All posts tagged Apocalypse

It can’t be Armageddon; I’m wearing the wrong shoes

Published April 20, 2017 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Batman says I drive myself to distraction and I tend to get myself all wrapped up around the axel. (I don’t know why I expect non-automotive metaphors.)   I am trying to reduce my anxiety.

I am! I really am! Who says I’m not?!

One of things I do to amuse myself when I get extra stressed because of my job and my elderly cat possibly dying while I’m at work and wondering if our Cheeto- in Chief is going to do away with funding, peace on earth and safety for all humanity is watch various reality suspending TV shows. I’ve been re-watching The Walking Dead from the beginning. Sometimes I root for the Zombies. (I have also noticed, not for the first time, that Lori and Andrea are just the worst, and overall, everyone would have been better off if they had made their exits earlier in the series.)  One of the major things I have noticed is that everyone on the series is wearing sturdy, and I’m assuming, comfortable shoes.  It makes me wonder if on the day they had to flee they put actual thought into what shoes they needed to wear.

Seriously, if you a had to get up and run, literally run, for your life, would you be satisfied with your choice of footwear?  Especially if you didn’t know when you would get to change shoes, and who knows if there will be the Cobbler of the Apocalypse? (World’s worst extreme dessert.)

I have actually picked out the shoes I want to be the last shoes I every own. They are $350 Frye Harness Boots in white. (I have a white boot fetish, and yes, I have done a lot of thinking about this.)

I was at school the other day and reviewed the news headlines, and, like always, I had pre-anxiety tremors thinking about how our current administration is quickly buffooning us towards doom. As I turned to put my phone away, I stepped out of the shoes I apparently bought a size too big.

I find that reassuring.

It can’t be the Apocalypse, I’m wearing the wrong shoes .

This time the banana is just a banana

Published January 7, 2017 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

School has begun again and I’m not sure if my brain is going to join me.  I’ve been having weird gaffes in my memory. That’s right, I mean gaffe, not gap.

I am remembering the important things like how to get to work and not to wear my underwear on the outside and how to teach without freaking out or cursing like a sailor. I survived the first three days back at school, herding squirrelly kids and marginally vexed parents.

I did, however, misplace a banana.

Our school day is about an hour longer than most other schools and I live a 30 minute drive from the school, so I usually need a snack in the late afternoon so no one has to die.  I am  making a concerted effort to eat better, so I brought a banana. (I also brought lemon slices to put in my water and to squirt on my salad, but the lemons reached their intended destination. I guess this signifies no prejudice against yellow produce on my part.)

I still don’t know where my banana went.

The school days themselves were fairly uneventful, but I’m still feeling a bit off kilter. Possibly because I’m waiting for the four unicorns of the Apocalypse to appear over the horizon (My Armageddon is more fabulous than yours!).

My Amanda Friend and ventured out to run errands together. One of the tasks we needed to accomplish was to return books to the library. (Amanda is a librarian in another city, so we rarely get to do this.)

I love books, as does Amanda, so this was a pleasant venture. As I scanned the shelves I noticed that the books on how to survive time in prison are nestled cheek to jowl with how to survive standardized testing. Well played, Melvil Dewey, well played.

I was checking out the new fiction and I began to work up a perfectly good grump about Genre Fiction. For those of you who are not book obsessed, Genre Fiction is just another way of classifying types of books. Chick Lit, Mystery, Urban and Christian are a few of the Genres.

I told Amanda that I feel that Genre fiction is just a way for a some book with a personal agenda to lure a reader in under the guise of a mystery or other plot-line and just when you are too invested to turn away, they drop the other shoe right on you.

Amanda didn’t understand why I was getting all het up about it, but it made me think about how sneaky fiction really is. Not to mention fiction writers. (I fancy myself a writer, but I also am very upfront about whatever my weird agenda is.) Case in point: James Patterson occasionally offers a Masters Class for writers. I recently saw an announcement proclaiming that Mr. Patterson was looking for a new ghost writer and he would select one from his roster of students.

I have long suspected that Mr. Patterson has a cadre of minions who help him dole out the reams of words that appear in shiny covers in various parts of the bookstore.

I said as much to Amanda and suggested that taking one of these classes was a good way to find yourself chained up right next to 699 other monkeys and their typewriters pounding out the next mystery or YA novel or romance or whatever else would fly from your paws.

