Reasons why I'm officially bored with Facebook

It started as a great way to check in on people I hadn't heard from in years and a more convenient way to keep up with the people I've always kept up with. These are still the primary reasons why I'm not closing my account.

The problem is that the task of finding the info I'm looking for requires me to wade through an ever-expanding mound of sludge that shouldn't exist even in e-space. Specifically, I'm talking about:

• The people who think that the status update is for chronicling any variation of their mood, no matter how inconsequential, i.e., "Charles Krauthammer It's Tuesday, and I still have a case of the Moandays!!! :()" Gee, thanks, that's great to know.
• The people who leave meaningless clues as to what they are doing in an attempt to be clever, i.e., "David Broder is catching the gravy wave."
• How it's high school all over again. You can share that you've been promoted to vice president following your spectacular contribution in the fight against cancer, only to be met with a profound silence from 281 "friends" who have nothing to say. Meanwhile, the hot, rich girl from the dorm gets 87 comments after letting the world know about her dislike of "Moandays."
• Friends who give NASCAR updates. "Jonah Goldberg has finished his second bag of pork rinds in celebration of Junior Earnhardt's awesome left turn."
• The fact that 90 percent of my page this morning has been taken over by other people's quiz results.
• The fact that 90 percent of those quizzes are of the "How well do you know ______?" variety, featuring people I've never heard of.
• How it encourages joining of the meaningless kind. I recall seeing about 50 different "Make Facebook go back to the old design" groups start up after Facebook came out with a new design. The problem was that the new design was better. People just didn't want to spend the five minutes necessary to get used to it. It was easier to complain.
• Which leads to my problem about the predominance of the group "We will not pay for Facebook, eveh." This kind of attitude is the reason newspapers are dying. Honestly, I'd be happy to fork over $1 a month if it meant Facebook could come up with some kind of kick-ass program that could block people from posting quiz results. But we know the attitude of the Internet. As soon as they charge a fee -- no matter how reasonable -- everyone will flee to the latest cheap version of Facebook. Or, God forbid, go back to MySpace.
• It's become cliche. Every newspaper and blog out there has put together some kind of wacky piece featuring a theoretical group of world leaders gossiping on Facebook. These invariably feature Kim Jong-Il -- a man who's starved thousands of his people and now has the bomb -- posting on his dislike of "Moandays! :p"

The pink boxer shorts dude

The Star-Telegram features him, Army Spc. Zachery Boyd, today. Some cool things about him, at least from my point of view:

• He went to a high school in my residential district.


• The shirt he's wearing is from Wooley's Frozen Custard, a shop within walking distance from our house. We're about to head there for our Memorial Day treat.


• He was planning on going to Texas Tech ROTC but decided to enlist first.

Let's hope he continues on to Texas Tech. God knows he'd fit right in.

At rest

You know, it used to make sense when my son was about 20 inches long and chose to sleep against the headboard -- he wanted to feel like he was sleeping against something. Now I'm beginning to wonder if he's ever going to try sleeping straight.

Personal countdown list ...

10 minutes before Sam finishes his nap.

1 hour, 47 minutes before Meredith makes her daily call home.

1 week, 1 day before I start taking precalculus.

3 months before my third wedding anniversary. I think. I guess I should check that.

3 months, 7 days before the next school year starts, whether or not I have a job.

108 days before the start of Texas Tech’s football season. (Had to use days here because that’s how it’s listed at DoubleTNation.com.)

4 months, 7 days before Sam’s second birthday.

7 months before we drive to Lubbock for Christmas. I haven’t been home for the holidays in four years.

11 months before the upcoming school year is over, and I’m fully certified as a teacher. Unless I’m not.

2 years, 3 months, 7 days before Sam’s fourth birthday – the age when he’ll be ready for his first father-son trip to Hico.

2 years, 7 months before I’m 40. Hmmmm... some kind of party is in order. I totally blew off birthday number 30.

42 years, 7 months before I’m 80, when I’ll probably be too old to make the trip to Mars. Here’s hoping we have that off the ground before then. Or at least the moon. I mean, sheesh, we used to talk like this stuff would happen any day now.

