"Is this all I do?"

Since my divorce two and a half years ago, I've lost my heart to a lesser or greater degree to several women.  If I were to list the number, I would be judged one way or the other by most, because that's what most do whether they're aware of it or not.  I have given of myself over and over and have been rebuffed and rejected.  Who shall doubt the free will of a person's heart?  My problem is that I love fiercely, and I realize that I will probably never find someone who is strong enough to reciprocate.

However, what I've come to realize is that I have been neglecting an important group of people in my search for personal happiness: those whom I've affected through my music in the past twenty-two years.  I am constantly made aware of this by people reaching out and telling me what impact I've made on their lives.  Most recently, I was caught off guard by an acquaintance as he offered up such uplifting support of my music that it almost brought me to tears.  More so, because we had just tangled in bravado over drinks at my favorite downtown pub.  Here was this larger than life Harley guy, that I deeply respect, for I was well aware of his own personal search for companionship, and how most recently he had been rejected by a person that he had loved unconditionally for many years. And here he was, out of nowhere, fervently earnest in his address to me, and I was literally without words as he expressed what my musical efforts meant to him personally.  To him it wasn't as much the content of my music, but the fact that I was doing it and my efforts had always been a constant foothold for him in everyday life.  And therein was the point that he kept returning to: a constant.  In our small circles, I had always been the guy who played music, no matter what anyone thought of me.  I had persevered in his eyes.  His concern was that I might someday stop doing it, and that I mustn't ever stop, because so many people rely on what I'm doing.

I am too often ignorant and believe that no one is listening, even though I can easily see that people are purchasing our music every day.  I get lost in self-pity...I'm weak in that regard, and extremely so, I do admit.  In some ways, it's like electing to be a martyr, and that's not an easy path.  It's a lonely path that I unknowingly ventured down many years ago, and regardless if I stray, my shadow still remains on that path, and the path itself still remains in my peripheral; I will never be rid of it and it will never be rid of me, even after I'm gone.

At this moment, I've decided to commit to the path for a good stretch and forgo my silly pursuits of the heart.  I'll be content with my daily back and forths with a Neverland friend of mind and focus on my work once more.  I feel it's what I should do --I owe it to so many, whom have shown me much love.  The music is always there in my head...I cannot escape it.  I only choose to ignore it sometimes.  I apologize for that.  It'll happen again, you can be sure.  In the end, I'm only human.

"No one knows you till it's over..." ~Jonsi

Much love,
Derek

Wanna race?

Last month I walked into the office at the Hideout before my shift, and Dustin who was sitting at the desk said, "Hey, you're running this race with me." He then showed a YouTube video to me of the Spartan Race. I was hesitant at first, because I've never really ran, but then thought, "Why not?" I've been extremely consistent in my workout regiment since last May, and have felt that I needed to work toward greater goals. I knew that my friend Josh had ran the Warrior Dash last year, and I have a great number of friends who run other races, from 5Ks to marathons. So, I bought some Asics, mapped out a greater workout schedule, and have several races for which I'm preparing. The Spartan Race http://www.spartanrace.com is coming up in 15 days --4 mi with 15 obstacles outside of Indy. Dustin and I will be running with Josh Benson and Brice Lazaro. Then I may be joining my friend Amy for the Muddy Buddy http://muddybuddy.com/ --3-4.5 mi with 10 obstacles in Nashville. I would like to do the Warrior Dash http://warriordash.com but I'm undecided as to which location/date would work best for my schedule. I'm supposed to do the Run for Your Lives http://runforyourlives.com in St. Louis with my friend Phil on Aug 8 --5K with 12 obstacles and zombies. Finally, the ultimate goal is to run the Tough Mudder http://toughmudder.com/ in Missouri in October --12 mi with 25 obstacles. My good friend Kevin is running it next month. I can't wait to hear how it goes. Dustin is running it with me and our friend Agustin has committed to it as well. I'm flippin stoked. If anyone else wants to join us in any of these, or has another race you think that I'd be interested in, let me know.

Rohan

Seriously...I've never been a huge fan of myself, and for my son, this person...this human being that did not exist when I was fighting for an identity as an adolescent, to have ridden his bike to my house with his cool Tony Hawk helmet on that i bought for him three years ago... it is one of the single most monumental events that has ever affected me. THAT is what I mean by "bursting." I can't contain what is inside of me. I love them so, so much.

