I wear glasses. I have worn glasses since I was in elementary school 2nd grade — the “aviator” style made of cheap plastic that I frequently broke during recess kickball games and then had to tape together so I could wear them.
I have never figured out how to keep my glasses clean in the subsequent four+ decades of my life.
But I seriously doubt this is “newsworthy.” Cringeworthy, maybe.
What jobs have I *not* had would be a better question.
Right…
Lawn mower (right after I got my “working papers” at age 14, along with my social security number — this is now assigned at birth in the US)
Pizza dough maker (seriously, that’s all I did at first)
Pizza maker and deli worker (same restaurant)
Tarred the school parking lot and roof (no idea what this job would be called)
McDonald’s (who hasn’t? Both opening and closing, including cleaning the deep oil fryer. Ugh.)
Gymnasium weight room staff
Gymnasium pool cleaner
Volleyball court setup and take down
Softball umpire (all four work-study jobs at college with a max number of hours per week)
Bookstore clerk (Barnes & Nobles)
Dishwasher (summer time only)
Short order cook (same restaurant as the dishwasher job)
Stock boy (stationery store for all of two days)
Temp worker (stuffing envelopes for three days, yawn)
Blockbuster clerk (out of business video rental store—anybody remember VHS tapes?)
Bookstore clerk (used bookstore in Ann Arbor, mostly stocking and organizing overflow in the basement, although I did help set up a comic book and gaming store annex)
First year composition teacher (this was a paid TA job for one semester in grad school)
Computer software store clerk (mall seasonal job—I got in trouble once for suggesting that a customer try another software store for a game series we didn’t carry rather than lie by saying we’d let him know when we got it; I hadn’t realized lying was company policy…)
Computer salesperson (my first “full time” job—I lasted two months—definitely not slick enough to work for sales commish)
Kinko’s (computer design department)
Weekly newspaper (computer layout)
A small H&R firm (computer design…you can probably sense a trend…)
Assistant language teacher (the jump to Japan)
Language instructor (late night after school cram school for junior high kids)
Assistant Professor (both part time and full time contractual)
Professor (it’s amazing now to see how I wound up teaching TESOL…)
This may not include some odds and ends here and there when I was in JHS and SHS. I worked a lot of summer jobs and Christmas/ New Year’s break jobs. I worked most weekends while I was a full time students, and most Friday evenings, too. I don’t recall the pay for all of them, but I remember the pizza dough job paid $3.15 an hour, and four years later McDonald’s paid a whopping $3.75 an hour.
You know, I’d be very interested to find out what jobs my colleagues have had. In college when I borrowed money to study abroad in Germany, my classmates wandered around Europe for the summer while I returned and had exactly $0 to my name and worked double-shifts. I wonder how many literature or history professors spent summer days getting burned on their arms with 400F cooking oil or getting yelled at by bankers because their document wasn’t printed fast enough…
I saw a baseball game last September. That was live. Does that count?
Oh. Do you mean “live” in the Japanese sense, i.e., a live performance by a musical artist?
As in a live concert?
At a club?
Or just that the musicians were alive and actually wrote their own music and played their own instruments rather than danced around and lip-synced?
Yes. I am a snarky Gen-Xer. Wave the flannel.
(FWIW I think the last live musical performance I’ve seen was in a Japanese club in Osaka around 2000 or 2001, and before that in mid-1999 in a club somewhere in Boston. It’s hard to get out when you have a family and need to actually go to work in the morning.)
When you are younger you get blamed for crimes you never committed. And when you’re older you begin to get credit for virtues you never possessed. It evens itself out.
Researchers will fly rockets into the path of the eclipse, stand in zoos watching animals, send radio signals across the globe, and peer into space with massive cameras.
And you don’t need to be a scientist to take part.
If you’re lucky enough to have no clouds or rain, that is.
Things the eclipse affects:
Radio waves
Animal behavior
The birds and the bees (seriously; read about what tortoises did last time)
Things scientists can view thanks to an eclipse:
The solar wind (plasma on the surface of the Sun)
Coronal mass ejections (which interfere with satellites)
Dust rings around the Sun and possibly even new asteroids
The East Coast of North America, where most of my relatives live, is currently 13 hours behind me in Japan. So the event will be long over by the time I wake up.
