A Close Shave

I like having a nice clean-shaven look. I tried having a goatee for a year in college, and while I thought I rocked the goat at the time, in retrospect I looked pretty stupid. It never grew in very thick, so in most pictures from that time, I appear to have a ring of brown dirt around my mouth and chin. I don't think my face lends itself well to a beard either. Much as I'd love to sport the Commander Riker or the Rasputin look, I think smooth is the way to go.

However, shaving regularly means that I have to endure the daily trials and tribulations of the process, and that's starting to piss me off.

I keep getting this damned rash of red bumps on the center of my neck, and no matter what I try, they won't go away. I use the traditional troika of shaving cream, razor, and aftershave gel. I scoured the internet looking for tips and tricks for a better shave, and half of the information contradicts the other half. Some "experts" argue that applying foam liberally over the face before a shave is key. The others say that a light oil is all that is necessary and that the foam actually hinders the shave. Half of internet shavers say that you should stretch the skin with your fingers as you run the razor over your face to get the best shave. The other half claims that you should never stretch the skin because it causes irritation. Some say I should be shaving every day to get my skin used to the shaving process. Still others argue that shaving every day irritates the skin. And all of this doesn't even scratch the surface of the debate between electric versus traditional razors. And in movies, everyone always uses those insane straight razors despite the fact that one false move with one of those death sticks could slice an artery.

How the hell have men been shaving their faces for centuries and not been able to come up with a consensus on how to do it!? Why is it so hard to find reliable information?

There are some tips that everyone agrees on. Alcohol-based aftershaves are apparently terrible for the skin (and yet they're sold everywhere and used as the basis for that shaving scene in Home Alone). After a hot shower is the best time to shave. Replacing your razor blades at least once a week reduces skin irritation. And cleansing the skin before shaving is critical. I've incorporated the first three tips into my shaving regimen, but I haven't yet purchased an actual skin cleanser to use before I shave, so that may be the next step in my quest for an effective shave.

I tried some new ideas, and they failed spectacularly. I bought this special shaving cream that you spread very thinly over your face. The claim was that the cream would cause the hairs to stand up straighter allowing the razor to cut them more effectively. I guess it's like a hair-Viagra. That lasted all of one day. I looked like a lawnmower had just eaten my face for breakfast after shaving with that stuff. I also tried a special aftershave moisturizer, but it left my neck feeling gooey the whole day, and it didn't really do anything for the rash. It'd be nice if products would come with disclaimers like "This substance sucks balls! Do not buy!"

I know it's probably unmanly to bitch about shaving techniques and irritated skin, but god dammit, I have to do it every day! The whole idea behind shaving is to make me look better, so if it's not working right, I want to fix it. If any of you faithful readers out there have had the same problem and found a successful solution, I would love to hear it. My neck will thank you.

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"Two heads are better than one."
"Who said that?"
"I think it was a man who sold hats."

Dude, Where's My Career?

Last week, a gentleman from a local staffing agency called me to inform me of a technical writing position in the area. I recognized the name of their agency as one that I’d used to apply for a job at a different company many months ago. Apparently, they actually kept my resume on file, and when this job opened up, they asked if I’d like to have my resume submitted for the position.

I haven’t been applying for jobs much since my acceptance to the teacher certification program. Every once in awhile, I’ll churn out a resume and cover letter for some editing assistant position, but I’ve gone from sending out two or three resumes a week to maybe one a month. Not only have I been thoroughly and heartily discouraged by months upon months of failure in the job market, but I’m also pretty excited to start the certification program. My inner masochist is just bursting with anticipation to fill my life with long, unpaid hours of hardship, stress, and torment. The sad part is that the previous statement contains no sarcasm whatsoever.

Nevertheless, with someone on the phone asking me if I’d like the opportunity to make actual money dollars without going back to school, I decided to accept the invitation. I sent the man an updated copy of my resume and cover letter for a job opening at a bank in, of all places, Kittanning. Well, actually it’s in the nearby “industrial complex” of Slate Lick, but good luck finding that on a map. This would, of course, mean that I’d be stuck living in Armstrong County for even LONGER, but I figured I didn’t really have anything to lose by accepting an interview.

All of this went down last Wednesday, and the gentleman on the phone told me that they’d be reading all the resumes the following day and that I’d hear from them either Thursday or Friday if they wanted me for an interview. It’s now the following Wednesday, and your humble author hasn’t heard a peep from them. I can safely assume that my resume is nestled comfortably in the “REJECTED” pile on the human resources desk. Even though I’m literally five minutes away from this place and have the general qualifications necessary, I figured that I’d be a long shot since I have no actual technical writing experience.

