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Sunday, 10 June 2012

Progress always comes with drawbacks, but then that's nothing new, building cheaper better more fuel efficient cars brings overcrowding on the roads, making previously inaccessible places holiday destinations changes the local environment, so there's always a trade off in what we do. Never the less our own self ingenuity or at least in the West comes up with ideas that can and do help especially as technology advances. And as technology advances the trade off in gaming and such produces increases in personal debt, stress, loneliness, communicational disorders and character changes, so everything is a balance. Even the availability of food for many makes them obese and they have the audacity to blame manufacturers for making them fat, when it's themselves who constantly stuff food down their mouths, let's take ownership somewhere. As we get wise, or most people do we realise that what once was isn't anymore, that the earth is not only not flat, even though 'flat earthists' still exist, but that we are indeed a small planet which has the most incredible properties and it's location is amazingly situated to support what is called life. The odds of this happening even if other such planets exist are absolutely amazing, staggering and possibly incalculable too. The understanding of consequential happening is mind blowing.

Many religions still to this day believe in folk law,  handed down and embellished opinions and self determined thoughts of the self like charades over time. Religion by it's own volition is a man made structure so from the outset it's faulted as man himself is not perfect and over time it gains also 'add ons' and develops some degree of pomp and rules and regulations - man made, all of which has nothing whatsoever to do with God. Even today Islam lives in the past and likes nothing than a good execution and a stoning and repressive beating just to keep everyone on their toes, all in the name of the Love of their Merciful God, so that's all alright then. And perhaps a bit of terrorism thrown in at the same time, (96% of terrorism is Islamic) a good conduit to meet all those virgins awaiting the perpetrators, what God uses women as a sex incentive??? (The dark forces). But then Catholicism is riddled with changes made by Popes throughout the centuries and all the rituals and idolatry and beatifications of people, where did all this come from? None of it has anything whatsoever to do with God, nothing, and as for the other religious "spin offs" they are positively evil in the way they show no outward love but shun all those that don't believe the way they think, how narrow and un-Godly can you get. In fact it's almost all akin to Devil worship in disguise.

For some the shock that they are literally not the centre of the universe is devastating, the selfish, self centred, egotistical, arrogant, greedy, prideful, etc, all the negative emotions, is a step too far, but as they have to live with themselves that's something they have to come to terms with, fortunately not us. But what is vastly important is that we are all unique people, and we are the nucleus of our world, we are in effect the centre of our own universe, and we should stay that way. The moment we give that up and start to circle some other nucleus we have lost or given up our ability to do and be who we rightfully are. No one can take away the fact of whom we are even in repressive circumstances, it's our blueprint and our watermark of life, however if we follow, mimic, condescend, emulate others then sadly our verve will be watered down to a level that has no interest, no impetus and no value and others will see that in us. The health of any nation represents its success, it's quality and its ability to communicate effectively and freely, the freely can't be emphasised highly enough, for without freedom (and freedom is relative too) life festers and has retrograde consequences where many rely on the few, the many being the repressed and the few being those with free thought. Your universe is what you create for yourself, get it wrong from alien beliefs and that is what you will live an alien concept, your universe is yours, don't apportion blame it wont work it will render you obsolete. Get it right and the universe is such a wonderful place.

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Sunday, December 23, 2012

Baby Its Cold Outside

A few hours more and its gonna be Christmas already. What are you up to guys? For us, we'll just celebrate with a simple noche buena. Christmas for me is the best time to say I love you to everyone because it doesn't look or sound awkward. Moving on, here's what I wore to my recent trip at Seoul. It was my first time to see snow that's why this trip is very special to me *sobs. Haha. Didn't expect that the weather there will be super cold. It was a freezing -18 degress Celcius and all the jackets that I have with me don't work. So I bought a thermal jacket which I used for the whole 5 days that I was there. Will show you my whole trip on a different post. Again, Merry Christmas guys!

Thermal Jacket - H&M
Sweater - Topman
Thermal gloves and socks - Uniqlo
Skinny pants - Topman
Boots - Dr. Martens

Wearing earmuffs is a must. You'll feel a little fluffy too :)
Boots - Hawkins
Earmuffs - Some thrift shop in Myeongdong

What I wore inside my thermal jacket. You can't walk in the streets just wearing these. It's really cold.
Cardigan - Oxygen
Sweater - Uniqlo
Scarf - H&M

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Cabo Snoop – Aka Yaka Cabo Snoop

| March 6, 2013 | 0 Comments

Cabo Snoop held the whole continent to ransom with his hit single Windeck, he returns with yet another banger, we can only wait for the visuals of this one to learn the new Cabo Snoop dance step, for now get familiar.

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Friday, September 26, 2014

New book in the former native speaker's library

Gonna be needing this soon...
  • What to Expect the First Year, 3rd. ed. (2014), by Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel
    There are some mixed reviews of this book, but I figure it's a start. The fomer-current-and-future native Chinese speaker has her own books, too. And then there's all the information (and "information") on the web... plenty enough to confuse me...

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Article on a new/old approach to teaching junior-high-level Chinese composition in Taiwan

Chen, Fangyu (陳芳毓). "Without Memorizing Model Essays or Sentences, Students are Taught to Write their own Stories" (不背範文佳句，教孩子寫出自己的故事). Global Views Monthly (遠見雜誌), September 2014. (also available as "68位學生教出57位作文滿級分 不背範文佳句，教孩子寫出自己的故事")

This article by Chen Fangyu (陳芳毓)  introduces a junior high school Chinese (國文) teacher who took an approach to the teaching of writing that evidently differed from what most junior high teachers do--and that evidently worked.

The Comprehensive Assessment Program for Junior High School Students (國中教育會考) is an examination given to third-year junior high school students (ninth graders) in Taiwan. It was first given in 2014 to replace the senior high school entrance examination now that Taiwan has gone from a mandatory 9-year education system to a mandatory 12-year system, doing away with the need for a high school entrance exam. The new examination has been controversial, to say the least, but the purpose of this article isn't to criticize the test, but to describe the approach of one junior high school teacher, Zhou Tianyu (周恬宇), to helping students improve their writing--an approach that resulted in 84% of her students getting perfect marks on the Chinese writing portion of the exam, when nationwide, only 1.6% got perfect scores.

Zhou, a teacher at Taichung's Daya Junior High School, worked with her two classes of students for three years. Zhou emphasized being able to write from experience, and she tried to teach students to use their experiences in their responses to the exam prompts, which often were focused on personal experiences like "the time I made my own decision" (「那一次，我自己做決定」). Her approach to getting students more used to thinking and writing about their own experiences was to require them to keep a diary.

In addition to having students keep a diary every day, she had them watch videos like Malala's UN speech (in English, I assume, probably with Chinese subtitles) and read the novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns (in translation, I assume). Then she would ask students to write about questions that connected these international issues and events to their own lives.The point seems to have been to give them practice seeing connections between their lives and the kinds of topics asked about in the exam questions.

She seems to have adopted some of her approach from Erin Gruwell's depiction in The Freedom Writers Diary of her own work with underprivileged students. The article mentions in several places Gruwell's book and the movie based on it. Interestingly, what Zhou is doing is being evaluated--in both the educational system and in this news article--for its effectiveness in regards to a very traditional writing task for Taiwanese students: passing a high-stakes timed essay exam. To that end, Zhou's approach to writing instruction also needs to take into consideration her students' need to be able to write quickly at the same time that they are able to write from their experiences. The article directly addresses this challenge in the following paragraph:
68個學生程度不一，怎麼教？就像企業以標準作業流程訓練新進同仁，周恬宇也設下寫作4段標準作業流程（SOP）：第1段解題；第2段寫生活經驗；第3 段引申論述；第4段再呼應首段做結論。上手後，程度好的學生自然會打破框架，程度一般的學生也能安全上壘。
 Roughly translated:

[Zhou's] sixty-eight students write at different levels--how to teach them? Just like businesses that train their new employees in standard operating procedures, Zhou established a four-paragraph SOP: first paragraph, the opening; second paragraph, writing about personal experience; the third paragraph, extending the discussion; fourth paragraph, concluding by echoing the introductory paragraph. After practice, stronger students could break [go beyond] the framework, while regular students could safely "get on base."
Interestingly, the framework that she provides is similar (if not identical) to the traditional qi-cheng-zhuan-he (起承轉合) four-part structure for Chinese essays. Zhou's perspective on providing a template seems similar to that of American teachers who use the five-paragraph essay framework when teaching primary or secondary students to write.*

As we can see then, although Zhou eschews the "traditional" approaches of requiring students to memorize model essays or "beautiful sentences," she still provides them with a fairly fixed structure to plug their ideas into. This is distinguished, though, from the memorization/imitation techniques that are often practiced in test-preparation cram schools because Zhou insists on students using their own ideas to fill in the the essays and not on memorization and imitation that she says would destroy students' interest in writing (她說，模仿固然能培養文學性，但一定要寫自己的故事，才不會扼殺學習興趣。).

