Juror No. 8

In the midst of the crazy that went along with moving, I got a jury duty summons. Naturally.

I had to report last week.

Since the last time I had to do this, they built a new courthouse. The place is stunning with all sorts of nice amenities. I'm talking about plentiful outlets for devices, available wifi, flat screen TVs, and laptop stations.

But it's still jury duty. And eventually we got called to go to a courtroom.

First, they called 18 of us (of the 50 or so sent down) to start out "in the box". I was selected as lucky juror number eight.

My brain wandered as the charges were read. Too many codes. Most had to do with gun charges. Apparently, the two defendants were alleged to have been involved in some sort of gang violence.

The news got even "better" from there. The trial was projected to take ten business days.

10 DAYS!!!

The judge started with the usual questions--occupation and jury duty experience. Before we got too far into it, noon hit and it was time to break for lunch. We were to be back at 2 o'clock.

It was not a peaceful lunch for me.

We were all outside the courtroom on time. We waited. And waited. People came in and out of the courtroom, but no one to bring us back inside (we had been told to wait in the hall when we returned from lunch). Finally, a clerk came out to inform us that it would be five more minutes. I wasn't looking at my phone, but it felt like longer before the clerk came back out.

The clerk said the "alternates" could go back to the jury room. They were dismissed.

Uh...

When someone asked about those of us already in the box, she informed us that we were all dismissed. With a "thank you for your service..." goodbye.

Whew. That was way too close.

At this time I'd like to thank juror number five. I'm convinced that her discussion with the judge (about how she wasn't sure how she'd feel about defendants who didn't testify) convinced someone to settle the case. Because they must have settled. Right?

A little over an hour after that we were dismissed. And I now have 12 wonderful months free from any sort of jury duty summons.

Silent Witness

It's Tuesday, so it's time for my weekly random question...

I just finished watching this week's Doctor Who episode in which the Doctor posited his own what if...

Don't worry if you haven't seen the episode. It's not really a spoiler as the Doctor said this early on. 

What if we all have a silent companion with us our whole lives? A companion who we never see, but is with us all the time?

Okay, so it wasn't quite phrased like that (I probably should have stopped the DVR and wrote it down as he said it), but it's kind of the gist. It's an interesting thing to ponder. It's also interesting to take the question away from the show and see where you can go with it.

Fake Amanda

It's 9/11 and #ThrowbackThursday. No, I'm not going to do a 9/11 tribute. There are others (many others, I suspect) who will do this, and they will do this much better than me. Today I'm offering something silly that was originally posted on February 22, 2008.

Today I covered a 7th grade world history class.

I needed a silent room. I was not getting it. So, I warned them: "I will take down the names of those who continue to talk." This only works when I cover some teachers. Ms. T is one of them.

They fought me on it for a moment. I stared down the few whose names were going to be on my list. Then one of the girls (the talkers were all girls in this group) told me to write down her name. "I'm Amanda," she said.

She offered up her name way too easily. I was suspicious. I checked the seating chart. Sure enough, Amanda sat in that seat. But she did not look like an Amanda. She did not feel like an Amanda. I was sure I was being lied to.

Twenty minutes later (I had gotten my silence, so I didn't need to make my list) two other students were exchanging words. "Amanda, I have it here." The first student was talking to a different girl, not the one who claimed to be Amanda. I knew it!

After a quick perusal of the seating chart, I figured out who the fake Amanda was. Joanna. I was pretty sure. The two girls had probably switched seats.

Then someone called to the fake Amanda, calling her Joanna. I was right.

I don't know why they do this. I don't know what they get out of it. Today? They get honorable mention in my note to their teacher.

Hidden Controls

It's Tuesday, so it's time for my weekly random question...

This one has a kind of convoluted explanation. It all started when I uploaded a new uninstaller program (Revo Uninstaller).

Years ago, I installed a program that gave me access to stunning photographs that I could use as wallpaper for my computer, and the screensaver was a slideshow of a bunch of those pictures. It was great. I used it all the time.

But, the website went from being easy to use to needing a paid subscription to access that which I used to be able to access. It was no longer worth the trouble. I tried to uninstall the program...

