“Welcome the induction ceremony of . . .

18 March 2005, ~18:00hrs

I swallowed hard and dove deep into the task at hand, clearing my throat . . . “Welcome the induction ceremony of the Beta Iota Mu Chapter of Phi Theta Kappa, International Honors Society . . . “

The induction script, finished but untested, added to the stress of the production. I obtained a new addition to my wardrobe in hopes of correcting my persistent hobbling: a cane. Dressed in all black—the theme for the evening—I was identified as looking professorial with my suit-jacket and limp; a compliment that kept my waning energy from plummeting. Perhaps the German axiom holds true . . . the mileage is what you wear, not your age.

Dr. Scolaro arrived about a half-hour before the event. We went over blocking briefly, but our conversation digressed into the events of last week. He explained that he had also been in two motorcycle accidents, and emphasized/hinted/alluded to the fact that he sold his bike after the second. I replied, “I know, and I’m a big believer in the whole ‘third time’s a charm’ mantra. I understand everyone’s concern and I think this time I’m going to have to comply . . . my guardian angels are feeling overworked and under paid. [laughing] And the ladies in the office have made their intentions clear: one brought the used car section of the Sentinel; one scolded me for a good ten minutes; one brought in an Auto Trader; one gave me her son’s number who is selling his truck.”

After presenting the gist of the coming event, I brought Dr. Scolaro to the pseudo-Green Room and proceeded to greet the inductees and guests. We were running a bit behind, but all advisors agreed that we should wait a few minutes to give two missing inductees the benefit of the doubt.

Once the production started, the script (for the most part) went out the window, and I continued from memory. Dr. Scolaro received a warm welcome from the audience, I introduced him as one of the jewels of Valencia, and the crowd’s reaction confirmed this notion. He gave us the history of our organization and introduced facts that I was unawares. PTK was originally started as a female-only organization established in 1910, he asked us to take note of how forward-thinking it was for there to be an honor’s society for females almost 100 years ago. It was a sight to see . . . Dr. Scolaro’s lecture style.

The ebb and flow of pain waving through my leg kept me fading in and out of coherence, but I was determined to show our speaker his gift. When he finished speaking I got up to thank the good doctor and present him with his gift. I exhibited a bit of dramatic flare in suddenly revealing the PC from under a cape, and briefly explained to the audience the trials and tribulations involved in getting a computer down to the Coalition for the Homeless. Dr. Scolaro looked thrilled.

We wrapped things up later that evening, and Dr. Scolaro and I ‘touched base’ that we would ‘touch base’ over break . . . spring break began after the closing remarks, and I could see that we were both in need of respite. Tentatively, I will get the new PC in there the first class after break.

Oops~

One of the members of the organization I am an advisor for, Phi Theta Kappa, gifted two computers to me to donate to the Coalition For the Homeless. Rita Thomas, enjoying her last semester at Valencia Community College, later will receive an honor stole and tassels to wear as part of her regalia for graduation in May during the next induction ceremony, as a reward for this, and many of her other exemplarily efforts with PTK.

Digging into the computers I found that one was used as a server, thus it did not have a keyboard and mouse port. I gutted the two computers and affixed the Pentium Socket 7 motherboard on the chassis of the computer I would install at the Coalition. The PC’s were installed with Windows ’95 (but I refused to waiver, or twitch from past nightmares for that matter) so after assembling the best parts I could gather between the two, I brought the software needed to upgrade it to Windows ’98 . . . so that I could install the printer drivers (stop me if you’ve heard this one) . . . so that the computer would communicate with the printer . . . so that students of the Coalition may type and printer their reports.

Success! All parts installed and the PC took the upgrade without a hitch. I did run into a problem however when I went to install the printer drivers, a warning message came up stating that the processor wasn’t fast enough to work with the printer. This may or may not be the case; only way to find out for sure is to plug it in. I boxed the computer away and began plotting . . . .

I got into my second motorcycle accident in the past six-months on Friday, March 11th (I’ve been riding for 15 years, but it seems that as of late I am unable to protect myself from random [insert explicative] dissident-drivers) preventing me from delivering the computer for class on the 14th; again I thought of the myth of Prometheus.