There are other things I could mention about her technique, such as how she marks the students' writing (the article says she spends three hours a day correcting their lexical and grammatical mistakes). The one thing that I want to focus on in the end, though, goes back to the point I found most fascinating about Zhou's approach--her use of non-Chinese works as springboards for students' writing. In the past, I hadn't heard of other secondary school Chinese teachers in Taiwan who used materials from other countries, like Malala's speech or A Thousand Splendid Suns, as sources. Usually, students have been required to read (and memorize?) texts from China--classical texts in particular, though not exclusively. (I don't have time right now to find sources to support this; I'll try to add something here later--if anyone has any thoughts, please comment.)

I'm tempted to call this aspect of her teaching a translingual or transcultural approach to teaching Chinese writing in the sense that she brings in experiences and texts that cross linguistic and cultural barriers, indirectly showing students that to write in Chinese doesn't require one to operate only within the linguistic and cultural borders of Chinese.

*See David Cahill's 2003 article in Written Communication for more on the qi-cheng-zhuan-he structure; he focuses in particular on how the zhuan, or "turn," as it has often been translated, has been overemphasized and misinterpreted in Western contrastive rhetoric studies, effectively making Chinese writing seem more discursively alien to Western readers than it really is.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Second week of class

Thursday marked the end for students to be able to add classes. As I thought would happen, the populations of my three classes changed a few times before then. As late as yesterday, three students were added to my "small" class, almost filling it. That class also has a move diverse population, too, in terms of majors, so we'll be able to do more interdisciplinary work.

Friday, September 05, 2014

Speaking of Tunghai...

I see that ten years ago around this time (the beginning of the semester), I was planning a Research Methods course for sophomore English majors in which I was going to have them "examine critically the history and politics of plagiarism while at the same time trying to teach them not to plagiarize." Hmmm... wonder how that worked out...

First week of classes over

We had a short week this week because classes started on Wednesday, but at least I got a chance to meet (most of) my students. During this week it's a little hard to get into the serious work of the semester because class populations can change a lot. I have two classes that are full, but one is still filling up. (Well, it's about half full right now--or half empty?)

That smaller class is going to be interesting, too, because its focus is on interdisciplinarity, but most of the students are engineering majors. (Probably because of scheduling issues.) I suppose that I can consider civil engineering and electrical engineering as different disciplines, though, even though they're in the same college.

I've given the classes some small assignments for over the weekend; we'll see how they do on those. The two sections of interdisciplinary writing are reading John Swales' chapter on discourse communities (from his 1990 book, Genre Analysis).

I plan for us to talk Monday about discourse communities and disciplinarity. We'll see how it goes! Later on we'll be reading a more recent chapter about discourse communities by Anne Johns. In the business writing course, they'll be brainstorming possible topics for their first project, a research report on a "hot" topic in their discipline/profession.

It was really hot in Boston this week, and one of the classrooms that I have two classes in was particularly sauna-like. I think the air conditioning didn't work. It reminded me of the good old days when I taught at Tunghai's College of Arts building--I remember that during the first couple of weeks of classes, there would be sweat dripping from my forehead when I was teaching. Hopefully they'll fix the air con before Monday!


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Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Mrs. Elders

My eyes wander as my elbows meet my knees.  My bouncing feet shake my body, swaying me side to side.  My shoulders drop and my head swivels side to side as I reach down to drink my coffee.  As if a boxer dodging a punch.  My eyebrows raise at random times, as the skin on my forehead crunches together.  Thoughts pinch my brain, as I slide both hands up my face and down the back of my head, only reaching for my coffee all in the same fluid motion.  Smooth I move, patient I am not.  Someone just walked into the gym... My head turned fast as if I have been up for three nights.  Paranoid by sounds and people.  Uncomfortable and completely vulnerable.  A little head nod to the person who just walked in to train, duffle bag and all.  My quick glance of hello is followed by a glance at his gym bag, as my eyes move a million little clicks around the man as he walks to his resting bench. Old but sturdy, tired but alive. A lonely weightlifter with a lonely bag, make for a perfect couple.  A smile from memory, followed by an all to familiar pinch from my head that now turns my stomach as I lean further over my knees, making my elbows sting from the pressure of myself and a thousand skeletons I carry around with me scream with pain.  The best fix for the weight you carry, is the weight you lift.  I roar from my seat as a coach should, passion and fire spill out of my mouth, as my blood pumps through my body like the door opening to Maximus once he reunites with his family.  Love for the game, and love for my team keeps my feet bouncing up and down with a certain rhythm that no one could repeat.  Every athlete moves differently, every athlete must paint their own masterpiece. Every athlete must move to move, lift to make, and slam to succeed.  A simple whisper in your ear from your past demons can make you lift weight you never thought could be possible.  All this... I have been thinking while sitting in my small black chair in the middle of the gym.

A single sweat drop enters my eye ball.  I never blink.  Even though the pain is masterful, I keep looking forward at the rows of platforms that meet this wide open ocean.  Dust replaced with sand scurries over the wood creating a small clicking sound and a loud whistle from the wind meeting the wide open beach.  I still sit, now motionless from thought, and paralyzed from my surroundings.  The smell of ocean you can probably smell just reading this blog.  The cool air passing your body is refreshing but sad, as it passes you without any care in the world.  It's true, you can read without reading, just like the wind can pass without stopping.  You can lift without thinking just like the bar moves without trying.  The beauty of sport is so beautiful.

Two old teammates living in separate rooms in an a warehouse off highway 65 that lays between an old dead wood tree and Mrs. Elders home by the old church.  A small quiet town that unfortunately runs into an abandoned steel mill that has been shut down for a decade.  Jobs lost and hard time followed, now home to myself and my teammate who breath cold floors and bathe in showers of unanswered questions.  Bouncy balls thrown over and over against the walls of our rooms mix perfectly with the sound of rats that scurry behind the brown walls that we call shelter.  We leave during the day, unnoticed and blending in.  Lunch pail in hand, as the sound of beeping from the cash register finds a certain soothing feel to me and my friend as we ring people up before going about their lovely day.  Mrs. Elders came into the store with her Saturday blue dress and her white gloves.  Always a limp that seemed to come with a smile.  She shuffled along the isles as we both kept an eye to see if she needed any help.  I don't know why I did this, because she never did, I guess just keeping an eye on her was a natural instinct in some ways.  I was once heaving 400 plus pounds over my head, and now I have found myself looking after an old lady shopping for bread and blueberries.  Not such a bad thing since the next day she should be bringing my old teammate and myself some of the best blueberry short cake in the whole wide world.  My over sized fore arm hit my friends inflamed elbow as we cracked a smile before hanging our white aprons on the hook by where the shopping carts filled into line, and then started our walk up the grassy meadows, down the rocky bank that use to be where they lit the steel on fire.  I knew this because of all the black rock that cracked under our feet as we seemed to march not walk, to a song with nothing playing.  It was almost like we were re playing all of our old training songs in our heads at all times of the day.  And if one of us smiled it was definitely a missed lift followed with a little kid hissy fit.  Grown men throwing fits is always the best.  We approached the warehouse were we lived.  The front door already open, almost as if the old shut down world was awaiting our arrival.  Our eyes met...

Jon! my heart jumped out of my chest as Shankle shook my right shoulder.  I was back in the middle of the gym, same place I started.  My cheeks were drenched wet from my eyes never closing.  A nightmare...?  Or a great dream....?  I couldn't figure out which one it was.  I could still smell the ocean breeze, and I could still hear the beeping of the cash register.  My actions and odd behavior didn't seem to faze Shankle at all.  I couldn't figure out why.  You would think he would have asked me what was wrong, if I was alright, or what i was doing sitting in the middle of the gym staring at God knows what.  But nope... Nothing.  His mouth was moving, but I could hear nothing.  I was too busy analyzing the situation. Shankle has been to the same place I have been.  Shankle has been on the beach, in the store, and in the warehouse.  This was just a guess, but his understanding of the odd situation was too familiar.  Too at ease.  He then walked away. And I was once again left alone.

