Results of Ruminations

Screen capture from here . This word describes Shakespeare's work, and in no other case is that more apparent than  Hamlet  (and, as is so often the case, Hamlet). Despite my parenthetical aside, I'm again struck by how the meanings and depths that Hamlet  plumbs are...you guessed it, indefatigable. I have read, seen, or taught Hamlet  countless times--not countless because I can't count that high, but because I can't remember how many I've seen or read or taught. The safe guess is that I've gone through that play, in one form or another (not counting The Lion King , my favorite of the Disney Renaissance films of my childhood) at least fifty times. I always get something out of it, I always realize something new, I always feel there's more to explore. Hamlet  is a well from which I can never overdraw, as it is like Juliet's love: Infinite ( Romeo and Juliet 2.2). How did Shakespeare pull this off? Part of it is that he allowed himself to luxuriat...

Growing up a bookworm, most of the family's vacations saw me in one of two places when it came to buying a souvenir: The stuffed animals section, or the book section. The former comes from a still-present appreciation of cute things (though I don't want to pet anyone's animals because that means I have to go wash my hands). But it's the latter that, as I reflect on my hazy self-memories, I begin to see the stirrings of the bibliophile that I would one day grow into. No one is born able to read, and I have memories of my own illiteracy. My mother was paying bills one day. I know this was before I went to school, so it was likely the late morning, early afternoon. Sunlight spilled over the kitchen table on which the sundry bills were spread. My father, a free-lancing guitarist since before I was born, would get the money from work (gigs, as they call them in the industry, doncha know) and my mom would crack open the checkbook, fill out the amounts, seal the envelopes, a...

I took my kids to the Walmarts nearby in order to buy not one, not two, but three  birthday presents for my second son's friends, all of whom are celebrating their birthdays over the next three or four days. This wasn't a big deal, save that we were 1) in Walmart and 2) I forgot my wallet in the car, necessitating hauling all of the kids from the toys section (which, in case you were wondering, yes, my four year old was sobbing as we left because I wouldn't buy him a Spider-Man glove) and back out to the pinnacle of suburban success, the minivan. Not my actual car, but it gives a sense. Source Wallet obtained, I trekked back into the store, reclaimed the birthday presents, bought the kids some over-sugared, under-nutritioned drinks, and headed out to the parking lot. As we walked, I teased my oldest about running into a sign, and pretended to be a bee, buzzing and stinging him. We marched along, everyone holding someone's hand, and arrived safely at the car. The...

When I talked about dual identities a while ago, I focused on the Batman and a little on the Hulk. I had originally planned on incorporating an analysis of how Peter Parker and Spider-Man intersect as identities, but the essay was going too long by that point. I cut the stuff--which, for me, means highlighting the text and pressing Delete . So whatever I was thinking about apropos of Peter/Spidey, it's gone now. However, I'm at the precipice of beginning another school year  and I've been feeling incipient stirrings of what I can only assume is the (apparently) real phenomenon of a mid-life crisis. My parents were pretty steady, stay-the-course kind of parents, so I don't have a lot of up-close context for these feelings, but I've been struggling a lot with what I understand of myself, my goals, my ambitions, my dreams, and my realities. One of the things that I've always used as part of my identity, with varying degrees of severity, is my obsession with Spid...

My boys and I have spent the summer listening to (and they, reading) All the Weyrs of Pern.  It is, to me, a culmination of eight books (three of which we read) that build toward the dragonriders of Pern finally eradicating their age-old enemy, Thread.* The ending (spoilers) has the deaths of some beloved characters, and it's written with such loving tenderness that, despite the fact that I hadn't read the book since I was in elementary school--maybe middle school--I still remembered some of the moments. After the book was finished, I asked my kids if they thought it was a good ending. "No," said my seven year old. I could hear a hitch in his throat. Glancing in the rear view mirror, I saw that his eyes were plastic wrapped with tears that hadn't yet freed themselves. Now, my middle son is a sensitive soul; he cries anytime he feels a little too much emotion. But I could tell the ending was getting to him. My older son, who is 10, confessed that he had cried a l...

Having just returned from a week-long vacation to southern Utah, I feel like I ought to make some sort of note about what happened whilst away. After all, I had a fantastic experience in California and I wrote about that . But I'm hesitant to do so, for two reasons. Number One I was saddened by the fact that, of the four plays I saw at the Utah Shakespeare Festival this year, I only saw two written by the Bard himself. Both of those were...not the best I've seen. By a long stretch, actually. The two non-Shakespeare plays, Shakespeare in Love  and the gut-busting Shakespeare's Long Lost First Play (Abridged)  were superlative. The former was what you get in the film, minus the full-fledged nudity, with a bit more development of Kit Marlowe as a character that paid off well at the end. The latter was a love letter to Shakespeare in the most irreverent way possible, doing a mashup of "early drafts" of all his plays and characters, ending the first act with a wate...

A story of the evolution of a thought, in three parts. I Growing up, I didn't know if I knew anyone who was LGBTQ+. Middle school and high school happened throughout the nineties, and though there was still some AIDS conversations in hushed tones in the hallways at school, the judgment of homosexuality particularly (the rest of the gender and orientation spectrum being even more suppressed than it is now) was somehow tied into the disease. I lived a sheltered life, shared with friends who didn't know much about sexuality--or, if they did, they didn't bring it up around me. This meant that most of my understanding of sexuality and human relationships was narrowly confined. I remember the first time my mom explained how gays have sex, and the disgust and disdain in her voice still echoes.* I don't know what inspired it, or if there's another way of reading that conversation. It was long ago, and I daresay that I may have misremembered what was said. Neverthele...