Hope to see video of it on the morning news show tomorrow!
The eclipse begins as a small notch slowly appears along one edge of the Sun. During the next hour, the Moon gradually covers more and more of the Sun’s bright disk. You’ll need a Solar Filter to both view and photograph the partial phases.
On April 8, 2024, there will be a total solar eclipse across parts of North America. It starts on Mexico’s Pacific coast and ends on Canada’s Atlantic coast. (So, no, it’s not just “from San Antonio to the Canadian border” as one article puts it).
I’m a little jealous of friends and family in the path. The eclipse lasts for over four minutes this time — if you’re in the area, enjoy!
My middle name is actually Thomas. I chose to use “M Thomas” as a pen name out of respect for my father, who taught me how to write. As a professional communications writer, he was responsible for lots of public documents for the NYS DMV, including traffic safety reports, driver manuals, press releases from the Governor, all sorts of “my boss will feel the need to edit this, so I will deliberately leave behind something for him to do so as he doesn’t screw up the entire thing” document.
I may or may not have adopted this strategy in my own professional work (I certainly adopted the attitude…)
Another reason is because I had a baby brother named Thomas. He passed away before reaching five months old when I was not quite 11. It had a major impact on me as a child (and indeed as the adult and as the father I am).
I have no sons. It bothers me that I may be the last Thomas in our family. For a while, anyway.
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
“Where are you from?”
I never understood why this question might rankle some people…until I moved to Japan.
I’ve been in Japan since 1999. “Where are you from?” was one of the first questions people asked me at the time, when I was teaching in junior and senior high schools.
I was home, arguing at the dinner table. It was as if I were a teenager again. I’ve often dreamed of living in a bedroom with no ceiling over half of it, open to the night sky, with a solid rock wall on one side and sliding doors on another. This seemed to be the same house. Something like the house in Warrensburg, but somehow different. In other dreams, this house has slowly risen upward as if it were a growing tower of stone.
In this dream, I was at the dinner table. Then, suddenly I was on the back porch. It still looked like the “room” that had been set up for me when I was sleeping on the back porch between my freshman and sophomore years. Except in the dream, there was little furniture, no freezer, no old TV from my grandparents, just an old bed and some curtains. I was able to look through the kitchen wall and see the insides of the house, decrepit and broken plaster and wood.
I went to the barn to get my bicycle, and somebody came running up behind me just as I was about to leave the back yard. “Where is my bow and arrows?” I asked. He handed me a bow, but no arrows. I sped off down the side path to the street, and suddenly I was bicycling past the triangle park. Only it turned into a much large city-style park with large dumpsters and vending machines. A dump truck charged toward me, and as I veered away, it lurched back toward the park and disappeared.
Then I felt a pain in my mouth. Lifting a hand to my front teeth, I pulled out a large square and knew that my incisors had been removed.
[Note to self – it’s probably not a coincidence that so many of my better diary entries were written in August. I obviously have more time to think and write at that time of year!]
What strange turns my life has taken. Never would I have in a million years expected to be here, now, in this apartment, typing on an extended keyboard into a Japanese computer, in a Japanese city, listening to the same Cure tape I was listening to back in 1996. Has it actually been 8 years?
Ten years ago I was playing role playing games and drinking in Robbins lounge, getting ready to pack everything I owned into a moving van to move to Ann Arbor. A city I didn’t know, with no money for deposit or rent, or a job. Without a clue. Totally hopeless. Instead of exploring the city, I stayed in my bedroom and played games or typed. What was I thinking? I can’t even get in touch with the few people I met there. Even the ones I knew at ND are either gone back where they came from or no longer answer my emails.
I can still picture them all in my mind. I can still see the rooms I lived in, all the way back home. Even the freshman dorm room which no longer exists, since they tore the building down. How can that be?
It must be this which makes us human; the ability to take the visual and turn it into mental. The capacity to make emotional connections between the world outside and the world inside. The belief that there are two worlds. This makes us human, and at the same time it makes us separate. It is a false belief, that we are not of the outside. Yet there is no returning. Once we start, we can never stop. Even changing languages doesn’t help. We merely start over again from a new perspective, still outside the outside.
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