the backyard after a tutorial
Hat tip (in fact, the entire hat) to Andrew Shepherd for showing me this little trick. Another backyard treasure.
the backyard and the big lens
Many treasures are hiding out in the backyard, just waiting to be photographed. I managed to capture four before the mosquitos made it clear that in order for me to stay any longer, I had to feed them. I politely declined their less-than-welcoming invitation.
poetry and what teachers make
One of my favorite things that I didn’t do enough of in college was to take a drive 6 miles Northwest from church to Revolution Cafe and Bar in Bryan for Mic Check. I was first introduced to Mic Check by my dear friend and poet Matt Graham (pictured above in all his photoshopped Accordion-bearing glory), who told me of a community of poets and poetry fans who gathered there on Sunday evenings to share their work (and their lives) with one another. He spoke of how much the Mic Check gathering felt like a church (rather, how a church should feel), with its gritty, raw, and sometimes painful honesty.
Upon paying several visits to Revolution on various Sunday nights, I came to fully agree with Matt. I’ve scarcely seen a group of people be so accepting and real with one another. The joys and pains of their lives came out both in their poetry and their conversations. I dare say that anyone who can tolerate smoke and the chance of being hit on by someone of their own gender would easily grow to love this establishment.
The nights I spent at Revolution not only ignited my love for downtown Bryan, but they also piqued my interest in the world of contemporary poetry: including, but not limited to, slam poetry. Every fourth week or so Mic Check would be a slam, and it was on those nights that, at least to the untrained ear, the deepest emotions were brought forth. The passion with which these poems were delivered was, again, reminiscent of a song or sermon’s delivery at any local (life-giving) church. Among my favorite poets who frequented Mic Check is god tha lowercase G, who I’ll gladly plug on odfm.
Below I’ve embedded a video of a particular poet that I greatly enjoy. Though I’ve never had the chance to see him in person (he never made it out to Mic Check), Taylor Mali’s work is truly fascinating. I’d go in to more detail about why I love him so much, but I’ll just let you watch the video (and subsequent videos if you so choose). I will warn you, however, that this particular piece is PG-13, so if you’re afraid of cuss words, curse words, or swear words, you might avoid watching it. But I sure hope you aren’t on that team, because if you are, you’re missing out on an excellent piece of art.
blogs, backyards, and birds
Here at [House Name*] there are (among others) two things that I greatly enjoy. The first is our lush, thriving backyard which boasts more flora and fauna than that of any house I’ve previously called home. On the edge of said yard, where “yard” and “house” meet, stands a generous covered porch that would help tame the sun’s rays from heating up the house if the coverage of the trees weren’t already adequately performing the task. There, between the porch and the house exists the second thing I greatly enjoy about [House Name*]; a vehicle through which myself and others are able to access the beauty of our backyard, both physically and visually: a sliding glass door.
Today as I was browsing my Google Reader for the day’s latest happenings, I sat at my usual place: the corner chair of the dinner table, closest to the window, facing the sliding door, with my laptop. At some point between reading Ross’ piece on prayer and the various items that “tsupe” shared, something happened that — to that point in my life — I’d only heard about.
Something that spawned so much laughter, long-lasting laughter, that I literally had an out-of-body moment in which I watched myself laugh, and laughed at myself.
Something that I wish with all my wishing abilities any or all of my roommates could have witness alongside me.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a blue jay flying towards the house, and in the seconds that followed his or her pain caused my untamable joy. That bird flew square into that sliding glass door that I so relish. It was the loudest thing [House Name*] had experienced since it’s residents left hours before. The bird was able to regain composure of itself just as quickly has it had lost it, and in humiliation (I’m sure) flew to the nearest tree where I’m certain he or she was relentlessly mocked by fellow members of the animal kingdom.
So as the bird flew away, left with nothing but his or her own feelings of inadequacy, I was left with the hardiest laugh of the day, and what I can only imagine is a mix of bird sweat and slobber on the sliding glass door.
