Bliss

by Brad Posted on January 18, 2012

Christmas 1995, I left Cincinnati and set about my adventure into the real world. I had $2,000, no job, and no place to live. That seemed about right.

I was down to my last $5 when I got two jobs on the same day: barback at Planet Austin on 6th Street and waiter at Trudy’s North Star.

Planet Austin is no more (although I still keep up with friends from there), but Trudy’s remains.

Sixteen years later, a small group of folks who worked there gathered in South Austin. We’ve stayed friends throughout the years, a fact I’m grateful for every day. Our little band of pranksters has grown throughout the years. The numbers are too large to worry about.

For me, though, when I think of Austin, I think of this:

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366 Days, or The Year of Us

by Brad Posted on January 3, 2012

The New Year used to mean very little to me, another day on the calendar. One more step towards the Great Oblivion when I could finally rest without the burden that addicts know too well.

It was Amateur Hour, the day when the whole world acted like I did the other 364 days of the year.

Most of the time, I stayed home, got drunk (one of the few times I would get drunk at home), and passed out while watching The Magnificent Seven.

Just a hair past three New Year’s Eves ago, I sobered up and the day took on a new meaning for me. As it has for so many others, the day became a benchmark in my life, a time when I could take the very long, very personal inventory of my life so that I might live with purpose.

It is, I suppose, very human to do so.

As with so many other parts of my sober life, I have taken that very basic human tick and turned it into a guidepost by which I live my life.

***

Each December, as the year winds down, I set about creating a singular goal for myself for the next year. The goal isn’t a resolution; those are too easily tossed aside. Instead, I create a mantra to help me focus my life on what I believe is most important.

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An Open Letter to My Students: The Only Advice I Really Have

by Brad Posted on December 12, 2011

I talk about Tigger oftentimes in my classes. Without a doubt, it’s one of my students’ favorite lectures. It’s always fun to see #tigger fill my Twitter stream as they face adversity. It reminds me that words can change everything and stories have a power greater than anything else in the universe.

But it’s important, I think, to also let my kids know that not every situation works out in your favor. Despite your best efforts, the world may conspire against you and very bad things may happen. A bright outlook does not lead to a bright outcome.

This particular point does not absolve you from the righteousness of the Tigger Talk; however, it does mean to fully prepare you, you must know the other side of Tigger: that sometimes very bad things will happen.

I bring this up because a student called me last night. This student is in a bad spot, and they were looking for something although I suspect they weren’t sure what.

I know that place, the emptiness that comes as you prepare to face consequences. It wasn’t so very long ago I stood in front of a judge and pled guilty to a D.U.I after spending a very long day in jail. I went before the judge without hiring a lawyer or contesting the facts. I had done the crime, I said, and I couldn’t very well be a teacher who demanded students be accountable for their actions if I wasn’t accountable for mine.

I was terrified as I stood there. (“I would very much like to not go to jail,” I said when the judge asked me if I had anything else to say before sentencing.) I know that dark place my student resided, and I knew there was nothing I could tell them to make it better.

Yesterday — as I am more often than I care to admit — I was a lone voice in a dark hole.

Just a few minutes ago, I sent this email to the student at the end of what was likely the worst day of their life. As I wrote it, I realized what I wanted to say to one, I wanted to say to all.

[Coincidentally, it's 1 year and a day from this Open Letter to My Students. There must be something about December 11.]

The Only Advice I Have That Really Matters

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In Which We Get Engaged

by Brad Posted on November 27, 2011

This past February, I had a discussion with my friend Meggie about the idea of Love and Valentine’s Day. I don’t believe in much, but I am a Romantic at heart and I believe in love. I have never doubted for one day that it exists, and that it is the most powerful force in the universe.

I wrote A Valentine’s Day Treatise as my argument for why I believe Feb. 14 is the most special day of the year.

I knew this to be true in February. I knew this to be true 22 days ago. And I know it to be true more than ever.

Here is our story.

***

Thanksgiving with the Carneys 1. In Which We Talk, and Then Don’t

Her picture appeared in my Eharmony mailbox sometime in October. I’m not sure when. I just remember her picture because of her distinct grey streaks. And the traveling. Her picture were scattered across the globe.

Still, I was busy — as I’m always busy. I assume that I sent the first contact request but I couldn’t even tell you that for sure. (If you’re not familiar with the Eharmony system, you have to go through a series of automated steps before you can send someone a direct message. It’s all part of that system’s cognitive approach to dating.)

We slowly exchanged information. Every few days, one of us would respond using the multiple-choice menus that pigeon-hole your answers to questions like, “If you’re in a social situation with your partner, how would you act?”

By the time we reached the open question phase where one person asks three questions that require long-form answers, I was heading out of town for two weeks.

I set the communication aside — she was the only one I was speaking with — and set about my travels fully intending to respond to her when I had time, but not convinced this would lead anywhere in particular.

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As We May Read

by Brad Posted on November 20, 2011

I’m going to begin this little essay with the pitch:

I’m working on a two-year research project that will examine how people read, extract what makes the experience pleasurable, and prototype how that experience can be re-created in a digital environment.

There two reasons I’m doing this:

  • I’ve returned to graduate school, both to update my current skill set and to learn new frameworks for thinking, and this project will be the eventual final project for my schooling; and
  • I believe reading — and storytelling — is at the heart of humanity, and as we move into the digital reading age, I want to explore what that means for us.

If you have some time, please take a few minutes to help me understand how you read today.

My hope is to reach 250 people so that I can create a series of personas related to reading. While I will be publishing this work academically, I will be releasing the results of the survey publicly. (Information wants to be free.)

But I’ll also be sharing this journey with my students (and you) in hopes that they begin to see science, creativity, and school in a different way.

**

In 1945, Dr. Vannevar Bush — the man who founded the National Science Foundation and revolutionized how Americans perceived science — wrote an amazing think piece in The Atlantic called “As We May Think.”

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Us

by Brad Posted on November 7, 2011

All stories are small, I tell my kids. If you find yourself unable to write – the so-called writer’s block – it’s probably because you’re trying to be too big. You’re trying to write something so universally true that there’s simply no way for it to exist, and you sit in front of a blank screen.

I know this about writing, and about life.

And yet sometimes everything changes – everything – and the idea of writing small seems overwhelming difficult because when everything changes how can that be tiny?

**

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The Thing I Didn’t Finish Today

by Brad Posted on November 5, 2011

I awoke off just a bit.

The alarm on my Xoom tablet went off: first at 5:10 and then again at 5:20. I got up at 5:40 after falling back asleep. Losing 20 minutes wasn’t a disaster — I build spare time into my race mornings — but it did set the tone.

I was rushed, annoyed, and bothered.

I showered, dressed, grabbed my Nathan as well as the assortment of little gear, and hit the road blasting Glee’s Rocky Horrow to try to change my mood.

At 6 am, the temperature was 28 degrees, cold enough to pull out my thermal gear for the first 19 miles when the sun would finally peak out and start warming things up. When I parked, I reached back to grab my equipment bag…and it wasn’t there.

The black mood came back.

There was already doubt in my head about my fitness. Less than 2 weeks removed from the St. Louis marathon, my legs and heart never felt fully recovered. Last night I started to feel normal, but I knew it was going to take a perfect day for me to survive.

Now: my mental state was shot.

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