Fort Worth Botanical Garden

I've got a lot of things I want to get to this week, so I'll start off with the subject most in-demand from my parents and wife: A photo-intense blog on Sam.

Last week was a long one. It started on Sunday with a bath for the boy, and a flea jumped off of him right as I was putting Sam in the tub.

"Oh crap," I wondered.

Sure enough, the evil cat turned out to be infested, and we had to call in the exterminator. Meredith's doctor advised that she not be in the house for a couple of days after the spraying, so, considering our options, we ended up in a run-down Budget Suites hotel room. The carpet was blue, we think.

Strangely, one day in a cheap hotel room can be kind of boring, so we decided to make an excursion to the botanical gardens on Wednesday morning. And I'll just go mainly with pictures after this. (As a warning, we do have plenty.)

This was really the first time Sam's had a chance to run wild. He was so tired we had to put him to bed an hour early.

Meredith attempts to teach Sam facial expressions, a tough job for someone dealing with the men of my family.

The log was occupied by two kids about Sam's age. He walked up and started jabbering with one of them. First time I'd seen that.

And we took this a few weeks ago, but I liked it, so I just thought I'd put it here.

She's got names like the Octomom's got kids

The funniest part of the "Woman arrested at Dirk Nowitzki's house" story was this:

Her past aliases included Chrystal Ann Taylor, Crystal Ann Taylor, Debra Johnson, Shana Mancini, Krista Santiago, Crystal Ann Santiago, Cristal Westerhaus and Crista A. Westerhays, booking records show, according to Channel 5.

Notice the verbiage - Her past aliases included ...

Because they're not sure just how many names she used. She must have picked a name the way some women choose shoes for the evening.

Meanwhile, it can't be reassuring to Dirk to realize that he has the same taste in woman as John Daly.

Lubbock Monterey loses football coach

And here's something that made me say "Dadburn."

In a bit of a surprise — but not really considering he interviewed for the job five years ago — James Morton is leaving as head coach of Monterey to take over the same position at Midland Lee.

The post is from the lovable George Watson at the Avalanche-Journal.

I'll be honest. I haven't been to a Monterey football game since I was playing and Plainview nailed us to the wall. My entire contribution to the team over two seasons was kicking off and going 0-1 on field goal attempts. I don't look back on such experiences with a great deal of sentimentality. If those are my glory days, I'm having a sad, sad life.

Morton was not coaching at MHS when I was there. But he's been doing a good job the past 10 years, and it was always nice to hear when we stomped Lubbock High again and beat Coronado more often than not. I liked the knowledge that someone was keeping the home fires burning. Hope the next coach keeps it going.

Strange times

Fort Worth ISD canceled school all the way through May 8. Keller ISD did not, and I saw some Keller middle school students going to class today with a sense of ominous trepidation. Though, it is middle school, ominous trepidation is part of everyday life.

Fort Worth's closure made me blink. My first thought was that this had to be the funnest epidemic for teenagers ever.

I realize it's serious, and that the flu, pandemic or not, is annually one of the top killers out there. It's still hard to get my head around the fact that a flu is causing this amount of discombobulation.

Keep your hands clean.

A little off-season fun

I missed this as it was happening yesterday:

The commotion began when Leach, who has a history of needling A&M, told SportsDay that he was happy for (Stephen) McGee, taken in the fourth round by the Cowboys.

"The Dallas Cowboys like him more than his coaches at A&M did," Leach said Sunday.

The remark left McGee stunned and Sherman puzzled.

Besides "stunned" and "puzzled", I also understand there was "bristling" and "unctiousness" involved.

As the Tech fan in me giggles, I'm thinking there are a couple of things going on here. Leach was angry his quarterback didn't get drafted and Leach used that anger to take a pot shot at A&M.

But it's a pot shot dead on target. As in, "You have a quarterback of McGee's ability, and the best you can do is build an offense around a fat running back who reminds me of William Perry in all his post-retirement glory?"

