiest sense of deja vu. Writing about it and remembering the dream will probably mean that it won't happen though. Usually my dreams are inconsequential - I'll see nonsensical little vignettes. Then the events in the dream take place and I ask myself where I have seen this before?
I am always scared I will start seeing awful things like people dying, going to jail, or getting murdered. This dream disturbed me because someone named Nancy died. I was watching from the side of a highway dug into the ground and lined with gray brick and two or three men in dark armor like a SWAT team were gathered around a woman laying next to a car laying on it's roof. The men seemed to be working on something , when whoosh! A ball of flame envelops them all and rushes up to the sky like a scene from a big budget action flick. The odd thing was that it wasn't an explosion so much as fire seemed to shoot up as if from a large torch or a gas jet on a stove. The woman, whose name was Nancy, died. All three men survived but one had plastic melted into his skin all over his body. Where these details come from I don't know and I am beginning to wonder if the car was in the dream or not. But it was on a road, I was watching it, and the woman's name was Nancy. I woke up right after the dream. I tend to wake up right after nightmares as if I am trying to run away. Which I am really. The only way to escape the nightmare, to not hit the ground when you're falling, to escape the relentless giant crab, is to wake up.

That reminds me I am going to be in a wedding sonner or later as a groomsman for my cousin Mike. My sister will be a bridesmaid. It should be an interesting experience.

Now that I have slept and have my wits about me I'll try to say a little more aout the wedding. Marcela's brother Oswaldo got married to Heather, the Assistant pastor's daughter. The wedding was highly anticipated because the groom's family is well-to-do and Spanish. Everybody wanted to go to the big Spanish wedding - me included. The wedding did not disappoint, the grooms family showed up speaking spanish and wearing expensive clothes. Heather's family showed up speaking with a southern drawl and wearing jeans.
This was the first wedding in our church where the family had bothered to send out invitations. Before, the wedding was just announced in church and everybody just showed up. Heather and Oswaldo sent out handsome invitations with their picture and actually had a catered reception at the Double D party ranch - not quite South Fork ranch quality but we're not Highland Park caliber people either so it all evens out.
The only thing I wish is that I had more money to spend. Once again, an important event passed in somebody's life and I didn't bring a gift. (not even a card) I'd feel guilty but when you are as broke as I am guilt and money don't mix.

I am frustrated, Trillian doesn't work anymore! I am struggling mightily to finish this post because I am exhausted from struggling with my IM client Trillian. It is already early Saturday morning and I still can't see my instant messenger contacts in Trillian and I seriously doubt I will soon.
Another one of my friends got married today. It was a beautiful wedding - they served food. The groom's family is hispanic and LARGE. I arrived and immediately thought, "There aren't enough mexicans here." The ceremony started the bridesmaids came down the aisle and the groom's family all trooped in all at once all late. The service was conducted largely in English and Spanish and was over mercifully quickly. My good friend, Marcela, who is also the groom's youngest sister, sang beautifully in English and Spanish. I am always amazed by the quality and warmth of her voice. She and her roommate Crystal, from Boston, invited me to a musical while we were chatting over barbecue and roast pig at the reception. A spanish speaking employee of Marcela's brother is coming too.
My buddy from the navy, Jehon, came to the wedding with his brother. It was good seeing them again. Really, everybody who's been associated with the church recently came. The bride was the assitant pastor's daughter after all.
I had something really incredibly funny I was going to put here, but honestly, I am so worn out I can't remember it. Sorry I am going to bed, I give up.

M-O-N-E-Y! I really need some. You know why! I need money! I need money!
I can no longer work out at UTD! I discovered that on campus today, the people at the desk informed that I would need an alumni card if I wanted to continue to use the facilities. Another thing, why is it that everywhere I go, things always improve drastically when I leave. Female students enroll in droves, new buildings get built, massive concerts are scheduled, ...? What is the deal? What is wrong with me!?