Day 14,107

Conclusion: One person always loves; One person always leaves.

Among the mobile

I blew my back out Tuesday and spent the next four days in bed. Of all things, I was doing an ab circuit. I realize now though that the leg lifts had weakened my lower lumbar region. Whenever I do them it's gets my lower back burning, which of course is exciting. However, this particular time, when I moved on to burpees, (and I think this was second round) halfway through the set I felt a sudden smoosh in my back when I exploded from the squatting position. I knew immediately what had happened. I managed to ignore the increasing pain level when J and I went to dinner that night, but after I retired for the evening I wasn't able to make it out of bed again unaided. My dad and Rohan were absolutely amazing through the whole ordeal. I was very lucky to have the kids both Wednesday and Thursday evenings, as Rohan was always quick to offer help. The kid is quickly becoming an admirable young man. Also, I can't thank my dad enough for bringing me three meals a day. I'm also very grateful to my GM at The Hideout for being understanding and giving me time off, even when I was one of only two bartenders available for the busy weekend. So, today was the first day that I was able to walk. I was finally able to shower, and I did some small chores around the house. I'm still going to take it slow and easy the next couple of days; not taking any teaching assignments till Wednesday, and I'm not scheduled to return to The Hideout until Friday. I'm just happy and thankful to be among the mobile again.

Cast and All

Over a hundred years ago I would be the guy who would dutifully help a lady into a carriage. It's second nature. So, Without pause I would open the door of my vehicle for a girl --and in this case said girl has a broken wrist, and said vehicle is my father's big hondo truck, filling in for my crippled bimmer. However, as this guy right here is rounding the truck with a smile of content on his mug, the driver's side door flings open with the loveliest site lunged across the console, supporting herself on her cast, laughing with an outstretched arm. That goes down in the book of über cool.

The story with no ending...

I had the most delightful and heartwarming evening last night. I got to spend time with two of my dearest friends, Tony and Jodie. It makes me so happy to have learned that I somehow played such a crucial role in their paths crossing at the right time. It's crushing, actually...to consider all that such a sentiment implies...and it almost brings me to tears. In fact, they did as much in their telling of their tale last night. I have loved much in my travels in this life, and always with all of my heart...why any less? I have worked, sacrificed, and created...all in vain...just to attain and retain the affections of another. My life's silly plight...and I am at this moment smiling and quietly laughing to myself...because...here I am, at this frustratingly familiar junction: the crux of enlightenment and consternation. Full and empty...a seemingly perpetual journey through every possible emotion in the spectrum of the human experience all for the sake of belonging. To be lighthearted about it, I could have done without most, if not all of the heartache --and maybe even at the cost of what it has produced in my life's work of art. I am the eternal optimist though --I absolutely believe that everything happens for a reason, and I truly believe that in my own life I will chance upon a person that is truly my unique counterpart. Until that time comes though, my heart is made well knowing people like Tony and Jodie, and I wish them all the happiness that is possible in this beautiful life.

9:30 on a Saturday Night

Sitting at old
Varnished planks
On a bar stool
With a Fat Tire
Eddie Rabbit is
Driving his life away
I'm considering
A sunny day
And I know
It will always
Happen
Here and there
When I least
Expect it
All just like
This tumultuous
Weather
Normalcy?
Should I hope?
Well...
It doesn't hurt
To hope...
Normalcy would
Suit me fine
But I'm okay
Regardless
Always the
Perpetual optimist...
And now...
I've been displaced
By arm wrestling
I was asked
If I would move
For use of
My corner
And those
Around me
Are talking legalities
Screams of
"Over the top!"
Really?
And now I
Return to reflecting
Waiting for the
PA to arrive
While Merle plays
And I think of...
Her.

Blades

Hey, hey, hey, can I say? Can I say that it wasn't such a bad day? Really. I should be sleeping...as usual. Listening to the Black Keys. Thinking about...that one time...listening to the same album...before the last time. Yeah, those amazing brown eyes. Yeah, thinking about that time.

IT IS.

