Happy holidays and a wonderful party to you.

Sometimes I marvel at where we once were and where we are today.









Sometimes I fear for where we're going.

King Kong

It never ceases to amaze me how a little personification of a 25-foot gorilla can make people cry over the fact that a woman is in love with the said primate.

Granted, it was a good film and was very well done, but doesn't anyone think the inter-species love connection was a little odd? I know the love part of the story was't the main idea in the movie, but the falling-in-love scenes were sure played up.

Everyone I've talked to about the film has said that they cried at the end - guy and girl alike. First of all, don't you expect that he's going to die? I've never seen the old movies to know the actual plot of the story, but just from context clues alone I knew the ape would die. It's like when people cry when watching Romeo and Juliet. If you've paid attention at all at any point in your life to a Shakespeare reference, you know what to expect. Anyway, I don't think anyone would cry so much over it if Kong wasn't a CG-created person in a 25-foot gorilla costume. He laughed, he threw a tantrum, he fought desperately for his love, he was sad and he was defeated. He was essentially a person made to look like a gorilla.

It's always odd to me when movie makers make animals seem more like humans. You know, when they talk or express human emotions. It's like it's all to create a stronger emotional tie to the animals.

Did anyone see March of the Penguins? Again, a very well-done film, but one that capitalized on the human emotions of love and committment that the non-human penguins expressed. Morgan Freeman, the narrator, even said that the film was the story of love. And so many people cried at that film too. Now, there are penguins everywhere. They're in magazines, new Coke ads, billboards, tee shirts - anywhere a penguin could possibly land in an attempt to make people go "Awww..."

My prediction is that Kong finds his way very soon to similar places - and not just the Kong from the film (because the marketing for such a large film is inevitable) but gorillas in general. I think that sign language gorilla will make a come-back in the next year. Maybe we'll see her in a Coke ad.

I'm not just saying this because I don't really like animals. I'm saying this because I don't believe that animals are capable of expressing human facial expressions or emotions. Yes, I think that at times my dog looks sad or happy but I do not think that he ever experiences anything as complex as guilt or love, both of which are emotions influenced and created by a society my dog has no concept of. If my dog were to be in a movie, I would not want them to CG his face or give him a voice. I would not want my dog to be the connection between a complex, abstract emotion and a full audience. I would not want my dog to create more on-screen connections with audience members than those audience members have with their own families.

More tears should be shed for real-life situations than for over-personified, CG-created animals.

Graveyards

I'm about an hour and a half away from finishing up my second grave in a row. This shift does crazy things to my body and brain. I start hearing things the more tired I get. My body also gets colder through the night. Last night around 4 a.m. I bundled myself up in my scarf and coat because I was freezing so bad. These shifts render me helpless to tears, too. As in, I cry at anything. I can make myself weep just imagining anything touching. It's sad, really, in a more-pathetic, less-weepy sort of way. I also get highly UNmotivated to anything more productive than complete a crossword puzzle...which I have yet to start this evening. I did manage to get quite a bit done tonight, but not as much as I could honestly do in a nine-hour period when I'm dedicated to the process of work. Mostly I sat on the internet tonight. No, I was not looking up porn. Geez, there are other things to do on the internet than illegal things that would have me fired from the shelter. I also talk to myself more when I get this sleepy. The worst part of this shift, however, is the drive home. That's when I turn the music up louder than necessary and sing and dance to whatever is on. If that doesn't work my only other option is calling Kelly and waking him up and making him talk to me until I get home. But I don't like to do that for two reasons 1)I don't like waking people up, and 2)then I have to drive while talking on the phone AND drive tired. You know, they've done studies that show that driving under the influence of sleep deprivation is worse in some cases and is always comparable to driving under the influence of alcohol. Let me assure you, it's true. Oh, gotta go. I think I just heard a door open again. Except I know I didn't because I can see the entire shelter from where I'm sitting. I'm just hearing things. At least I can't imagine that it's ghosts. We just moved into this facility in September so there can't be ghosts here yet. I explained all the weird noises in the old shelter on ghosts because I'm pretty sure it was haunted. But I'm going to get up and walk around some and go to the bathroom again and eat so that when I get home and go to bed I don't wake up starving two hours later. Thank goodness for Red Bull because without it I would fall asleep on these insane shifts. And I just know that the night I fall asleep at work will be the night the kids band together in mutiny and string me from the rafters upside down and throw darts at my toes. That would be bad but it would definitely wake me up. I would most likely lose my job in that case, though, and I don't want that to happen because I really like my job. Even when I work graveyards.

Grading is tough work

I never thought that assigning grades would be difficult. I just can't justify holding students accountable to a certain standard of what an "A" student or an "A" paper looks like. Some of them fit what I think it should be, while others just don't. Those students probably never have and probably never will. But they come to class every day and they try and their writing shows effort. Does that mean that I give them a "C" because they pale in comparison to my obvious "A" students or do I give them an "A" because they wanted to do well and they tried hard? How much of the grading do I make purely subjective and how much do I make a standard of the curriculum I outlined through the course? How much is it worth to me to grade students down when they answer their phones in class or admit to me personally that they are big procrastinators? When they write me a good letter explaining why they think they deserve an "A" should I take that into full consideration? What about that student whose mother died just before school and whose father was soon after hospitalized? Who dealt with a son who refused to finish high school and a daughter who was in a severe car accident? Who fell to depression and couldn't attend class for a month? What about that student who had three deaths this semester in his immediate family? What about that student who came to class every single day and was only late once - on the day she came to class after being at the hospital for experiencing dizzy spells - because coming to class meant that much to her? What about that student who was always present and early, except for all those days she was late because she rode in from Nampa with her always late boyfriend? Do I grade them all the same? Is it fair to grade them all the same? How do I compare the 45-year-old woman who has been out of school for 23 years with the recent high school graduate who knows full well that he's wasting both my time and his? How do I compare the student who has always been a success in school with the one who has never been able to live up to teachers' standards?

sigh

These are the things I've been battling for some time now. It's just that I'm finally at that stage where I'm filling out the final grade reports and my quandries have to take a tangible form. I'm pretty sure where I want to go with all of this and how I'm going to grade...I want to find a way to restructure my class so that it's done in a way that will beyond reasonable doubt give everyone in my class a way to achieve an "A" without worry. Because then they won't have a reason to complain when they don't get that. Or will they? I just don't know...

I wish BSU just did narrative grades. I would much rather type out a letter to each of my students telling them their strengths and their weaknesses. How ridiculous is it that they have to try and figure out their strengths and weaknesses on their own by looking at their grade report and seeing: B. What does that "B" tell them? Nothing. It's an arbitrary letter corresponding to an arbitrary number. It doesn't tell them "Your in-class participation was great, but you're missing four assignments," or "I don't think you put the right amount of effort into your final portfolio to prove to me that you learned valuable tools throughout this class. I think that's reflected in your attendance record as well," or even "You were a jerk to your classmates."

I need to do some rethinking. I want to work it so that my students will all get an "A" next semester because they will all have worked hard for it.

Something has to work for me that will make this whole "grading" thing easier and seem more fair for all students, regardless of their aptitute. And easier and fair for me, rather than making things subjective or imbalanced.

I think grades and absolute standards should be abolished. Why is a 4.0 so wonderful? I've received an "A" from classes I learned nothing in and I've earned a "C" from classes I learned tons in. What's the difference? Which class benefitted me more? Which felt like a waste of time for me? The classes I learned the most from are the ones I've liked the most, regardless of my "average" grade. The grade, in the end, meant nothing to me because it was all about my aptitude in the class. I just performed poorly on the assessments - and for that I received something less than what I thought I deserved grade-wise. Did I think it was fair? No. Was there anything I could do about it? No. Do I want my students to experience the let-down of having the teacher hold them to an absolute and irrelevant standard that does not measure their ability or what they think they have learned throughout the semester? No.

I never thought that assigning grades would be difficult.

It's Over

One way to float
is if you die
Lisa Loeb

The semester is officially over. And even though throughout most of it I felt like I was drowning, I am, after all, afloat.

Tookie

I've been very interested lately in this Tookie Williams case. Evidently, this guy co-founded the Crips and in 1981 was convicted of killing four people. He's been on death row in California for the past 24 years because of that conviction and was finally executed early this morning.