Ok, I am fairly certain that Netscape should render the blog template correctly now. Opera is a different story. In javascript, there is a built in variable called navigator.appName. This javascript varaible contains the name of the client browser, the browser you are using to view the webpage. Opera by default identifies itself as Internet Explorer. This is a heinous misstep because Opera and Netscape render text much differently from Internet Explorer and my html must be altered to take this into account. The way to solve this is for Opera users to change their settings so Opera identifies itself as anything other than Internet Explorer. This can be done by pressing F12 with opera open and choosing identify as XXXX on the menu that pops up. (where XXXX is anything but Internet Explorer) Most Opera users should be savvy enough to know how to fix the problem without help from me. If Opera were a more popular browser and had more users this would not be the case. If Netscape were to pull a stunt like that I would just stop supporting multiple browsers altogether.

Opera is an even more annoying web browser than netscape. I regret to say that the blog template I am using will probably never ever render correctly in Opera and that if you are using an Opera web browser you shoud uninstall it or demand that Opera not tell web pages that it is microsoft internet explorer.

Netscape is an annoying thing. If certain people would just yield to Microsoft I'd be able to post my blog without trying to make my html work in more than one browser.

Oh, I also wanted to mention I met a former college and pro football player from Texas AM. He's coaching at WT White High now. Apparently though, being even a marginal football player is very profitable. Players who make the team earn at least $280,000 a year over 8 paychecks! Even if a player is cut midway through the season that is still good money. One guy did poorly in practice one day and consoled himself by buying a BMW.
Even players who fail to make the squad can be invited to join the practice squad. James, the football player I spoke to, was offered $10,000 by the New York Jets to join their practice squad provided they made it to the playoffs. Since it was the Jets, they lost the final game and didn't make it.

Thursday morning, (it's now Friday morning) I went to orientation for DISD substitute teachers, which was surprisingly entertaining.Our orientation group leader was an enthusiastic educator whose signature joke was "Heeeey!" She used the the word so often and so effectively to get our attention that even she would laugh. Not surprising, since it was her joke.
It was an all day affair and we got out a generous 15 minutes early even though Velinda, our group leader, said we would not get out early. How exactly, we were supposed to become qualified educators with lesson plans between 8 am and 4:30 was and is still beyond me. Substitute teachers have as little as 60 hours of college education and approximately 8 hours of training from the school district and are expected to seamlessly replace certified teachers in fast paced class room settings. The horror stories are numerous. Many people related stories of substitute teachers allowing the children to watch movies all day. One former "sub" told how he was advised by an experienced substitute to buy a Disney movie to play for the children. He told me the woman did not bother to even rewind the tape between classes.
At this early date in my career, I would say the situation is improving. The DISD doesn't appear to condone inadequate lesson plans, and many of the substitutes are qualified teachers who have retired or are working to achieve their certification. New graduates, like me, (people who aren't qualified and are barely older than the kids) appeared to be very few. Substitutes are given a crash course in classroom control, preparing lesson plans, dealing with DISD paperwork, child abuse, gang violence, and securing lucrative long term replacement assignments. (Make friends with pregnant teachers NOW! Impregnating the teacher yourself wouldn't work as the 9 months a baby would take to come to term would most likely be too long for you to benefit).
Donovan Collins, the deputy chief of the Dallas Independent School District got up next to give us the low down on criminal activity in Dallas schools. After telling us that students see substitutes as giant "pork chops", (comforting indeed) he instructed us on how to manage violent situations in the classroom. Dallas schools are surpsingly safe, and apparently kids like to come to school. This is mostly because being in school is better than getting shot. Weekends are very long in Dallas. Officer Collins told us that gangs are in the schools but are well managed. (Which is possible. Really, I am not joking.) Using a three tiered plan of prevention, intervention, and response the DISD police aim to stop gang violence - and they have really. Officer Collins also instructed us in some of the arcana of gang dress and speech:

• "Pulling a jack move" is jacking you up (robbing or beating I think) and running/moving.


• Listening to rap music is the best way to understand what the kids are talking about.


• UNC stands for Underground Nigger Crips and was founded in Duncanville High in 1985. (Hah! Suburban, predominantly white schools with gang violence!) They like to wear University of North Carolina tracksuits and light blue Jordans


• BK stands for Blood Killers and are usually crips gang members. They will never say the acronym CK. (Do they wear British Knights?)


• Kids wearing Texas AM gear are often in the TeenAge Mob.


• CK stands for Crip Killers. (Calvin Klein?) These are usually Blood gang members who will never say BK.