I don't think it was a pot shot at any one person so much as a system, and most Aggies themselves haven't been too happy with that system lately, either. It's a perfect example of Leach -- a freak with a sometimes tenuous grasp on reality who still has the ability to throw a masterful jab.

So a little rivarly fun here. I feel the need to play video game football for a bit. Excuse me.

A boy's got to learn his manners

Sharing an apple.

Notes: Hello Canada

I've had a spike in hits lately. (I define "spike" as any day I get more than 20.)

The unusual thing about it, though, is that for the first time since I've had this blog, the majority of hits aren't coming from Texas. They're not even coming from the U.S.

I got 40 hits from Canada on Saturday. Twenty from Winnipegg. Why? Because the "James Snipes" hoax has apparently gone north of the border.

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, here's my post from last year. And here's a much better explanation at Snopes.

I'd put "eh" somewhere in this post, but I'm sure Canadians are as sick of that as Texans are of people using "y'all" artificially.

And, should any Canadians stumble this far, I'd appreciate it if you could explain exactly why, and if, "canuck" is a slur. I had an angry journalism prof tell me as much back in college; I never understood why.

Pictures: More to come
I've fallen way off on posting pictures of Sam in the last few weeks. More will be forthcoming. I've especially felt the need after laughing hysterically at Dave's post regarding a recent picture-taking incident with his kid.

Will work for chalk
It's odd that after all these years of hearing about how we were about to run out of teachers, I finally get in the game of looking at about the same time those jobs dry up. Anyway, if there's a school near you, check if they have a help-wanted sign on the door. I'd appreciate it.

Three things I liked at the Fort Worth Art Festival

Me and Meredith [sic], who haven't been much for public festivals lately, loaded Sam up in our new used car on Sunday and headed out to the Fort Worth Main Street Art Festival.

We didn't stay long, but had a decently good time. Right now, I'm hacked at myself for not thinking to bring a camera. They had a three-piece cowboy band that Sam started clapping with, and I could have used a picture of that.

As far as the merchandise -- mostly not bad. I have this theory, that most people who are art novices have only seen the biggest, best masterpieces in art history. Therefore, when I've visited art festivals in the past, I've kept wondering exactly why nothing stacks up that "David" statue I remember seeing on TV. And that painting's stark, but it ain't "American Gothic," you know.

So, this year, I went with relaxed expectations and enjoyed the offerings a bit more.

Things fell into these categories:

• Things I wanted now (see below).
• Things I want for my mantuary someday. (This mainly included some dark western art, angry dragon and horny toad statues, and some of the more clever junk sculpture.)
• Things I found amusing and/or cute. (More junk sculpture.)
• Things where I wondered, "What kind of sick, sick man would want this above his fireplace, next to the picture of mama?"
• No thanks, I'd rather watch my own paint dry.

My favorite stuff:
Books from Mind's Eye Journals. I've wanted something like this for a long time, even though I don't really see myself writing the more mundane stuff that I generally put in my own cheap journal from WalMart. If you're willing to spring $70 for one of these babies, you'd better be writing something like "the wide expanse of prairie gave us no coverage as better than 250 Comanches topped the ridge and charged."



I squealed like a schoolgirl when I saw this: Artist Chris Smith's rendition of a Texas map with battles from the state's past marked and dated. He's done it in an old-timey style and it looks fantastic. I noticed that he even had the Battle of Yellowhouse Canyon, which is important to me because I happened to stumble on the Wikipedia entry while doing random searches of Lubbock stuff. I didn't spend much time at the booth because I knew I'd be begging to take something home if I did.



Which I couldn't, because we had already bought Sam this picture, called "The Audition," from artist John Sumner. It's not something that I'd necessarily buy if we didn't have a kid, but it goes well with the general art theme of Sam's room, which is "Dogs are cool."

Belated birthday to Dad

This image from a Google search:



Kind of unique, it's from a baseball card that never went into production, because Dad was traded from New York to Baltimore before the printing run.

Anyway, happy birthday to my Dad, who has played the family's paterfamilius to perfection.

