SST: Superstition

SESAME STREET TUESDAY

Speaking of superstitions, here's Stevie Wonder:



Nowadays if you're going to perform your hit song on Sesame Street, you have to make it educational by changing the lyrics to be about the alphabet or proper nutrition. Here, Stevie Wonder just throws in a couple of "Sesame Street" wails towards the end of an extended funky jam and calls it good.

Dr. Tanner

On Wednesday morning I had my final defense, the last requirement left in order to complete my Doctor of Musical Arts (DMA) degree. At the end of the defense, I was escorted me out of the room so that my committee could deliberate. After a few minutes the door opened and my committee chair called out, "Dr. Tanner?"

As I preceded to shake the hands of all of my congratulatory committee members, I had the strangest feeling: "So that's it?" Now I know it's been a long road - I've spent nine years in college, years seven, eight, and nine here at Michigan, during which time I've been plenty busy (especially this semester) - but at that moment I somehow didn't feel like I could possibly be a doctor yet. Aren't you supposed to spend years and years toiling away at a dissertation before you finally collapse just over the finish line? Guess I shouldn't complain about that. One thing that I'm really not complaining about - I have somehow managed to get all the way through a doctoral degree without ever taking out any loans or accruing any debt. That's a major, major blessing that I will no doubt appreciate more and more as time passes.

Over the last three years I have shared an office with five or six other doctoral students who are also Graduate Student Instructors. When I first got to Michigan in August 2007, a sage old doctoral student was showing me the ropes and she stressed the importance of staking a claim on a good office shelf. I didn't have anything to stash on the shelf at the time, so I declared my dibs with a little yellow post-it note. Yesterday I cleaned out all of the books from my shelf and saw that the post-it note was still there after three years:

It seemed a proper epitaph, so I left it there. In the fall some new doctoral student will walk in the office, see a piece of prime shelf real estate, think "Who the crap is Brian Tanner?" and rip my memorial down. It's okay though - I left a more permanent memorial (using my nom de origami) out in front of the Walgreen Drama Center:

Too bad that now I can't change it to "Dr. BET."

Sports Superstitions

As the NBA playoffs have been going on, I have been thinking about sports superstitions. Before game 1 of the Jazz-Nuggets series on Saturday night I threw in a load of whites and ended up with more clothes to wash than space in the washer. So I put the extra pieces of clothing back into the basket, but just as I was about to start the cycle I discovered, to my horror, that I had left out my Alta Mortgage Group t-shirt.

It's not like I'm crazy about Alta Mortgage Group and the shirt is a vital part of my wardrobe. It's so huge on me that I can't really even wear it underneath a sweatshirt. In the past six months I've probably only worn it once or twice, probably as part of a pajama ensemble. Why then did it displace a piece of more functional clothing in the washing machine yesterday?

I acquired the shirt on April 28, 2007, the night of game 4 of the first round playoff series between the Jazz and the Rockets. I went down to the plaza of the Energy Solutions Arena in downtown Salt Lake to watch the game on the huge projector screen set up for the occasion. There was a carnival atmosphere on the plaza, with lots of games and entertainers and booths of people handing out free stuff, like the aforementioned t-shirt. I had a great time and the Jazz won and tied the series up at 2-2, but more importantly, Jazz center Mehmet "Memo" Okur finally broke out of a really bad shooting slump and also played impressive defense on Yao Ming. The series eventually stretched out to 7 games and the Jazz pulled off a stunning upset on the road to win the series.

Since then I have felt like that t-shirt was good luck for the Jazz in general and for Memo in particular. Whenever Memo has suffered through a cold streak in the past few years, I have worn the shirt on game days and on each occasion the shirt has either magically cured him (if Memo had a good game) or boosted his morale en route to an eventual comeback (if Memo had a not-so-good game).

Back in the laundry room, although it seemed a little silly, I ultimately decided to dig some other old t-shirt out of the washing machine to make room for the magical Memo shirt. I started the cycle and then went back upstairs to watch the game. In the second quarter, Memo slipped on a drive to the basket and collapsed in pain, clutching his left leg. My first thought was, "Oh no. We are screwed." But then my second thought was, "At least it's not my fault - I washed the shirt."

Now I want you to know that I'm kidding about all this superstition stuff. Sort of. I know that none of my Jazz-related shirts, nor my Jazz hats, nor my Jazz socks have any actual lucky properties. I've been making an effort to be a little less superstitions about the Jazz because as innocent as lucky clothing articles and lucky rituals may seem, they can actually put a lot of pressure on you. It can be really overwhelming if you think the outcome of an event thousands of miles away involving dozens of people you've never met rests on some random decision you make, like which t-shirt you wore that day.* I think as sports fans we resort to silly superstitions because we feel so invested in our teams, but as a mere spectators we have no way to contribute to their efforts besides wearing our lucky shirts.