• Cowboys stands for Crips On Wheels Bustin' On You Slobs. Obviously they wear Dallas Cowboys gear which is conveniently also Crip blue. (I must say that was a very clever appropriation of a popular trademark)


• Many kids no longer wear gang colors, but will carry towels and wipe their face to show their gang affilliation.


• Gangs will often identify themselves by neighborhood or local landmarks. One local gang is known as Ledbetter 13 after a bus that passes through the neighborhood.


• In 2001, 16 guns were confiscated in the Dallas school district. Nine were found on the school grounds. Two were surrendered by students, and five were located through tips from students and teachers.


• In 1990, 160 guns were confiscated in the Dallas school district.


• In 2001, 11 knives were confiscated.


• Knives longer than 5 and 1/2 inches (about the length of a dollar bill) are illegal in Dallas.


• Neither students or faculty members are allowed to carry any type of knife, legal or not, to school.

Officer Collins also related several enlightening ancedotes, in the course of instructing us what not to do at school. Don't sleep with the students! One sixteen year old girl told an officer, "I can do more for you than your wife!" Don't threaten students with knives! Officer Collins saw an elderly officer at a football game surrounded by several very menacing youths. Suddenly the kids scattered. The officer was holding a knife and "threatening to jack somebody up" . Don't leave school buses unattended! One day a school teacher/bus driver complained in tears to Officer Collins that his bus had been stolen. Officer Collins immediately called the "Ghetto Bird" (helicopter) to locate it. The Ghetto Bird reported that the bus was proceeding north on Hampton Rd in Dallas. Officer Collins immediately joined pursuit of the bus, which by this time was being tailed by three police cars with sirens wailing and lights blazing. Officer Collins quickly saw that the bus was being driven by a middle school student known as "Pork chop" accompanied by his friend "Caveman". Pork chop could drive the bus better than the bus driver! Pork Chop calmly turned on the left turn signal, pulled into the left lane, and pulled over on the side of the road. Suppressing laughter, Officer Collins demanded to know just what the hell Pork Chop and Caveman intended. Pork Chop wanted to drive the stolen bus to Skyline High School to steal a minibus and Caveman was just "chillin'". Why? Because "the honeys wouldn't get on the big bus!"
The last speaker was Clarence Glover, a DISD adminstrator in charge of multicultural education. He instructed us on the importance of understanding the students' culture and provided an interesting statistic about the ethnic breakdown of DISD students.

• 0.3% are American Indian.


• 1.4% are Asian.


• 36& are Black.


• 56% are Hispanic.


• 7% are White.


• 73% are poor.

My analysis of the situation is that the only white people left in DISD are the ones who are just too poor to move - trailer trash. If it wasn't for the trailer parks out in Seagoville, there probably wouldn't be any white people left in Dallas schools. Every affluent neighborhood in Dallas has access to another school district. Lake Highlands residents even pay property taxes in both Richardson and Dallas so their kids can attend either school district.
Substitute teaching promises to be interesting and enlightening. Well at least, I should meet some girls. (teachers, please God, let them be teachers ) My only regret is that I didn't meet the cute girl who sat in front of me. I even saw her exchange telephone numbers with the old guy next to her! Chaka, I want you to know you can do a whole lot better than that.

I will begin corrupting the minds of young children in earnest this Tuesday! I'll be teaching, by the way, not peddling smut out of my overcoat. Although peddling smut would no doubt be far more lucrative.
Seriously, pornography has been the engine that populaized the vcr, and the internet. Half of the first people who bought the first few vcr's were doing it because you could now watch smut in the privacy of your own home instead of going to a dark musty theater and worry about being seen leaving the scene.

Today is the day that I start corrupting the minds of young children in the Dallas School District. Fun!

