Well you know those times
When you feel like there's a sign there on your back
Says I don't mind if ya kick me
Seems like everybody has
Things go from bad to worse
You'd think they can't get worse than that
And then they do
You step off the straight and narrow
And you don't know where you are
Use the needle of your compass
To sew up your broken heart
Ask directions from a genie
In a bottle of Jim Beam
And she lies to you
That's when you learn the truth
Rodney Atkins, everyone! Read nothing into this week's title; it was actually a good week. I'll get to the reason for the title shortly...
I spend an exorbitant amount of time reading news online. Saw an article about Morocco a couple days ago, thought I'd pass it along, to give a glimpse into the land in which I live...
http://www.foxnews.com/world/2013/09/13/morocco-unveils-long-awaited-judicial-reforms
Wednesday of course was the 12th anniversary of 9-11. I don't recall seeing or hearing much of anything last year. I know some colleagues dealt with some stuff. This year a student said something to try to provoke me; I pretended to not hear and kept walking away. I got a little aroused at the thought of strangling him with his own tongue. Only the thought of Moroccan prison kept me at bay...
Friday night went downtown with a handful of friends for some yummy pizza. I love going downtown; if you keep your gaze at eye level, the city looks like any other urban sewer. If you look around, and if you're like me, you enjoy the endless parade of tall white buildings with French Colonial and Art Deco architecture lining the wide boulevards. Dinner was followed by drinks on an apartment rooftop. Good stuff...
Saturday night brought game time! My beloved Alabama Crimson Tide visited College Station to get revenge on Texas A&M. Our financial poobah and his wife are Aggies; they were wonderful hosts as we watched the contest projected on the wall of their apartment. My department head was there; she is an Aggie, too, as were the hostess' parents. I was severely outnumbered. Fortunately, the good guys prevailed, in a wild affair. It was r-e-a-l-l-y hard to control myself at times...
This afternoon, I went downtown to the Ancienne Medina. If I may borrow from Lonely Planet (and even if I can't, I'm going to anyway):
Casablanca's modest medina gives an idea of just how small the city was before the French embarked on their massive building program. Even though it's the oldest part of the city, most of the buildings date from the 19th century and it lacks the medieval character of other city medinas.
Enter the medina from the northeast corner of the Place des Nations Unies near the restored clock tower. The narrow lanes to the east are piled high with cheap shoes, high-sheen synthetic underwear and household goods, while the rest of the medina remains largely residential. On the north side of the medina, facing the port, you'll see the last remains of Casablanca's 18th-century fortifications. Known as the sqala, the bastion offers panoramic views over the sea.
From the outside...
From the inside...
With apologies to Dante, this is what gave inspiration for the title of today's post. Talk about a den of thieves! Oh, the myriad ways the merchants try to separate you from your hard-earned dirhams. I don't even know where to start. I walked out of there with a white lab coat. Why, you ask? Perhaps, another day...
Well I been deep down in that darkness
I been down to my last match
Felt a hundred different demons
Breathing fire down my back
And I knew that if I stumbled
I'd fall right into the trap that they were laying, yeah
But the good news
Is there's angels everywhere out on the street
Holding out a hand to pull you back up on your feet
The one's that you've been dragging for so long
You're on your knees
You might as well be praying
Guess what I'm saying
If your going through hell
Keep on going, don't slow down
If you're scared don't show it
You might get out
Before the devil even knows you're there
When you feel like there's a sign there on your back
Says I don't mind if ya kick me
Seems like everybody has
Things go from bad to worse
You'd think they can't get worse than that
And then they do
You step off the straight and narrow
And you don't know where you are
Use the needle of your compass
To sew up your broken heart
Ask directions from a genie
In a bottle of Jim Beam
And she lies to you
That's when you learn the truth
Rodney Atkins, everyone! Read nothing into this week's title; it was actually a good week. I'll get to the reason for the title shortly...
I spend an exorbitant amount of time reading news online. Saw an article about Morocco a couple days ago, thought I'd pass it along, to give a glimpse into the land in which I live...
http://www.foxnews.com/world/2013/09/13/morocco-unveils-long-awaited-judicial-reforms
Wednesday of course was the 12th anniversary of 9-11. I don't recall seeing or hearing much of anything last year. I know some colleagues dealt with some stuff. This year a student said something to try to provoke me; I pretended to not hear and kept walking away. I got a little aroused at the thought of strangling him with his own tongue. Only the thought of Moroccan prison kept me at bay...
Friday night went downtown with a handful of friends for some yummy pizza. I love going downtown; if you keep your gaze at eye level, the city looks like any other urban sewer. If you look around, and if you're like me, you enjoy the endless parade of tall white buildings with French Colonial and Art Deco architecture lining the wide boulevards. Dinner was followed by drinks on an apartment rooftop. Good stuff...
Saturday night brought game time! My beloved Alabama Crimson Tide visited College Station to get revenge on Texas A&M. Our financial poobah and his wife are Aggies; they were wonderful hosts as we watched the contest projected on the wall of their apartment. My department head was there; she is an Aggie, too, as were the hostess' parents. I was severely outnumbered. Fortunately, the good guys prevailed, in a wild affair. It was r-e-a-l-l-y hard to control myself at times...
This afternoon, I went downtown to the Ancienne Medina. If I may borrow from Lonely Planet (and even if I can't, I'm going to anyway):
Casablanca's modest medina gives an idea of just how small the city was before the French embarked on their massive building program. Even though it's the oldest part of the city, most of the buildings date from the 19th century and it lacks the medieval character of other city medinas.
Enter the medina from the northeast corner of the Place des Nations Unies near the restored clock tower. The narrow lanes to the east are piled high with cheap shoes, high-sheen synthetic underwear and household goods, while the rest of the medina remains largely residential. On the north side of the medina, facing the port, you'll see the last remains of Casablanca's 18th-century fortifications. Known as the sqala, the bastion offers panoramic views over the sea.
From the outside...
From the inside...
With apologies to Dante, this is what gave inspiration for the title of today's post. Talk about a den of thieves! Oh, the myriad ways the merchants try to separate you from your hard-earned dirhams. I don't even know where to start. I walked out of there with a white lab coat. Why, you ask? Perhaps, another day...
Well I been deep down in that darkness
I been down to my last match
Felt a hundred different demons
Breathing fire down my back
And I knew that if I stumbled
I'd fall right into the trap that they were laying, yeah
But the good news
Is there's angels everywhere out on the street
Holding out a hand to pull you back up on your feet
The one's that you've been dragging for so long
You're on your knees
You might as well be praying
Guess what I'm saying
If your going through hell
Keep on going, don't slow down
If you're scared don't show it
You might get out
Before the devil even knows you're there
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