So last night during game 2, I decided to lay off the superstitions and merely watch the game and cheer them on from afar. It was an amazing game and my man Deron Williams was so clutch down the stretch, leading the Jazz to a close win. And I didn't wear any of my lucky Jazz gear. Then again, maybe not wearing any Jazz gear is good luck...

So the question is, am I alone or do any of you dabble in absurd superstitions (sports or otherwise) too? Or does this type of thinking seem totally foreign and crazy? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments section.

* In Game 1 when Brazilian-born Nuggets player Nenê made a string of great plays late in the game, I thought that perhaps the pair of Brazilian capoeira pants I was wearing were somehow helping him. However, I tried to be logical and resisted the urge to change pants. However, maybe if I had changed pants things might have been different...

The Ties That Bind

I just watched No Crossover: The Trial of Allen Iverson, the latest documentary in ESPN's fantastic 30 for 30 series. Directed by Steve James, director of the great Hoop Dreams, the film tells the story of how Allen Iverson's controversial 1993 arrest tore apart his hometown of Hampton, Virginia. The film was excellent and there were plenty of memorable moments, but one piece of archival footage really jumped out at me:

Jimmy Eason, mayor of Hampton, Virginia from 1982-1998. Check out the tie he's wearing. Now check this out:

That's my tie! This shot appears fifty-nine minutes into the film, and before that I enjoyed the film, but couldn't quite relate to the issues at hand. However, seeing my tie up on the screen made the movie's dissection of race and class in America immediately resonate with my own experience.

The only question is: how did Jimmy Eason's tie come into my possession? I inherited the tie from my former roommate about two years ago, but I'm not sure how he came into possession of it. We can only speculate on this subject, but by applying Occam's Razor (the principle that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one - thank you, Lisa Simpson) it becomes clear that upon leaving public office in 1998, Jimmy Eason moved to Waukesha, Wisconsin, had a lot of plastic surgery, and changed his name to "Todd Lillian."

That leaves only the mystery of the tie's origins - the archival footage proves that it has existed since at least 1993, but I suspect it dates back even further. Indeed, after some serious Googling, I have discovered that the tie has led a very interesting life:




This post is starting to feel more like a dream blog post, so I guess that means I should say good night.

SST: BRRRRRINGG!!!

SESAME STREET TUESDAY

Back in August, I blogged about my very first cell phone contract ending. I was eligible to get a new phone for free, but for some reason I never got around to it until one month ago (and only then because I had an hour to kill while my oil was getting changed and there just happened to be a Verizon store right next door). When I got my first phone I went for the most basic phone I could get my hands on (indeed, it was a discontinued model even then), but now that I am a seasoned cell phone veteran of 2 1/2 years, I decided that maybe it was time for a cooler phone.

So I got one of those slick phones with a slide-out full keyboard because I'm still abysmally slow at texting. However, I over the last month I learned that a) I really don't text all that often, and b) I was just as slow using the full keyboard. Plus, I got annoyed with the phone getting its buttons mashed in my pocket, although I don't think I ever "pocket dialed" anyone (I apologize if I did). And even though I always kept it on vibrate and I would lock the keyboard, occasionally my pocket would blurt out, "Please say a command!"

However, one design flaw dwarfed all my other qualms. Homer Simpson once wisely advised his inventor half-brother that "people are afraid of new things. You should have just taken an existing product and put a clock on it or something." When it comes down to it, the function I use most on my cell phone is the clock, and even pulling up the clock on that new phone was a chore.

Yesterday was the last day of my 30-day trial period with the new phone, so I took that slick little phone back and traded it in for a basic, boring flip-phone. But at least it's a boring, basic flip-phone with a killer clock on the front!

Maybe I just don't understand phones at all:



Editor's Note: This clip is dedicated to the Hacking boys, who just couldn't get enough of the Yip Yip Aliens in "Radio."

Burn Notice

I stepped off the bus outside my apartment several weeks ago and was greeted by this unfamiliar sign:

We live across the street from a small nature preserve and I suppose they were doing a controlled burn to keep the undergrowth under control. It must have been a really subtle burn because I never saw/smelled any smoke.

A few weeks later I stepped outside of my apartment and immediately sensed the faint hint of smoke in the air. Then I rolled on over to North Campus:

This was a really large-scale burning project - they must have burned twenty or more acres. Curious, I got out of my car to have a look. I was amazed at how controlled the fire was - it politely burned away the undergrowth, left the big trees alone, and stopped burning in a neat line when it got to the grass:

There was something really mysterious and romantic about seeing familiar North Campus locations shrouded in smoke.


At first it seemed like no one was tending the fire, but then I walked over a block and saw these guys:


I had fun taking all these pictures, even though I spent the rest of the day smelling like a campfire.

Cookie Party

I got my hands on a pack of cookies at Friday Forum today, so I decided to share them with my voice students. Plus I thought a daffodil would cheer up the old practice room.

How Did THIS Happen?

Post your best theories below!