The thing is, this guy says he didn't commit those murders. Sure, why would he, right? But since he's been in jail he has written many books for youth about gangs and how to avoid them and how to get out of them. He's been nominated more than once for the Nobel Peace Prize. He advocates against teen violence and gangs in general. His lawyers weren't advocating for his release from prison; they were only advocating for a life without parole sentence. They said that he was worth more to the world alive than dead.

And now the issue has turned into one of playing God, much like any decision where you get to decide who dies would. But it's more than just a decision of deciding who dies. It's a decision of his atonement and redemption. In fact, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger said "Without an apology and atonement for these senseless and brutal killings there can be no redemption." So now it appears as though he is making the decision of who has had a change of heart and who has not, who has seen the error of their ways and who has not. The governor of California evidently knows more about the emotional value and political worth of this man and his intentions than anyone else in the universe. I don't know..."Oh my Schwarzenegger" just doesn't have the same ring to it...

What gets me is that they let this man sit for 24 years making social amends for his previous, non-prison life and now they've decided to kill him to "atone" for his previous sins. Disgusting..

Funny Gym Guy

Last week when Kelly and I went to the gym there was a guy lifting weights in the same area as us. Well, he was sort of lifting weights. Mostly, he was looking at himself in the mirror. He looked at himself for about five minutes then do a set. Then he looked at himself for another five minutes and do another set. I think he probably got in ten minutes worth of lifting in a half hour. He would move his tee shirt to get a better view of his biceps or turn and look at his calves. He was a normal-looking guy - not bulky or ripped or anything like that. And he didn't have a bunch of saggy skin as though he just lost 300 pounds and should be super proud of his physique. But we just made note of the fact that he was looking at himself an awful lot and went on with our workout.

Just before we left, Mirror Guy sat down at the chest press. I was sitting behind him on the other side of the room so I had a perfect vantage point for this activity through his favorite object in the room: the mirror. He placed his hands on the handles, braced himself and pushed hard. He squinted up his face, his face turned red, and the veins in his neck and forhead bulged a little. He was pressing his chest. Except that nothing happened. He held the squinty pose, grunting with the lifting motion, for about five seconds. Then he released. The weights had gone no where. He looked over at the stack and bent down to the bottom of the stack where the pin was. He picked up the pin from the bottom of the stack and replaced it somewhere in the middle. Then he did one set before standing up and looking at himself in the mirror again.

It was all I could do not to giggle out loud.

Commodore 64

I would hate to find out how much time I waste working on the computer from 1924 in my office on campus just waiting for files to load or for pages to open.

Stop, Drop & Roll

Have you ever noticed the number of insanely happy characters demonstrating the "Stop, Drop & Roll" situation for children? I suppose if you ate cookies all day you'd be fat and happy too. And I doubt you would be stressing out too much if you were wearing a fireman's coat and hat, which, I do believe, are on some level fireproof. What I want to see are more terrified children. That's the only way to make real children think that being on fire isn't all fun and games, but that it's an actual danger to your health. I say, bring on the reality.

My Boys

Here's a shot of the boys in my life. They forgive me when I'm insane and help me when I'm in need. They make me laugh sometimes and cry other times, but either way it's always good. They remind me, each in their own way, why I want something just a little better and therefore why I currently dedicate so much of myself to this thing called school.

One down, one to go

Well, technically there's two to go.

One week of classes is over and there's only one week of classes left. Then I have to meet for two finals (but I won't be actually taking any finals) and then I'm really, really done. That's 12 days now. Geez, it seems like forever.

Also fitting with the theme of today's post...I have to get working on a newspaper article for my freelance job. They're being difficult, however, and I only have until Monday. Crap, crap, crap.

When This Semester Is Over...

I will sleep in. Then I will lay in bed thinking about all the things I don't have to get done by Tuesday.

I will take a long, hot bath. In the bath I will bask in the knowledge that I have nothing to do.

I will hang out with my friends freely and without hesitation because I will have no homework looming over my head.

I will read a book of my choice. And maybe a magazine too. I will do so knowing that I'm not stealing precious homework time away from myself.

I will waste time on the internet without the thought that I should be doing research looming in the back of my mind.

Boiling Frogs

Isn't it interesting how a frog can sit in a pot of water, adjusting all the time to the change in water temperature even until the water boils, and not die?

Sometimes I think people are like that too.

December 14

December 14 is my official last day of the semester. That's only 17 days away. Of course, after that I still have to grade all my final ENGL101 portfolios, read ahead for next semester, work full-time at the shelter, have two good and huge holidays, travel twice, plan my ENGL101 classes for next semester and be a normal, stress-free human being, but at least this semester will be over. That means only three semesters left. So for the next 17 days I will be doing nothing fun. I will say no to all opportunities to leave the house in an act of socialization with friends. I will turn down acts of gaiety and frivolity. I will instead steep myself in books, papers and laptop screens. For 17 days I will not feel the freedom of pleasurable afternoons or lazy mornings. No; I will instead feel the burden of stress upon my body, soul and mind. I will liken myself to other, past tortured souls...concentration camp victims, witches put on trial in Salem, dysentery-ridden children starving on the African plains, and those cute, little cartoon mice who huddle behind the poor man's wall in the dead of winter and fight each other for one lonely bread crumb.

In your face, Kathy!

Yesterday, Kelly and I finished reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. On the drive to Portland I started reading it out loud for both of us. He read some more before we got there. Then I finished it on the way home. We both liked it and found it a very well-written book. We are both looking forward to reading the next in the series. We've also found that we liked reading it outloud like that and have decided to do that with more YA fiction. Therefore, we're starting the Narnia series next.

Lani has it figured out.

The last time Kelly and I went to Portland we went to supper with his parents and neice, Lani, who's about 10- or 11-years old. The topic came up about my stint as a waitress in Williamsburg and what a miserable, horrible job I thought it was.

Lani contributed to the conversation with the infinite wisdom that childhood will bring you. "Why didn't you just become a model?" she asked, as though that was such an obvious choice that I was silly for not previously considering it.

Well, I've thought about that again recently. I think she's right. I am going to give up on all this higher education nonsense and become a model. Of course, I will have to start starving myself and brushing my teeth with Borax to get them perfectly white, but at this point I think even that is easier than grad school.

Surprise!!!

Last Sunday was Kelly's birthday. I spent two weeks beforehand lying to him about it because I planned the world's coolest surprise birthday party for him. I threw one last little kid party before the big 3-0 next year. It was great! We had it at Boondocks - a little arcade place that serves pizza and has laser tag. We played unlimited laser tag for three hours, ate pizza and ice cream cake, and put tokens in the machines like we were five again. Here's a shout out to all the friends and family who not only showed up that afternoon but helped me pull it off.

I like it when

I wake up and the sun is shining.

my dog just knows, almost intuitively, how he should behave.

I get to lay in bed with Kelly for a little while before putting Radley out.

I finish a knitting project.

the dishes are done.

my house smells nice.

I see my neighbors in their yard so I can talk with them.

people come over for dinner.

all my homework is done.

my hair lays just right.

I have happy dreams.

I have weekend plans, much like this weekend.

Kelly and I watch Boise State games together. He gets really into the games and yells and throws his hat when the team does something he disagrees with.

I make myself go to the gym and work out.

my students aren't dead when they come to class.

"I hate class presentations" pulls nothing up on Google

I tend to get a little stressed out when teachers expect me to present stuff creatively. Especially when I don't trust the teacher to be open to my idea of creativity, much like my theory professor on Wednesday nights. But I have to creatively present what I gained from Totto-Chan, this incredible book about a Japanese girl's education in WWII Japan at a fantastic, one-of-a-kind school. What I thought to do initially I have now deemed as being dumb. Everything I come up with I deem as being dumb. The stupid assignment is so open-ended that I just don't know what to do because everything I come up with seems dumb. Sometimes I just wish I could write a paper about the book because then I would at least know what to do without feeling dumb. But instead, I'm fretting over creating a non-dumb creative class presentation demonstrating my intimate understanding of this book, which I loved and want to recommend to everyone in the whole world, especially those going into education (it will only take you about five hours to read, so why not). Do I have people draw? Do I teach sign language? Do I dance around clucking like a chicken? (That's in jest...although the other possibilities do sound equally as stupid at this point.) I'm just so lost with this. I'm that old-school kind of student who has grown used to teachers saying "Here, read this text. We'll discuss it in class tomorrow and have a quiz on it at the end of the week." I totally disagree with that form of education and plan on reforming my future classroom to look nothing like that, but as a student it's what I'm comfortable with. When teachers throw in these crazy assignments where we get to do whatever we want is when I freak out because I just don't know what to do. It isn't even that I'm not creative - I am - I just don't know where to start with this whole creative book presentation thing. I'm so frustrated!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Movie Reviews

I've seen a ton of movies lately so I thought I would post mini reviews on them here. Plus, reviewing movies is more entertaining than preparing my presentation for Wednesday evening.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

This was your basic fantastical hero story complete with fight scene after pointless fight scene. I wonder if the makers of the Star Wars films are able to escape poor ratings for violence because they don't fight with "real" weapons and because there's no blood. Interesting. Well, Natalie Portman's character took a nosedive from the first episode so that was unappealing (since she was the only female role and was a strong one at that). Also, you can't tell me that with all the revenue they're bringing in by selling ten dollar movie tickets that they can't purchase a better makeup artist. Between making Ewan McGregor look 30 and the chancellor dude look zapped of energy through a lightening bolt that was supposed to take five minutes to kill him, the makeup crew had their work cut out for them. I guess. Maybe they let the intern handle those jobs. Overall, it was an all right movie, even if you haven't seen much of the other films in the series. Be prepared for an all night affair, however. I wasn't, so I fell asleep after the first four hours of film. At least I got a full night's rest that night.