Being a dad to four extremely unique and wonderful children.
Being a teacher in a second grade classroom full of such beautifully diverse students.
Being a friend to so many amazing people and hoping that my heart's output is sufficient enough to earn their love and respect.
Being a server at an incredibly great steak house.
Being some bloke who is organizing a 20 year high school class reunion.
Being a front man in a band that is about to release a killer album.
Being a builder that gets to swing a hammer again this summer after school is out.
Being a part of southern Illinois.
Being a citizen.
Being rooted.
Being...
Me.

A Day in My Life: Post 201

I rise in the morning.
First up.
I have been awakened by a secretary calling me to work.
I love this one's voice.
A voice softer than my grandmother's who died many years ago.
I have to tell her no, since I'm already subbing.
I wonder if my alarm has already gone off.
It has.
I take my shirt to be pressed down to the laundry room.
Already a song is hitting me.
My head has natural reverb.
Great Hall.
I make a protein shake as the iron is warming and the coffee is brewing.
I go take my shower and shave.
I try to wake my babies, one by one.
My daughter cries that she won't get up.
I hold her till she says she's ready to brush out her hair.
My oldest son says he showered last night.
His little brother only wants to curl up in my arms.
Knotted hair and tears from the bathroom.
I do my best to help.
My best is usually good enough.
It all works out...

I drop my kids off at their house.
I wish I had time to actually take them to school.
Not today.
I have to go by the mechanic's and drop of my keys.
My car is being towed there today.
I can only hope that it isn't a huge repair.
I make it to school with time to spare.
The secretary has my paperwork ready for me to sign as usual.
Secretaries probably don't get paid enough for their excellence.
I find that I have many, many copies to make.
No matter.
It's all a part of the job, and I'm glad to be part of it all.
Everything is in order when the first of my first graders hit the class.
Here we go.
It all works out...

I ask if they usually say the Pledge of Allegiance.
No.
They usually do not.
Okay.
Well, we're going to do it anyway.
I'm sure someone died today in a foreign land for that flag.
We can take one minute and say the Pledge.
The subjects come and go.
Nothing troubling.
Lots of tattling.
Nothing troubling.
I can't find blank transparencies.
I use chalk on the blackboard.
Old School.
I smile and laugh to myself.
I send and receive texts in my free time.
Messages to and from friends that I love.
Love that is old and deep.
Friends that are old that hold love for me that steeps.
People need other people.
Encouragement never gets old.
I love it all.
It all works out...

I am the stalwart sentry in the hall.
Mr. Cook with the soft heart but stern stare.
I know I am loved.
Still, I am there to provide structure.
I usher mine into the gym.
They are there to see weird animals.
I am there to see that they sit criss-cross applesauce, hips and lips.
Shhhh!
Bottom on the floor!
Under my breath and under my brow, all of it.
I get to pet the animals.
Ooos and ahhhs, giggles and pointed fingers.
I have always known how to play the part.
It's for the good of the pack.
But it warms my heart.
You must always find something to warm your heart.
Your heart has every chance to die.
You must never let that happen.
It all works out...

I run here and there, errands for the sake of errands.
I drive back home to pack up my children's clothes.
Their world in a bag, my heart in their every look.
I deliver and hug them all.
My oldest son jumps in our borrowed van.
We go to his weekly baseball coaching.
He loves it, loves it, loves it.
I love him, so I love it too.
I talk with one of my best friends about love and life.
It's our weekly pep talk to each other.
People need other people.
Encouragement never gets old.
I find out my car repair will cost $600.
Not the news I wanted to hear.
It could be worse.
And encouragement never gets old.
It all works out...

I take my boyo to the restaurant where I work at night.
It's our usual Monday haunt.
He knows most of the staff.
He knows I consider them all family.
He's quite the gentleman too.
I am so proud of him.
He is me, if I was cool.
He is my hero.

In almost seven years he'll be the one old enough to die on foreign soil.

Time will fly too fast.
He orders a steak.
He turns eleven this summer.
I smile and laugh with him.
I have to talk to him about his grades.
His report card was not good.
I tell him I have to ground him from his video games.
I hate it.
I know they keep him safe and give him comfort.
I know they are his escape from a world that crashed around him almost two years ago.
I know he did not ask for it.
So, I hate doing this to him.
But I do it with a tender smile and with as much explanation as a ten year old will buy.

He's okay with it.
It all works out...

