It's been so hard to keep with with the ol' blog since school started. Teaching, studenting, social chairing, reading, writing, cooking, cleaning, whew. All these necessary distractions make Mr. Sisk a bad blogger.
Regardless of my neglectfulness, I do occasionally snatch a second to post a pithy post that some of you read and a few comment on, for which I am truly thankful. It's nice to know my words are not swallowed up by the cyber void.
Since Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and I'm going to be busy student conferencing and then trans-Tennessee driving until then, I'm stealing a moment to share what I am most thankful for this holiday season. It's important that we remember to be thankful, I think, and especially, it's important for me to be grateful for those people who have loved me enough to sacrifice their time, money, energy, and desires to get me where I am today. Here's my list, then:
1. My family--Momma, Daddy, Muffy, Pippi, Jeffrey, Lily, and everybody else who has loved me and said prayers for me and worried about me and been proud of me. A large part of what I do, I do for you.
2. My friends, past and present. Even though I've lost touch with some of the best buddies I had at Central Arkansas, I still think of them and I'm glad I've known them. They have helped make me who I am. As for the friends of Thanksgiving Present--Eric, Virginia, Charlotte, Josh, Leah, and everybody else--I love you, I'm thankful for you. I couldn't do it without you.
3. My students, bless their hearts. I am sincerely grateful for each and every one of them. They have made me kinder, stronger, better.
4. Teachers--all of them--but especially mine, past and present. The true rock stars are educators. I've said that forever, even before I was one, and I stand by that statement even firmer now. I'm thankful for men and women who sacrifice their time and energy to make kids like me better human beings.
5. Six months, same as cash and/or interest-free financing options. Because when it rains, it pours, and the truest example of adulthood, I think, is resigning oneself to paying for things oneself, even if paying for it a little each month is the only option.
6. Change
7. Travel coffee mugs
8. Not burning the first batch of cookies (finally!)
What are you thankful for?
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Monday, November 24, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Doing It Right for a Change
Y'all, I'm published! Okay, so it's an online publication, but it's still all mine. I would like to thank Dr. Stephanie Vanderslice for letting me know about the publishing opportunity with Splinter Generation. Read my poem and let me know what you think!
In other news, I'm coming down with the funk from running myself ragged with the course work and the teaching and the socializing. Snotty nose and sore throat makes Tim a sad boy. But not so sad that I didn't go out with a whole slough of folks for cheap Mexican food and half-priced Dos Equis pitchers tonight. I mean, I had to eat, right? Plus, it's against my religion to stay in on a Friday night. I have people to love on, y'all.
In the long absence since my last post, I've been busy, busy, busy: writing poems and short stories, reading about campy performance art, teaching argumentative writing to somewhat resistant-but-still-utterly-adorable college freshpeople. Spending too much time loving on friends. I'm living the dream, and I hate to think that it's going to end in six months. Here's to making it the best six months yet.
I'm on my way to bed for some much needed recuperation, but I'll share a completely endearing teacher story with you before I go:
A student confided to me in an individual conference before fall break that he felt he "just wasn't doing this college thing right." "I just don't have any friends, Mr. Sisk," he said. "I don't think I want to come back after Fall Break." His admission struck me as odd since he is one of the chattier boys in his class. In fact, I had planned to tell him he should stop talking so much in class, but my heart just melted. I couldn't scold him. I couldn't let him give up on college, especially since he tries so hard and does good work in my class. I told him that I noticed he'd been getting along with a boy he sits beside in my class, that from my end of things they looked like pretty good friends. "Ask him to go to the football game with you or go to church with him," I said, doing my best to speak to him in his language. I know his language. Well, last week I decided to hold class outside under a tree since the day was lovely and our reading dealt with defining a sense of place. Both classes did a wonderful job discussing the text (I was so proud!), and at the end of the class with the aforementioned student, he came up to ask me a question about an assignment. I noticed that the boy I told him he should consider his friend stood a few feet back waiting on him to finish talking to me. Then they walked across the quad together talking about things that 18-year-old boys talk about. I was so damned proud so see these friends interact, to know that maybe this boy no knows he is doing this college thing right. It was one of the best kinds of teaching moments, and I hope I remember it forever.
It sounds so cheesy, but I don't care: being a teacher is my favorite thing about my life. And I've got a pretty good life full of lots of great things.
Happy weekend, y'all!