What baffles me is that I don’t know whether I’m unhappy or not about my not getting the job. A year ago, I thought I wanted nothing more than to trade my hopes and dreams for mountains of filthy lucre regardless of what menial tasks were required. I would have been happy to sell my soul to the corporate world and leave teaching to the suffering of others. I certainly haven’t suddenly developed a conscience, but it’s unsettling to me just how my thoughts repeatedly drift back into educator territory. For instance, I often find myself coming across articles in magazines and thinking to myself, “Damn, that would have been perfect for the Genre Analysis!” And then I catch myself thinking that I try to drown my overactive mind in cartoons and pornography.

I may not be able to handle the day-to-day classroom for decades, but I know that my interests and passions lie somewhere in education. That’s the stuff I like to read about, talk about, write about, or have mental breakdowns about. Just look at how many posts on this blog have the “Teaching” label! There’s certainly a noticeable trend.

I’ll still apply for other jobs because the fact that I’ve never successfully had a corporate job interview really gnaws at my self-esteem, but I’m pretty happy with my decision to go back and get my teaching certification. Once I’m given full reign over a classroom, I’ll have multiple groups of trapped high schoolers who will have to endure my endless Star Trek references and rants about how the hand dryers in the bathrooms leave my hands with a funky residue. Oh, they have no idea what they’re in for!

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"Your life, as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will service us."

One Giant Trombone Led the Big Parade

To amuse myself during this lazy Kittanning summer, I joined the Kittanning Firemen's Band. My two younger brothers and several friends have been trying to get me to join for years, but I stubbornly refused on the grounds that I'm just far too accustomed to being contrary. But I finally broke down this summer, and I'm now the newest tromboner in the band.

Two years ago, the band participated in a parade, but they needed one more person to have the minimum membership necessary to compete. Since my brother couldn't make it, I threw on his uniform, went along with them, and carried the banner. It was simple enough, and there was much drinking and merriment along the way. Since that single instance, the Firemen's Band has sent me all of their newsletters and publications as though I were already a full member. So while I feel that I've only been part of the band for about two months, the books have probably had my name on the roster for two and a half years.

I swore I'd never play the trombone again after high school. Trombone music in high school bands is typically dull and tedious. There are a lot of whole notes and lifeless rhythms that serve to bump up all the truly awesome parts played by the trumpets, saxophones, and clarinets. If we even glimpsed a melody or anything slightly complicated that was labeled "fortissimo," we actually stopped doodling and mocking each other long enough to play what little musical morsels they would decide to throw our way, and we'd make the most of them. I may not have been a very good trombone player, but I could play loud. When in doubt, blow your brains out, and hope that no one will notice that you played the wrong note.

But in the Firemen's Band, the trombones get the melody (or counter-melody) all the time. At one recent performance, I wasn't aware that ONLY the trombones play the melody of "Amazing Grace" for the first half of our arrangement. Since I was the only trombone at said performance, my amateur ass got a solo on one of the most melodic and familiar songs in the band's oeuvre.** Take THAT consistently third-chair high-school JP. You got to rock a solo!

As if that's not enough, the trombones are right out front when we march in parades. In the photo at the top, that's me at the DuBois Parade right in the middle behind the drum major. Since, as with most situations, I tower over everyone else, it looks like I'm either leading the band or that I'm serving as their honorary bastion. Though in that uniform, I look like a mutant Ghostbuster.

Another advantage that the Firemen's Band has over the high school band is the ready (and often free) access to alcohol. I am thoroughly amazed by the huge fanbase that this ragtag group of Sousa-march players has across the state, though I suspect many of them think that everyone in the band is an actual fireman (which is not really the case - the band is simply supported by the Kittanning fire companies). But regardless of their motives, I'm equally impressed by said fanbase's willingness to give us free booze. A consistent stream of liquor could have made those high school football games a lot more interesting.

In a town replete with hopeless and cultureless slobs whose idea of reading involves the pizza shop's delivery menu while they drink themselves into a stupor every night as they're waiting to deal heroin out of the home of their pregnant teenage girlfriend because their brother is still serving jail time, it's nice to be with a group of guys who actually like to do something reasonably enriching in their spare time.

Though I suppose we drink ourselves into a stupor after every performance, so we still have that in common with our village brethren.

** My pretentious use of needlessly complicated words has now extended to music, as well. You're welcome!

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"Do you find something funny about the word TROMBONER!?"

This is Only a Test

For the last few weeks, I’ve been enduring the monumental intellectual task of completing my online community college course. “The Foundation of Education” boasts a challenging and rigorous curriculum that utilizes cutting-edge pedagogical techniques and demands the highest scholarly work from students. Additionally… *cough* … *hack* …. *blergh* … *ahem* Oh, excuse me. I’m choking on the sheer bulk of sarcasm here. I’ll attempt to be more genuine so that it goes down more smoothly.