Trip to Hico (Delayed)

The search for the stone


Finally.

About two months ago, my mom and dad came by for a visit. In a "neat" kind of moment, I showed my dad the Hico farm on google earth.

I go to the site all the time, but while my Dad was here I wanted to ask him just exactly where is the piece of land we own that I've never seen.

I've walked around the farm enough that I take it as a point of pride that I'm rarely surpised by what I find. Still, there was one place I'd never been.

The highway that joins Hico to Fairy cuts off a sliver of our land from the rest of the farm. I'd heard about it, but no one was really specific as to where it was and dad was pretty indifferent about making it over there.

So, when I had the chance I quized him about it, and he also told me one thing that I'd heard a long time ago but had forgotten. The area is also the location of the original 1869 Segrist homestead, and my Grandpa, who was kind of monument crazy, set up a stone at the site decades ago.

I now had my plan for my next hike -- find the stone and map out the area as best as I could.

Then, many things happened. (See most recent posts.)

Finally, last Friday my wife was off of work and nothing else was going on. I loaded the dog in the new car (heh) along with some clothes and took off.

First off -- yes, there is a town in Texas called Fairy. It's more a hamlet, though, in a nice little spot between a gap in a couple of hills.

Anyway, I got to the farm, got out, put my clothes up, put on my serious jeans, serious hiking boots and set out.


The day was perfect -- cool and sunny -- for a hike through the underbrush. We walked down the road to the farm gate and walked across the highway. The first thing I noticed was that this property of ours was much bigger than I had thought. I was climbing up a slope and couldn't see a fence.

Then I realized that I was apparently trespassing on someone else's land, and made my way back to the fence before I got shot by someone defending their rights.

There's not much of anything on this small sliver that we own. A lot of cactus, cedar and rock, mainly. I made my way south, looking, then looking some more. Until ...

Aha!

The marker was sitting in a surprisingly open area of land, considering all of the brush and cactus I'd spent the last half-hour crawling through.

Note that Ginger, bottom, is showing an interest in history.

I don't know about 1869. Growing up I'd heard 1868. But I imagine several things could have led to the confusion. I suppose the correct date is written somewhere, in some county's hall of records.

There is virtually nothing left that tells you that humans lived here. Plenty of old tin cans are around, flattened by rust and gravity. I also saw several stones stacked on top of each other, usually collapsing in the shape of a circle. And that's about it.

It's hard to see in the picture, but this looked to me like an old gate. The heavier post needed the added support of some struts and rock at the base.

After that I mapped out the place in my head the best I could. Later, I was talking to my sister Susan, who happened to stop by the farm that night, about the place. She told me she could never understand why our great-great grandfather picked the spot. It's barren, doesn't really have a good view and doesn't look very green.

But, thinking about it, I kind of guessed a few reasons why:

• The place was about 200 yards from the original Hico village. Far enough for privacy and to keep your animals separated, close enough to cry for help if outlaws came by.
• You'd want to build your house on rock. You don't dig a foundation for a log cabin, so you don't want it sinking in the mud when it rains.
• And it's a dry spot, but a creek is about 100 yards away, so the mosquitos wouldn't be too bad and getting water wouldn't be too much of a hassle for someone willing to live in log cabin.

I now have a picture in my head of a hard-scrabble kind of place, animals wondering around and in the house, worn footpaths serving as the primary roads. A tough life, but they were tough people.

I eventually left the spot, made my way back to the house, went to town for tacos and got back in time for the season finale of "Friday Night Lights."

The irony was not lost on me.

Ode to the wagon

A great decade-long ride with my 99 Saturn Wagon has come to an end.

I've decided to mark the moment with a poem.

By the way, if the jumping annoys you, just push pause and wait for about a minute.

Looks like home. Tastes and feels as well.

I was checking the National Weather Service web site for the forecast today, and noticed this icon for the first time in memory:

Underneath it noted that Fort Worth was in for some blowing dust. I guess it has been dry this year. Still, it's like a little part of home has come to visit.

I bet they even took the picture in Lubbock.