My breathing became heavy.  My eyes finally shut.  The sweat on my face dried as the wind from outside picked up.  The sound of the fan by the door made my wrists move in circles.  My body leaned back over the chair like a waterfall, as my back cracked at least six times. The crunches in my forehead smoothed like the dust on the platform.  The windmill began to move gracefully, as my arms cut through the air in fast circles like a jet flying over a baseball game.  My chin moved front to back, side to side, like the catch of the snatch, like the beauty of an athlete.  The black oil ran down my face and into my joints, passing over my skin and into my bones.  Oil to move, and muscle to improve.  Strength to build and speed to gain.  My Adidas shoes feel tight against my feet.  My eyes soon change from focused to fierce.  My body language turns from passive to aggressive.  Confident to cocky.  My blood, to Shankle blood. My skeletons behind me as I write ARNOLD down my arm.  My hook grip becomes tight like suffocation.  I am an athlete.  I must move to live.  Lift to love.  I am a prisoner of my own self.  My skeletons, lets lace our shoes and grab our belts.  Stand up from this chair.  My skeletons... Lets fight.

"My ears hear what others cannot hear. Small far away things people cannot see are visible to me.  The senses are fruits of a long time of longing.  Longing to be rescued, to be completed. I am not formed by myself alone.  I wear my fathers belt tight around my mothers blouse, and shoes which are from my uncle.  This is me.  A flower does not choose its color.  We are not responsible in what we have become to be.  Only once you have realized this is when you have become free". - Unknown.

I truly tried......but could not part.  You will see intensity like never before.  I am back.

Love for the sport 2016

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Gym Bag

Inspired By Mark Haz's Cal Rugby Bag

The other day, I went through my old gym bag looking for some old tape and a baseball for my athletes to use before training.  I was fascinated by all the gadgets I came across while digging deeper and deeper into the land of memories and assortments.  The horrible smell, the chalky straps, a graveyard of past champions that now lay quietly on the dark while the new generation of gym bags walk around prideful and tall.  I am putting together a little museum.... I guess you could call it, of not only my medals, but everything from shoes, shirts, straps, belts, and all the things that have sentimental value to me from over the years.  All things that have helped me along my way.  Of course this museum of some sort is only for my eyes and viewership, for this "stuff" to others is pure trash and rubbish.

I then started to dash quickly around the room like a kid on Christmas, lining and organizing all my treasures. I was reminded of an old blog I once wrote, a blog that has seemed to be forgotten, by myself and others, a blog that was once my favorite, that needs to come back to life. So..... to anyone who has a smelly gym bag..... this one's for you.

A long stare at his old blue gym bag as it sat lop-sided beside him on the subway bench, waiting for the 7 o'clock train. There were no words being spoken from his long chin and stubble covered face, just a stone cold look and a thought of how this gym bag hasn't been replaced by now.  How has the bag with so many stains, broken straps, and holes gone this long without being put to rest. A small crinkle in his forehead asked the bag if the old blue warrior was growing, and getting bigger over time.  It looked as if the bag had grown at least a foot since the night before. He would know because the bag and him have been training partners since college back at Cal, and it was only last night that he stocked it with plastic bags full of supplements of all different colors and textures.  He regretted not cleaning his two shaker cups better the night before while preparing for this trip, as he could smell them both seeping from the inside of the bag to his nose.  Still no emotion, as his eyes glazed upon the bag with straps that were hanging on by a single thread from all the abuse they have seen.  How they haven't broke by now will always be a mystery.  Some say that trying to figure out weightlifting can lead to madness, for the sport never, and will never make sense.  His head titled slightly down, and the crinkles in his forehead smoothed back out.  His eyes hadn't blinked since he sat down, and the thought of becoming mad haunted him.  How do you know when you have lost your mind?  He asked the bag while looking back up.  This time words came out from his mouth, while the person sitting across from him grabbed her two kids and scurried them away to the waiting bench three vending machines down. The bag did not reply. The bag just stared back at him while slightly molding itself deeper into the bench, as if to say he was done, and could not carry on from here.  The yellow Cal label on the front of the bag facing him was turned brown from the years.  He was saddened by the fact he just now noticed how worn the bag really was.  His body still hadn't moved, but his eyes started to frantically flicker back and forth as if he couldn't figure out what to look at.  Memories of slamming the gym bag against the wall out of anger.   Dropping the bag down on the dusty gym floor while walking over it to get from resting bench to platform.  Laughing weightlifters in the car after a long day of training, while his best friend and biggest supporter of so many years laid defeated in the trunk under boxes and old books.  Memories and reminiscing of how well he used to treat his new bright blue bag when he first got into weightlifting, or back then just weight training / body building / wide feet power looking snatches and pose offs with his friends.  A gym rat that had no plans or ideas of what he was doing, or wanted to do.  All he knew back then was he loved the weight room, and the lifestyle the weight room produced.  The blue bag was just as important as the weights.  Just as food and bed are to recovery.  Belts and coffee, chalk and music, all a family that you grow to know and love throughout this lonely sport of weightlifting.

A small smile crept across his face as the noise from a train passing by broke his long stare, waking him up to a darker than usual subway full of old newspapers and a cold gust of air coming from the stair case that led outside.  He rubbed his hands together to get warm, while thinking about all the different ways he was going to treat his bag better from here on out.  He opened his mouth wide while rubbing his cheeks with his hands to try to snap out of his trance and wake before the day passed him by.  A weightlifter must learn how focus on both weightlifting and everyday life, sometimes at the same time.  When these two completely different worlds meet they can cause doubt, confusion, and the worst of all....excuses.  Learning how to be a weightlifter is the hardest part in learning how to be a weightlifter.  The bag made a small noise from something inside moving out of place.  He patted the bag with a broken smile and whispered as if he was talking to a puppy, "You know what I'm saying, right boy?". The bag looked back with a glow of appreciation and relief.  The bag was just as much a weightlifter as the man, and the man knew he was just as much part of that bag as the bag itself.  The man felt lighter from their talk.  A sigh of understanding and respect.  He was at first blind sided and taken back from how old the bag truly was, but was now proud of himself and the bag for keeping an honest relationship, and continually staying the best of friends.

The man pulled his hands away to straighten out his clothes in anticipation for his train the he could hear down the tunnel moving his way.  The light from the train opened the subway up with a new perspective.  The newspapers were not scattered around the floor nor were they dirty.  The floor was clean and the vending machines where glowing bright.  There were more people than he thought there was hustling and bustling around as if an army was forming to attack the day.  The man opened his wide eyes and quickly turned to his bag, hoping that his bright blue Cal bag was young and strong as he always knew it to be.  The bag laid half dead as its shadow crept down the bench towards the man.  The man's eyes followed the dark shadow running into his hand that was structurally there supporting his excited lean towards the bag.  The man noticed his hands.  He picked both of them up and turned them side to side in front of his face.  They were torn, bruised and old.  They were stained yellow from the cigarettes he once smoked.  Old chalk lived deep under his nails, and the blood paintings that webbed across his hands from broken blood blisters made sure that he was just as broken and used as the bag sitting beside him.  The man has aged with his bag.  The man then realized sitting on that subway bench, that he had become his own gym bag.

Metal Empire Productions Presents the newest Team AN video.  Metal Empire will be documenting our young teams path to Gold, with behind the scene antics, interviews, recaps and more. Welcome to the family Metal Empire. lets take over the world.