I take him home.
His house is upside down.
His younger siblings drag out too many toys.
The upstairs ends up downstairs.
It all ends up being chewed up by the dogs.
It's a little much for their mother.
My oldest daughter is escaping it all in the dining room.
She sits doing homework with headphones on.
I remember doing the same thing at my house.
There weren't any animals at my house.
My son has lost his iPod.
He swears it fell in the couch.
His mother starts to come unglued.
She marches upstairs.
I flip the couch over and carefully slit the lining underneath.
I reach in and find it.

The younger children start pulling out treasures from where the couch was.

Treasures amongst dust bunnies from hell.
I gently hand the iPod to my son.
She returns.
He gently hands it over to us.
At first she doesn't understand his gesture.
I explain that he is surrendering it, because he is grounded.
She turns to a vacuum cleaner and starts to unwind the cord.
I know she was doing homework when I came in.

I know she is bothered by the revealed mess under the couch.

I tell her that cleaning can wait.

I tell her I know she has work to do.

I hug her.

She begins to sob.
I tell her that she'll make it.
People need other people.
Encouragement never gets old.
I know school is hard, and she's almost done.
It's affecting them all.
I can only do what I can do.
It's not my home.
It will all work out...

I go to my favorite local bar.
Just like the television show, they all know my name.
I have a drink.
There is a great live DVD being played.
The proprietor tells me that our side project will soon be under way.
He is having a bass built for me to play.
No doubt that it will be interesting.
Extremely fun, but interesting.

We've spent many evenings discussing music over a dark brew or two.

Or three.

Or four.

Closing time comes and goes, and those discussions never grow old.

But that's what two busted up music vets do.

It really does come to this.

At the present, he has to throw two people out of the bar.
I begin conversing with a wonderful person by text.
I post on facebook.
A world outside of my world where I talk about my world.
I think I would have benefited from such an outlet as an adolescent.
Police officers enter the bar.
They have received a call that patrons were just asked to leave by gunpoint.
Another patron flexes and asks if they were referring to his guns.
I laugh again.
I continue my text conversation.
I buy another drink.
I know I won't finish it.
I just don't feel like it.
Not tonight.
The day has been a strange one.
I want to go home.
I want to write.
I go out to the van.
I get inside and start playing Counting Crows on my phone.
I text my friend and tell her.
She says she loves Counting Crows.
I smile.
I laugh.
I love this life.
"I'm under the gun, round here..."
People need other people.
Encouragement never gets old.
It all works out...
Sometimes I just need a little while to figure out how to work it out.

"Make your lives extraordinary!"

Tonight I'm going to do my best to organize and file away papers that have littered my room and the loft for the last several weeks. The need for them has expired as my professional semester is finally over. I had considered retelling the sordid tale about how I was told two weeks ago that I would not be graduating, because I was three credit hours short of fulfilling my mathematics concentration hours. However, even the retelling would be too exhausting. Needless to say, I passed a proficiency test in statistics to acquire the necessary hours to graduate. It was not without many a sleepless night this past week, studying whenever I could, only to believe that I had failed the test this past Tuesday morning. Yes, I did indeed pass, but there is no way that it was pretty --I am still very upset at what I feel was a dismal performance of my display of content knowledge. However, withstanding my feelings about it all, the grade posted, and I will be graduating this Saturday. It's still amazing for me to consider that passing my Teacher Education Program Portfolio Capstone was not the greatest stress of this past week.

My time spent pursuing my degree has not been without trials and pains. I began in January 2008 at John A. Logan College, getting my Associates within a year, so I could begin the TEP at SIUC the following January. I pulled many all-nighters while at SIU, because I believed in what I was doing...I wanted desperately to absorb what I could from my instructors and the coursework to supplement what I considered to be my natural teaching tendencies. However, my personal life took an exceptional turn that nearly caused me to quit a year ago. Even those closest to me advised me to take time off. I couldn't do it...I felt such a sense of immediacy, I had to stay the course. In retrospect, I have no regrets, because I believe that everything happens for a reason. --and if the friends that I made along the way were the only things gained in all of this, then I would consider this journey extremely well worth it.

