Gnorb.NET

You may be wondering why I haven’t been writing all that much recently, at least not the deep, well thought out works of non-fiction literature you come here to enjoy. (At least, in my imagination you’re wondering why I haven’t been writing.) I feel I owe an explanation of that, and finally I feel like I can actually talk about it.

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A pencil and paper.

How many of us have actually picked up a pencil — on purpose, and not because there wasn’t a working pen around or because it was the first suitable writing utensil in the vicinity — in order to actually enjoy the art of writing?

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Look at the picture to the right. What does it look like to you?

If you’re like I was just a few weeks ago, you’re probably thinking “It’s a mug that looks sort of like a flower pot with a handle.” But isn’t it funny how if you walked into someone’s house, asked for a drink, and got it in that mug, you would probably take special notice of it? (Especially since it can hold over a pint.) Maybe you would even go as far as to ask your host a question or two about it, especially if it looked hand made, and even more so if it was the only one of its kind in the house.

This story is about just that, the fact that unlike their mass-manufactured counterparts, handmade items each have a story to tell. It’s also about going pottery shopping for the first time. In essence, this is that cup’s story (with a few addendums).

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I went to the dentist today. I’ve been there a lot recently, seeing as I hadn’t gone for a while. It turns out I have more than a little work to get done. This time around I was taking care of a couple of evil cavities gnawing away at my molars.

When I was brought in to the… uhm.. operating room (I guess), I was told to sit in the oft dreaded dentist’s chair. As usual, the dentist was off finishing another appointment, so I had a few minutes to contemplate not only the impending pain-staking experience, but also also to get bored. Normally, I find the controller for the operating chair, lay it back, and make myself comfortable. (Might as well take a nap while I wait, right?) This time around the chair was turned off, which meant I was stuck in the quasi-upright position the chair defaults to, or as I like to call it, the most uncomfortable position for a chair possible.

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One thing that amazes me about teachers is how much power they really have in shaping their students’ futures, and how sickeningly often they seem to blow it. Don’t get me wrong, I highly respect teachers, but I wish more of them would take courses on leadership, or at the very least people skills. Case and point, “Demon Demma.”

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