*It seems that the house has recently acquired a name, but as I’ve yet to decide on how I’ll announce this new development, it will remain an asterisked piece of anonymity for the time being. Thank you.
D.O. - handyman, manly man
Since arriving back in the greater Dallas area three weeks ago, my hands have been anything but idle. Inspired by the likes of one Aaron Hendrick, I decided that I’d give myself the title of Household Handyman here at [House Name*]. Upon arriving, I gave the house a brief run through and noticed several things that I decided needed fixing or creating. Among the self-prescribed house modifications were
- a loft (and potentially a how-to blog post to go along with it)
- a series of lights to be mounted on various lightless ceiling fans
- tub draining issues that need fixing
- making the toilet flush without requiring the flusher to hold the handle down for the flush’s duration
- (optional) making the disaster that is our back shed less of a disaster
I’m happy to say that I’ve successfully checked two of those bullets off over the past few weeks. Having overcome such hardships as not being able to find a drill in a house of five guys (thank you neighbors John and Kathy for the loan), not owning a truck with which to transport my lumbar (Skylar proved herself worthy and able yet again), and not knowing a lick about the electrical end of ceiling fan installation/modification (many thanks to Harold at Home Depot and my own father) I managed to prevail. Above you’ll see the majesty of my newly elevated bed, scarily close to the fan that has no light. Well, take heart, because now my loft is scarily close to the fan that does have a light!
I’d be remiss if I shared these success stories without noting their respective mishaps. As you can see (and in fact it’s much more severe in real life than in the picture), my mattress is uncomfortably close to the ceiling. I’ve slept in it for nearly two weeks now, and not one night have I managed to avoid hitting one of my body parts on the white spikies of my ceiling. And as far as fan mishaps go, I may or may not have dropped a screw and it’s accompanying washer into the motor housing. But other than that, these recent home improvements are providing everyone (read: me) with great joy and satisfaction in their every day lives.
* The roommates and I have yet to come to a conctrete agreement on what the name of this house ought to be. Perhaps my having shared with the masses that embarrassing tid-bit of information will spur us on to action. Stay tuned. A (less than exciting) name is on its way.
You Decide: the Tuesdays shirt
According to the ever-authoritative source facebook.com, I have 934 friends. I think it is safe to say that at least 900 of those friends would know exactly what I was talking about if I made mention of my Tuesdays shirt. Not only would these people know what I was talking about, they probably hold moderate to strong opinions on the particular garment. Sadly, most of these opinions would be negative.
I’ve been confronted by more than one person over the past few months about the shirt you see pictured above. I’ve decided to put this issue to rest once and for all by utilizing the far-reaching power of odfm.
I’d like to take this opportunity to explore some of the main points that these nay-sayers bring up, and I’ll close by countering with my own subjective points. Think of it as a The People vs. D.O. volume II.
D.O., I hate that shirt and you should get rid of it because…
- it has holes in it. There’s no way of looking at that shirt without seeing at least one of it’s holes. The sleeves are literally fixing to fall off as soon as the various holes along the armpit seams become one big one…
- it has paint stains from various different paint jobs you’ve done while wearing it.
- you can be seen wearing it in your high school year book… and you’re not even in college any more… I can’t believe how lame you are.
- “you’re tacky and I hate you.”
- you usually don’t even wear it on Tuesdays anyway.
And to these accusations (read: loving rebukes) I have the following responses, respectfully and respectively:
- Those holes add character, not to mention the all-important function of breathability in the unruly heat of Texas summers. And it’s got a very long way to go before it becomes sleeveless, thank you.
- Those paint marks bring back fond memories of the jobs that defiled the sacred cloth that is the Tuesdays shirt, yet the shirt prevailed these hardships, did it not?
- Vintage is in… I think…
- See me after class.
