Bucket List 2015

Starting last year I wrote a bucket list or as I like to call it Adventures. My goal is to accomplish at least 12 items off of the list and write about them. Last year I completed 18 adventures, I only blogged about one. 

This year I'm at a stagnant pass. I've completed some items, but none of them are really adventurous or blog worthy. 

I'm looking for partners in crime or leads to complete some of these tasks. I would appreciate any help. 

The ones in black are currently being worked on. The ones in black and highlighted pink I've completed. Don't worry what is under the yellow.

#memphisblogger #memphisfamous

Comfort

Yesterday evening The Silver Fox and I went on a walk together. When she goes on walks she likes to cut the corners. I like to walk around like I'm working crosswalks, making a giant bubble. In order to keep up with her I have to jog the corners. 

As we are approaching a corner I cut behind her and begin jogging. I look to my right because I hear her footsteps falling in synch with mine. 

"Hey, why are we jogging?" she asks. 

"We aren't jogging. I'm jogging to keep up with you cutting corners."

"Oh. Well you better catch up," she cackles as she cuts the corner while continuing to jog. 

"I'm made for comfort not speed; comfort!" 

That being said, as of this morning I've worked off 10 pounds of comfort. 

West Virginia Black Bear

The Black Bear is the state animal of West Virginia. 

I was a senior in high school when I lived in the East Pear Ridge neighborhood in Huntington, WV. It was a half a day of school and I was charged with picking up my baby brother from EPR elementary school. 

My mom called the house from work. This was a time before cellphones. It's doubly important because she never called unless we were in trouble or had a chore list to complete. She worked across the street from East Pea Ridge at Kmart on 64, and she was frantic that I needed to keep Trey inside the house and be extremely careful when I pickup Blais​e. She said there had been a Black Bear cub wandering around the Kmart parking lot. Nobody had spotted the mother but they are ferocious in protecting their babies. Before we hung up the cub had crossed Highway 64 and was walking up East Pea Ridge.

Sure enough, I go outside and this bear cub is walking up our street! He crosses down the hill, we lived on the top of a mountain but in West Virginia they just call them hills, and makes his way through the wooded neighborhood. 

I drive five street over to the elementary school to pick up Blaise. By that time the bear cub had made it to the elementary school playground! Animal protective services was called, so were the police and fire department. They barricaded us in the parking lot to stop traffic. They encouraged us to get out of the car to watch the excitement unfold. Blaise and I had front row seats to what happened next. 

The bear cub, scared, lost, and confused climbed a tree. The animal services shot him a few times with a tranquilizer gun. We watched as the bear cub became drowsy and fell from the tree. They tagged him and eventually released him back into the woods. Nobody was harmed from a lost, wandering bear cub. 

This is one of my favorite memories I share with Blaise. I can't imagine how scarred I would have been had this bear been unloaded upon with a shotgun. Shameful, just shameful. 

Of course this young bear became irritable, he was being hounded by paparazzi and followed. He's used to living his bear life, not bothered, in the woods. What has changed in 19 years that a young Black Bear is gunned down by a police officer in Huntington, WV instead of being tranquillized, captured, and released back into the wild? 

http://www.wsaz.com/home/headlines/Bear-Sighting-in-Huntingtons-South-Side-309926321.html?device=phone&c=y

Only a Three

I told my best friend this week that every aspect of my life sucks sh*t except for my relationship with her. She laughed and in the way she does saw the good side, "At least I'm a positive." 

On a beautiful Sunday afternoon I'm really struggling with going into work at the DayJob tomorrow. On Friday the Interim Vice Provost came down into the basement "to have a frank conversation with everyone." He proceeds to tell us that he has taken it upon himself to change the rubric for how employee evaluations are scored. The scores are going to remain on a scale of 1-5: 1 is unsatisfactory performance, 2 needs some improvement to meet position requirements, 3 meets position requirements, 4 frequently exceeds position requirements, and 5 is distinguished performance, with decimal points being used as intermediate values to the nearest tenth. However, appraisers will now be grading on a harder scale, a truer scale, a more honest interpretation of employees work, the good as well as the bad. 