The Documentary 2016

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

The Morning Coffee Review

Attitude Nation Weightlifting Seminar Review

Posted: September 2, 2013 in Uncategorized

Being relatively new to the sport of weightlifting, I am always looking to learn more about technique and the different styles of successful lifters.  This normally means watching endless hours of YouTube videos of my favorite lifters and studying how they move.  One of my favorite YouTube channels for this is The Attitude Nation, which used to chronicle the training of 2011 National Champion Jon North (AKA “The Champ”) and now tracks the progress of his own weightlifting team.  Upon hearing that CrossFit Hail Fire in Orwigsburg, PA would be hosting an Attitude Nation Weightlifting Seminar, I jumped at the opportunity.
A little more about Jon North. He and his wife Jess own The Attitude Nation which was born out of Jon’s incredible passion and excitement for weightlifting.  As he says on his podcast, the AN is for those who “do what they want” and those that raise a middle finger (or two) to society when they try to tell you how to live your life.  Jon is a former national champion in the 94 kg weight class and has represented the US in many international competitions.  He brings an excitement to the sport that is, in my opinion, unmatched.  Coach Dan got me into weightlifting but watching old Cal Strength and MDUSA videos of Jon and Donny Shankle made me want to compete.  Recently, Jon retired from the sport and now coaches a team of weightlifters full time at his gym in NC.  Am I a Jon North fan? Yes. But I will write this review objectively so you know exactly what to expect if you were to take this seminar.  I feel that’s only fair.
To start the day, Jon began by telling his story.  Fueled by an iced black coffee (AKA “Miss Brown Eyes”) he energetically told the group about how he got into weightlifting and why it means so much to him as well as what we were going to learn during the seminar.  Most importantly, Jon stressed that there is no wrong way to lift weights within the rules.  What he would be teaching us is his way; a technique he has developed over the years by pulling from many different coaching influences.  We could then use the “AN Catapult” exclusively or use pieces of it like he has to create our own style of lifting.  This to me was a very important point because all too often, I come across athletes who think there is only one right way to lift.  I personally have tried three different styles of snatching in the past 8 months and have finally settled on one I feel comfortable with.  Everyone is different and Jon understands this.
While speaking, the one thing I noticed from the get-go is Jon’s passion for all things weightlifting.  His excitement for the seminar was genuine and I could tell he wanted this to be a worthwhile experience for all of us.  Along with Jon was his wife, Jessica North who is also a nationally-ranked weightlifter.  Throughout the day, Jon would be describing the movements and the physics behind them while Jess got the enviable duty of demonstrating.  Unbeknownst to her, she also provided some particularly funny moments with her reactions to Jon’s self-described ADD tangents. Especially when Jon said that anyone who took his Level 2 seminar could stay at his house.
With the intro complete we moved on to the snatch portion of the seminar.  Since the snatch is such a technical lift, Jon and Jess broke it down into many small pieces.  I won’t detail each step here because that is what you take the seminar for.  After each technical instruction and subsequent demonstration, the group grabbed a bar and drilled the movement.  The entire time, Jon and Jess walked the room and made sure that every athlete was doing it correctly before moving on to the next step.
On occasion, Jon would tell everyone to rest except one person that he saw was having some trouble with a particular drill.  He would then have that person repeat the skill until it was correct, the whole time giving the athlete different cues to help it click in his or her head.  It really was a neat moment because two things were happening.  The athlete was perfecting the movement and those of us who are coaches or aspire to coach one day were learning several effective ways of teaching the lift.  With Jon and Jess’s help each athlete would quickly demonstrate proficiency of the movement, often to the supportive applause from the rest of us.
AN Class
A group shot of us working on the catch
Once we learned and drilled the AN Catapult technique for the snatch it was time to max out.  Up to this point, all work was with done with an empty bar so this was a welcome change.  Weights were quickly loaded and the blissful sounds of bars crashing to the ground filled the room.  Jon and Jess again walked around the room to watch lifts and offer form critiques.  Some PRed and some did not but that is to be expected when we just learned a new style.  20 minutes later the session wrapped and we were off to lunch.
Next the group learned how to apply the AN Catapult technique to the clean.  Not surprisingly, all the drilling we did earlier in the day made this transition pretty seamless.  In no time at all, we were all completing the entire clean movement with light weight.
Before we all maxed out again, Jon and Jess gave us some instruction on the jerk.  With the jerk being the least technical of the movements there wasn’t nearly as much info as the other two portions.  That being said, Jon and Jess did a provide valuable information in the form of an effective drill we could all do in our own gyms as well as some trade secrets they have learned over the 14 combined years in the sport.  Admittedly, I watch almost every YouTube training vid out there and had not seen or heard any of these tips so I thought that was really cool.
Time to max out again.  I had a question about my clean grip so I pulled Jon aside.  He quickly helped me adjust my feet at the set up which made an immediate difference in my second pull. I could feel a distinct difference in the “pop” off of my thighs with the AN Catapult technique compared to the technique I had been using.  Weights I used to struggle to get under seemed to float, giving me plenty of time to catch with a straight back and high elbows.  I was no longer chasing the bar and catching it with the weight on my toes.  This had been a struggle of mine for some time so it was nice to see some progress.  I personally did not PR due to some nagging injuries but plenty of people did as evidenced by the copious amount of yelling, encouraging and celebratory screams.  Outside of the person setting a PR, no one was more excited than Jon and Jess.  They truly love this sport.
The seminar was supposed to go from 9-5 but we ended up finishing close to 6, not because anything was dragged out but because there was so much information to review and practice.  Never did I feel bored and Jon and Jess kept the whole thing pretty fast-paced.  The only thing I would change about the day is the lunch hour.  Lunch wasn’t until 3PM and took place after we maxed our snatches.  I would have preferred it to be either before we maxed our snatches or right around 12-1PM.  That being said, there were plenty of shorts breaks along the way so people who had snacks could have refueled but some did not bring any food with them and I imagine they would have been quite hungry.
So who would I recommend this seminar to? This seminar would be very beneficial to weightlifters and CrossFitters of all skill levels.  Even for those who have been competing for a long time.  I think the AN Catapult style will appeal especially to CrossFitters because of how efficiently the technique allows you to lift heavier weights.  This would obviously translate to less energy used and faster WOD times.
I would also say this seminar is for those athletes looking to be inspired.  Jon’s story is one that would fit perfectly in an E:60 segment.   The guy has overcome some real adversity and has used those low points in his life to fuel his fire for success.  His weightlifting journey is essentially an analog for life itself; how you have the ability to rise above a bad situation by changing your attitude.  If you want something bad enough, stop making excuses and go get it.  Like a bar-slamming Phoenix rising from the ashes of despair, Jon has left his checked past behind and is now a great role model for those looking to do the same.
At lunch, one participant told me how she listened to “Weightlifting Talk” (Jon’s podcast) the whole way from New Jersey.  She even told me that she had tears in her eyes listening to Jon’s intro speech.  It occurred to me then that the AN seminar is more than just about weightlifting for some people.  It is a chance to connect to a person who has beaten the odds; possibly the same odds you yourself are facing.  Those who have been “shunned by society” have a champion in Jon North.  For some, that can be worth more than weightlifting ever will be.
“Love Your Life or Change It”.  That has become the slogan for the Attitude Nation and was emblazoned across the back of Jon’s t-shirt.  He has certainly changed his own life.  Through this seminar, I have the feeling he will change many more.

Monday, September 2, 2013

Sweat Bank

Bringing Him To Life Once Again Next Week.

His sweat has turned from warm to cold as the cool air turned his skin into a leopard like coat of goose bumps that shot up his spine and down his arms.  The drastic change in weather from inside the gym to out has made the once river of sweat die in its tracks and stick to his body like a hook grip to a bar.  The wind left him breathless as he began to walk to his humble apartment that rested just a few blocks from the gym that he has been training at for the last year.  His walk brought him an awkward silence, but a well needed time to himself he valued deeply.  Echoes of yelling, cheering, and bar slamming played over and over in his head every step he took.  The echoes and recent memories began to drown turning into vapor as the mist of the cold day and car horns took over a new reality, a peaceful one that every athlete must have at least once a day.  Boston was his home, and Boston would always be his home.  He knew the back streets like a champ, cutting at least 10 minutes off his walk home, where only a native of this empty, but huge town would know.  The bottom half of his long black coat rested over his gym bag as it occasionally hit his right knee, causing him to switch hands from time to time.  The collar on his coat was popped up past his ears while his chin stayed tucked downward.  A place where deep thoughts are born and then thought about.  Church bells rang aloud off in the distance, and a light rain met him half way home.  The cars' break lights started to stand out more, as they became not only brighter but more blurry.  The sounds of the street only intrigued him, just like the sounds of the gym. "Ears and eyes always open," his dad would preach to him before being tucked into bed. "See, hear, understand, and then create," his dad would say before turning off the lights and cracking the door just slightly so the monsters wouldn't come out to play. The Boston native never forgot, one memory that stuck with him, and so many other memories he wished he could forget.  The walking signal flashed go, and before he knew it, he was stopped by the first step leading up to his apartment.  He was home after a long day of training.