I don't really know how to explain the whole tale to my children. I began many years ago out of high school, choosing to follow my dream of being a professional musician after my dream of being a graphic designer seemed out of the question. I worked many jobs while playing music, and then settled into what I knew best: carpentry. It's what I had indirectly been raised to do by my father, which is ironic considering that he was a high school teacher for almost thirty years. I had never considered going to college, as I had worked so hard to be a craftsman over many years, excelling in my trade as a home builder. It's funny to reflect on that now as I wait tables at a steak house to achieve this end of becoming a teacher. Yet, if I hadn't made the decisions that I did, no matter how crazy they were, I would have never gained what I value the most in this silly life, my four beautiful children. So, I believe that I would tell my children to not second guess what their hearts are telling them to do, no matter what the short-term outcome may seem to be.

I guess in signing off, I would like to thank all of my close friends and family who lent me their ears when I needed someone to listen to my woes. I feel extremely privileged to have had such great instructors at JALC and SIU. I could not have had a better student teaching experience as what I had with my incredible cooperating teacher and a dynamite group of fourth graders. And finally, my children have been the strongest people I know, watching their father go through lessons in life, from which I know I did a horrible job shielding them. I hate thinking that they have been affected in some adverse way in all of this, and I understand that it has been unavoidable, but I have honestly tried to be the best father that I could be. Thankfully, as this chapter in my life has come to an end, and a new one is beginning, I can finally direct a majority of my attention to them.

I praise God for allowing me to have arrived at this place, and I cannot wait to begin my new career as an educator. I have embraced all that I have been given in this life, for better and for worse, and have given thanks all the while. I have known many tears and much laughter...and I choose to know many more. I would ask after having read this, do not do as I have done, only do as you would do. Always smile and make those around you feel greater than the day. When you love, love fiercely, no matter the personal cost. And finally...
always...
always, carpe diem!
Make your lives extraordinary!

DGC

For the Love of the Crowd, and the Three Cheers from Everyone

It's been twenty years since several blokes convinced me to sing in a band we were forming. I wanted to play keyboards, but the guy who wanted to start the band had some superman synthesizer, so I submitted and decided to give the singing thing a go. He lasted for about 2 months before we convinced him we had broken up. We "reformed" and that was the beginning of Cruces. That band lasted for twelve years, and now Through Dint of Heavy Wishing has been around for eight years. After all this time, I feel that I am constantly growing as a vocalist and performer...dying slowly until the next time I'm able to be on a stage. Just about a year ago, a once good friend told me in a fit of rage that I needed to be in front of an audience, because I thrived off of it, and couldn't exist outside of that arena. I truthfully don't believe that the latter is true, but I do admit that I thrive off of a nice audience; they are an important part of not only what I do, but why I do it as well. I have sweat, cried, and bled for an audience on many occasions --and look forward to the next time, which may be tonight at PK's. You never know. Regardless of what happens at the show, every person who has every supported me through the good times and bad...I love each and every one of you. Please come out tonight and join us. I promise to need you.

Lovin' It

I'm about to start getting ready for work. Why am I posting now? Because I'm sitting down, that's why. Actually, these past several days have been quite lazy to tell the truth. This summer class schedule is nothing like intersession. I have class at the same time, 8:40 a.m., but instead of leaving school at almost 3 p.m., I out just a bit after 11 a.m. Also, the workload is spread out because of 8 weeks versus 4. That reading a novel every other night sucked, I won't lie.

I've been trying to swim every day for at least the past couple of weeks, barring rain and other circumstances. My body is finally getting used to it, so I'm picking up my workout a bit. I had stopped my treadmill workouts when intersession started, just because I was so worn out with everything, so this is not only a welcome change, but a needed one as well.

I get the kids this coming weekend, and then it'll be another 7 days before our next vacation together. That may be around the 4th of July weekend? I don't have my calendar around, but I think that's right. I plan on taking them camping somewhere so I'm psyched about that. I've been trying to take them hiking on my weekends, and they just love it. We always have a discussion before we set out, predicting what we might see, and what we know from our previous outings. We stop at all markers and maps, and constantly take inventory of what we're doing while we're doing it. Every moment turns into a teaching moment, and they're responding to so much!

Oliver is supposed to be tracking guitar tonight with Scott engineering as usual. Joe is going to be there, and may track some guitar on his song "Beg the Past." I was going to be busy tomorrow night, but now I'm freed up, so maybe I'll get to work on some studio stuff too if Scott is free. Slowly but surely this thing is coming along!