In other news, I'm coming down with the funk from running myself ragged with the course work and the teaching and the socializing. Snotty nose and sore throat makes Tim a sad boy. But not so sad that I didn't go out with a whole slough of folks for cheap Mexican food and half-priced Dos Equis pitchers tonight. I mean, I had to eat, right? Plus, it's against my religion to stay in on a Friday night. I have people to love on, y'all.
In the long absence since my last post, I've been busy, busy, busy: writing poems and short stories, reading about campy performance art, teaching argumentative writing to somewhat resistant-but-still-utterly-adorable college freshpeople. Spending too much time loving on friends. I'm living the dream, and I hate to think that it's going to end in six months. Here's to making it the best six months yet.
I'm on my way to bed for some much needed recuperation, but I'll share a completely endearing teacher story with you before I go:
A student confided to me in an individual conference before fall break that he felt he "just wasn't doing this college thing right." "I just don't have any friends, Mr. Sisk," he said. "I don't think I want to come back after Fall Break." His admission struck me as odd since he is one of the chattier boys in his class. In fact, I had planned to tell him he should stop talking so much in class, but my heart just melted. I couldn't scold him. I couldn't let him give up on college, especially since he tries so hard and does good work in my class. I told him that I noticed he'd been getting along with a boy he sits beside in my class, that from my end of things they looked like pretty good friends. "Ask him to go to the football game with you or go to church with him," I said, doing my best to speak to him in his language. I know his language. Well, last week I decided to hold class outside under a tree since the day was lovely and our reading dealt with defining a sense of place. Both classes did a wonderful job discussing the text (I was so proud!), and at the end of the class with the aforementioned student, he came up to ask me a question about an assignment. I noticed that the boy I told him he should consider his friend stood a few feet back waiting on him to finish talking to me. Then they walked across the quad together talking about things that 18-year-old boys talk about. I was so damned proud so see these friends interact, to know that maybe this boy no knows he is doing this college thing right. It was one of the best kinds of teaching moments, and I hope I remember it forever.
It sounds so cheesy, but I don't care: being a teacher is my favorite thing about my life. And I've got a pretty good life full of lots of great things.
Happy weekend, y'all!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
My Mother's Small Portions
I am frivolous, and I resent the fact that I am. This early afternoon, as I was contemplating ways to make a box of macaroni and cheese stretch as far as it possibly could, I thought of my mother, the meals she used to cook for my brother and me, how filling they were, how completely unfrivolous she has always been. Mama used to stretch a box of dollar store mac and cheese into a full meal on a regular basis when Jeffrey and I were little boys. Boiled elbow noodles and powdered cheese sauce mixed with chopped hot dog or browned and drained ground beef, a can of mixed vegetables. Dinner was served, and god, was it filling. We were never hungry little boys.
Thursday nights we always ate canned chili and store brand hot dogs, red and boiled, on light bread and Fritos. In the winter, lots of beef stew and peanut butter sandwich dinners, pinto beans and corn bread. Skillets of fried Spam and potatoes. I never ate anywhere besides home and my grandmothers' houses, and they ate like we did. I thought everyone did.
I was shocked this weekend spent at a cabin in Pigeon Forge with six of my closest friends when I saw the food they all brought. Ashley and his salmon fillets, peeled and de-veined shrimp. Jeremy and his expensive cheeses, Parmesan not from a green sprinkle can. Virginia's wheel of brie. These things I'd never dream of buying.
Even when I can afford higher-end groceries, I often don't buy them. It's class guilt, I think. Experience has taught me that things like expensive food (or weekend cabin trips for that matter) are frivolous. Money is better spent elsewhere, like on unexpected doctor's visits and prescriptions. Last minute car repairs. And I'm the king of unexpected crises of those varieties. Every damn time I reach for the non-off brand whathaveyou at Kroger, I hear Mama's voice, the voices of my aunts and grandmothers, back and back and back, telling me to think, to plan, to save my pennies here to pay on the dollars I'll have to spend later. And I listen, do as I'm told, and I always seem to have the money for those unexpected things, though I worry that might change with the current state of the economy. But that's a different blog post.
The point is, I can't spend a dime of my hard earned money without toiling over it. I can't have a meal at a restaurant without calculating what sacrifices I'll have to make at home for the rest of the week to make up for exorbitant spending or buy a tank of gas without contemplating canceling my cable service. I know what my means are, and I hate living beyond them. That's the cardinal sin of salt of the earth, lower-middle class people, my people. So, I feel badly for going on a weekend getaway when I should be saving for the unexpected. When I remember how when I was little, Mama was always on a diet, because she was conscious of her weight, but also because she wanted to make sure her husband and two boys had enough to eat. I was raised on my mother's small portions, her practicality. I worry I'll never be as unfrivolous as she is.