Sophie's Choice

Supposedly (as the title suggests) this is a movie about a choice that Sophie makes. Too bad it's really about an aspiring author from the south who moves to New York for some inspiration. While there he meets a couple, Sophie and Nathan, who befriend him. Nathan's insane, telling people he's a researcher for Pfizer, and Sophie's also insane, recovering from her time in a concentration camp. Meanwhile, the 22-year-old writer, Stingo, falls in love with Sophie and convinces her to tell him her story of her time in Auschwitz and the choice she made there. Too bad she lies to him throughout the whole movie. He kidnaps her and the two escape to Washington, D.C. for the night before finishing their trip to his family's farm in southern Virginia. He gets laid for the first time, wakes up and finds that she's missing. Then he has to deal with the loss of his first love. If you watch this movie searching for a plot line focusing on Sophie, you're hunting up the wrong movie reel. This movie is about Stingo. Sophie's choice is covered by approximately ten minutes of film. Also, I should mention that this is the first of two very seemingly long Meryl Streep films in my review.

Under Suspicion

This was a terrifically well done crime film that was less about crime and more about memory. It made me think of Elizabeth Loftus the whole way through. The intricate characters are compelling reason enough to watch this movie, just don't get too irritated with the assistant detective in the beginning. The way it's done, you'll never figure out whodunnit. At times when it seems most obvious, some new piece of evidence comes out and you're left wondering about your conclusions all over again.






Sixteen Candles

Even though this movie came out in 1984 and everyone else from that time period has seen it a million times, I only watched it for the first time yesterday. I think that as far as 1980s teen angst movies go, it was pretty good. Parts of it were highly unrealistic, but I suppose that's what makes it so appealing to younger viewers. Watching it as an adult, I can value the parts of it that make it a good film, but I will never swear my life to this film's testament of American teenagers. Maybe I don't relate to the girl in the movie; I never experienced wanting to date the high school hunk. I don't have an older sister whose wedding overshadowed my sixteenth birthday. The one part of the movie I didn't like was when the hunk and the geek were talking in the kitchen and the hunk basically said that he could go in the other room and rape his girlfriend ten different ways and she would never know because she's so drunk. Then he offered the same option to the geek, who took him up on it. The part I really liked was when the sister took four muscle relaxers just before her wedding ceremony. More brides should do that, I think.

The French Lieutenant's Woman

This movie was interesting in that 1980s British drama sort of way, but other than that was just a normal film. The actors played actors who were making a movie about a woman rumored to have slept with a married French lieutenant. Meanwhile, the actors have an affair and fall in love. Or do they? There's an interesting twist at the very end, leaving you to wonder who is falling in love with whom. Regardless, it's another Meryl Streep film where she has the all-endearing female role. It's also another Meryl Streep film that seems to never end, even though it's only as long as a regular full-length film. It's a good thing I was knitting at the time or else I would have fallen asleep during this one too. Actually, I was considering turning it off and cleaning my house. The only thing keeping me on the couch was my knitting.

Good Night and Good Luck

It's so fun to watch and actor go from a lame roll on a lame NBC program to lame romantic comedies to a lame attempt at edgey films to finally doing something really worth watching. This film is a fantastic display of talent from a number of people, including the suave George Clooney. I thought the use of black and white film mixed with the historical documents used throughout the text was stunningly brilliant. Best of all, the ending of this film was a real life ending. There was no patching up of stuff or answering of questions. Seeing the old TV studio from the insider's perspective was poignant, considering that the station was stressing out about terrorism in the form of Joseph McCarthy. My favorite part of this film was that everyone in it was able to talk about terrorism without being branded as terorists. If you listen closely, they're obviously commenting on the state of the nation. Why else would they make this movie when they did? But too many people take what they're handed...and those people will never know. *sigh* Genius.

Office Space

I have become such an office junkie for three hours two days a week. I'm required to have office hours anyway, but I figure that I'm on campus and not going anywhere important anyway, so I just hang out in my office for the majority of the afternoon. It's much less of a drag now that my office resembles a slightly cooler place than just a couple weeks ago. I work in my office, I plan things in my office. I eat in my office. I have raisins and tea stashed in my desk and a couple good novels on my bookshelf. I have Internet and email right at my fingertips with a handy phone nearby too. It's fabulous. And sometimes my students actually come talk to me while I'm in my office, which is even cooler. They're awesome people; I wish they came to talk to me more often. Then they would be able to experience my now-cooler office and watch me be an office junkie.

Belonging

Sometimes at school I feel like I don't fit in. Yes, I am still in school. I know I said once here that I was going to drop out, but I was aiming for sarcasm in that post - a sarcasm that was either not met by my readers who (some of them) called me quite concerned or was not reached by my writing. Either way, I am indeed still in school, suffering through the incessant crap. And the point of this post is about that schooling and how I so often don't feel like I belong.

In one class I made it a point early on to be a talker in the class, to volunteer stuff and to make friends with people in that class. This is not my usual class personality. I like to be more reserved in class, responding only when called upon or when I think everyone else is being stupid. I don't tend to make friends in classes or offer advice or opinions early-on. And since I did that in that class, everyone thinks that that's who I am and I don't like that they think that of me. I get the feeling in that class that when I speak, everyone is wishing I wouldn't. Even the professor. I have no way of knowing if it's true or not, but that's the way I perceive it - acceptance out of obligation.

I have another class like that, too. In this class it's like the teacher doesn't talk to me because I've never been in any of his other classes. I feel very separated from everyone else in that class, as though we're all there individually to interact with the professor in our own spheres of learning where he can come and speak to us individually. But I have to listen to his conversations with the other students because he runs out of time before he gets to my learning bubble.

In another class, the teacher does a good job of recognizing everyone, but I wonder sometimes if he would pay more attention to me if I had a penis. Somehow it's like he has a closer, more natural bond to the men in the class. Feeling a better connection is the only thing lacking in that class.

I've never had a semester where I feel such a small sense of belonging or acceptance in my classes. Did I come this semester expecting something different after William & Mary? After counseling classes where I cried in front of my classmates as we counseled each other through the fall semester? Do I expect more from my teachers when they tell me that the best way to teach students is to be friendly with them?

Do my students see me this way? Do they see me as distant? Favoring? It's true, I know some students better than others. But I don't necessarily think that's my fault. Those are the students who email me or hang out in my office from time to time. Those are the students who make more of an effort to get to know me than I get to know them. But to the student who doesn't try, does it look like I don't care? Like I don't care evenly? Like I want some to succeed more than others?

Wishing

I have to pee right now but I don't actually want to get up and go into the bathroom.

I wish it was socially acceptable for me to wet myself. I also wish it didn't make a large mess and smell bad.

Game Day

Today is game day at Boise State. What that means for me is that about five hours before the game people start parking in my neighborhood, flocking past my house toward the stadium. Usually, it starts about eight hours before kickoff, but the game started at 1 p.m. today rather than 6 p.m.

Kelly and I are not going to the game today; we're going to a wedding instead. At about noon I left to get the wedding present, leaving two lawn chairs in my parking spot to garauntee having one when I returned home.