Well, I guess I must post this and get ready. I hate that I have to miss yet another of Rohan's games tonight, but that's just the way it is. My dad is the greatest for covering for me when I'm not able to be there. I also have missed going out with some of my friends on our usual nights, and can't wait until the next time! I'm embracing this summer as truly one of the best in recent memory. Much love, Derek.

The Bed that You Make

I was just walking to the library from the communications parking lot and decided to take a longer, distantly familiar path, around Lawson toward the Ag building. I wanted to snap some pics with my phone, as I will soon no longer be on campus, and those who know me know that I am the sentimental type. However, I did not anticipate the rush of feelings that started to wash over me. Something melancholy? Possibly an aversion to the path itself or maybe associated memories?

I started back to school in the spring of 2008 at John A. Logan college. I made the decision to go back in the fall of '07. It was not an easy thing to put aside all that I knew, my professional trade, and just take a leap of faith into an unknown world. I had attended JALC for a glimpse of a semester in the fall of '91, but frankly, I don't even remember attending. I amassed a whopping 9 credit hours with a cumulative GPA of 1.67. Awesome, I know, but what did I care? Music was everything to me, and I just knew that my band, Cruces, was going to "make it." Of course, that is another story that I hope to reflect on in the near future. Yet those 9 credit hours were a springboard to acquiring my Associates degree. I was able to take 54 credit hours and raise my GPA to a 3.75 in one year which vaulted me into the Teacher Education Program at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale.

As for SIU --I never, ever saw myself attending this university. Both my father and younger brother had graduated from SIU, and my little sister had already gotten her Masters in Education from the University of Louisville...but me? I built houses for a living; I knew how to perform on a stage; I could write songs in my sleep --but pursuing a Bachelor's degree? It was never in my plans, let alone to become a teacher.

The spring semester of '09 was difficult...I will not lie. I pushed myself to physical limits with no sleep that I did not realize were possible. The first block of the El Ed program is meant to be an initiation of sorts, maybe to cull the pile of pre-service teachers. Who knows? We all like to speculate that is the case, but it is all relative. All the while, I did not realize that my personal life was imploding. I do not reflect much these days on what was really happening behind the scenes in the spring and summer of '09, because there is not much for it. It is irrelevant to my life now. However, my alternative path to the library brought back feelings from over a year ago...feelings that I was accomplishing something that had seemed out of reach...something great for my family. My perspective is somewhat different now. But, make no mistake, I still realize that my accomplishments will forever benefit my children, but a year ago, my point of view was from a different vantage point.

And so...I altered my path. I turned away from venturing to the Ag building and entering Thompson Woods from the west. I had considered going down this path, but knew it would only stir up the irrelevant. I knew my destination and decided against it. It is an interesting place at which I have found myself. Some days I believe that I walk a thin line between the concrete and abstract. This is not a horrible place for an artist, because I do believe wholeheartedly that my past immersion into the mundane was a critical detriment to my artistry. I have no regrets, but the mirror of my past can be very revealing in that aspect. I do not mean to say that I want to flirt with constant chaos for the rest of my life just write a few songs, but I can acknowledge the differences in my work from one period of my life to the next.

I am almost thirty-seven years old. Twenty years ago I was about to turn seventeen. For me, that is an alien thought, because my concept of time seems to be slightly skewed. I am still young, but there are those that are much younger. Granted, there are those that are much, much older, but I still believe that I have been afforded a place to consider in retrospect my actions and those actions of persons around me, both in and out of my personal sphere. I look at my family, my friends, my children, my former relations, my past lovers, and even those whose faces are fresh in my mind, but whose names I am no longer able to recall. Every person that I have known has made an impact on me to some degree. My life is forever intertwined with so many people, and when I stand outside of it all and look within, it is somewhat overwhelming. To even trace back bloodlines to Olde England or the Ukraine...so much greater grows the complexity of the threads of thought in my mind. I attempt it nonetheless, because I am sometimes afraid that I am overlooking the bigger picture of who I am, and my purpose in this so called life. Have I failed...or really, have I yet to even begin the purpose for which I am meant?