- Well since I think that’s such a weak argument, I’m going to ignore it and just add in the fact that because of the Tuesdays shirt’s yellow hue, it readily hides any and all crusty pit stains that the shirt may or may not have had for the past few years… And while I’m adding points, it is worth noting that I only have one shirt in my closet softer than ol’ Tuesdays, and who in their right mind pulls their second softest shirt out of the rotation?
So with that, I give you a poll. This poll will be open for an entire week, unlike the last one which was only open for 24 hours. Everybody should have ample time to think and pray over which option they end up selecting. And I’m going to stick with whichever option wins. Promise. Happy Voting.
Sorry, there are no polls available at the moment.
my mom’s 24th mothers day
When I was a kid things like Christmas, birthdays, and other holidays were a little easier than they are now. They were simpler times. I didn’t have to worry about remembering my parent’s birthdays or things like Mothers or Fathers day, not to mention gifts for those and other occasions. Instead of spending my time thinking about the next noteworthy day, I could go about my very important daily routine of coming home from school, jumping on the trampoline, building things out of Legos or K’nex, and arguing with my sister. On the eve of the days that fail to excite kids (or teenagers) my parents would remind me that tomorrow was Such and Such Day and that I needed to make the appropriate person a card.
I made some doozies too. They were legitimately funny. In recent years I’ve looked at some of the cards I made back in the little-D.O. days, and more often than not I’m truly impressed with my adolescent creativity. I’m afraid 12 consecutive years of public school may have killed that creativity, but that’s a whole different post. I always wrapped my prodigitical cards up by throwing a little signature in tiny script in the center of the back side of the hamburger-folded paper card, emulating the Hallmark logo on the cards you pay for. My parents loved that. They’d have loved whatever I threw together, but I think they especially loved the little “Derrick Oliver Cards” logo.
This brings us to present day. Now that I’m a college graduate with an incredibly lucrative part-time job, all of the sudden is seems that homemade cards and even my presence aren’t enough. Gifts are apparently a requirement these days, and I’m about the world’s worst at gifts.
So I figured that this year for Mothers Day, I’d use the power of my less-than-popular blog to tell the entire world that I didn’t forget Mothers Day, and that I love the mother with whom I’ll be celebrating this year: my mom. And how better to say you love your mom than to post a picture of the two of you dressed up at a wedding? No better way comes to my once-unrealistically-creative mind.
I love you mom! Thanks for having me, and then keeping me, and then putting up with me, and loving me in spite of the fact that you more often than not hate the way I look.
scrabulous: four moves in…
I don’t recommend you challenge me in Facebook Scrabble (more properly, Scrabulous). Then again, you’re welcome to challenge me. I’ll gladly take another “W” in my stats.
on blogging…
“Blog”.
That’s got to be one of this day’s most well-known words that didn’t exist a decade ago. Everybody and their dog has a blog these days. If you find yourself in a group of Internet-savvy people and you asked them if they either have a blog, or read blogs, I bet the great majority of them would say yes. It’s really pretty fascinating.
While working in Philly, I spent a great portion of my time reading hundreds and hundreds of different people’s blogs. That, in and of itself, is really insane. The idea that a complete stranger a thousand miles away can sit down at their machine and divulge any and all information on their opinions, life events, kids, etc., and that I can read (and even comment) on that… it’s a little weird. Arguably weirder still would be to regularly read that stranger’s (or unknowing acquaintance’s) blog without their ever knowing of my e-presence.
Blogs (and in a broader sense, the Internet) allow people to do something that most people in the history of the world haven’t been able to do: be heard. Anyone and everyone with Internet access can spend less than half an hour at a keyboard and within seconds of pressing “Publish” every other Internet user on the planet can read what they just said. Sure, most people won’t, but the fact that they can is truly fascinating… and again, a little weird. And since so many people can so rapidly access such a broad array of information in the blogosphere, some blogs become unfathomably popular in a very short period of time. Others don’t become popular at all, but their authors pretend like they are anyway, so they design web banners for them that they post on their myspace pages, never to be clicked.