While driving about the town I became worried that someone would drive by my house and take it upon themselves to toss my chairs back onto the lawn and park in my space. In my head, I pulled up to the house and saw this monstrosity of a vehicle where my Jetta should have been. I got out of my car, yelled a little, and kicked some part of the car. Probably the tires. What I would have liked to have done is ram that car with my own, but the damage to my own vehicle wouldn't have been worth it. Then I stormed into my house and wrote the jackass driver a note on blank white paper with a red sharpie yelling at him for his wrecklessly rude behavior. Then I taped it to his windshield with masking tape.

But alas, when I returned home my chairs were just where I had left them and I had more than enough room to wiggle my Jetta in there. All was right with the world, even on the craziest of days: game day.

Ode To Being A Real Teacher

When I am a real teacher - instead of a teacher of one class and a student as well - it will be so wonderful.

I will have six English classes all doing relatively the same thing. That means I'll do the same thing each day rather than something new and unrelated each day.

Progress will be made when the students and I are ready to progress. Progress will not be enforced by someone else who moves at their own pace and expects me to keep up.

In the last five minutes of the day there won't be someone there saying "Oh yeah, go ahead and do this too. And turn it in tomorrow." There will be questions: "Ms. H, can you do this and bring it tomorrow?" And I will have the luxury of saying "No" without worry of failing.

I will be paid. I will be paid real money. And for once in my life, I will make more than $13,000 in one annual year.

Movies I've Seen At Least Ten Times

10 Things I Hate About You
Center Stage
Bring It On
Napoleon Dynamite
Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me
Dodgeball
Top Gun
Beetleguise
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Terms of Endearment
Steel Magnolias
A Night at the Roxbury
A Knight's Tale
Dirty Dancing
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
The Big Lebowski
Love Actually
13 Going On 30
George of the Jungle
Along Came Polly
My Best Friend's Wedding
Zoolander
Clueless
Moulin Rouge

I don't feel like grading papers

Well, it isn't really grading. It's me, reading their papers, telling them what I think is good and what else is stuff they obviously didn't read before sending it from their computer to the printer and then turning in two hours later as though they thought I may not notice its level of crappiness.

Congratulations to Mali and Dana, the loving parents of brand-new-to-this-world Holden Walter.

My attempt at a love poem

I Love My Husband

In July, when we came home from Las Vegas,
we discovered a puddle of water in front of the kitchen sink.
He opened the cupboard
and took everything out and
declared it was a cold water leak.

I just don't know plumbing, he said.
He tried and he tried
with large wrenches
and grunting and
hitting his head
on the pipes
and the like.
Then he declared,
I fixed it -
Well, temporarily at least.
I shut off the cold water
in the kitchen,
the cause of the problem,
and I'll figure it out another time.

Three months later,
after telling family and friends
why there's no cold water
in the kitchen,
and after burning our fingers
while washing our hands
in the kitchen,
he opened the cupboard
and took everything out and
cleaned a piece
and ordered a new filter.

And twenty minutes later,
we had cold water in the kitchen
again.

They like me! They really, really like me!

I had student conferences this week. I had two students ask me when I'm teaching English 102 so that they can take my class. They both said they would wait to take 102 until next fall so they could make that happen. I would love it if these students were in my class again because they're two of my favorite. I know that sometimes scheduling gets in the way, especially with other classes and work and life and everything else, but it still makes me feel all good and warm inside.

Homely Changes

Kelly and I have been spending some time the last few days making our home a bit more homely again. I like doing home improvement projects; they make me feel productive. But not just an "I'm getting something done today" sort of productivity. More like an "I'm doing something today that will be in my home for me, my friends and my family to enjoy for many years" sort of way.

Going Out On The Town

I went out last night with some friends.

We ate dinner at this great restaurant downtown called Pair. I highly recommend it.

Then we crossed the street and went to a country bar equipped even with a mechanical bull.

For the majority of the two hours I was in this other world, I sat watching people ride the mechanical bull.

I also sat watching the other people there.

The more I watched, the more I took joy in the fact that I don't play the downtown game any more.

There were guys drinking far too much, dressed in their catch-phrase tee shirts with the attemptedly appropriate five o'clock shadow going on and just the right sway in their hair to gain the affections of a "hot chick."

There were girls drinking far too much, dressed in the newest trendy stuff always fixing and adjusting the one strand of hair that may have blown out of its strategically sprayed place, walking with the walk that tells guys to look but only touch if invited by the sultry gaze.

I feel displaced in this environment because I used to do that. I used to go out thinking that I was the shit, when in reality I looked just like any other girl there. I was sprayed, painted and dressed in what was trendy at the time.

These days it's either shrugs or short jackets. And dinosaur hair. When girls pin just the front of their hair on top of their head and make it look poofy, it reminds me of a dinosaur.

There was one girl there who was far too trendy, far too social and far too drunk. When she pulled her shirt and bra out of the way to show everyone at the bar her breasts while on the mechanical bull, I wondered where her friends were because it was at that time that they should have taken her by the arm and told her she was done, that it was time to go home.

I never went out without that friend who would make certain I was healthy, safe and not degrading my self or my body in front of a flock of strangers. For that, I am thankful.

Plus, last night I saw a guy I knew once or twice from that lifetime so far away. Thankfully, he did as good of a job ignoring me as I did of ignoring him.

Except that I don't know if he was ignoring me or if he had no idea. That's the glory of it all - I don't know if he knew my name. I sure didn't remember his. I just have a talent for remembering faces. It's sad, really, but that was part of the game of it all, I suppose.

He was there last night with his girlfriend and they looked so happy smoking their cigarette after cigarette and drinking cheap ass Bud Lite after cheap ass Bud Lite until he couldn't walk straight and she couldn't sit up or even keep her eyes open.

He looked dumpy, overall unhappy, and a little unwashed.

I imagine him still tending bar, still struggling through classes (Does he even take classes?), still making jokes about the wonders of porn, still drinking heavily every night, still scamming around every corner, and still hitching rides home from near strangers.

I thought of my life, with my husband who is not dumpy. My life with a good job and a solid partner also with a good job. My cars. My dog. My education. My home with the walls I painted with my partner and the furniture I picked out with my partner. I thought of the love I share that is independent of how much either of us drinks or the amount of courage we decide to have at any given time.

And I felt happy. Not the happy that comes from a carton of cigarettes and a case of lousy beer, but the happy that comes from security and well-being and accomplishment.

I Hate Rhetorical Questions

Why do you think I hate rhetorical questions?

Ah! Because they're STUPID!

Asking a rhetorical question is a pointless activity. You gain no information or clout in asking a rhetorical question. They are a complete waste of language!

I had a professor in Virginia who's theory of death was that everyone was allotted a certain number of syllables to utter before they died. For this reason, he advocated that people say things like "empathic" rather than "empathetic" and "doctoral" rather than "doctorial." I think his theory was more tongue-in-cheek than honest-to-god, but just think...if it's true...then all those people who waste my time with rhetorical questions WILL DIE THAT MUCH SOONER!

The only benefit I can see in asking a rhetorical question is that the asker makes himself feel superior and more intelligent than the person he asks. But that is only good for the asker, and only on a superfical level. In actuality, the person being asked feels inadequate, stupid and put down while the boastful asker appears selfish and arrogant. The asker only finds this to be a good thing because he obviously has an identity or self-esteem complex.

And writing with rhetorical questions! Aaaaaaa! If I have to read another paper from one of my students with a rhetorical question...I may just poke myself in the eyeball with a toothpick! It would definitely be more enjoyable! I find these examples and more all the time: "And what do you think she did about that?" "How long do you suppose he spent in the hospital?" "Can you believe she has never even been kissed?" I'm going out of my mind!

I want to purpose an amendment to the Constitution outlawing the use of rhetorical questions everywhere. We can grant foreigners citizenship status based on their ability to write a two-page paper without using a single rhetorical question. In grade school, children can be taught only one type of question: a good kind. They will be taught the criteria of a good question and told that if a question does not fit ALL those criteria then it is crap and they should not use it. We can structure death penalty laws around the number of rhetorical questions a human uses in a lifetime. I grant everyone three, just because I think it is acceptable and understandable that people make mistakes. Those count for writing, too. Which means that many members of my class would have been electrocuted after turning in their first essay. (I suppose that's just fewer essays for me to grade.)

So electronically sign your name below and forward this on to everyone in your address book. If you don't, you will be struck by lightening tomorrow but if you do, you will probably win the lottery or have all your wildest dreams come true.

