Reserved

It never fails to amaze me how many reserve materials I receive in the last two weeks of a semester at work.

I should clarify.

As you may remember, I work at a university library. The work is mostly paper-based and I shuffle a lot of books between our library and others. The reserves, you may be shocked to learn, are materials professors either grab from the shelves or bring in and have me log specially as they are RESERVED for the use of their particular classes. Usually, only within the library walls, so that they may be available for all the class members and not just the first clown that waltzes in and checks them all out.

That brings to mind the first assignment I had in my Art History I class years ago. This guy came in and checked out all the books relevant to our first paper before anyone else could. I, of course, found this out after the fact because I didn't do the first paper. It had slipped my notice. Anyway, that was particularly amusing later in the semester when he dropped the class with a failing grade. Apparently he didn't use the books.

Back on topic, items which are used on reserve are almost universally listed in the syllabi of the professors, which are handed out at the beginning of the semester after being submitted to the department heads before classes begin. That is to say, professors know before classes start what materials they will be using throughout the semester. At least on paper. And yet, every semester, through the last week of classes, professors bring in things that their students will be responsible for.

Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge them the procrastination. I'm ALL about procrastination. "Why do now what you can get a deadline extension on?" I always say. But, these are the same guys that feed you unbelievable amounts of crap for turning in your assignments the way they're turning in their materials for you to read. What's good for the goose is good for the...guy eating the goose...I don't know. Anyway, I'm just saying that perhaps it wouldn't kill them to either a) get their crap done in the beginning when they're supposed to or b) be a little more understanding to the guy who didn't do his paper on-time because he was busy playing Halo...or whatever it is the kids are playing these days.

Things Lost

There was a Mexican restaurant in Denver, Co, where my roommate and I would go with our friends. Well, they were his friends, but I hung out with them. Or, they were his friends first. They were closer to him. Whatever, they were our friends. Anyway, the restaurant was near our apartment on S. Oneida (Spyglass Hill Apartments, if you care) but, for some reason that probably has to do with the seven years that have passed since then, I can't remember the name of the place. I live between 14 and 16 hours away (depending on how fast you drive and how many times you stop to pee), so it's not like I'm going to pop over for lunch, but if I ever go back it'd be nice to eat there. The food was REALLY good. That has very little to do with my nostalgia for the place, though. You see, the restaurant had this mariachi band that, on Fridays and Saturdays, would stroll through and play while you ate. The novelty in that might be lost if you don't know the place. There were, as I remember, two main eating areas with a bar in between them. I assume this had something to do with smoking and non-smoking, though I don't remember anyone lighting up when I was there. Maybe they'd gone full non-smoking before then. Anyway, the first area had a few booths, nothing special, and was near the front door. The other side had booths and tables.

And it was surely a fire hazard the way they were packed in there.

So, when the band strolled through the second area, they were well within your personal space. I'm not sure why that was a plus, but it certainly was. I've always had a special place in my heart for mariachi music. Probably because of my heritage on my mom's side, but also because the guys in the band always seem to be having fun. How can you not enjoy music (played well) when the band is having so much fun playing it?

When it's country.

But other than that, how can you not? I suppose another reason for my nostalgia is that, like so many other friends I've had since graduating from high school, I've lost touch with all those guys. I often wonder what happened to them, especially my former roommate. I know that, at some point, he and one of the other guys (both former Marines) had considered re-enlisting. Because of that, I worry for their saftey.

Really, in the last eleven years, it's astounding how many friends I've made and lost contact with. One even tracked me down this summer (via email) and I've lost his address since (stupid automatic inbox clearing...). In fact, of all the people who've mattered to me that have become separated from my by geography, Cricket is the only one I've really maintained any real contact with.

How sad is that?

...No, not that it's Cricket, but that there aren't others. Geez. People are always putting words in my mouth...

Strange Things

It occurs to me that, generally, it's considered bad form to do things that cause others to to incur debt. The larger the debt, the more inconsiderate the offense. There appears, however, to be a break-off point where the debt becomes so large that, under the right circumstances, it becomes welcomed.

I'm referring to the cost of an ambulance. In almost, but certainly not all, cases where an ambulance is warranted, people are more than fine with you calling one for them, running up a tab in the thousands of dollars for a five minute drive. Ten if you count the trip to pick up the patient. But, in most cases, the person calling, or someone in the area, who is certainly closer than an ambulance (because, really, who ever has a medical emergency as one is driving by?), has access to a car that could drive the person in to the hospital.

Not into a hospital.

You've got to watch those prepositions. Go driving someone into a hospital and they're going to need a hospital worse than before. And you'll be needing a new car.

I realize that there are situations where medical professionals need to be on scene taking care of the patient, but I'd personally much rather have someone drive me to the hospital if, say, I got my arm chopped off than wait for an ambulance to arrive. Screw the upholstry! This is my life we're talking about. I'll spring for the OXY activated cleaner if I make it. It's got to be cheaper than an ambulance. That's for sure.

Photomagraphics

Ok, so here are the promised Halloween pictures. Not that anyone really cares. Anyway, here we see that I look like a bum, my son is, as always, adorable and my wife looks like she deserves better than me.

Actually, it's times like these that I'm glad that we don't live in a country where they consider it a crime to marry above your attractiveness level, because I'd get the death penalty.



Anyway, here's the whole "Sylar" picture. If you need to double check me, episode 3 (One Giant Leap) is what I used as reference, though I suppose I could've done more than just go by memory...

My Name is SYLAR!!!

So, Halloween...yeah.

Last night, our church did a thing and, since I teach a class that was supposed to be running a booth, we went (it's not like Aaron was old enough to get candy, though, so otherwise, we might not have done much). I suppose, really, I should've been more involved in the booth, but I got caught up in doing Aaron things. Mostly, that just involved carrying him in his spider costume. As cute as he was in it, that thing made it difficult to hold him. And since he was in no mood to be in his stroller, there weren't any other options. He doesn't walk well enough yet (or at least...not far enough) to go around on foot. Originally, Andria and I weren't planning on dressing up either. However, her boss (who I'm pretty sure didn't even show up) convinced her to do something, so she went as a pageant queen. Simple enough, since she had her crown and sash packed from when she was, in fact, a pageant queen. I, on the other hand, had no plans at all, but Andria thought I needed to, so I complied. BUT, I didn't have anything to wear. So, she went to Wal-Mart while I was at work and browsed their remnants. Not much to speak of, but eventually she called with a choice between two capes.

Neither was affiliated with superhero.

So, I decided to do with what I already owned. So, I decided to do something simpler. I'll post a picture later (it's on the camera, but not on a computer), but I went as Sylar. But not just any Sylar. I went SPECIFICALLY as Sylar between episodes 3 and 9 of the first season of Heroes.

The specificity comes because, first, I don't look THAT much like Zachary Quinto. Plus, my hair...too long to spike. So, incognito Sylar it is!

Andria objected because mostly I just looked like nobody. Or a stalker. I did get one "serial killer" which was close enough for me. The one person that would've surely recognized me, my cousin Nathan, was not there, so...I guess I lose.

Like I said before, I'll post some costume pictures later. Happy Dia de los Muertos.