Thursday nights we always ate canned chili and store brand hot dogs, red and boiled, on light bread and Fritos. In the winter, lots of beef stew and peanut butter sandwich dinners, pinto beans and corn bread. Skillets of fried Spam and potatoes. I never ate anywhere besides home and my grandmothers' houses, and they ate like we did. I thought everyone did.
I was shocked this weekend spent at a cabin in Pigeon Forge with six of my closest friends when I saw the food they all brought. Ashley and his salmon fillets, peeled and de-veined shrimp. Jeremy and his expensive cheeses, Parmesan not from a green sprinkle can. Virginia's wheel of brie. These things I'd never dream of buying.
Even when I can afford higher-end groceries, I often don't buy them. It's class guilt, I think. Experience has taught me that things like expensive food (or weekend cabin trips for that matter) are frivolous. Money is better spent elsewhere, like on unexpected doctor's visits and prescriptions. Last minute car repairs. And I'm the king of unexpected crises of those varieties. Every damn time I reach for the non-off brand whathaveyou at Kroger, I hear Mama's voice, the voices of my aunts and grandmothers, back and back and back, telling me to think, to plan, to save my pennies here to pay on the dollars I'll have to spend later. And I listen, do as I'm told, and I always seem to have the money for those unexpected things, though I worry that might change with the current state of the economy. But that's a different blog post.
The point is, I can't spend a dime of my hard earned money without toiling over it. I can't have a meal at a restaurant without calculating what sacrifices I'll have to make at home for the rest of the week to make up for exorbitant spending or buy a tank of gas without contemplating canceling my cable service. I know what my means are, and I hate living beyond them. That's the cardinal sin of salt of the earth, lower-middle class people, my people. So, I feel badly for going on a weekend getaway when I should be saving for the unexpected. When I remember how when I was little, Mama was always on a diet, because she was conscious of her weight, but also because she wanted to make sure her husband and two boys had enough to eat. I was raised on my mother's small portions, her practicality. I worry I'll never be as unfrivolous as she is.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Cooking to Assuage
It's a Tuesday night, and I'm sitting at home, y'all. Normally, I'd be out at Barley's for pint night with the boys spending two dollars after two dollars on Sweetwater 420. But the boys, at least two of them, are packing up tonight for big moves on Wednesday and Thursday. Being the ESFJ I am, I've volunteered to wield boxes and furniture in exchange for very little, probably a few beers, on both days. But really that's fine with me. I'm a natural born helper. I get my kicks from feeling like I've done something useful and nice for another. If you don't believe me, check out my personality type.
Anyway, with all this free time I've been cooking up a storm. See, I cook to assuage. I cook when I'm bored or when I've got the blues, and particularly when I feel homesick or lovestruck. I cook as a means of replacing an overwhelming emotion with something productive, creative, and time consuming. I guess I should be writing poems, and I do that too, but cooking has more tangible results. The proof is in the pudding, and there isn't so much delayed gratification. I need commendation now, thank you.
Earlier today I made some veggie quesadillas with things I had on hand: flour tortillas, yellow squash, eggplant, portabellas, cilantro, and cheddar cheese. I wouldn't know how to begin to recount the recipe since I just chopped and sliced and grated and satueed and toasted until I had something that tasted good. But here's about what I used:
Man, did it smell good as it sauteed. Looked pretty too. I piled the filling in between two tortillas and topped with grated cheddar, then toasted the whole thing in the toaster oven, sliced with a pizza cutter, and topped with my delicious homemade salsa.
It was quite yummy, and I think the filling would also be good over pasta or maybe in lasagna.
Ashley came over tonight right in the middle of Jeopardy! because I had a bunch of boxes for him. A pack rat from way back, I kept all the boxes I moved to Knoxville with in a storage room adjacent to my apartment. It was a stroll down memory lane to see all my TCBY and Subway product boxes go away in his Camry, like a piece of my past life as a fast food employee to be forever lost in some storage shed in McMinnville, TN. Oh well, they're just boxes. Plus, in return Ashley gave me all his baking stuff: mixes, sugars, bottles of vanilla extract, more cocoa than I'll ever use, rolled oats, chocolate. I used my bounty to make some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies that I plan on bringing to the Great Moving Event tomorrow. A true Southerner never shows up at an event with out a dish, and I'm hell with the cookies. Once I was unable to successfully complete a batch without burning the bottoms, but I'm learning, y'all. Mr. Sisk has a mean oven eye now.