Pets Are The Devil

No, this isn't another rant about Radley chewing stuff up. It's about how my pet allergy increased my susceptibility to a cold virus so I caught a cold in record time. It's more of a pain in the ass than anything else, meaning simply that I don't really ache or have uncontrollable symptoms. Rather, I'm stuffy and I've developed a slight cough straight from my chest cavity. My spine aches, though. Whenever I get sick my spine aches.

In other news, I've decided I'm going to drop out of school. It's too much work and so much of it is work I don't really want to do. I am, however, going to continue teaching. I like that part. First, I just have to convince Boise State that my paychecks granted to me through the assistantship should not be contingent upon my student status.

And something has been bothering me lately. Around this time last year, I wrote about how I hated living in Virginia and I complained about my roommates. Well, it isn't true. I was in a bad spot and was just lashing out at something convenient. Actually, my roommates were some of my closest friends and confidants in Virginia and I came to love all three of them very much. I still think about them and wish they lived near so we could still pal around and watch Love Actually and knit and get drunk on two glasses of white wine together while talking about our myriad relationships and how they've made us who we are today.

So yes, in conclusion (that's a shout out to my students who overuse that phrase), pets are the devil. They are hairy, they shed, they scratch, they lick, they bite, they chew up your stuff, they dig in your yard, and they never watch where they're sniffing.

Weekend Visitors

Teddy, Denisha and Janessa, three of my siblings, stayed with me last night. I made them a dinner that they actually ate, we watched The Toy, an old movie from the 80s about a rich white kid who gets his dad to purchase a black man as a toy, we played a game and then we went to bed. This morning we lounged around for a while, ate some breakfast and then walked over to the art museum in the park. It was a long walk that kind of wore me out, but it was fun. The kids all seemed to have a good time. It's been a while since I've spent any significant amount of time with any of them. Janessa's patience with the others is growing. Denisha's language and communication skills are tremendous. And Theodore is struggling to learn new forms of affection that don't involve violence. Last night I was privy to all these things and more.

Dear Boise State Administration Building Employees:

As employees in the administration building, you see many students and faculty each day. Your job therefore, no matter which department you work in, is to deal with students and faculty. It is a customer service position. That means you're supposed to be nice and helpful so that people don't dread coming to your office or leave your office cursing.

In my experience with employees in the administration building, I have had people argue without listening to my question, I have been hung up on, and I have waited in line for more than a half hour. In fact, every time I visit the registrar's office there are only two (if not only one) work-study students working at the windows while "real" employees of the office stand around behind them talking about their vacations or their children. These "real" employees are almost always eating cookies during their apparent downtime. Meanwhile, students wait in line for sometimes longer than half-hour periods before speaking to someone at a desk. In the payment and disbursement office (one of the unhappiest places on Earth) as well as in the financial aid office, students cannot even see employees from the line due to the construction of their cubicle-like seating arrangement. Also for those offices, students have nowhere to stand in line, except out the door, as the measly lobby is little more than a narrow hallway.

All your office doors are always closed, as if to tell students that you don't want to see us anyway. But don't worry, we don't want to see you, either. Every student I've spoken with about this topic agrees with me; we hate your building and every employee within. It is a miserable place fit for the depths of purgatory.

My proposal to you is not difficult. I don't expect you to undergo a massive transformation. I just want you to be nice to people. Listen when a student talks to you about a financial issue. When a student calls your tech support line, don't inform that student to change her password and hang up. Acutally help. Wait until she tries changing her password before you hang up, at the very least. Don't make fun of students, thinking they're too stupid to pick up on it. Do not treat us like we're trying to scam you around every corner. Provide us with helpful answers. Treat us like we're human beings. We know your job is not a specialized one, for the most part, and that you just got lucky with the state benefits package because you work at a state school. We know we have more education than the majority of you. We know you aren't better than we are just because you're on that side of the desk. But we hold none of that against you. We just want a little smile and a genuine "Have a nice day."

So quit being so crochety and sour. Stop pissing us off. There are a few of you I wouldn't hesitate to run over with my bike someday. Why bring that upon yourself? Just be nice.

Craters of the Moon National Park

Star War (Just one of them)

This is all compliments of Kathy. In fact, I'm stealing some of her exact words from the email she sent me:

I found this a few months when I friend sent me this. It's a link to someone's blog. Aparently they went to China and bought a pirated copy of Star Wars Episode III. The subtitles are hilarious...they are a direct English translation of the Chinese interpretation of the script. If you scroll down to the end of the screen caps, it links to another person's blog that has different screencaps of the same DVD.

Now I have to admit (this is A again)...I don't particularly enjoy Star War(s), but this was dang funny.

I passed!

In order to be a "qualified" teacher in Idaho, you have to pass a technology assessment. Boise State offers a class to prep you for this test. I signed up for this class. On the first day we did nothing; she let us go early. On the second day we learned what the desktop and mouse were. By the second week we were all the way up to learning about recovering documents from the recycle bin. I couldn't handle it.

Last weekend I took the exam on my own, without having finished the class. I was surprised by the number of database questions, which my whiz-bang, computer and business savvy friend Kathy informed me that I would never use as a literature teacher. I thought that perhaps those questions would have prevented me from passing, but in fact they did not! I passed with a 78.31%. The awesome thing is that 1)no one will ever see my score, they'll only know that I passed and 2)now I never have to attend that technology class again!

Tales from a first-year teacher

One day around the beginning of class we got on the topic of style. Through the course of the discussion, I mentioned stream-of-consciousness and gave them a brief definition. After class one of my students came up to me and said, "Hey, what did you call that again where you just talk on the paper, saying what's in your head and stuff? Cuz I think I do that." I told him what it was called and gave him a little deeper definition and some authors who practice it as a specific technique. "Yea, yea," he said. "I think I do that." His head cocked to one side and his eyes took on a far-off gaze. When he snapped back to reality, he looked almost confused. "When you read what I turned in today, will you let me know if that's what I do? Because what I gave you is how I usually like to write." What I found in his paper was a wonderful example of stream-of-consciousness writing and I told him so. Since then he has been more excited about writing and developing that which he thought was just an easy way to put thoughts on paper.

I have a student whose family is Chinese. She grew up in California, picking strawberries on a field while the world was still dark before going to school all through elementary school. She told me she's finding her voice through writing - a voice that was never allowed by her family. She's scared, but she never fails to venture onto that limb. She asked me to push her a little and make her speak up more because she finally feels comfortable in an environment where that is encouraged and praised.

This marks one of my student's first year in school in 23 years. After leaving an abusive husband and caring for a dying (now dead) mother, she is ready to reclaim her life and figure out who she is and what she's doing. She thought writing would be a good way to do that, so she signed up for a writing class.

I have a dark presence in my room in the form of a young, attractive man who only writes what he thinks I want to hear. I sense fear in him - fear of providing me with something I have the power to dislike. His last reader response was a complete summary with no reflection. The last sentence stated that he "now knows the importance of peer review." I keep trying to push him for more, for something a little more open and giving, while at the same time praising him for bringing interests to class topics and assignments. He's naturally quiet and shy, I suspect, and his declared major is construction management, so I presume that his opinion of taking a writing class is pretty low on the priority scale. Perhaps more than anyone else, I want him to crack, just a little. Perhaps it is because of his reluctance, but perhaps it is because he may just have something wonderful to say. I just want him to give me that chance.

Sometimes I get very mad at my dog. Like right now.

Today after school I rolled leisurely home on my bicycle, not really looking forward to coming home to an empty house (Kelly's on a three-day work trip), but still enjoying the cool afternoon and the sun warming the top of my head. I wheeled the bike around the side of the house to the gate, where I witnessed a scene that stopped me dead in my tracks.

Before I even opened the gate, I saw the mess of my beautiful 100% Peruvian wool yarn strewn across the grass. Upon entering the patio area on the other side of the gate I saw not only the wool, but a broken stitch holder. I prayed that that was the stitch holder I hadn't been using instead of the stitch holder that I had been using to hold together a piece of a baby sweater. Turned out to be the latter. In addition to the three skeins of Peruvian wool yarn, Radley had also helped himself to a skein of chunky white yarn, chunky purple yarn, and a skein of red embroidery thread. The yarn mess began in the house with the back part of the baby sweater on the front room floor, chewed. Another beginning to the yarn stemmed from its home in the living room. All portions of yarn met outside, where some of it wrapped its way around the patio, some of it meandered through the lawn, and the rest of it hung lazily around the tree.

Radley is still outside, hopefully feeling very sorry for himself. I may let him in tonight to sleep in his bed. If he's lucky.