The hot water burned his skin like squats to his legs.  Long days call for an extra long shower, and the harder the training, the more the small arrow leans to the H on the shower knob. Every workout has to go somewhere, right?  He thought to himself while watching the water by his feet swirl in circles down the drain.  His shoulders hurt from missing too many snatches in front, so he turned the shower head to a more powerful setting, giving his shoulders a light massage.  He has been training for three months straight, preparing for his first local meet in weightlifting.  His coach has been proud of him as he has been making great gains.  His boss on the other hand, has a different take in his awesome job, his marketing boss that pays him a very nice salary every month wants him at the office more rather than taking time to rep curls at 24 Hour Fitness.  Little did his boss know what he was really doing, or little did he care.  The Boston native was baited and hooked to weightlifting, and the disease was too late and deep to try and leave this great sport he stumbled across on YouTube months ago.  His shower door was cracked open, maybe from child hood stability, or just because the baseball game was playing in the background, and a few peeks out the shower door was part of his cleaning process.  The confusing thought of when he would get all of his training back plus more for a reward, grabbed his attention from the ball game, and swirled his head back under the hot water.  A Weightlifter's Bank is what he needed and wished he could walk into it.  A Sweat Bank that allowed an athlete to deposit and withdraw every drop of sweat he or she worked for.  A place where an athlete can see how much sweat he or she has put into any sport.  His forehead started to wrinkle, as his eyebrows drew down like window drapes. If our bodies lie to us and play tricks on us as athletes.....then how do we really know how much better we are getting.  Where does all the sweat go?  He thought to himself while now brushing his teeth dramatically like he was playing the violin as the hot water now came punching down upon his back.  He then froze in complete stillness.  The water from the shower head became motionless while the baseball game was put on pause mid pitch.  All of Boston stopped.

Let me, as the writer, stop the story for just a sec and talk to you, the reader, about the Sweat Bank before we pick back up on the story about the man from Boston.  Don't worry he will be fine.  He is not dead or alive right now.  The world he knows has just stopped for a brief while, while we chat about his interesting idea and theory.  Let's face it, I can stop his world anytime I want, because I am the one making the world he is living in real.  I am the writer, the creator.  Without me he wouldn't exist.  He wouldn't be in the shower nor a weightlifter.  He only knows Boston because I placed him there.  His whole life has been created with a single cup of coffee.  A Sweat Bank does exist!  When you wash your cloths in the washing machine, all of the sweat accumulated in your clothes drains down deep into a factory run and managed by your Ego.  There is an entrance to this factory in every one's home.  You just have to look for it.  You have to believe in your sweat one hundred percent.  Your ego lives under your feet while taking a hot shower.  The sweat living on your body from a hard day's work runs down your body hitting the shower floor and finding its way in the drain only to be met by your ego wearing a bright see through poker hat while smoking a cigar.  Your ego is tall and lanky, slimy and multi-colored.  Three arms, two for your ego, and one for your ego's ego.  An ego has many egos in itself which make the factory of your hard work sweat run efficient and fast.  So many workers working hard on your hard work makes this land down under your feet confident and prideful.  Your ego is not always confident, it takes much support and encouragement from hundreds of your egos egos egos and so forth to stay secure.  Your ego is insecure, that's why it is an ego in the first place.  Giving off the impression of confidence when not being confident at all.  The more sweat the ego contains from your hard work in the life above, the better your ego feels down under.  Down under in the dark the egos work.  A small light reflecting green from their see through visors swing back and forth from your movement above.  But your ego stays hard at work preparing for the day you want to cash out.  Or what they call, sweat out.  You don't know your ego at all, you know it's there, you know how it acts, but you and I and this character that we created all have no idea who it is or what it is.  All we know is that its presence is known.  But what we didn't know, is that our ego is our sweat's undertaker, our sweat's master.  Character from Boston......come back alive my friend.

The baseball game didn't skip a beat, but something was off.  He got out of the shower butt naked and walked out into his room where the TV now showed a monster home run and the crowd going crazy.  The TV was loud, but he was quiet.  His eyes traveled the room as if someone was watching his every move.  Something wasn't right.  He threw his covers off his bed looking for his alarm clock that would show him the time.  He felt as if there was a sudden pause or black out that occurred from the point of entering the shower and getting out.  The time was correct, therefore putting his theory in doubt.  His body was freezing from the water building little dots and villages from his head to toe.  The cool air reminded him of walking back from the gym as he preformed the naked scurry back to the shower that we all do from time to time.  He started to think about the Sweat Bank again, and how cool it would be to cash out a hard week's work in sweat dollars.  He became nervous about his first meet coming up, as his mind became focused on normalcy again.  What numbers should I open with, and what kind of jumps should I take?  All these, questions that clustered his mind, steering away his odd thoughts of Sweat Banks and watching eyes.

He dried off in his room with his dark green and red towel covered in swirls and stars.  It was a present from his parents that he never liked, but one of those gifts that he ended up putting to good use.  He dried himself off the same way as always, how that ritual came about he never knew.  One of those mysteries of life he guessed.  He smiled at all the pictures in his college-like room filled with friends and family.  He took pride in one thing that the people in the pictures always said about him.  "Jason doesn't have an ego, he is such a humble man".  He loved that about himself, and how others took him for it.

"Hey, Jason!"  He looked all around the room in panic as if someone just broke in wearing a scream mask.  "My name is Jon North, and I am writing about you."  He grabbed the phone as if he was about to eat a piece of food for the first time in 10 days.  His back hunched over as the outline of his spine came pointing out his back.  "Stop, its ok my friend.  I will not write anything bad about you, you will be ok.  I just want you to know that you do have an ego, a very big ego at that.  Your ego has not come out yet, for it waits for you in the Sweat Bank under your feet and behind your washer for the day you compete. The day you do compete your ego will shoot out of your last shower before competition covering you with all your built up sweat from the past three months.  Your sweat is your ego, Jason.  Your ego will soak into your skin and help you achieve your goals in your first meet.  All of your sweat has been accounted for my very good character friend.  Your ego has not lost your hard work.  It works long hours just as you do."

"Jason, are you there?"  "Yes I am, what is happening?"  "You are a creation from my keyboard covered in coffee.  You are a mix of emotion from my past splashed with thousands of readers all from different outlooks on you.  I view you one way, but the person reading this might see you in a different way."  "So then who am I really?"  "You are a 28 year old guy from Boston that loves his family, the gym, the community you train in, and the peaceful time you spend alone.  But I must end this blog now because I myself have to go train,  for you will one day live again."  "But how?  If you stop typing this blog, then I will die!"   "No Jason, you will only be on pause, because I will come back later and write you again, picking right back up where we left off.  You won't even know what happened, or that time was paused.  Say 'hi' to the readers Jason, they have gotten to know you well over the last 10 minutes."  "Hello, readers please don't leave me, I have a meet to compete in, and I have been training for three solid months."  "I promise on everything Jason that the readers and I will be back to watch your lifting soon!  We will cheer you on and root for you all the way!  I know you won't remember any of this, but ego is in all of us.  Learn how to find it, then use it to your benefit.  Ego is a scary thing, and can't be taken lightly.  You can use it in a wrong way, just like anything in life.  Next time I write you, we will both train crazy hard getting closer to your first meet.  We will slam bars!"

"Good bye, Jason."  "Good bye, Jon."  "Oh wait, Jon! " "Yea, what's up?"  "Will you tell Shankle that I am a big fan and that I say, hi."  "Hell yea, I will.  I will write Shankle into your reality next time.  I will have him train with you before your weightlifting meet.  Salute."