In reflection upon the past, I can honestly say that I would not change a thing. Everything happens for a reason, and I believe that our fate is defined by destiny. I was destined to make the choices that I did, and now I find myself where I am at now. Sitting in this library, typing this entry at a computer station. My next class begins in thirty minutes. In two days this intersession term will be over, and my summer semester will begin on Monday. That will last only eight weeks and then the countdown will begin for my student teaching this fall. I will graduate in December with my Bachelors and will be a certified teacher after I pass my capstones. And so, I guess I wonder sometimes, "How did I get here?" If this is destiny, then where to next?

My children occupy the greatest field in my line of sight. They invade much of my thinking, for they are greater than anything that I have ever accomplished. They are so much bigger than myself, and more than anything in this world, they humble me, as I often times feel not worthy of such incredible individuals. Because of this, I strive to be a better person than who I was the day before. I always try to impress upon them my observations of the constant struggle of the human condition to untangle the sordid mess of life. Surely it is the uphill climb to obtain true virtuousness? Yet, I feel that I should teach them that to crash and burn is a natural part of living...and how we rise from the ashes and react to the aftermath of the destruction around us...that those lessons are what truly define us. As any father, I want my children to be proud of me...but I want them to also view me as a human being with flaws...one that did the best he could with what he knew. I am only myself and nothing more. If I have been made out to be something greater or lesser than what I state here, then it is of machinations beyond my control. I am a father that loves his children. I am a friend that will run out the extra mile for you. I have the propensity to love for a millennium. I have the determination to build a tower to the sun. I have the complexity of the sum total of every unsolved equation. I have much left to be said, and when my life is over, realize that I was not able to say it all. Whether I was forced from the path that I was on, or rather have taken a different path of my own volition, the true answer is irrelevant. I know what I want, most of which is unknown to the rest of the world. For I am the only person who truly knows even the most ardent feelings that are pent up within my breast. Maybe that story will never be told...or maybe it will. I may purposefully broadcast with set intentions, but I have been around long enough to know that the target audience does not always listen. And so it goes...

"And if you have a minute why don't we go..."

"...talk about it somewhere only we know..."
I'm literally lying in bed with my eyes closed, typing this...I'll proof read before I post, so...it's all good. I thought I'd write just because, well, I want to. I have nothing really big to say, no poetry, no lyrics, no la-dee-da. I'm just...here.


The past two weeks have been pretty cool actually. I started tutoring on campus, working with students who have a variety of learning disabilities, so it's been cool to get to know them and help organize, proof read, and rewrite final papers. It's been a challenge, because I have only considered working with younger students, and to work with college age students has required different teaching strategies. But it's been a lot of fun...it truly has.


I also started a new job recently, and every night that I work, I seem to meet new people and make more friends. It's always a blast being part of a team effort. I mean, I am really, really having fun with this new experience, so I would be hard-pressed to find anything to complain about. Plus, I get to work around one of my favorite bros, Jose, for whom I would probably do anything, since I think I owe him so much anyway!


And then the album! I get to listen to the rough mixes every day in my car, and I am super pumped about it! Honestly, it's going to be good, and I cannot wait to get feedback on it. I need to post to the HW blog, but I am definitely not going to do it tonight.


Finally, I just love my kids. I gotta say it, and I'll say it till I turn blue in the face and die --I JUST LOVE MY KIDS. They're the greatest, and I cherish every moment I have with them.


Now...I'm going to go to sleep...

All six eyes stared fixedly on you

"Years may come, years may go...did you hear we change? They told me so." Just a line from a song I wrote in early '97 that we never used. Something that has weighed on me recently, more so than other detractors in my life --I know a lot of good people with great intentions and big hearts, but I know very few people that are real. I struggle to comprehend why this is. There is a song called "How Beautiful You Are" by the Cure (which is based on a poem by Charles Baudelaire) that ends, "...no one really knows or loves another..." Sadly, I believe it rings too true. So to my close friends out there, and you know who you are, I hold you dear to my heart, because you are a rarity among seasons. And to those that flitter and flutter about like butterflies on a spring wind, seemingly not knowing where they want to go...well...you could learn a lot from the real people.

Umm...ouch?