Paragliding

Here, we're on the ski lift being carried to the top of the mountain.



Kelly took this picture of me on the ground. I am the little person-shaped dot above the orange square in the middle of the shot.

Pics From The Sand Dunes

Theme: Earth, Wind, Fire Water

Friday the second was my day to turn the big 2-4. My totally cool friend Mandy calls it The 24 Club. Kelly had a whole slew of surprises ready for me, starting when I came home from school Thursday. The house was clean and the dishwasher was on. I love that he knows that I wouldn't be able to leave before those little chores were out of the way. After packing, we loaded up the Jetta and set off for some unknown-to-me destination.

We soon arrived at Bruneau Sand Dunes State Park, where we did some hiking on the dunes and took lots of pictures. Speaking of pictures, they'll have to wait because my whole internet setup is being uncooperative right now.

Thursday night we drove to Haley, Idaho, and stayed in a bed and breakfast. I've never done that before - it was AWESOME! It was just this really nice, old house that has been done up to house multiple people where they feed you the most wonderful three-course breakfasts. The rooms were beautifully decorated - ours was kind of a cozy, Asian-inspired, earthy room.

Friday morning we awoke (ate our yummy breakfast of scrambled eggs with smoked trout and French croissant toast with homemade raspberry syrup) and drove up to a ski resort in Ketchum. When we walked into the lodge a man handed me a sheet of paper and told me to fill it out and sign it. Upon reading a few words on the page that stood out immediately, I said, "What? Flying? Possible death? What are we doing?" Turns out, we were paragliding. It wasn't nearly as fearful as people think, especially since we both went tandem with an experienced guide. Actually, the most fearful part of it for me was the part where we had to run about five steps downhill to get the wind in our gliders. Seeing the hamlet of Ketchum below me with the massive Sawtooth Mountains jutting up all around.

After paragliding we went to Craters of the Moon National Park for some hiking and a picnic lunch. We walked through some lava caves that were constructed by Mother Nature (and a some boiling portions of the internal workings of Earth) herself about 2000+ years ago.

Then we walked around Ketchum for a while, ate dinner in Haley and went to the Mint, which is the bar Bruce Willis owns. His band was actually playing that night, but tickets were all sold out so we couldn't go watch. Incidentally, at the Mint I drank the best margarita of my life. Well, it was really good anyway.

Saturday morning we drove up to a hot springs in Sun Valley. I stuck my foot in a pocket of water that was near a boiling temperature, so that was unpleasant. The majority of the springing experience was good, though. We were expecting more springs where we could sit and veg for a while, but these weren't that kind. Then we drove home!

Ah, but yes...Pictures to follow. I put links to things where I could in case you want to check stuff out.

Oo-eeoo-ee

* That's the sound of the video game in the other room.

* I will most likely not post for the next few days, due to the fact that I will be out of town. Tomorrow starts a weekend full of currently unknown activity for me as K is taking me out of town for a couple days for my birthday. I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that I must pack the following items:
Clothing for overnight Thursday and Friday
Biz casual dress - nothing fancy just Milky Way appropriate
Tennis shoes
Sweatshirt/jacket
Jeans
Shorts
A sense of adventure
Flips
Bikini
Hair Ties
A sense of humor
A lighter
Corkscrew

* My brother is able to call me now. He calls every few days on his new cell phone. He still doesn't know how to carry a conversation very well, but it is good to hear his voice. He sounds like he's growing up and learning a lot about life and himself in general. I miss him and love him dearly and I'm very proud of his accomplishments in human development.

* I feel unaccomplished on my bike. I like that I have become part of a biking community, but I'm so skiddish on my bike. I don't like to go fast, around corners, down hills, near people, or do anything that involves breaking.

* Schoolwork is doing all right now. I guess. I spent all day doing homework, reading, writing and such. I guess I'm starting to feel caught up, but tomorrow is a new day filled with a whole new list of assignments. Hopefully I'll be able to devote Sunday night and all day Monday to that list.

I'm Sitting In Tech Class Right Now

This is my fourth official day of classes. So far I've missed two assignments and a couple readings. I'm taking 15 credit hours this semester and teaching one 3-credit hour class on top of that. That's 18 total credit hours that I'm accountable for. Full time for a grad tudent is 9 credit hours. For those of you who can't do the math, that basically means I'm double full time right now. I didn't think it would be too bad, but so far I feel overextended and stressed out. Plus, all I really want to be doing is work for the class I'm teaching rather than work for the classes I'm taking.

*sigh*

I just keep telling myself that this will get better. I know I can do it; now I just have to get it done.

Between Us, The Two Patriots And David Bowie The Smoker

Kelly and I were on the hunt for an in-town off-leash dog park today near Fort Boise when we stumbled upon an old military cemetary. It had been relocated there in 1980 and evidently was abandoned after the relocation. Some of the grave markers were dated from 1867 while others mentioned specific wars: the Indian Wars, the Civil War and the Spanish-American War. Two graves had new, hand-held size American flags in front of them and one grave for a Mr. David Bowie of Illinois had a fresh, filter cigarette lying on the ground in front of it. Many of the men were from the first infantry of the Washington territory, but most of them were from other states, mostly Kansas, Nebraska, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Iowa and New York. There was a separate section from the rest for children, infants and unknowns. Another separate section was devoted to officers. Among the officer section was the family of a captian; they lost five sons under the age of six years old within a ten-year span. The dry desert grass has grown up around most of the grave sites making the find all the more treasurable. But now we know it is there and so do you, so between us, the two patriots and David Bowie the smoker, this cemetary shall not go unforotten.

Personal Letter

I was asked to write a letter to one of my professors as homework. Here's what I came up with:

August 25, 2005

Dear Jeff,

I am not your average 23-year-old (but only for another eight days), married with a dog, English and psychology degree holder with a flair for knitting. But then again, I don't think anyone is really average.

Lately, I have begun to identify myself as a "grown-up." I think this is such a big step for me because I've always wanted to be a grown-up and, even as a child, a big part of me has always felt already grown, despite the fact that my cognitive senses told me otherwise. What has made this realization apparent to me is the fact that I have a certain command over my life and my decisions that has never been there before. My life, until recently, has been greatly dictated by adults, bureaucracy, society, tradition and even roommates.

It strikes me that today I have eaten hummus, Muenster cheese and two different varieties of fresh vegetables. My six younger siblings most likely have no idea what those things are, much like me at their age. Even though I grew up knowing only about spam and scrambled eggs, meatloaf, spaghetti sauce from a jar, and Bisquick pancakes, I can take a different angle on something as taken for granted as my food consumption; now I drink soy milk and grill salmon outside with fresh-squeezed lemon juice.

Being married also contributes to this feeling of being a grown-up. It isn't the fact that I made an "adult" decision or that we're now home-owners or that we call our dog our child, but that marriage was a decision I made against lifelong conceptions about what I thought I needed in life. Once I realized that I truly wanted to be married and redefined what I wanted marriage to be like (instead of how it was demonstrated to me by various adults in my formative years), I was able to come to an understanding with myself that I could make marriage whatever I wanted it to be. Marriage doesn't have to be a house in the suburbs with carpeted stairs and appropriate wall art; marriage doesn't have to be reporting to my husband or being afraid of him or even worse, being afraid of not having him; marriage doesn't have to be restrictive or burdensome like muddy waters that flood my path to happiness. Rather, marriage could be something that starts off happily and continues in a partnership. Of course, I was only able to make this realization after deciding on the person I wanted to be my partner for the rest of my life. That fact is something else that indicates to me a level of grown-up-ness that has never before existed; when I was 16-years-old I was convinced my then-boyfriend and I were going to be married because, like my parents, that's just what you were supposed to do – although I never thought about it critically as I did before actually marrying.

I come to your class attentive to the world of knowledge. I want to learn how to be the best teacher I can be. As cliche as that sounds, it happens to be true. I already have some tools that will aid me in being a good teacher, but unlike many in academia, I know that teaching is a science that does not come naturally just because you know the material. Yes, I am strong-willed, smart, dedicated, passionate, organized, efficient, caring, friendly, empathetic, energetic and punctual. Yes, I know how to listen, how to read, how to write and all about literature. But I don't know the proverbial nuts and bolts of the profession. I don't know how other people do it, how they have done it. I want to know what works for other people and what doesn't and how stupid it would be for me to try it that way anyway. I want to be prepared to walk into a classroom ready to effect change.