Considering the Marvel Cinematic Universe's version of the Avengers, I'd have to say that my favorite of the collection of heroes is the Hulk. I particularly enjoy Mark Ruffalo's Hulk, both in his portrayal of Banner and the Hulkalo look. There's a lot of anger here. ( Source ) It's also interesting to note that the MCU cannon includes the events of The Incredible Hulk , complete with Thunderbolt Ross, a disgraced general, eventually getting the Secretary of State position in the Captain America movies. Despite that, the Abomination and   Leader  (who I had to look up on the internet because I'm not as well versed in Hulk comics as I wish I were) are open characters who are part of the MCU and haven't shown up since their origins back in 2008. Admittedly, The Incredible Hulk , which I watched last night, is not the strongest entry into the MCU. There isn't anything egregiously wrong  with it but there isn't a lot that's right  about it, e...

Yes, you should go see the movie. Spoiler: He doesn't wear those headphones with that jacket. ( Source ) Seeing the Spider When I was, I don't know, eight or nine, I owned a Spider-Man comic (I believe it was Amazing Spider-Man 361 or 362 ) that had exciting news in it: a Spider-Man movie would be released soon. The next bit of news I heard about Marvel was that it was going bankrupt. (For more details, this article walks you through the big parts.) I was worried that my favorite comic book superhero would never get a chance to be on the silver screen--and, even worse, that his parent company might go under. Fortunately, Marvel pulled through. Eventually, we got the Sam Raimi Spider-Man  and its two sequels, and though the third was easily the weakest entry, all of them represented a unified vision and tone for the franchise (though, yeah, the third one is atonal, but...well, moving on). When I first saw Spider-Man , I was about two months out from starting my mi...

What was your first album? Not the first one you listened to, but the first one you wanted and, therefore, received? Purchased or got as a gift? When I was in sixth grade, my music teacher, Mr. Harvey, introduced us to a new album that he was enjoying called Return to Pooh Corner . It was by a guy named Kenny Loggins (whom I didn't know and hadn't heard of but, since my dad was a musician, I figured--in that 11-year old logic that a sixth grader possesses--that the two men likely worked together). That Christmas, I asked for my first album. Today, my Spotify "Discovery Weekly" playlist pulled up " The Last Unicorn " from the Return to Pooh Corner album and I decided to listen to it. Wow. It sounds like a theme song that belongs on a late eighties' animated film, which is good, because that's exactly what it's covering. I didn't like the cartoon (it scandalized me when it said "damn", as if I were back in 1939 when Gone ...

To whom it may concern, I am, officially, a lord. There is a micronation called Sealand  that's located a handful of miles off the eastern coast of the UK where a small family has declared sovereignty. Though there are some legal quibbles--enough to make it "depends on how you look at it" whether or not it's a real micronation--it manages to keep itself afloat (pun!) on its abandoned WWII-era, water-based fortress by selling off titles of nobility, pieces of land, and even jerseys for their football team.* Yes, I want a jersey of the Principality of Sealand. I'm a lord of Sealand, after all. I ought to support my team. (I don't know if I have the $60 to buy the jersey, though. I'm not a rich lord.) Anyway, being the anglophile that I am, I confessed to one of my classes a while ago (I can't even remember when...probably during the unit on Pride and Prejudice ) that I wanted to be a sir or a lord, and that Sealand was basically my only chance. O...

At the eager age of 21, I married my high school sweetheart. We had known each other since we were 17, she had waited whilst I served a mission in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, and was willing and happy and hoping to get married when I returned home. Because I took a two-year hiatus to my education, I was behind her in studies. She graduated a couple of semesters after we wedded, taking a job at a school in the Jordan School District while I rounded out my final year or two of coursework. She had a miscarriage in the summer of 2006, and our first born child came two days before I graduated as part of the class of 2007. Throughout the entirety of our time together as a married couple, we've both worked. In fact, I've never financially supported her. We've worked together to make sure we had enough money, and though I've occasionally earned more than she, it's always been the case that Gayle has provided for the family. Soon after the birth of our first child, I was un...

At the school where I teach, we have an annual tradition, spanning five years now, in which we have the senior class write a "Last Lecture" about their time at the school. Because I teach at a charter school that serves kids from 7th through 12th grade, some of the students who speak have spent a third of their lives in those hallways. They've accumulated a lot of experiences, taken a lot of classes, and heard me a lot, bellowing about uniform violations in those selfsame hallways. The lecture gives them a chance to reflect not only on those times, but the other tendons, fibers, and connective tissues that have built them into the young men and women they are on the cusp of becoming. This time of year is always enjoyable for me. While it can be stressful to finish all of the administrivia of being a teacher (which, I am quick to point out, is not so much as the administration has to do), this is one of my favorite times of the year. Emotionally, I've put my most imp...

Flicking through Twitter, I saw this thread from a paleontologist I follow named Brian Switek. I met him a year and a half ago whilst teaching a Winterim class about dinosaurs. He guided us through the National History Museum of Utah in Salt Lake City and even took us through the special collections that's normally not shown to the public. At his offering, one of the students licked a coprolite  in order to verify that it was, indeed, a fossil.* Anyway, Switek's a cool guy and a good author (his My Beloved Brontosaurus  is a great, lay-person friendly read. I have two copies), plus he's a dinosaur fanatic (obviously), so there's a lot of common ground there. His short tweetstorm reminded me about my own first exposure to Jurassic Park, inspiring me to write this essay. Summer of 1993 Like most boys, I grew up fascinated by dinosaurs. I have dim, dim  memories of going downstairs to a library--probably in Provo, Utah--to pick out a book. I couldn't read at the...