Boston 2016


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KICKSTARTER to fund vinyl release launching soon. Stay tuned! As a solo artist or bandleader, Joshua Barton hasn't shied from preoccupations with mortality, meaning making, and spiritual fulfillment. But on "Witness," the Lansing singer/songwriter's latest release with band Seerstones, there's notably less whimsy and more weight. Part of that has to do with a fullness of sound unheard on previous recordings, thanks to the stringband assembled to fill out Barton's acoustic arrangements. On this recording, Seerstones includes multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Peter Hochstedler, who also engineered the mostly live recording sessions, as well as Gordon Kwiatkowski, Thom McAlvey, John Voss, and Sam Copperman. Previous projects have leaned more ethereal at times, where Witness sounds intentionally world weary and mired in the physicality of thick harmonium drones, wide double-bass runs, and rich multi-part vocal harmonies. But it's not only the instrumentation making for the change in tone. Barton has always been gifted at repurposing despair as a secret vehicle of hope, but he's never been more unflinching or willing to lock eyes with the void as he is on the first three tracks here. From the opening "Dark Side of Your Soul" through "Sardonia at Sea," Barton front loads the record with a raw-nerve, ego trip of violent fantasies, disillusioned liturgy, and self-damning proclamations, underscored by the ad infinitum final refrain of the dirge-like "I Am Not Living My Calling." After confronting these phantoms, he turns his attention outward to accepting what is ("The Old Piano"), mourning what's been lost ("The Dog and the Buzzard"), and longing for lost ideals ("I Wanna Go Down") in the record's gentler second movement. Nothing's going to be alright, and that's going to have to be fine. Which brings us to the closing "The Silence I Endure Each Day from God." A heartbreaking country ballad that opens with Barton's lone voice and strumming, the song first gives the impression we're actually listening to a restless crooner's midnight plea to an unfaithful deity before the barroom accompaniment kicks in, as if to say, "Grab a partner and dance. It's a lonely life, filled with our own demons, and if we've got a prayer against them, it's the same as it ever was: 'Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.'" --Eric Gallippo

JOSHUA BARTON: songs, vocals, acoustic guitar and bass PETER HOCHSTEDLER: vocals, electric guitar and suitcase GORDON KWIATKOWSKI: vocals, harmonica, ukulele THOM MCALVEY: vocals, banjo, harmonium JOHN VOSS: electric guitar SAM COPPERMAN: bass Produced & mixed by Peter Hochstedler Mastered by LANDR Photography by Tobias Walbridge Art direction by Graham Mason


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Friday, December 02, 2005

Picky ? Yes I am !

While having pizza dinner tonight, my GF mention that I was picky (over the pineapple on my slice of pizza).

2 thoughts came to mind

1. “I am picky that why I choose you”
2. “I am picky about everything except choosing a girl friend”

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Thursday, November 01, 2007

In the first 14 months of not smoking, I gained 14 pounds. At the end of June, I joined this workout gym, which is one mile from our office. I retained a personal trainer, who designed a weight lifting program for me.

For the past 4 months, I have been quite consistent in doing the full body weight training routine at least 3 days a week. Wednesday morning, I had an appointment with my trainer for a weigh-in and to measure my body fat percentage (sounds fun huh?).

To lose weight in the past, I would have just gone on a diet, restricted my food intake and lost pounds. I am really good at setting goals and meeting them.

I now have a new approach and a new understanding of fitness. It is not about just losing weight. It is about functional fitness - maintaining and building your muscle mass - while removing body fat. It does not matter what the scale says. I am getting smaller and the scale is slightly increasing or staying the same.

I am so happy to report that in 4 months, I have removed 1.25 pounds of body fat and GAINED 6.25 pounds of MUSCLE!!!!! Wow. This is a new framework with a common sense approach. This isn't "weight loss" as I have known it in the past or how we women have been told to go about it.

In the old weight loss paradigm, we go on a "diet" and the scale goes down - we lose both fat and muscle. In this new scenario, you work out, you eat good food at regular intervals and your build your long-term functional fitness - getting it right for good.

  1. Congratulations on your progress toward health and thanks for reminding me why I pay for my gym membership each month. I walk regularly with my Labrador Retriever, but need the weight training to keep my body healthy. Merriam Nelson did some fascinating studies with older women and the effects of regular weight training on bone density. She made a believer out of me more than a decade ago! The benefits of shifting our weight loss paradigm becomes an added bonus for me, a lifetime Weight Watcher.

  2. great progress! are your clothes fitting you differently with your new muscle mass?

  3. yes - my pants at the thigh and around my waist, definitely better :)

  4. Hi Suzann...I've seen your comments on many other blogs, but today I actually found my way to your place.
    I've read back over your entries since 2005 and just wanted to say I'm so impressed with your growth and moving forward. Your words were so poignant and the emotion came pouring through. From your smiling face that I've seen on other blog comments, I'd never have known the pain you've been through.
    Wishing you a happy and sunshiny day. I'll be back to visit. You have a lovely and authentic blog.

  5. You ought to be proud've handled everything so beautifully. I think working out is the key....something I still need to work on to be honest. But, it doesn't stop me from being SOOOO proud of YOU sweetie...Bravo! You're doing it right!

  6. Congratulations on reaching your fitness goals. :)

  7. The most important is that you feel good.
    Here in Norway, we are so lucky we can walk and walk and nobody thinks you are crazy - it's in fact a lifestyle - we say "walk for a tour".


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Linky followers - just incase blogger removes follower list

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Summer time at Aud Sentiments Challenge Blog

Hi everyone, it's pretty chilly here, but the theme for the challenge #181 at Aud Sentiments this fortnight is SUMMER  + a sentiment. Our sponsor for the challenge is Paper Nest Dolls.
Here is my card.....

SU Pacific Point cardstock for basecard and mattes
SU Naturals Ivory cardstock for matte
White cardstock from stash
DP from DCWV 8x8 paper pad ~ Surf's Up Stack
Image is from Paper Nest Dolls - Sandcastle Ellie
Sentiment & Boat are from Whiff of Joy stamp set - Life's a Beach
Birthday sentiment from CTMH stamp set - Pirate Birthday
Dies - Sizzix Thinlits (arrows, banners, chevrons & clouds set)
         - Nesties - Large Labels
Copic Markers
Memento Tuxedo Black inkpad
SU Pacific Point inkpad
D/S tape roller & foam dots

Well, a quick post for you today and an encouragement to come and play along at the  challenge.
Hope to see you there!
Thanks for stopping by,
Take Care,
Hugs, Sandy

  1. Coloured fantastically and I love the little summer scene. Sorry I am not around much. I am training with the Salvation Army to become a soldier. It is taking a lot of my time.

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave me a comment. I really appreciate it and if you leave me with a link back to your blog I will pop on over and visit you too.

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Oct 6, 2010

Noise showcase during Youth Olympic Games

Artist: Lee Shu Jun, Joyce
Title: The Winter Rain
Location:Selegie Rd OS POMO/Peace Ctrs, Singapore

Postcard designed for Noise Singapore
Glad to see them at various Noise Singapore showcase booth during YOG.
Another artwork showcasing at Singapore Changi Airport T3.
Another piece of artwork showcasing during YOG.
too bad, i didnt have time to shoot it during the showcase.

Artist: Lee Shu Jun, Joyce
Title: Oriental Venice
Location:Clementi Rd OS NUS Faculty of Architecture, Singapore

1 comment:

  1. hello joyce - this is Li from behance - it was nice to meet you virtual! i like your watercolor and application of pastel color.

    stay in touch, xx


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Thursday, April 9, 2015

DVRA povides wider audience for student writing

I just came across the DVRA webpage for Student Work.  I'll let them explain:

Have you ever gotten that one piece of work generated by a student that you wished could be published? Well, here's your chance!!! Please send samples of:

  • poetry
  • comic strips
  • political cartoons
  • the sky is the limit!!
Throughout the year, you may send your students' work electronically (Microsoft Word or pdf format please) to DO NOT INCLUDE STUDENT LAST NAME OR TEACHER NAME ON ACTUAL PIECEAll work received will be viewed according to content, creativity, and originality. Those selected will be displayed on the DVRA website and in the DVRA newsletter.

There is a list of about 20 submissions for 2014-15 already on the website.  The samples of student work that I looked at seemed to be mostly personal experience stories. I find myself thinking that participating would a win-win-win situation - our students get a wider audience for their work, DVRA has greater participation in their initiative (looks like most of the submissions are from one school),  and the Benchmark name is made a little more public.  An additional benefit - some of the stories already on the website could be used as models in your writing instruction!  You could present the website to students and have them choose their favorite piece to submit, or you could submit everyone's sample of a particular writing project you worked on.  Has anyone used another platform to submit student work?  I'd love to hear about your experience.

1 comment:

  1. Love this idea- I was just thinking I would show students all of the writing projects they have done all year and have them choose their favorite, but I think the idea of presenting the work to be submitted for something grander might motivate them to work harder as we come to the last few months in our time with them. I wonder - could I submit a work from a previous student?


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Dedication of St. Michael the Archangel

Old Calendar: Dedication of the Basilica of St. Michael the Archangel (Michaelmas Day)

This prayer was composed by Pope Leo XIII. He wrote it after experiencing a vision that showed the battle between between the Church and Satan. In 1886, this prayer and the Hail Holy Queen (Salve Regina) were to be recited at the end of the "low" Mass ("low" meaning the Mass that was spoken, with no music, compared to the "high", or sung Masses). This practice was discontinued around 1970.