My life plan at one time had been that I would go into counseling and then after having a full career in counseling I would go back to school and get my degree in teaching high school literature. Then I could retire being relaxed, doing what I enjoyed most. That was about six years ago. Because I wanted to counsel, I started my college career as a psychology student. However, I soon found it nearly impossibly for me to resist taking literature courses. So, to save some anguish and guilt, I simply added English as a major and graduated with both disciplines. After graduation I enrolled in a counseling program at The College of William & Mary where the workload was almost non-existent but the emotional intensity of the courses was more than I had bargained for. Toward midterms I had to write a theory paper for my course in counseling theories. One of the gals in my cohort, and one of my closest friends in Virginia, came to my apartment with her paper so we could host a mini writing workshop. After she read my paper she looked at me and abruptly asked, "Why are you in this class?" In response I looked at her blankly. Of course I was in the class because I wanted to be a counselor. Somehow, though, I couldn't explain that to her. She went on to tell me that I had written a stellar paper but that there was more passion in the paper for the paper itself and the argument of theory than for the actual theory. She told me she though of me as an amazing counselor and had thought so since the first week of class, but that after reading my paper she thought I would make a far better writer and teacher. I broke down in tears and asked her how she knew because already that semester I had been asking myself the same questions. Soon, it didn't make much sense to stay there and finish out the counseling program. At the end of the semester I returned to Boise and enrolled in this program instead.

So I come to the question you posed: How can I help you? You can help me by pushing me to do better, challenging me to experience more. You can believe in me as a student and as a teacher and provide me with opportunities to excel. You can provide me with a good example of what a prepared, motivated, engaged teacher looks like. You can hold me as accountable as you allow me to hold you. You can be prepared to keep up.

I look forward to the rest of the semester.

Sincerely,
A H

Wow!

I have officially decided that teachers do not have easy jobs.

Date Night

I was able to go on a real-live, Friday night date with my husband tonight. We went to a grill downtown that shows movies on the wall of the building next door and watched "Grosse Pointe Blank." We drank a little, we ate a little, we walked around afterwards a little. We had a good time and we kissed and held hands the whole night. It has been since the end of March that I've had a Friday night off in Boise and I've been missing it. I feel so in love...

Downtown Bike Shutdown

Every third Saturday of the month bikers (as in "bicycles") meet up downtown and join the cars on the cruise. What ends up happening is that people on the cruise leave and go home because the bikers take up so much of the street. For more information, check out the myspace site with all the details, including plans for the next shutdown this Saturday, August 20. I think anything we can do to combat the cruise is a good idea. Let's stop those raucous teenagers with nothing better to do than waste gas, contributing to environmental disparagies, and make as much noise as possible.

Sometimes I can sound so old...

Chicago!

I spent two days in the Windy City last week and completely fell in love with the place. They have millions of things to do, an amazing public transportation system, nice people, beautiful architechture, fabulous shopping and great restaurants. The city has a friendly feel to it, as though people are genuinely looking out for each other. The only down side to the area as far as I could see was the lousy Navy base where I spent all day Friday. This happens to be neither a fun nor an interesting place to be and I do not recommend it for your pleasureable trip to the Second City. I myself would have avoided it completely had my little bro not graduated from basic training there that day. Overall, however, I give an A+ to the trip and the city as a whole. And if anyone wants travel tips for the greater Chicago area and its transportation system, call Kathy.

Rip Off

I am known to rip stuff off from other bloggers every once in a while. This time, I received this activity strictly from Patri's blog, which I read on an irregular basis - much like I read most online things these days.

Anyway...The premise is this: You go to Google and type in "your name is."

I typed in "A is" and came up with the following:

A is a loving mother who retains her sense of humor.

A is the Lead Technical Editor for the Dreamweaver MX Bible.

A is the kind of movie that certain people don't want you to see.

A is the only skater who received three first place ordinals.

A is a prime example of the huge impact technology can make to one's career.

A is the attractive but hard-bitten wife of ageing Mafioso Saro.

This is what came up when I typed in "K is":

K is South Africa's top provider of innovative, flexible, customer-centric, responsible People Solutions that leverage greater client competitiveness.

K is arguably Australia's greatest folk hero.

K is the Keynote Speaker for the upcoming Veteran Owned Business Expo.

K is a former New York area folk singer, songwriter/ journalist and artist.

K is another in the long line of cookie-cutter, faux rock chicks.

And to round out the family entertainment, "Radley is" turned up with this:

Radley is the oldest part of the modern village.

Radley is not a monster after all.

Radley is on the main line between Didcot and Oxford.

Radley is nude in his office at a third-rate law firm.

Radley is unique amongst independent schools in the way it tackles AS/A2 exams.

Radley is an active Member of The Forensic Science Society.

Radley is always an advocate for government leaving everything alone.

Lots To Cover

* I feel compelled to plug for Mandy again. If you missed my previous post about this, she's running a marathon for pledges for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Evidently, if she doesn't have 25% of her pledges in by August 16, they'll take that chunk out of her credit card. This is a great cause for a great girl and every dollar counts toward her end goal. If you want more information on the program or on her training schedule, HERE is a link to her blog. If you would like to donate to her campaign on line, click HERE.

* If I were to add up all the time I've spent with individuals in my life over the past week I would find that the person I've spent the most time with is JP, one of my coworkers. I like him a lot and he's great to work with, but Kelly usually wins that contest and I don't like him being usurped. Thank goodness he returns to me tomorrow.

* I watched a cartoon the other night about a skunk. This skunk only wanted to find love. He had a good heart and was nice to the girls of the forest, but when they found out he was a skunk they ran away. Often times they ran when he had his back turned to pick flowers or had his head bowed to kiss their hands. When he would look back for the girl, she would be gone without a trace. So the skunk paints himself to look like a fox. He finds a girl fox and they traipse through the forest contentedly. At one point they cross a log bridge, slip and fall into the water. One of them surfaces and you see paint wash off to reveal a skunk. Then the other surfaces and, like the first love-struck creature, you see paint wash off to reveal a skunk. I think this is a metaphor for my dating/love life. It touched me.

* There are so many books I want to read, but somehow I don't seem to have the time to read them. How is this possible? What do I do that doesn't involve reading? It's depressing, really.

* I think Radley has some major psychiatric disorders. I know he doesn't cope well with change and he could most likely be diagnosed with separation anxiety. Lately I have started to wonder about self-esteem issues. I heard on NPR recently that children who don't feel a sense of reliable security from their parents can develop low self-esteem issues. With the amoun that we have been gone - especially when we first adopted him and also this summer - I can see that being a problem for our sensitive boy. Currently he's walking around the house whining. I think he really misses Kelly. He's already decimated one pair of Kelly's underwear and two socks.

* Lately at work I've been working with the two new guys. They're both awesome and we're becoming pretty good friends. Not the point. The point is that they are new. I'm not. Therefore, they ask me a lot of questions and depend on me to teach them how to do things. This is great for my work ego. It makes me feel established and knowledgeable.

* I like Gwen Stefani's new song (I think it's called) "I know we're cool," but it makes me a little nauseous to listen to it. Not sure why...Maybe it makes me remember or at least think about something unpleasant in my own life.

Wedding Pics

I said I would do it, so here it is finally...A collection of highlights from the wedding. Special thanks to Liz and Rex for supplying the photos. I looked for the CD from Crystal but I couldn't locate it anywhere. My guess is that Kelly knows where it is. Or that I'll find it when I clean up in the super disasterous study. When I find it I may post a few more pictures, but until then...enjoy.


Here's the whole gang. We're posing for the photographer at a completely different angle, but I lik this shot just as much.


Here's Kelly and the guys...


and me and the girls.


A shot from above.


This is during the ceremony.


This is after the ceremony. Everyone carried a flower during the ceremony except Kelly and me. Then we went up the stairs (there was a room at the top of the stairs which was where we came out at the beginning of the ceremony) and everyone passed their flowers to the center. Krista tied them all together with a ribbon from some chocolates Bethany brought to share, making the bouquet I tossed.



Here's the only surviving photo of Kelly and me with all our siblings (minus one). Kelly is the youngest of seven and I'm the oldest of seven. I say that it's the only surviving photo because this pose was intended to be captured by the photographer. Unfortunately his lense had something wrong with it and nothing turned out. We're incredibly greatful for this one for that reason.

Wedding Pics Continued

I could only do a certain number per post, so here's the rest of the ones I wanted to share.


