A Ramble

Lots of things going on in the world. Not much of it good, either. In my position, as a partially-disabled, unemployed American, I have lots of time on my hands, my mind begins to wander about, among the junk that lies in there, picks out a topic, and I spend some time thinking about it. Lately, it seems, I keep finding 2012.

Yeah, I know, end of the Mayan Calandar, yada, yada, yada. I'm not going to don my sandwich board, claiming the end is near, but it makes me wonder. There is conflict in the Middle East, and if Iran goes nuke, we're definitely looking at a major disaster brewing. 2012? Weird, huh?
I think the thing that scares me the most is that, left unchecked, the current administration and its progressive followers are bent on destroying the Constitution. With tentacles invading the banking, auto, and health-care industries, we are losing our rights to competition. Soon, if they keep having their way, we are looking at a nationalized system like Venezuela's. Hugo Chavez is almost idolized by Obama, where the hell are we going?
I've been watching the Tea Party Movement, and it seems to be growing. I have to admit, their basic ideal: "Taxed Enough Already," has my approval. The thought of "redistribution of wealth" through controlling the industries that provide the greatest portion is scary, scary, scary. Even the idea that Government knows what is best for me smacks of Orwell's Big Brother. Are we headed in that direction?
To say that I love my country is a great underestimation. I spent my youth in the Nation's service, and regret nothing. It's the time that I spent outside of the U.S. that has given me a chance to appreciate our Constitution, and the protections it provides. Many's the time I've stood at attention, while on deployments, and wiped tears from my eyes at the raising of our flag, and the playing of our National Anthem. Despite my training and education, I lack the ability to describe what it feels like, just knowing that Home is there.
Our nation, even after 234 years, has yet to find it's full potential, although we lead the world in innovation. Trust me, I've met many, many people across the world who would love to be here in the USA. I've also met those with the attitude of "American, phoey!" Most of them would love to live here, but would never admit it. I've never had problems communicating with any citizen of my host country. English is a required language, world-wide, and is taught to students at an early age. Even the ones who protest to not speaking English show a great deal of linguistic fluidity if approached appropriately.
I learned, phonetically, to be able to regurgitate phrases in Greek, Italian, French, Spanish, and Japanese. Stuff like "I do not speak [language]. Do you know someone who speaks English?" The results were amazing, well, at least to me... Suddenly, I was treated like someone who had taken the time to have good manners. Communication became easy. I was even able to make friends with a group of Russian sailors, one of whom spoke English fairly well. How much of that was vodka, I couldn't tell you...
I never understood why English was so important abroad, until I took a "History of the English Language" course at Chico State. Our Professor, Dr. Harriett Spiegel, PhD, asked if anyone knew what the most commonly spoken language was. Guesses were made, Spanish, English, Mandarin Chinese, and Dr. Spiegel wrote them down, in that order. Then she told us that we had three of the top five, and reordered them Mandarin, English, Spanish. English was the second-most common, behind the 6 billion Chinese speakers. She asked if we knew why this might be, and laid out the many things done in English, like air travel and technology. The list was long, and I realized why it was so easy to find English speaking people while abroad. It's also one of many reasons why people dislike us. I get it; got it a long time ago.
I admit to being somewhat of a chameleon, I seem to be able to blend in at just about any occassion, and with any group. I've been in, what at first may seem, awkward situations, getting aquainted with various groups of people, but find myself being accepted wherever I go.

Vocational Rehab for a PhD?

I have the form, typed the cover letter, and will shortly mail my request for Vocational Rehabilitation, now that I've been rated at 30%. If you've read any of my crap, you know I have a thing about being a teacher. You also know I have a bad back, and that picking up for public school kids was killing me. Some of my former coleagues tell me it's only getting worse.

And I thought, about two years ago, about getting my MA, or PhD, and teaching at community college. Two years ago, I wasn't in a position to do the studies, a PhD is not cheap, no matter where you go, or what you have for help. Now that I've broken the 20% level, and I have a new award letter, the question is: Will the VA pay for my PhD? At age 60?

Okay, okay... I'm not taking drugs, haven't drank in years, but if I can no longer manage the custodial chores of a public school classroom, doesn't the VA help me to get into a position to where I can still do the job I love doing?

Sorry, I know this is pretty self-serving, but I haven't worked in three years. I'd like to do it again, before I'm no longer able. I'd make a good college professor for a JC. I could work a couple of classes, two or three times a week. Not a whole lot of stress. Sounds to me like Heaven.
Doctor Martin... has a nice sound. Kinda flows off the tongue nicely. Yeah, I know it isn't like that, but when you can put PhD after your name, people tend to pay a little more attention.
Right now, it's a fantasy; tomorrow, who knows? I've heard of Voc Rehab doing other things, why not finance my graduate program? I mean, c'mon, give a brother a break, eh?
Oh well, guess we'll see...
Back on Planet Earth, had my back "shot" back in June. Usual response, but feeling a twinge at under 30 days. EZ told me, from Day 1, that the effects would not last forever, and sooner-or-later not work at all. aheu9pyqef8v Pardon, just got a chill thinking about that.
Ah, well, screw it! No one ever told me that aging was "fun," although the conveniently neglegted to mention that it began to hurt.