A most bizarre thing just occurred. I was unzipping my gig bag to take out my guitar, as I have an idea fresh in my mind. I restrung it two nights ago for recording, and as my usual practice, I don't cut the excess string off from the post. My guitar is ever so slightly longer than my gig bag, so I have to somewhat forcefully pull the zipper around the headstock to make a quick job of it. When I did, somehow the excess of the sixth string (the thickest gauge for those of you not in the know) suddenly sprung out and stuck into one of the joints in my left middle finger and went pretty deep. It's now dark and swollen and pretty sore. I Guess I should have iced it before playing out my idea.

How, and How

Oh, my back and neck are stiff. My eyes are even stiffer...how's that for an odd description? It's this head cold that has me captive. Fortunately, I know it'll be past in several days. God has blessed me with a quick rebound time in recent years. Regardless, I'm still feeling the pressure tonight.

I'm about to finish my Portfolio 1 for ED308, and then I need to wrap up HW2 for ED317...aaaand then throw together a lesson plan for my third period algebra students. Fortunately, I don't have to reinvent the wheel. I'm just teaching a lesson straight from the book. And actually, I'm basing the projects for 308 & 317 on the respective chapter. Instructional goals and objectives were meant to be recycled! It's my own property of distribution. :)

Oh, btw if you're not already following the TDoHW blog, check it out HERE. I'll save all of my music banter for that blog for the time being.

So today was...well...stressful, but I survived. My classes were enjoyable, and I had some good laughs with friends. I mean, you've got to laugh about stuff, y'know? I'd curl up and die if I didn't. This world is too much for the everyday Derek. Anyhoo, I discovered today that today was THE day for seniors to sign up for summer and fall classes. The path that I travel in Wham doesn't take me past advisory, so I'm not up to speed on what is posted on their bulletin board, hence my seemingly newness to these things every time I turn around.

So after 424 I trekked over to Morris, did a little work, and at a quarter till 2 I logged onto Salukinet and attempted to register when we "C"s were allowed to. The key word: attempted. All of the run numbers I entered came up as registration errors, asterisked as "departmental approval required." But see, I waited five weeks for my appointment with my advisor, who cancelled my appointment an hour before it was scheduled. Thus, I couldn't get my classes approved. And when I went in to make an appointment this morning, I couldn't get in until Apr 8. Fun, fun. So after accepting defeat, I walked back over to Wham to see if I could get the block removed from those classes.

Oh, I guess I should also point out that earlier in the day I discovered that SIU now requires pre-calc before taking calc 1. Of course I find this out now. I'm taking my last middle school endorsement class during the intersession, KIN 202 in the summer, and I'm supposed to have two more math courses, one of which being calc 1, to wrap up my degree outside of student teaching. This means that I'll have to take pre-calc at JALC during the summer at night, with the supposed assurance that it will transfer back to SIU, and then somehow squeeze in calc somewhere...and where I have no clue. Just that one class may postpone my graduation date from December to May of next year. There's not much else for it...my hands are tied. Anyway, I digress...

Long story made longer, I made it into advisement, and while the student worker was making a note to give to my advisor, Andrea, she walked in the door, saw me, walked over the filing cabinets, thumbed through a drawer, pulled out a folder, looked up and said,"Derek, why don't you come back to my office." And I'm thinking silently to myself,"YESSSSSSS! FINALLY!" She removed the blocks on KIN202 & CI473, and approved my ED401a which is student teaching. BLESS HER HEART. So I was able to register for all of those, and between now and Apr 8, I need to register at JALC and get the ball rolling to take pre-calc there this summer. Which of course means more fun at financial aid there, which is like pulling teeth. I also grabbed some paperwork from 135 to put me on track to get my app in for student teaching by next week thanks to fabulous Ashley D.

Then I took part in a group presentation in 416 which was really carried by my colleagues. I wish I could say that I contributed equally to the project, but I didn't. I did do my best to expand on my part of the presentation, and we got decent marks, so at least that one is out of the way.

Then I had some fun texting with Rohan earlier in the evening, so that was cool. He's such a great kid. I'm so proud of him for everything that he does.

So here I am now...I need to get back to work, and then get a little sleep before an equally long day and evening tomorrow. I'll get home at 9:30 tomorrow night, just to start wrapping up the Adapted Lesson Plan using the UDL Framework for 424. The consolation? Thursday we get to go do grave marker etchings at a cemetery. Woot!

i've never wanted for much, but...this is one of those times...I just want to freeze this feeling...and keep it...stowed away...for all-time. Yeah.