Not all things about the blogosphere are weird though. In fact, I submit that the good’s far outweigh the bad’s when it comes to blogging. No doubt they have the potential to ruffle people’s feathers, but they also have the potential to warm your heart and to keep you up to date on loved ones who live far away. As my last visit to the Station came to a close and I was bidding my beloved Hendricks farewell, we conceded that it was a comfort indeed to know that if nothing else, we’d be able to keep in touch via each other’s blogs. It’s certainly no substitute for sitting on their couch, drinking their sweet tea, and playing with their kids, but it’s way the heck better than nothing (especially with gems like the afore mentioned heart warmer).
All that to say, I think blogs are fascinating. I love them. I love mine, I love reading others’, and when I’m due to update mine but don’t have high enough caliper material just yet, I just spend five paragraphs talking about them.
There is one thing about blogs that I just cannot wrap my mind around though. It has come to my attention that some people who read multiple blogs do so without subscribing to them via an RSS feed. This is simply no longer acceptable. Do yourself a big ol’ Cinco-de-Mayo-favor and add Google Reader to your Google repitoire. It’s about as easy as typing “derrickoliver.com” and pressing Enter. And if you use a different RSS reader, may I suggest setting up a Google Reader account anyway? It’s a little harder this way, but not much. Just look for things like “Export” on your existing reader and “Import” over at Google Reader… and you’re done.
So there’s what I think about blogs. What say you? (Self-promotions allowed in the comments section of such a post as this).
happy birthday odfm!
It’s really remarkable how quickly they grow up isn’t it? It seems like just yesterday, inspired by Joshua Langston’s late blog, I set up an account with blogger to keep my friends and family up-to-date with my Oriental travels. When prompted to come up with a name for my new creation, I chose one I thought both clever and appropriate: online diary for the masses. Back then odfm boasted approximately 8 readers spanning across a single state in the US.
But now, exactly three years since the debut post, odfm boasts at least 10 readers representing the farthest corners of the cornerless Earth. It’s convenient when 5 of your 8 original readers move to various countries, and keep reading your blog. It makes it look like Asians, Africans, and Europeans read it, when in fact it’s just Americans using Asian, African, and European Internet connections. But oh the blogosphere-cred that comes with such an international readership!
So in order to celebrate such an exciting day, I decided to have everyone who has ever contributed to odfm meet up in the early morning in my new dining room-kitchen combo for a Birthday Party/Reunion/Informal Conference Extravaganza (B-PRICE). It was a truly magnificent gathering. Some of the greatest minds in modern online time-wasting were present. Below is a candid picture I managed to snap during the festivities.
At the B-PRICE, odfm’s contributors from over the years discussed important issues facing odfm in a series of breakout sessions. Such issues included, but were not limited to:
- odfm in a post-post-modern age
- odfm’s steady decline in quality content over time
- Jiffy News: A debate on whether or not to re-launch
- Remember When? (A session for contributors to odfm during the blogspot.com and wordpress.com years)
- odfm and its illiterate subscribers
- Adequately Blogging B-PRICE: How to do it effeciently and effectively
Needless to say, the celebration was an enormous success, and it allowed odfm’s contributors a chance to have many necessary conversations regarding the future of the blog none of your friends are talking about™. The conclusion that the “Adequately Blogging B-PRICE” came to was to let the readers of odfm share their stories in the comments section of how they celebrated odfm’s 3rd birthday. They thought about having readers share their all-time favorite odfm post, but they quickly realized that would most certainly yeild the ever-dreaded “zero-comment-post.” As such, they went with the “Share your Celebratory Story” idea instead.
So there’s your invitation readers. I know you guys are itching to share the creative ways which you and your loved ones chose to celebrate this momentous day. No celebration is too small to share! Don’t be shy. Even if your celebration only consisted of skipping work and re-reading every entry that odfm’s ever published, that is share-worthy. Plus, you sharing your Celebratory Story will give those uncreative types ideas for next year when America’s favorite holiday rolls around again!