Your own movie

This is interesting -- a web site that can turn your writing into little movies.

Here's a dramatic representation of Homer's all-important love letter to Marge from the Simpsons.



Eh. The voice simulator screws up the timing. Not a lot of inflection either.

Here's a dramatic representation of a recent conversation between me and my wife that I originally posted here:



I'm talking with an English accent because I pushed the wrong button. My wife is talking with an English accent because she's read so much Jane Austen she sometimes slips into one unconsciously.

Great food, did miss

I read this story in today's Star-Telegram with a mounting sense of frustration.

The Chef Point Cafe, hidden behind the gas pumps and beneath the Conoco sign, debuts tonight on the wildly popular Food Network program Guy’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.

The title of the episode? Funky Joints.

To celebrate with their fiercely loyal customers, husband/wife owners Paula Merrell and Franson Nwaeze are hauling in a 72-inch television, throwing up a hasty satellite connection and somehow cramming 75 people into their convenience store to eat and watch the show, which couldn’t have found a more improbably successful dive anywhere in the country.

I have driven by this place many times, as it's on the way to the cheap bread store. I have scoffed at the little awning over the door and the bars on the windows. I figured they have hamburgers the way that Allsups has burritos.*

Nope. Apparently the chef there is credited with putting together one of the most daring menus around, while still serving as one of the best greasy spoon diners in the state.

I've been passing over the best hamburger-and-lobster-bisque joint in the D/FW Metroplex, and spending my rare restaurant money at Taco Bell. With my wife taking a slice in her paycheck, we now have even less to spend on the luxury of prepared food. I might have to exchange my pennies for cash. A good cheeseburger is a sacred thing.

* Yes, all West Texas males wax romantic over the Allsup burrito, but this is because it keeps for a week at room temperature, even under the car seat, as Pat Green noted in song. As food, it doesn't even qualify as a burrito.

5:30 a.m., UTA Library

A paper to write regarding the discovery of rules behind regular and irregular polyhedra, and 2 hours, 20 minutes to write it in. Meanwhile, I can't get TV show "Kings" off my mind. I can't decide if I should waste another hour on what I already know won't be worth the time.

***

I've discovered another signpost on my way to old age: I now prefer getting up early to staying up late. Staying up late means you want one more round, more time to flirt or you just want to see what's going to happen. Getting up early means you got stuff to do and not enough time to do it. On the other hand, the food at 6 a.m. is far better for than your average 2 a.m. fare.

***

I could feel like a loser for getting here at 5:30 a.m. But what about this guy two desks over? A college kid who's in the library before I am, apparently so he can watch South Park on the internet.

***

I heard a rumor last night that the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal would soon file for bankruptcy. I couldn't confirm this anywhere, but I did notice that the failure of it's parent company, Morris Communications, seems imminent. Sheesh. You hear about the fall of the newspaper industry going back to your college days. Then it happens to your own paper, and it's still a shock.

***

OK. To work.

Teaching fair

Going into my first teacher job fair, I attempted to adopt the attitude of the failed Cassanova.

A buddy of mine in college said he had an easy time talking to girls who were out of his league. He just assumed that the girl was out of his league, that nothing was ever gonna happen. He therefore removed all the pressure from any conversation and flirting with said girl. I think he even got a couple of dates this way.

Hence, I tried to get past my reluctance to sell myself, thinking all jobs were filled and I was way underqualified.

I felt like I had a few decent conversations.

Some observations:

• The fair happened at UNT's old super pit. My alma mater is hardly familiar to me nowadays, things have changed so much.
• I almost gave a resume to Glen Rose (only 25 miles from Hico), but I knew there was no way to work it out -- at least for now.
• The lady from Fort Worth ISD said I was the second ex-journalist she had talked to.
• They should have a time limit on refreshment restrictions. If the breakfast food is still out after three hours, take down the dang "school district representatives only" sign. I could have used one of those 80 bagels that you were about to throw away.
• I don't know if the dude from Hurst-Euless-Bedford was brushing me off, but two eyerolls is a bit rude.