Here's our first dance together. We danced to Sarah McLaughlin's "Ice Cream."


Here I am dancing with a bunch of girlfriends to *NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye." It was kind of a memory thing from freshman year in the dorms...those were the days...Notice my dress starting to slip off? That was the first of two times that it completely fell down. The clasp in the back broke so I was taped in and safety pinned but still had to hold it up all night.



When it was time for us to leave we were hugging people as we walked toward the door. However, everyone managed to make it outside before we got there. We were confused and thought people just couldn't wait to get out of there. Turns out that they made two lines from the door of the depot to the door of the taxi we rode in to a hotel. When we walked outside they started cheering and clapping and congratulating us. It still makes me tear up to recall that moment. Thanks Matt.



Here we are at the end of the line climbing into the cab, laughing but still a little teary-eyed at the rush of joy and exuberance and love from everyone there.

One Week

Kelly left early this morning for Virginia. He has a week of training ahead of him for his new job. This will be our largest separation since the last time one of us was in Virginia. I will miss him dearly, but I have plenty planned to keep me busy. I'm just hoping I'll be able to sleep at night alone. I really don't like having to adjust to that. I don't like being lonely at night. I ate dinner by myself tonight for the first time in probably seven months. Food just doesn't taste the same when you're by yourself. *sigh* One week.

I Heard It On NPR

People in London are afraid now.

The way London has operated its public policing system has been like this: the police officers have not carried guns. They simply walked the streets with a radio and night stick waving at people with a smile and aiding tourists in figuring out maps and other traveling quandries. The emphasis was on a friendly group of officers people could trust and believe in.

Now some officers are carrying guns. They want to feel more protected. They want to feel more aptly able to protect the people of London.

What I don't understand is this: How will the police officers' guns help to better protect the people against bomb attacks on the subway?

Since That Moment

Sometimes things happen and you come away with a new perspective. Sometimes the new perspective is of yourself.

Sometimes one moment can change who you are.

I've been thinking a lot lately about a specific moment in group therapy last semester. I told everyone I was thinking about coming back to Boise. People were shocked. Some were adamantly against it. Some told me to do what I wanted to do. Only one - one woman fiercely into her schoolwork and 100% serious about a career and independent like no other - told me to do it. Do it, she said. William & Mary has been here for 400 years and will be here for 400 more, but he won't be, she said. If you love him, you need to be with him, she said. And then we were both crying.

Since that moment I'v been defining my role as a person in love with a man. I've had to figure out what that means to me and how I will represent that to people around me. For a long time, I was told that I don't need this and maybe even that I shouldn't want this - this life in a house with a dog and a fence and a car where we look forward to seeing each other at the end of the day and pay bills from a joint checking account.

But that was someone else's reality. I just convinced myself it was truth of sorts and that it applied to me too.

Whether I've merely been conditioned by society to believe that I need the heterosexual partner with 2.3 kids and comfy jobs or whether that's strictly outlined as my fate in my complicated little DNA codons I don't care. This is what I have because this is what I want. This time I'm not fooling myself into something because it's what is all around me or because it's according to someone else's beliefs. This is all me. I just had to wake up.

So thank you, Anne, for turning on the light. You helped me see that my life truly is my own and what I wanted to do about that. You showed me that it's my choice to share that life and that doing so can be good - it doesn't have to be what I've seen it be. You woke a part of me that was afraid and unsure but is now thriving and happy.

Sometimes things happen and you come away with a new perspective. Sometimes the new perspective is of yourself.

Sometimes one moment can change who you are.

We Finally Have A Slogan

Kelly and I finally have a slogan prompting us to be healthy people, eat well and exercise. Here it is...We're going to go from Big Fat LOSERS to Big FAT Losers. I can see the bood headlines now. Ahhh...

See, it all started when I was laying out in the yard one sunny day. I thought to myself, "If I can lay here for an hour tanning - doing something that may eventually lead me to some random skin cancer - in an effort to do something vain for my body that I deem good, why can't I also work out for an hour? Why can't I go running later? How can I convince myself that I'm too tired to actually make myself healthy but I can easily lounge around topless in the backyard making myself appear healthy according to societal dictates of the upper-"commonly non-working"-class?" Well that prompted me to email my thoughts to Kelly in - I'm sure - what was a fairly rambling, perhaps slightly caustic manner as I called us both out on ways we could do more, just don't. In said email I labeled us "big, fat losers" because it has been a while since we've worked out and we both always say "tomorrow we're going to start working out again" but somehow, tomorrow always had another excuse.

Finally, tomorrow had come. It was only a matter of a couple days and once it came I meant serious business. There were no more excuses and there were no more tomorrows. We have become Big Fat LOSERS but shall be no more! I have a dream that one day we shall see ourselves in the mirror as fine examples of healthy people! I have a dream that we shall walk tall in the shadow of the valley of death for we know that we take care of ourselves and treat our bodies like the only bodies we'll ever have! Because they are! I have a dream! I have a dream that one day our children will play soccer with other children and they will score many points because their parents were able to keep up during family-fun practices at Ann Morrison Park! I have a dream! I have a dream that the changes we make today will take us from being Big Fat LOSERS to being Big FAT Losers! I have a dream!

Well so far the plan has worked. We're going on 10 solid days now. I know it doesn't sound like a lot, but Rome wasn't built in a day either. And the slogan really is stellar motivation for us. Well, at least it gives me something to hold on to. Sometimes I suspect Kelly is just along for the ride because he's so good at humoring me. But that's all right...It's good for him.

Guess Who?

One of us - either Kelly or myself - went to the hospital today to check something out. The doctor deemed it necessary for the involved party to have an ultra-sound done. So now we're going to play a rousing edition of Guess Who? where I provide clues and you make a decision as to who needed the ultra-sound.

* The ultra-sound was performed on the patient's abdomen.

* It was the patient's first ultra-sound.

* The doctor visit and ultra-sound took a combined three hours.

* The ultra-sound was performed in conjunction with a blood-letting. Well, they drew blood to do some blood tests.

That's enough info for now. Feel free to ask questions for clarification on some points prior to making your educated guess.

Kelly's A Jerk

Here are some interesting statistics:

* The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates 35 to 50 million Americans come down with the flu each flu season, which typically lasts from November to March. More than 100,000 people are hospitalized and 20,000 people die from the flu and its complications every year.

* The SDA estimates that 76 million Americans get sick, more than 300,000 are hospitalized, and 5,000 die each year from foodborne illness.

* One in 10 hospitalized patients, or about 2 million people a year, will acquire an infection after admission. These infections contribute to the death of nearly 90,000 hospital patients per year, according to the CDC.

* Americans spend about $5 billion each year on colds - about $3 billion on doctors' visits and $2 billion on treatments.

I'm not saying that a little dirt will kill you. I'm saying that diseases and germs are easily spread. I'm saying that we can all do our part to slow that. I'm saying that things like West Nile and Salmonella do exist and that we shouldn't scoff at the mere possibility of becoming infected with such an illness. Yes, I'm aware that viruses change over time and that they are able to mutate themselves in a fashion that prevents them from being affected, much less killed, by antibiotics but does that mean that we should also stop testing for a cure for AIDS? I have a brilliant idea, Kelly, why don't we all go out and have random, unprotected sex with as many people as possible and then compare numbers of infectious diseases at the end of the month. It can be a fabulous contest to see who contracts AIDS first. Abstinence on any count is stupid, but so is reckless abandon. Why do something stupid when we can simply be proactive about it?

Whatever. I'm going to bed. You should take care of your dog.

Donate To Mandy

My good friend Mandy who lives near Denver, Colorado, is in the process of training for a marathon. She is also in the process of fundraising. How are these two related, you ask. Well, the money she raises will go to helping treat a 3-year-old girl with leukemia who also lives in the Denver area.

Mandy is raising money through Team in Training, a group funded by the Leukemia and Lymphoma society, and plans to run the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco on October 23, 2005. Mandy's goal is to raise $3,700 by that time, but she has currently only raised about $400 between working in a pharmacy, attending a pharmacology master's program and training for the marathon.

So I'm giving a little shout-out for Mandy, asking all my friends and family and in general just people who give a damn to check out her training blog (that I've linked to many times here as well as posted a link on my side bar) and give a little donation. She has information on her blog on how to donate online and where to check out Team in Training. Not only will your donation go to helping fund a little girl's treatment, but it will encourage Mandy to train harder and better for her 26-mile journey in October.