My cookies turned out just scrumptious, though if I had them to make again, I'd have cut back on the sugars. They are a bit sweet, and that's saying something, because I've got a killer sweet tooth.
I plan to bust them out when we need an energy boost tomorrow. Hope Ben and Ashley like them.
Welp, that's what I've done with my Tuesday. Now I'm going to run and catch Law and Order: SVU. Elliot Stabler is a dream.
P.S.-- I had picture of my food, and I tried 4 times to resize and post them, but the skill escapes me. I'll work on it later, but now SVU!
Anyway, with all this free time I've been cooking up a storm. See, I cook to assuage. I cook when I'm bored or when I've got the blues, and particularly when I feel homesick or lovestruck. I cook as a means of replacing an overwhelming emotion with something productive, creative, and time consuming. I guess I should be writing poems, and I do that too, but cooking has more tangible results. The proof is in the pudding, and there isn't so much delayed gratification. I need commendation now, thank you.
Earlier today I made some veggie quesadillas with things I had on hand: flour tortillas, yellow squash, eggplant, portabellas, cilantro, and cheddar cheese. I wouldn't know how to begin to recount the recipe since I just chopped and sliced and grated and satueed and toasted until I had something that tasted good. But here's about what I used:
- 1 yellow squash
- 1 baby eggplant (both local!)
- 1 portabella cap
- 1/4 white onion, diced
- 2 cloves garlic, chopped
- about 1/4 cup fresh cilantro
- a couple pats of local unsalted butter
- salt, pepper, crushed red pepper to taste
- a squeeze of fresh lemon juice around the pan
Man, did it smell good as it sauteed. Looked pretty too. I piled the filling in between two tortillas and topped with grated cheddar, then toasted the whole thing in the toaster oven, sliced with a pizza cutter, and topped with my delicious homemade salsa.
It was quite yummy, and I think the filling would also be good over pasta or maybe in lasagna.
Ashley came over tonight right in the middle of Jeopardy! because I had a bunch of boxes for him. A pack rat from way back, I kept all the boxes I moved to Knoxville with in a storage room adjacent to my apartment. It was a stroll down memory lane to see all my TCBY and Subway product boxes go away in his Camry, like a piece of my past life as a fast food employee to be forever lost in some storage shed in McMinnville, TN. Oh well, they're just boxes. Plus, in return Ashley gave me all his baking stuff: mixes, sugars, bottles of vanilla extract, more cocoa than I'll ever use, rolled oats, chocolate. I used my bounty to make some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies that I plan on bringing to the Great Moving Event tomorrow. A true Southerner never shows up at an event with out a dish, and I'm hell with the cookies. Once I was unable to successfully complete a batch without burning the bottoms, but I'm learning, y'all. Mr. Sisk has a mean oven eye now.
My cookies turned out just scrumptious, though if I had them to make again, I'd have cut back on the sugars. They are a bit sweet, and that's saying something, because I've got a killer sweet tooth.
I plan to bust them out when we need an energy boost tomorrow. Hope Ben and Ashley like them.
Welp, that's what I've done with my Tuesday. Now I'm going to run and catch Law and Order: SVU. Elliot Stabler is a dream.
P.S.-- I had picture of my food, and I tried 4 times to resize and post them, but the skill escapes me. I'll work on it later, but now SVU!
Monday, January 7, 2008
If I could have anything in the world...
I'd have you.
I mean, seriously, I've got the greatest friends ever :-)
I mean, seriously, I've got the greatest friends ever :-)
Sunday, September 23, 2007
On the topic of friendship
I remember a time when a guy named Dustin was my best friend. We were undergrads, and he was a year older than me. We were always together, doing Young Democrats things or school things or excessive drinking things. He was the best friend I'd ever had, and I knew I'd be close with him forever.
But, he graduated, and I stayed an undergrad for another year, operating in a world of limited responsibility, guarded by the comfortable walls of a college dorm and the trappings of college life. Dustin, on the other hand, moved on into the world after college, getting a full time job, buying a house, having responsibilities I hadn't yet realized in my life. Of course, I was hurt when he stopped being the same old fun-loving Dustin and instead of partying with a bunch of undergrads on a Friday night instead headed to bed early because he was tired from a long week of work. I thought our friendship was irreparably changed because our lives were so different.
