music

Air For Band

This takes me back to high school band, back in 1992. I joined band my Junior year, and I believe this may have been the first song I ever played with the concert band — in warm-ups. Air for Band was almost always next on the agenda after our brief and basic long-tone warm-up every day. (Music majors, please note that the clarinets are featured, *and* that the main melody is in the difficult “throat tones” of the instrument. Excellent warm-up… in retrospect.)

It got to the point where Mr. W. would just start right into Air for Band before we even got our music out, and we’d have to spend the first phrase or two shuffling papers with one hand and playing with the other. Eventually, I think I had the whole first page memorized; even now, fifteen (!) years later, I can still recall the fingering of the first phrase, and I haven’t even touched a clarinet in nigh on ten years. (I can still sing my part all the way through, though, of course.)

Hearing the North Texas Wind Symphony play it so perfectly is almost surreal. In my memory, I can still hear the saxophones (behind me and to my left) completely missing the key change. (One in particular, usually, although they had their days.) Jim would be on the snare in the back; and Jeff, Eileen, or Katie would have the cymbals.

During my Junior year, I was first chair clarinet (yep, my first year in band — it was more because of my attitude than my ability, IMO). That meant I got to sit next to my best friend, Melody, who was first chair flute. We had a vibe goin’ on, be it in Concert Band or Jazz Band or after school in the cafeteria. Anyway, I remember it was strange when Mel graduated and I had to spend my Senior year playing Air for Band (and everything else) next to Heather instead.

They weren’t the “best years of my life,” not by a long shot… but sometimes I forget that they did have their moments. Air for Band was always one of those moments.

randomness

Turning Over A New Mental Leaf

I could have had a shitty evening. My portfolio was throwing fits at IE6, and I’m unlikely to get any work done on it tomorrow or Wednesday, as I have evening plans both days. I was feeling a little stressed.

Instead of freaking out? I meditated for 15 minutes. I chatted with friends over IM, which I haven’t done in ages. I posted a comment to a friend’s blog that was cathartic in its own way. Responded to my bestest Amy-friend’s e-mail from a couple weeks ago. And I figured out my coding problem, for the most part.

I’m feeling pretty good right now. Chilled. Relaxed. At peace with myself.

For the most part.

randomness

Well, Shit.

I was just sitting here, getting into some portfolio coding, when I heard something. Something like tornado sirens.

That’s my cue to turn on the TV and check the local news. From the bit I heard and saw, Lucas County is under a Tornado Warning and will be hit by the storm in question in about 25 minutes.

Weather.com says the storm is “capable of producing a tornado,” and that it also is capable of producing destructive straight line winds.

Hmm. Should be an awesome storm. I’m looking forward to it.

As for my portfolio… I’ll just be sure to save often.

Update, 7:15pm: As promised, awesome storm. Too short, but awesome. Sat outside on the front step until it started to downpour. Sat in the living room with a candle and Channel 13 News until the danger of tornadoes passed. Now, I’m back to the portfolio… but with a window open.

memories 2 Comments

Oh, Good.

My IQ = 140

I’m still smart.

I was just looking at Monster.com, saw a link for the Tickle IQ test, and decided to go ahead and take it for shits and giggles. It would appear that I have not gotten any dumber since the first grade, thankfully; my IQ is still 140.

When I was a kid, I got put in all the Talented and Gifted programs; I felt pretty smug and superior about it, looking back, although I wouldn’t have recognized it in myself at the time. In first and second grade, my elementary school had an advanced reading track; all I remember of that is our special reading group and extra trips to the school library. When we moved to Florida for third through fifth grade, their Gifted program was centered around math and science. I liked reading more than math and science, and wasn’t too keen on the program at first, but I grew to love science (and tolerate math). We moved again for sixth grade, and the new school system had a SIGNAL program (I forget what the acronym stood for) for gifted students. We read novels for class, in addition to the boring excerpts in our normal reading book; the class struck me as more additional work than advanced work at the time.

Once I got to middle school (yet another district), we were separated into “normal” and “advanced” classes. As I recall, there was no mixing and matching; if you were in the advanced group, you took all advanced classes. If you were in the normal group, you didn’t get to take just one advanced class. Of course, I would have taken all the advanced classes, anyway, so I may be remembering it wrong.