...and broke my computer.

Well, not really. There were some things that kind of got left behind in the uninstall, and the only way to fix them was to reinstall the program. It made a couple things (like changing my wallpaper) difficult, but it was better than the issues that arose after the uninstall.

The new uninstaller program purported to find those left behind little tentacles and remove them. Once the troubling program was uninstalled (with no ill effects!), I went about uninstalling little things that I didn't realize were on my computer. Programs that I had no idea were there. And that's when I found it.

I have no idea when a Sims game got installed. I never play it. And that's what gave me the idea for today's what if.

(Don't ask how I got from the above to this question. My brain made a leap. That's all I can say.)

What if we are a projection from someplace else (perhaps controlled as in The Sims) and the thing that makes us possible is a device that is present in our world, but hidden? What if someone found that device and didn't know what it was (or did figure it out)?

Occupational Hazard

For this week's #ThrowbackThursday post, I'm revisiting the post I referenced yesterday. About having seen The Outsiders more times than I care to admit. It originally appeared on May 29, 2009, so I've experienced the first 50 minutes of this movie a few more times since then.

"I've seen this movie fifty times."

Yeah, but have you ever watched the first 55 minutes six times in a row? Then you have nothing to complain about.

I'm feeling a bit snarky as well as cranky. It's 5th period, and this is my fifth time through the first 50-odd minutes of The Outsiders. (Six periods in a row doing the same thing.) I'm slowly losing my mind.

This is by no means the first time I've experienced this. I know the drill. The first time through is when I'm interested. Period 2, I get to see things I missed the first time through, and I catch on to other nuances. By period 3 I'm a little bored. By period 5 I have to have something else to do.

To make this viewing more interesting, I have two girls who will not shut up. I've asked, shushed, cajoled, and threatened. Fine. If they won't listen to me, then perhaps they will listen to their teacher. I've listed their names (with *s next to them) in my note.

The period is nearly over. I know because I just looked up and the church was on fire. (No need to consult a clock anymore.) Finally.

I only have to watch this thing one more time. What am I going to do? I need something. I. Can't. Watch. This. Again.

And the worst part? First 55 minutes: 6 times. Last 35 minutes? Not at all.

The church on fire still is my cue to wake up (figuratively--I don't sleep in class!) and get ready to end the period. And nowadays I don't even need to watch that first period because I know this movie so well.

Wasted Effort

So, there's this one boy. Let's call him Noah. I've encountered him in class a few times now, and every single time he's tried to convince me that the lesson plan that the teacher meant to leave (but didn't leave) was a video.

I don't know why students do this. I have a piece of paper with the teacher's wishes on it. Teachers tend to be pretty clear in lesson plans. And no amount of begging or wheedling or complaint is going to change what that piece of paper says.

And in many cases, I have no access to videos anyway, so it's not like I can pull something out of thin air. Even if I wanted to. Which I don't.

This day, it was an English class. They were reading The Outsiders. And the lesson plan was to watch the beginning of the movie version.

(To which I inwardly groaned. I have now seen the first 50 minutes of The Outsiders at least 20 times.)

Noah was in 3rd period. I introduced the class by saying something along the lines of "you've been reading The Outsiders..." Noah chimed in with, "But it's better to see the video first."

Um...

The TV was out. The board said "Movie: The Outsiders". I thought it was pretty clear that we were actually going to watch a video. Yet, Noah was winding up to try to "convince" me to show a video.

By 3rd period, I even had the technical difficulties sorted. (When I wheeled the TV from the corner to the middle of the room, something jiggled and the DVD player and TV lost power. And the kiddos in that class seemed to think that someone needed to come up and help me restore power. Even though I knew what I was doing, and managed to get things going in not much time at all.)

I guess it's a reflex on Noah's part at this time. But it was kind of funny to watch.

Blank Slate

It's Tuesday, so it's time for my weekly random question...

Last week as part of the Liebster Award, I asked my nominees for a "what if" question. Romi C. from In the Way Everlasting came up with this one, and I'm shamelessly stealing it. (Please stop by Romi's blog to thank her for the wonderful question.)

What if you woke up one morning and you discovered you had become invisible?