Creation

So, at your suggestion, sister, I've decided to create a blog.

I love you and Laura's blog (does anyone know the grammar rule on that? When you indicate possession for more than one person? It's been bugging me for years...), and I want to become a frequent visitor of it. Maybe being a fellow blogger will help me in that endeavor.

I'm sure I'll end up neglecting this in the midst of things, but I'm kind of excited nonetheless.

Well... for curious parties, should you exist, here is what I did today:

Upon arrival at the high school, and then upon some waiting, Des and I boarded a bus to go on another trip with Mrs. Falls (the very one) and Coach Barron. Last Friday we went to a county jail, and this Friday found us bound for a police academy.

As we all know, one cannot begin a true high school field trip without first making a rushed stop at the local doughnut shop. So, we all piled in the building, taking up about half of the shop space with the line we created. One woman was working alone behind the counter, so Mrs. Falls took the initiative and hopped past the cash register, donning plastic gloves and looking very pleased with herself. In a way, it was very kind of her, but also somewhat awkward since none of us could tell if the woman really wanted Mrs. Falls behind the counter with her or not. Either way, it was a nice gesture.

Then followed a rather uneventful bus ride in which I feigned sleep and enjoyed the sensation/idea of motion.

Speaking of motion... Alex explained to me the other day that it isn't possible. In fact, I took what Mrs. Falls refers to as "copious notes" over the subject (well... not really, but here's what I got) and it went something like this:

"At any instant in time, an object can only be classified as where it is or where it is not. So, it cannot move to where it is not because it is already somewhere else, and cannot move to where it already is because it is already there."

That comes from the jumbled renderings of my short-term memory--not a reliable creature, all told. If you're really interested, you can probably find more eloquent/sensible expressions of the idea in a search. What Alex told me probably came from a Wikipedia article. Just thought I would bring it up.

We arrived at the police academy, stumbled our bleary way off the bus, and, after a disorderly pit stop, were escorted to a classroom (in Northeast Texas Community College, by the way) where we were given a brain-boggling overview of what peace officer training entails.

From what I heard (without mentioning tiresome facts), there is an entire unique culture existing within police academies. Well... that isn't to say, of course, that they have their own religion, languages, etc., necessarily. To some degree, like all areas of humanity, they do, but... hopefully you know what I mean. Of late I have been enthralled by the idea of culture itself, and I like to think of everything as having a culture--peace officer culture, gang culture, high school culture, drama culture, college culture... blog culture...

On occasion they paused in feeding us facts to give us glimpses of their culture; In the midst of an explanation of their disciplinary system, we were told how they handle personality conflicts. If two people can't get along and it foretells a problem, the instructor "marries" the two in front of the whole class, forcing them to sit next to each other for the rest of the course. If they follow good conduct they can get a divorce at the end of the course.

What really interested me was the strange tone that crept into their voices when they described actually being a police officer; it was the sound of hardship and fortitude. If such qualities have sound, there were hints of bravery in the undertones. It was a strange, strange sound, like the details of a landscape in the distance.

When the discussion dwindled and felt concluded, we were taken to the firing range. Surprisingly, this community college happens to possess one of the three state-of-the-art firing ranges in the state of Texas. I couldn't help but think of the game Perfect Dark. Except, of course, there were no alien-style guns. We were invited to operate the targets--sheets of paper with images of creepy men pointing guns on them--with the keypad used for that purpose. People talked and pointed and generally created a moderate level of noise, so when everyone suddenly started putting on large headphone-like gear, I had no idea what was going on. I quickly learned that the academy instructor guy and Coach Barron (who is a police officer, also) were going to shoot targets and everyone had to protect their ears or go in the adjacent room and watch through the window. By this time, everyone had claimed the limited supply of ear-gear, so I went to the other room.

Even in another room, gunfire is surprisingly loud.

Watching holes appear in those paper targets, I thought about all of this. This idea of mechanisms created for the sole purpose of wounding, incapacitating, potentially killing other human beings... This idea of training dedicated to enforcing the law (which is supposed to mean protecting people)... This idea of a "peace officer". It is a largely unexplored idea for me. At a glance it is noble, thrilling, frightening... and at the edges of things, there is a touch of chivalry. A worrisome matter and idea, all in all.

From there, we were taken to the driving range (a large slab of concrete). They told us all kinds of things about driving training, and then the academy instructor guy demonstrated fancy driving skills for us, allowing three people to ride with him in the car at a time. He went at high speeds and zig-zagged, drove in reverse, from there did a swervy, movie-like 180 degree flip forward, and the air became thick with the scent of burned rubber. Eventually, I went on the ride, and it was pretty exciting. Even Mrs. Falls went, riding shotgun.

A trip to Two Señoritas, and then after another bus ride after the same fashion as the first, we were back at school. Thanks to this trip, I avoided most of the Valentine's Day hype. We had to sit through the last 20 or 30 minutes of last period (which was actually 1st period), and then we went home.

This post is almost over, I swear.

Something I've discovered lately is that cows love music. I knew already that they like music, but... what happened today really drives the fact home.

My father was asleep inside, so I went outside to play my pennywhistle (which is rather a loud instrument if you want to play more than one octave). I walked out into the field behind my house and played for a while. I've played flute in that field before and turned around to find a herd of cows standing like an audience behind me, but today the field was empty; I thought they must be somewhere in the distance, and I imagined they would stay there. So I played.

For a time, nothing happened. And then I heard trampling; I turned to see a herd of cows running toward me at full speed. Have you ever witnessed such a thing? There was a fence in place, but it was still frightening. I started walking to the right, and they all followed me. I played a few phrases, and they watched intently. Then my phone vibrated in my pocket, so I walked away to answer it. The cows mooed in response, and when I reached the house, they all stood there for a second, and then walked away, presumably to wherever they were before.

I don't mind having an audience of cows, but every time that's happened before they've already been in the near vacinity, so it sort of made sense. This time, I was kind of shocked because they came running across the field just to hear the music, and when it stopped, they left. I don't think I can really misinterpret that.

I guess it isn't that amazing, but I thought it was. I never knew that music was so profoundly important to cows. I wonder what that means?