But, now I understand what he was going through, at least on a basic level. I've never been so busy or had so much responsibility in my life. All of a sudden, I'm responsible for not only taking but also teaching classes, paying bills on time, keeping house, cooking every night, and keeping on top of a near insurmountable amount of reading. Now, I'm not complaining about my life. I chose this path, and I'm doing just fine. I could probably study more, but I'm on top of things. I love having my own apartment, and I always pay my bills on time. I'm doing this adult thing pretty well for someone who is just starting out.
But the point I'm trying to make is this: My friendships have changed, and I think it's because I've changed. The people I loved more than anything just two months ago have stopped calling me. I assume they are out making the most of the freedom they have as undergraduates without much responsibility. I don't blame them. I think they should waste weekends drinking and dancing and spend late nights during the week going for long walks and having long talks with friends and lovers. God knows I did it, and were I there again, I'd still do it.
I don't blame them for not having time for me, because honestly, I don't have time for them. And that's something that hurts me to say. Because while my life has changed, my responsibilities have changed, they still mean a lot to me. But they no longer hold such a big place in my heart, and I don't know if that makes me a bad friend or just a person whose priorities have broadened. I want them to call me, but I don't know what to say to them. We have different lives now, and we'll grow apart. I don't like growing apart, but I know it happens.
Coincidentally, I've reconnected with Dustin and other friends who are in similar situations as me now. Anne's in her first semester of law school, and we email back and forth to give each other support. Robin, my best friend from high school, has come back into my life in a more active role because she's experiencing her first semester of graduate school in full force, just like me. I've found myself longing to talk to these shadows from my past because we can offer each other so much now. We're all struggling and learning and growing up simultaneously. It helps to have a support system.
I've made plans to go to Oxford, MS, over fall break to see Robin. She's stressed about graduate school, and I think taking a day to talk over lunch and forget about research projects and daunting exams will be helpful for both of us. Plus, I miss her.
What I struggle with now is deciding with what intensity I miss my old life. I long for my undergrad freedom and friends from time to time, but as I explore this avenue of life, my longing for who I was grows less intense. I need to be an adult, and I think I'm doing it right. But I still feel guilty for not longing for those I've recently left behind as much as I think I should. I still love them, and I'm learning now how to love without longing.
But, now I understand what he was going through, at least on a basic level. I've never been so busy or had so much responsibility in my life. All of a sudden, I'm responsible for not only taking but also teaching classes, paying bills on time, keeping house, cooking every night, and keeping on top of a near insurmountable amount of reading. Now, I'm not complaining about my life. I chose this path, and I'm doing just fine. I could probably study more, but I'm on top of things. I love having my own apartment, and I always pay my bills on time. I'm doing this adult thing pretty well for someone who is just starting out.
But the point I'm trying to make is this: My friendships have changed, and I think it's because I've changed. The people I loved more than anything just two months ago have stopped calling me. I assume they are out making the most of the freedom they have as undergraduates without much responsibility. I don't blame them. I think they should waste weekends drinking and dancing and spend late nights during the week going for long walks and having long talks with friends and lovers. God knows I did it, and were I there again, I'd still do it.
I don't blame them for not having time for me, because honestly, I don't have time for them. And that's something that hurts me to say. Because while my life has changed, my responsibilities have changed, they still mean a lot to me. But they no longer hold such a big place in my heart, and I don't know if that makes me a bad friend or just a person whose priorities have broadened. I want them to call me, but I don't know what to say to them. We have different lives now, and we'll grow apart. I don't like growing apart, but I know it happens.
Coincidentally, I've reconnected with Dustin and other friends who are in similar situations as me now. Anne's in her first semester of law school, and we email back and forth to give each other support. Robin, my best friend from high school, has come back into my life in a more active role because she's experiencing her first semester of graduate school in full force, just like me. I've found myself longing to talk to these shadows from my past because we can offer each other so much now. We're all struggling and learning and growing up simultaneously. It helps to have a support system.
I've made plans to go to Oxford, MS, over fall break to see Robin. She's stressed about graduate school, and I think taking a day to talk over lunch and forget about research projects and daunting exams will be helpful for both of us. Plus, I miss her.
What I struggle with now is deciding with what intensity I miss my old life. I long for my undergrad freedom and friends from time to time, but as I explore this avenue of life, my longing for who I was grows less intense. I need to be an adult, and I think I'm doing it right. But I still feel guilty for not longing for those I've recently left behind as much as I think I should. I still love them, and I'm learning now how to love without longing.
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