My description included a guess as to what that writer’s room would smell like. This led me to wonder if anyone else would be able to keep up with that particular conversation and Amanda reminded me of another adventure we had that resulted in a narrative about the poo flinging possibilities of monkeys (Coming some from IFC!). Now I’m pondering if monkeys deserve the reputation they have or if just one monkey, one time did that and now they are all tarred with the same (poopy) brush.

I bet they know where their bananas are.

And we’re back

Last night I dreamed of butter

Published August 30, 2015 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Really, I dreamed that there was half a stick of butter tucked away in the back of my refrigerator.

Now, I haven’t been eating butter or margarine lately because I don’t want to waste the calories; I would rather use them on cookies or cake, you know, the important stuff.

For some reason the butter was of vital importance to me. (In the dream) Actor Boy and I are marathon watching the Walking Dead. We watched Fear the Walking Dead last week and have spent most of this week watching the series from the beginning.

We also went to see a play which was about the post apocalyptic society. The play proposed the idea that the bit of culture history and knowledge was based on the Simpson’s.

The gist of it is, by the time a century had passed, the Simpson’s had become an almost Shakespearean level of entertainment. I don’t want to infringe on the playwright’s intellectual property by saying too much about it, I just wanted to mention that it is similar to a concept I try to introduce to my students.

Culture simply means that which survives a society. What would we leave behind in the event of a mass disappearance? It’s all just stories anyway, that and the meanings we give to the words that survive.

And today all I have to say is: Butter.

Oh and there was a mutant conjoined twin cockroach racing around the kitchen the other night. I smote them (it) with some lemon fragranced poison.



Still building that platform

Published November 26, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I have not given up on the professional diatribe about education.  I simply have not had the time I would like to hone and shape the words.   I know that sounds like rationalization (And believe me, I could get a higher level degree in rationalization just on my post Zombie-Apocalypse food necessities alone.)  I know it seems like I am boosting the hype for little to no pay off.

I can not just show up and speechify about something in a field for which I have qualifications.  I would not just show up and play. I will officially pontificate when the platform is completely ready.

I did get some information today. I have reserved the first part of this week to cover classes for a colleague who is welcoming her new grandchild.  Because her classes are also in an area for which I have diplomas and credentials, I feel qualified to punt, if necessary.

Today, by happy accident, there was a guest speaker who addressed the students about the process of directing and playwriting.  This made me happy not only because I am interested, but also because it gave me a moment to reflect a bit about what this workshop means in the bigger picture of education.

Opportunity.  Education is about opportunity.

Some schools can afford to give more, like workshops on special topics so that students can learn from working professionals and gain a respect for different aspects of society.

There are so many other things that fall under the heading of opportunity.

Today I felt as if I were firing on all cylinders and that most of the brain was working towards the same goal.

Teach and be teached. (I know the right word is “taught”.  “Teached” sounds better.)

Writer Chick and Katboy’s infinite do list

Published November 25, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I don’t think my life would be a very interesting movie. (Although if it were I would want either Margaret Cho or Janene Garafolo to play me.)

Actually, one of my professors said that stories are NEVER written about the “Day things went Ok” , and my day’s are rarely just Ok.  It’s usually an oddly paced ride through a strangely lit fun house.

Katboy’s days are even more bizarre, but you can usually predict the pace. (He’s an engineer, and for those of you who are new to my personal Freak Show, Katboy is my husband.)

Today is one of my actual days off. By actual I mean that there is no chance that I will be called in to teach or otherwise be in charge of anything.

Instead today is one of the days that I have to, absolutely have to Self-Motivate. (Not nearly as fun as Self-Medicate.)  I have a lot on my list today. There’s so much on the list that there are things on it starred as the ones that absolutely have to get done today. (Like get my Brother-law’s Christmas present, because I have a coupon that expires today. )

So the bare minimum

* Go to Barnes and Noble to get Mike’s Xmas present

*Go to Half-Price books to get George and Dad’s Xmas present(s)

* Organize short stories that need editing (this will be what I am working on when I’m not teaching.)

* Go to Thrift Store Outlet for gift bags and gag gifts. (This is across town, but today is everything a dollar day, so there.)

* Find the sink. (I think that’s much more interesting than do the dishes, but it’s the same thing.)

*Work out. (This has to be on the list so that I will do it, there’s only a few weeks til the Zombie Apocalypse)

There are about a zillion other things that need doing, but this is the bare minimum that must be done today.

It has to get done today because I’m on call to cover classes for my favorite teacher this week.

This is a deceptively simply sounding list, but remember it’s me, after all, and there is absolutely no way of predicting when extra clowns or weasels will jump out as I move through the world.

And we know there will be weasels.