In April 1994, during the International Year of the Family, Pope John Paul II during his Regina Coeli message asked all Catholics to pray this prayer daily. We invoke the help of St. Michael in our struggle against Satan and sin.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle; be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the other evil spirits who roam about the world, seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

Catholic Encyclopedia - St. Michael the Archangel
One of the principal angels; his name, "Who is Like Unto God", was the war-cry of the good angels in the battle fought in heaven against the enemy and his followers.

St. Micahel & All Angels
Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon; and the dragon and his angels fought, but they were defeated and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world -- he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him. -- Revelation 12:7-9 [RSV]

Feast of Michaelmas

St. Michael Coloring Page from Waltzing Matilda

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Chelsea Cartwright

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Sunday, May 4, 2014

I'm Feelin 22!

On April 25th I turned twenty two! It was amazing, my poor husbands basically kills himself to make my day good enough. He always does amazing! I definitely was very spoiled!

The Tuesday before my birthday we celebrated with Jake's family. We went out to dinner and opened gifts and just had a lot of fun! They all gave me really thoughtful gifts and I appreciate them!

We then had a really awkward group of waiters sing 'Happy Birthday' to me. uhm ya...

Althrougout the week Jake will give me different surprises. Some big some small. Monday it was a drink and doughnut (my favorite things in the whole world). Tuesday he gave me a gift card to get a massage, Wednesday it was my favorite flowers, Daisies. Thursday it was a boquet of balloons! He is amazing.
Friday (my actual birthday) Jake took the day off which he never has been able to do, and we all woke up together and snuggled in bed, then we headed out to breakfast at Kneaders. All you can eat French Toast, need I say more?

We got ready for the day, and headed to Orem where we going to spend the rest of the day. We have a couple traditions that we still uphold in the Frahm house. First is take a pic with the balloon wreath every year. Secondly (this one I started last year) buy cupcakes of different flavor and try a bite of each.

(Cookies and Creme, Toasted Coconut, Strawberry Shortcake, VaNIEla, Red Velvet, Salted Caramel)

I met up with my mom, sisters, and Les for some lunch at Milagros. They all sure spoiled me! It was so fun! I got enough clothes to last me the next two weeks!

After lunch Jake put Ashton down for a nap and guess what I did? It might sound lame, but it was really fun. I went to Color Me Mine, by myself and painted a cookie jar that I started TWO YEARS AGO! So I was excited.
After I met up with Jake, and we grabbed Ashton to take him to my sisters so she could watch him. We got a cute picture as a family!
Jake and I went to one of my favs for dinner, Red lobster. Then after we went shopping at Kohl's! It was so nice to be on a date just us two! We hadn't done it in a while!

I finished the most incredible birthday at a movie with my sisters, mom, and dad called The Other Woman. Hilarious!! I highly recommend!

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Possibly a treat, but maybe a fork in the eye

So, school started back up.  For me and the kids.  Josh started 8th grade, if you're curious (but probably you aren't, too bad, stop reading or something.  No wait, I lied!  Don't go!  Fudge.) he is not being home schooled this year.  Instead he is off to his first year of middle school.  So far - well, the first few days went alright.  Tonight was his first night of homework.  Yeah, that was about as fun as you might imagine.

Carly started first grade.  She says she loves it (I have my doubts, but she insists).  She has homework too, that makes me want to poke people.

I started school on Monday also.  So we're pretty much the most tired, cranky, unhappy lot on the block.

To make up for the Debbie Downerness of this post, I present the first bit of some scribbles I've been working on.  I'd love some feedback, especially of the constructive honest yet kind type.

p.s. this is my original work and therefore protected accordingly by copyright and crap.  So, please don't copy it without my permission, especially if you're pretending you wrote it.

It began on an ordinary evening.
Carly and Josh were walking with their mother in the fading twilight of a summer evening.  The sun had set not long ago, a blazing burst of reds and orange and purple.  Some of the color still painted the tips of the clouds, but mostly there were gray and white against a blackening sky.  A few stars lay hidden behind the thick city air, but they couldn’t see them and didn’t notice the absence.  It was just normal.
They were walking in front of a store that was still busy despite the falling night.  Carly was bouncing ahead, as usual, her five year’s old legs had a permanent spring that never stopped jumping until she slept.  Joshua, almost 13, lagged behind, walking next to his mother with a soft hand tucked into hers.  Almost 13, yes, but still his mother’s boy.  He chattered and watched as his bouncing sister mounted a painted red cement ball like a pommel horse, sliding down the other side.  Her adventurousness made him nervous, his fingers involuntarily squeezing his mother’s in fear before relaxing as Carly’s feet met the steady ground again.
Mother squeezed back, reassuring.
The cool air felt nice on their skin, a soft puffing breeze tickled their bare arms, rustling the palm fronds above.  It tasted like the ocean, the soft air, sort of briny and salty but not quite as potent as sea water.  The cars whirled by, a dance of headlights and rubber tires, while the fluorescent lights of the store highlighted the painted symbol of a target on the concrete walk ahead, red against gray.
Mom took two quick steps with a silly smile and jumped into the center of the circles.
“Target!” she said, laughing and Josh grinned back.  Carly bounced back to grab her mother’s loose hand.  Ten more steps together and, as one, they leapt into the center of the next symbol.
“Target!” sounded three voices as one and they vanished.

Joshua couldn’t be sure but he thought he was having some sort of bad dream.  First off, everything was black, pitch black, like spilled ink on paper.  He opened his eyes very wide to be sure, but he couldn’t see anything at all – not even his own nose.  There also didn’t seem to be any sounds, just thick silence, heavy almost.
No, wait.
He could hear breathing.  His own, now that he thought about it, and someone else breathing more slowly.  Perhaps someone else, still, breathing fast.
Something squeezed his hand.
No, someone.  His mother, he realized, warmth washing over him and soothing the heart that raced in his chest.  The slow breathing was hers, slow and steady.  And that must be Carly breathing fast on mom’s other side.
So maybe he wasn’t dreaming.
His hand began to shake and his mother gave another reassuring squeeze.  “It’s ok,” she whispered in the blackness, her words almost swallowed up in the cottony silence.
But Josh knew “It’s ok” was just what grown-ups liked to say, even when it wasn’t.
“Mommy?”  Carly’s small, high-pitched voice was trembling.
There was a snuffling sound at Josh’s feet just then.  And a cold nose on his toes, he had been wearing flip-flops when they –
What exactly did they do?  Fall?  Vanish?
Josh shook his head to try and clear away the dream.
The cold nose moved to his other foot, like a dog investigating. And then it was gone.
“Mom,” Josh said slowly, quietly.  “I think I felt something.”
“What did you feel?” she asked.
“I’m not –“
His answer was cut off by muffled footsteps in the dark.  And – yes, he could just make it out – a small, bobbing silvery light, growing slowly bigger.
Mom’s hand spasmed in his, her breath caught as she bent down to pick up Carly, Josh clinging to her hand.  Carly was whimpering, her small arms and legs like a vice around mom’s middle.
Josh squared his shoulders, trying to be brave.
The light grew bigger, a round spot that bounced along like a ball caught in midflight, but didn’t break the blackness.  Josh could hear the snuffling sound again and he jumped when that cold, wet nose was back on his toes.
“Turtle says we’ve got visitors, eh?” an old voice crackled, surprisingly close.  The ball of light still seemed far away, bouncing, holding their eyes.  “Tain’t had visitors in nigh a long time, no how.”  The voice was coming closer still, coming quite fast compared to the light.  “Strange doings.  Dids you find them Turt?”
The voice drew up right in front of mom, the ball of light still lagging behind.
There came, then, a long low sniffing sound and then, “Come on, Blister, theys friends, they are.  A boy, a girl, a – whats its they call them?  Oh, you’re right Turt.  A mother.”  The last word was said with distaste, sort of low and drawn out, like chalk down a board.  Josh bristled, but mom squeezed his hand.  She felt steady.
“Who are you?” mom asked into the darkness.  Her voice sounded strange, though – strained, afraid, alone.
Josh squeezed her hand, then.
“Hurrys up Blister so’s they can see,” said the old voice.
The light had bobbed close now, but it wasn’t a light at all.  Josh felt his breath suck in, a strange gasping sound.  Mother was very still.  But Carly – Carly shouted with more than a little excitement –
“A fairy!”