This ridiculous online course, which I’m only taking as a prerequisite to the teaching certification program at Pitt, is driving me mad. Not only do I have to wade through the tediously repetitive book chapters that are written for a fifth-grade reading level, but I also have to take the most poorly-written online exams ever associated with a course.

Let me be clear. This course is laughably easy. I read a chapter, and then I’m supposed to go online to take a multiple-choice quiz… WHILE I SIT WITH THE BOOK RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. The questions aren’t even challenging. Question 1 comes from the first page in the chapter. Question 2 comes from the following paragraph, and so on. You seriously just roll right through the chapter and answer the questions as you go. I almost feel foolish for reading the chapters ahead of time.

However…

There’s a problem with this seemingly perfect assessment situation: the tests were written by incompetent sub-humans who have no basic grasp of how to write a simple question. I’ve taken three of these online “tests” so far, and it’s a huge blow to my already inflated ego that I’ve missed three or four questions on each one. Of course, they don’t reveal which questions I missed, but I have a pretty good idea.

Here’s a good example of one of the questions:

How many sexually-active high school students admit to using a condom during sex?
A: 25%
B: 50%
C: 75%
D: 100%

Seems harmless enough, doesn’t it? Well, in the section regarding sex education in high schools, the book goes into a bit more detail: “2/3 of sexually-active high school girls admit to using a condom during sex. However, only 1/2 of sexually-active high school boys admit to using one.” That’s all the book has to say on the matter. Do you see the problem? The answer is somewhere between 50% and 75%, but I can’t really be sure. Some basic math tells me that the answer is “closer” to 50%, but it’s not really the right answer. I have no problem with using critical thinking skills to answer questions on a test, but don’t give me a goddamn math problem to do in order to estimate a figure that’s not in the fucking text.

For another choice example, let’s take a look at the book’s section on poverty. The online quiz had a nice little question asking me to evaluate four statements about poverty and then determine which ones were true. Each multiple choice answer offered two or three statements as being correct (meaning that there was at least more than one). However, after scouring that section on poverty and any other reference to it in the chapter, I could only find evidence of ONE of those statements being true. What the hell, test maker?? These weren’t options that could be extrapolated from the existing material either. These were statements regarding data such as “20% of American students live in poverty” or something to that effect. Unless that’s written in the book, how am I supposed to know whether they consider that to be a true statement or not? I haven’t committed to memory random statistical data from other studies for use on tedious online quizzes.

These tests are littered with vague questions. Some simply have two answers that could both be interpreted as correct from a certain point of view, and I’m forced to decide if the test writer was being tricky or if I have to think more like a stupid student. When I took the LSAT back in the fall, they had questions like that too, but they put them there on purpose. They explicitly said that I was to pick the “best” answer even if another answer might have some validity. But these online tests have no such caveat. But the only one they should really put is: “This test was written by a fucking dimwit. Approach with caution, and prepare to be royally screwed.”

It doesn’t help that the professor has a reputation for being a lousy online teacher. Apparently I lucked into getting Dr. Apathetic for this ridiculous course, and while that normally wouldn’t bother me, I highly suspect that he wouldn’t have a lot of sympathy for me were I to send a strongly worded email to him. He’s an English professor too, so he’d likely just give me a lengthy bullshit spiel about academic policy that will save him from having to change the test.

Can’t say I blame him. I’d try to pull the same stunt.

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2/3 of JP’s readers don’t care about this post. How many don’t care?
A: 20%
B: 80%
C: All of the above
D: United Arab Emirates

The After Picture

JP: Making maroon even less manly

Virgil/Contemplator requested a current picture as proof that I actually lost weight, and I can't blame her since making a dubious claim to attract attention and undeserved praise is actually a pretty good idea that I wish I'd thought of earlier. So to appease the skeptical, I took a picture of myself today. I'm not sure why I'm holding my hands out like I'm baffled by the art of photography or welcoming a gaggle of devout worshippers to my cult, but there you have it. That's JP at 253 lbs.

I call it an "after" picture, but it's more like an "in progress" picture. I wisely and tastefully chose to photograph myself with my shirt on, so you can't see the doughy gut and man-boobs that still remain. Maroon may be slimming as well. Also, my blindingly pasty skin may have interfered with the photo, so I think this was the right decision.

And note that I'm wearing a legitimate shirt and not one of my now-discarded button-downed checkered monstrosoties that would so conveniently hide those unsightly jiggly bits. I want fashion points for that!

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And so JP finds himself slimmer than he ever was before, striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap would be the leap home.