Knowledge is power. Information is central to the exercise of every kind of power on earth. The elites of our world dominate by controlling access to information. The United States dominates militarily not because of bigger guns but because of bigger eyes and ears. The American military can see before being seen and act on that information with devastating speed and accuracy. Wall Street brokers can move millions in an instant because of access to financial information the average investor does not have. Hollywood actors find the best roles by knowing who to talk to. Even in sports athletes can dominate by amassing relevant information on the best competitors, training methods, and tactics.
The average person’s most significant problem is a lack of relevant and timely information. True, the average Joe has more information than he knows what to do with. He swims in it, he’s saturated, but he is awash in a sea of irrelevant data. He doesn’t have the means to decide what is relevant, a way to guarantee timely delivery, or the ability to act on it once he receives it.
The internet has had much to do with a certain leveling of the playing field. The data available on the World Wide Web is limitless but unorganized. In fact, the internet is the prime culprit in the average man’s data saturation and desensitization. The problem with the internet is that much of the relevant data exchange is still passive. (This is a problem with most information networks.) General search engines uncover reams of data, but the information the public needs remains the property of the privileged few. It may be exchanged over the internet but that does no good unless the general public is privy to the forum of exchange. Indeed, much information exchange, even over the internet, still travels in small private circles. Outsiders are either barred or are ignorant that the information even exists.
We are at a critical junction. Information could be a democratizing force in our world but only if it is freed to be of service to the people. Those who create information must be compensated, but those who broker information transactions – the middle men - must be eliminated or transformed.
We have the means to deliver the information – the internet – but do we have the will? Can we change the internet from a passive exchange of irrelevant information to an active exchange of relevant data? Can we defeat (or convert them to our side) those who would hinder the flow of data? Can we make it so that anybody can truly be anything? I hope so.

Whoa.... This piece describes exactly how I feel about September 11th. Screw the leftist radical apologists. Bomb them too!

Jockey underwear on sale! I used to think that it was ok to skimp on underwear, but now I know better. :( I mean you can either be comfortable all day or you can be pissed at yourself for buying cheap underwear. Oh, and I hate BOXERS! I am gonna postulate that people who feel comfortable in boxers have skinnier thighs than I do, and fewer problems with ummm support. I imagine that boxers are supposed to be the next best thing to nothing at all but I never feel that way. Especially when the legs of the boxers bunch up and I do anything more athletic than walk.

Never lock your keys in your car. If you must, then buy a BMW. Bimmers were built with idiots like us in mind.

I need to get to work. Thursday, I'll be busy again. I now see how valuable school was as a pasttime. Strangely enough, I'll be working in a school as a substitute teacher.
I have this unnatural attachment to my computer. I never leave it, but most of my use of it is pointless. I could write stunning graphics programs or work on ideas for software with actual commerical value, but what am I doing? Talking to myself!
Oh, and shopping for underwear online. I always hate this because I feel strangley uncomfortable staring at that many male crotches at once. Changing clothes in the locker room is one thing, but shopping for underwear is embarassing. You actually feel less embarassment in a locker room because athletes (at least in college) don't look at each other. Heaven help you should you be caught examining somebody else's wedding tackle! I know somebody whose nickname is now "Broke Dick" because of that. The basketball team even went so far as to have their female trainer in the locker room before practice and games. I discovered this while changing one day before a practice. I am told having female trainers for male teams is standard practice at certain schools. How that can be anything but sexual is beyond me.

There should be a special place reserved in hell for people who consistently call early in the morning. Somebody called me and woke me up this morning (for which I can't blame them, I owe them money) but the people who call my Dad's cell at night should be damned to the deepest, darkest, most tortuous pit in hell and be forced to perform sexual favors for Hilary Clinton. The plainitive ringing noise my Dad's cell phone makes should also be piped in to remind them of what I go through in the mornings.

I like the new template! Do you?

It turns out that to profit from evil you must spend at least $2500. If I had 2500 George Washingtons....

Funny! Thanks to Jaime for the heads up.

Profit from Evil! If I had $1000 I know where I'd put it now.

Jaime!

The leading candidate to be my next favorite pair of jeans.

I feel so lazy today... I should go to work but I need work done on my car. There is nothing like a prominent rattling noise to make you love the driving experience.

School, almost everybody I know is in class right now. Can you believe it? I am wondering how I will meet young women now...

I think I am tolerant and open minded but I am not. My upbringing makes me recoil instinctively to certain things. In principle, I think people should be treated equally, but heaven help the person looking for equal treatment from me. Hypocrite...
Another thing, I desperately need to get out of the house to hang out. This being home all the time is killing me!

Women, it's funny how even the fake ones can get a guy all excited...