The silvery blue light of the fairy, Blister, was now close enough to illuminate the source of the voice standing in front of them.  She was a very short, very fat old woman with sallow skin that hung loosely from a very strong jaw.  She was peering up at them through wiry spectacles, her eyes behind the lenses were unnaturally pale, like frosted glass.  The skin around her eyes was crinkled, like she was permanently smiling, though her mouth was set in a firm, considering line.  She wasn’t ugly, but rather interesting to look at in a fascinating sort of way.  The little woman was examining them, too, in the fairy light.  She looked puzzled.
Josh was a sort of typical looking 13 year old boy, except his eyes were very brown with an outline of thick, long black lashes.  His skin was creamy pale, almost blue in the fairy light, and his cheeks rosy red.  He had nicely formed lips and heavy brows.  His hair was a golden nut brown, cut very short.  Typical in an attractive sort of way that was nice to look at.  His mother wasn’t very tall or very short, but she towered over the little old woman.  Her hands were delicate where they met and held her children with red polished nails and only a wedding ring.  Her hair fell in a thick brown curtain down her back, some of it was falling in her hazel eyes.  She shared Josh’s face, except girlish, older and without the thick brows.  Also Josh had a fine, aquiline nose while his mother’s was small and round.
The woman’s puzzled gaze was darting from Josh to Mother to Carly, where is settled for a moment and grew more puzzled before returning to Josh again.  Carly was different in an obvious sort of way.  Where Joshua’s skin was creamy pale, Carly’s was chocolate brown.  She had tilted, almond shaped eyes that were almost black and fine arched brows.  Her hair was thick with curls, very dark in the fairy light, and arranged in two puff ball pig tails.  Carly was smiling, an impish grin on her pretty face, and she was squirming in her spot.  Excited.
“She’s adopted,” Josh blurted, he wasn’t really sure why.  The woman focused on his frightened face again, cocking her head before nodding once.  The mass of gray-blue curls on her head bobbed.
“I sees that,” she said while a deep red blush crawled up Joshua’s neck into his cheeks.
The fairy, Blister, began to bob impatiently and chatter.  Her diaphanous blue wings fluttered, throwing sparks and glitter as she moved.  They couldn’t understand what she was saying, it sounded like someone speaking very, very fast.  Her small, peaked pretty face was alarmed, though, and that was easy to understand.
“Blister thinks we shoulds be going now dearies.  Goings quick.”
“You didn’t tell us your name,” Mother said, gripping their hands so they didn’t follow the woman as she turned and took a few shuffling steps away.  “Or where we’re going.”
“Yous didn’t tell me yours neither, Mother,” replied the woman.  “And we’s be going where it’s safe, unless you’d rathers stay here and wait for the itchers to find you.”
“Itchers?” asked Josh, his voice a ghost in the growing dark.
Carly was pulling her mother’s hand, trying to follow the receding light of the fairy.
Mother gripped their hands and began walking.

Pam said…
I love your scribl'ns. The first part of this post made me laugh. Homework should be what it used to be like when we were kids. Pretty much non-existent. Good luck this semester.
Heather said…
I'm intrigued.
Charles Findlay said…
Neat story. What do you do this type of writing for? Personal interest? Wanting to get better so you can write for money? Get published?

Glad all is well. Girls start in another ten days. Still loafing around.

Sarah said…
The ultimate goal is, of course, to get published. I have submitted things in the past but my problem is that about half way I lose steam and confidence. I'm hoping that by putting my stuff out there, I can gain some courage to actually finish a manuscript and submit it.

On the flip side, I love to write and find it extremely cathartic. These little stories play out in my head all the time - always have - and usually I can't write them down fast enough before they disappear.
Charles Findlay said…
Cool. What kind of stuff do you want to publish. Short stories in magazines. A book or novella. Something else?

What kind of feedback did you get from the stuff you submitted?
Sarah said…
I think I'd probably like to write young adult fiction. I'm also interested in magazine articles and the like. I probably submitted an actual manuscript more than 10 years ago - I did not get feedback aside from "no thank you". Most publishers do not give feedback unless they intend to publish your work.
Sarah said…
Also, in terms of what I would like to write, I have worked a little bit on a fictionalized history of my grandparents - I'd love to make that a whole book someday but it would take some time and collaboration with others to do it. Not that I'm opposed to that, it's just a hurdle.
Anonymous said…
I think somewhere in there it should be stated they were on their way to get milk. That is generally when the magic happens...

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Saturday, December 31, 2005

Clothes and Sports

This photo and the next several photos will demonstrate
and give advice on the importance of wearing the
appropriate clothes for a particular athletic event
or competition. Being The World Champion, I decided
to share some of my knowledge with you.
This outfit is to be worn for a chess match only.
For other sports, these clothes maybe satisfactory,
but not optimum. For chess, it is optimum. If you go
into a chess tournament with a combination of these clothes
and this intense level of concentration, you will go home
with a very large chess trophy.

Blogger J_Yates_uk said...

I'm glad you've raised the importance of dressing for chess.

10:18 AM
Blogger Judah Friedlander said...

thanks j_yates_uk.
it's an important issue that's not brought up enough.

2:35 PM

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Hot and cold snacks Recipes tasty snacks Variety of cold appetizers one of the categories of Russian dishes, which has a huge assortment of cold and hot dishes, especially fish…

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Simple salads for every day

Simple salads every day – recipes

Salads are probably the only gastronomic group that has such diversity of varieties, variations and recipes. Meat and fish, vegetable and mushroom, warm and fruity, fine and easy, it opens up endless possibilities for experimentation. Today we present some recipes from the endless list of the most successful and will show you how to prepare simple, tasty and quick salads every day. After all the recipes of this particular category most often claimed and actual. At the same time you always want to save time and money and tasty to feed the family or guests.

Simple and quick salad every day with sausage

To prepare this salad in a matter of minutes. It is perfect and just in time for dinner on weekdays, and will be a perfect option for a meal for guests who came unexpectedly. Despite the simplicity, the taste of this salad is simply stunning.

sausage boiled-smoked – 220 g;

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rye crackers – 2 packs;

mayonnaise – 75 g

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Chicken with cheese

Chicken with cheese – the simplest recipes and ideas

For anybody not a secret that chicken is the most frequent guest on our tables. Chicken meat is inexpensive, it is cooked quickly, the taste of the meat is excellent.

Today already you will surprise nobody baked chicken or grilled chops from a chicken, growing popularity of combining chicken with fruit, vegetables and cheese.

Chicken with cheese

How to choose the right cheese to the chicken?

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If you prefer dishes with baked cheese, pay attention to classic Russian cheese, mozzarella, Parmesan, Poshehonsky, Kostroma or ricotta cheese. These varieties are good melt and stretch, do not spread and remain soft and tender. In addition, when exposed to high temperatures on the dish, sprinkled with grated cheese forms a delicious Golden brown. These cheeses are perfectly blended with meat dishes and fruit, which gives the opportunity to diversify the usual menu and experiment.

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10 ideas for design of children’s meals

10 ideas for design of children’s meals

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Friday, June 17, 2011

5 on Friday - Set 71

Travis at Trav's Thoughts invites everyone to lay down a short set of music that takes their fancies for his 5 on Friday meme.

Our own rhododendron is finally in bloom - so today's banner could be a peek at my front garden.

Continuing with my Beatles series, this week I'm featuring the always fascinating George Harrison.

1 - Do You Want to Know a Secret? - The Beatles

2 - Taxman - The Beatles

3 - Long, Long, Long - The Beatles

4 - What is Life - George Harrison

5 - Handle With Care - The Traveling Wilburys

ClICK HERE to watch the video

Jamie said...

After enjoying the songs for years, I finally bought the Traveling Wilburys album. Harrison was remarkable and often got overshadowed by the adoration of Lennon / McCartney. Thank you for the reminder of just how good he was.

Linda said...

What? No "Got My Mind Set On You"??

Great set regardless of that one omission! George Harrison was one of those guys that I think didn't get anywhere near enough attention in the band as Paul and John were always getting all of the attention. Kind of like Ringo he was there but not really there for a lot of people which is too bad as he was a brilliant musician in his own right.

Travis Cody said...

I agree with Jamie and Linda about George Harrison. I enjoyed his solo work, and that first Traveling Wilbury's album is one of my favorites.

arachnerd said...

Good set. If it is humanly possible, I agree that Harrison was definitely the "under-appreciated" Beatle.

Susan Kane said...

The Beatles were part of my 'coming of age', and I don't anyone in my age group will ever forget our first view of them!

Akelamalu said...

Ah we're still with the Beatles - great! George was a great musician but as the youngest of the group was a little overshadowed by the others for a long time I think.