But I had a backup plan that might prove to work out even better; Dr. Scolaro was gracious enough to accept my invitation to be the guest speaker at our March 18th induction ceremony for Phi Theta Kappa. It is customary for our organization to find something unique as a gift for our guest speaker; what better gift than a computer that we’ve been trying to get together for the past month or so?

Now it was time to produce a script for the induction ceremony. Luckily, since I am writing it, I can reduce my participation while recovering. I huddled back to lick my wounds, hoping that this computer would work.

Bah, Foiled Again!

07 March 2005 ~19:00hrs

I have always been a lot like Garfield; I dig lasagna, I don’t do mornings, and I really detest Mondays. The similarities between the cartoon-cat and myself that carried the most weight (for this entry at least) manifested on March 7th—the hallmark of hatred toward Mondays.

All the equipment needed to complete the task at hand was within reach; I had all my gear ready to install a CD-ROM drive . . . to update the archaic PC to Windows ’98 . . . to install the print drivers . . . to enable to Coalition students to print their work out instead of having to handwrite all of it.

My frustrations can only be blamed on Mondays because I find no other explanation for not getting the Coalition PC up to par. I suspect that “Mondays” are to blame because everything that could go wrong does when I work on the FHC (Florida Humanities Council) computers on Mondays.

I decided to scrap trying to bring the old computers back to life and go back to the drawing board; I figured I had enough parts floating around to put together a respectable unit. Breathing deeply, I took note of my frustrations, and eventually released them by way of a growling exhale. I stepped outside in the brisk night to observe the moment.
When I reentered the trailer, I noticed one of the students playing Solitaire; in my over-analytical way, I wondered about the individuals’ desire to be left alone, to be entertained, perhaps to escape the moment . . . I was probably projecting more than observing here. The PC would stay so that students can get used to having access to it. It works well as a basic computer and word processor, but because of its age getting it to print with the printer I have is impossible.

The view from within the compound pulses with exclusion: patrol cars speed-by, lines of would-be servitude staggering & switching just beyond the closed gate, and symbols of progress loom overhead . . . seemingly, just out of reach; three cranes sleeping, nestled in the pillow-fluffy fog of night. Just above the entrance to the Coalition, a see one of the cranes dangling above the gate . . . seeming almost close enough to pull oneself out . . . but just outside arms’ length.

I went back inside the trailer where classes are taught and took note of the reduced class-size; it shrank from twenty-five plus to about ten. Professor Sutton went down the role, I noticed the circle of students breaking eye contact and fidgeting when he asked where the missing students might be. I hoped for the best—perhaps a call or message came through placing them under a roof out of town—but I secretly wished they could have finished the course.

Class began and I was engaged from the firsts marks on the board, “Hubris- as in excess, the Greeks did not have ‘sin’ they had ‘excess.’” I did my senior humanities project (Hubris Rising) on the evolution of excessive pride in Napoleon Bonaparte, so I was on the edge of my seat longing to engage in the conversation, but I felt caged by my self-inflicted tenet of “fly on the wall” status. Other Greek works were put on the board and explained (Arete- as in excellence; Sophosyne- moderation / self-control; Kalokagothia- as in balance).

We then watched a post-modern interpretation of Sophocles’ Antigony; my mind wondered to the text we are reading in my class (Sheltered Blues by: Robert Desjarlais). I had many different questions and ideas swimming through my head that I wanted to voice, to either confirm or deny Desjarlais’ claims. Do the facilitators make life harder on the people to try to get them to accept that this is a “transient” institution? I wondered how I could swing admitting myself over spring break to get more honest answers from the residence; to see how they and myself would be treated. A combination of having to work, and the question over ethics made me refrain, but there will be other opportunities.

I stepped outside to take in one final observation for the evening. I noticed the Wachovia building within view of the front gate. I wondered if the residence here knew that there was a broadcast of the Western world on the opposite side of the building, from lack of bulbs: Wacho (pronounced wacko).