In high school (when I went back to the school district where I spent sixth grade), it took me a couple of years to realize that I was no longer *required* to take advanced classes. After I got my first D — Advanced Algebra II, Sophomore year — something finally clicked, and I realized that I didn’t *have* to take advanced classes if I didn’t want to.

It was all downhill from there.

Well, not really. I opted not to take a math my Junior year, and took the “normal” Analysis class my Senior year. (In my school, Analysis was the “I don’t want to take Trig yet” class, not the super-uber beyond-Calc class.) All the other people in my advanced-class circle took Trig their Junior and Calculus their Senior year. I bailed on the maths and stuck with advanced everything else. —Oh, and I don’t think I took Advanced Government my Senior year, either.

In my adult life, I’ve realized that my IQ doesn’t really mean shit. I don’t always have any more common sense than the next person. My written communication skills are pretty slick, IMHO, but that’s just because I’m a perfectionist motherfucker when it comes to grammar and spelling. My social skills have been a long time in developing, but I finally feel like I can socialize like everyone else now, instead of feeling like a socially-inept goober.

Being smart didn’t make me more motivated. Being smart didn’t make me procrastinate less. Being smart didn’t keep me from taking seven years to finish a four-year degree. Being smart didn’t get me an awesome job right out of college.

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t regret the fact that I’m apparently more intelligent than the average bear. It’s just that my perspective changed quite a bit once I lost that chip on my shoulder. It’s not just smarts that can get you somewhere in life; it’s persistence and dedication, too.

*sigh*

I need to get on that.

humor 2 Comments

Archibald Barasol

Other than my own name and “t-shirt surgery,” the search string that brings the most visitors to my site is “Archibald Barasol,” thanks to this post from back in March of ’06. Most people spend a grand total of six minutes on my site after not finding the text of the Archibald Barasol joke (probably trying to search for it and see if I posted it somewhere else).

Today, I received an e-mail from a reader who kept reading, even after coming to a dead-end in finding the text of the Archibald Barasol joke. She was kind enough to e-mail me and say some kind words about my journal, which I greatly appreciate.

As a thank-you to her, and as an offering to all of you who find my site by searching for “Archibald Barasol,” I present the text of the joke, as I remember it, as told to me by CC Snyder:

So, there’s this kid. He’s about 17 years old and in the 4th grade, and his name is Archibald Barasol. One day, Archibald’s teacher was teaching the class how to spell out words in phonetic syllables.

“Archibald,” she says, “Can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

“Hell, no,” he says. “I need an example.”

The teacher says, “Fair enough,” and calls on Johnny Jones. “Johnny, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

Johnny stands up and says, “Yes, ma’am! You’ve got your J-O-H-N, got your John. Got your N-Y, got your -ny, got your Johnny. Got your J-O-N-E-S, got your Jones. Got your John Jones, got your -ny Jones, got your John-ny Jones.”

“Very good,” the teacher says. “Now, Archibald, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

“Hell, no,” he repeats. “I need an example.”

The teacher says, “Fair enough,” and calls on Mary Smith. “Mary, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

Mary stands up and says, “Yes, ma’am! You’ve got your M-A, got your May. Got your R-Y, got your -ry, got your Mary. Got your S-M-I-T-H, got your Smith. Got your May Smith, got your -ry Smith, got your Ma-ry Smith.”

“Very good,” the teacher says. “Now, Archibald, can you say your name in phonetic syllables for a star?”

Archibald stands up and says, “All right, you asked for it, fucker. You got your A-R-C-H, got your Arch. Got your I, got your Arch-eye. Got your B-A-L-D, got your bald, got your eye-bald, got your Arch-eye-bald. Got your B-A-R, got your bare, got your bald bare, got your eye-bald-bare, got your Arch-eye-bald-bare. You got your A-S, got your ass. Got your bare ass. Got your bald bare ass. Got your eye-bald-bare-ass, got your arch-eye-bald-bare-ass. You got your O-L, got your ole. Got your ass-ole. Got your bare-ass-ole. Got your bald, bare ass ‘ole. Got your eye-bald-bare-ass-ole, you got your Arch-eye-bald Bare-ass-ole.”

And the teacher says, “Very, very good.”

I have read variations on this joke; keep in mind this is but one version, and that I first heard and memorized it back in 1995. It’s also a challenge to type out, and is funniest if read aloud. Particularly with a southern accent.