He says matter-of-factly, "Nobody is a 5. A person that is a five is glowing - they can do no wrong. And frankly, I shouldn't see many fours either. Most everyone should and will be rated a three. So we won't be seeing overall performance ratings of 90s. Your rating will drop drastically."

I have plenty of issues with evaluations such as the fact that I have never been given goals to reach, merit raises are non-existent, and rewards systems such as Award certificates are neglected. But here are my main issues with the whole situation. If I am going up for a position against a person in another department that is continuing to be rated as a Rock Star and the hiring supervisor looks at my Performance Appraisal and I'm only achieving a 3, I could see where they would have a hard time choosing me. It is going to harm our staff more than help us. I'm not saying to blow smoke when there isn't a fire, but let's be real, some people do aspects of their job and they are on fire. Secondly, he came downstairs in his starched Oxford, with the rigid, wrinkled fabric stretching and pulling so hard that the buttons are straining to stay locked in their holes across his gut, to kick us all in the ego and morale. Each word in his statement beating in, 'Don't fight, don't get up. Don't even bother to strive for a five. You're not a five, you won't be awarded a five. You're not even a four.' That was the least motivational and absolute opposite of team building speech I've ever been forced to attend. 

I'm here to say, I'm not a three. I'm an 11 damn-it! I won't continue to be held to the mediocrity of a three. But, I will definitely need a leader that sees the value of their staff, not just envisioning us as warm bodies meeting position adequacy. 

Living With Your Parents After 30

I swear to Hip Hop Jesus that coming back to live with my parents is going to "kilt me dead!"

I've been up since before 7am, something I don't even do for work. Although I hear their morning noises, water running, shuffling of dishes, vegetables being chopped, it's been silent all morning, not like The Silver Fox's normal marching band routine. They even leave for an hour, while I'm studying.

However, as I am preparing to get on the phone for this interview, a homework assignment, the marching band begins.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhooooooooooohhhhhhhhahw!" The Silver Fox howls at my Dad outside who is weed whacking.

She turns on the Motown/Doo-Wop music channel loud enough so that she can hear it throughout the house as she dusts. "It's in his kiss..." She sings outside my bedroom door.

The clock is counting down closer to 10 when I have scheduled this call.

She's quiet. Just like a child, that's usually a bad thing.

Then I hear it. The wheels are squeaking as they rotate on the hardwood floors. The joints of the machine creak. The cords, still wound in a circle, but unraveled from the machine lands on the floor with a thank-type noise. It's not a thud.

The plug is inserted in the wall, the engine revs and she is howling with the vacuum.

It's 10 o'clock. The vacuum is running, like a drunk driver she is banging into furniture and walls, and she's singing with the music.

I gather my belongings together to sneak out to my office, aka my car. It's the only silent place I can go to conduct business. But with the eyes in the back of her head she sees me, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I have to conduct an interview for school."

It's the only acceptable answer I can give her to get me out if the house. And just like that I'm 17 again asking for permission to leave.

The Press

Last weekend I attended the Memphis Punk Fest. On Friday I was making my rounds and saying hello to all of the familiar faces. One of the musicians I know introduced me to his new bandmate, "This is The Press, be nice to her."

No name, just "The Press, "which would be a fantastic nickname if I were a wrestler. But there I was standing in disbelief. I thought y'all were nice to me because I follow the Golden Rule and of course my charming personality and not to mention good looks.

#BythepowerofGreySkull#thepenismightierthanthesword#hahahaitypedpenis

Granny Panties

Look y'all, I've been real distracted this week and I've neglected to do my laundry. But if this last pair of granny panties (before I have to only wear the sexy ones) slides off my hips and halfway down my thighs one more damn time I'm going to step straight out of them and keep walking.

#damnthosesomebigpanties #didyouloseyourdrawers
#iaintgotnopantieson