My Birthday: September 2, 1981

I found this fun site on Crystal's site. You just put in your birth date and it spits out birthdate information. Here's mine:

Your date of conception was on or about 10 December 1980 which was a Wednesday.
You were born on a Wednesday under the astrological sign Virgo.
Your Life path number is 3.

Life Path Compatibility:
You are most compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 3, 6 & 9.
You should get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 1, 2, 5 & 11.
You are least compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 4, 7, 8 & 22.

The Julian calendar date of your birth is 2444849.5.
The golden number for 1981 is 6.
The epact number for 1981 is 24.
The year 1981 was not a leap year.

Your birthday falls into the Chinese year beginning 2/5/1981 and ending 1/24/1982.
You were born in the Chinese year of the Rooster.

The date of Easter on your birth year was Sunday, 19 April 1981.
The date of Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent) on your birth year was Wednesday 4 March 1981.
The date of Whitsun (Pentecost Sunday) in the year of your birth was Sunday 7 June 1981.
The date of Whisuntide in the year of your birth was Sunday 14 June 1981.
The date of Rosh Hashanah in the year of your birth was Tuesday, 29 September 1981.
The date of Passover in the year of your birth was Sunday, 19 April 1981.
The date of Mardi Gras on your birth year was Tuesday 3 March 1981.

As of 3/3/2006 8:12:39 PM EST
You are 24 years old.
You are 294 months old.
You are 1,278 weeks old.
You are 8,948 days old.
You are 214,772 hours old.
You are 12,886,332 minutes old.
You are 773,179,959 seconds old.

Your age is the equivalent of a dog that is 3.50215264187867 years old. (Life's just a big chewy bone for you!)

There are 183 days till your next birthday, on which your cake will have 25 candles.

Those 25 candles produce 25 BTUs, or 6,300 calories of heat (That's only 6.3000 food Calories!).
You can boil 2.86 US ounces of water with that many candles.

In 1981 there were approximately 3.6 million births in the US.
In 1981 the US population was approximately 226,545,805 people, 64.0 persons per square mile.
In 1981 in the US there were 2,438,000 marriages (10.6%) and 1,219,000 divorces (5.3%)
In 1981 in the US there were approximately 1,990,000 deaths (8.8 per 1000).
In the US a new person is born approximately every 8 seconds.
In the US one person dies approximately every 12 seconds.

Your birthstone is Sapphire.

Though not meant to replace traditional medical treatment, Sapphire is used for clear thinking.
Some lists consider these stones to be your birthstone: Agate, Moonstone, Lapis Lazuli

Your birth tree is the Pine Tree, the Particularity.
Loves agreeable company, very robust, knows how to make life comfortable, very active, natural, good companion, but seldom friendly, falls easily in love but its passion burns out quickly, gives up easily, many disappointments till it finds its ideal, trustworthy, practical.

There are 297 days till Christmas 2006!
There are 310 days till Orthodox Christmas!

The moon's phase on the day you were born was waxing crescent.

Gross!

This morning after yoga I went to the bathroom to change into my non-yoga clothes. I could hear another woman in the bathroom with me. She finished her business, flushed the toilet, and exited the stall. Then I heard her walk to the sink and run her hands under the water for approximately two seconds before leaving the bathroom. At that moment I knew - I knew - that in order to get out of the bathroom I would have to touch the now-wet door handle covered in her dirty, sticky wet germs.

Who did not teach people these days to wash their hands? Was that a mishap of the 80s when people didn't know about things - or at least didn't want to admit to things - like AIDS and fashion sense? How did it become OK to run your hands under cold water for less time than it takes W to smirk about public health care and count that as "washing"? If you're using soap - as the age-old mother educt dictates you should after using the bathroom and before eating a meal - it should take at the bare minimun ten seconds to rinse, lather, and rinse again, thus killing the germs on your hands instead of moisturizing them in preparation to leave an imprint of them on the bathroom doorknob.

One more thing to all those drunk people who visit Pita Pit: Stop tearing the bathroom up. Property damage is not cool; it's rude. When you rip the sink off the wall and cut the piping to the toilet, I can't wash my hands before enjoying a nice, delicious pita. You're a jerk.

WOAH!

It's been crazy busy around these parts lately! Between school and picking up a couple shelter shifts and homework and teaching and grading papers and helping family and doing observations at West and writing for the newspaper, I'm swamped!

...that means that laundry hasn't been done in a while. The mountains of clothing are starting to overtake the laundry room...They are growing exponentially - I'm pretty sure they've started mating rituals in there. If anyone wants to get me the perfect gift just because I'm cool, it would be some way to magically always have all the laundry in the house washed and put away. That would be blissful.

Radaley

Public Service Announcement

Let this serve as a warning to all Boise State University English graduate students: Do not - I repeat - DO NOT take English 554 unless you want a boring, boring class full of statistical information and high brow, useless research that only applies to the clinical side of writing as it corresponds to conducting field research. You will find no purpose to this course and will spend your semester dreading all reading and homework assignments for this course. All work completed for this course will be entirely prescriptive in form, its only significance being that the instructor will read it and assign you an arbitrary grade that he keeps in his secret notebook. Consider yourself advised.

Report: Poor People Pretty Much Fucked

(I pulled this from The Onion. Not only do I think it's funny, but I see a little truth in here too. Perhaps that's what makes it so funny.)

WASHINGTON - According to the results of an intensive two-year study, Americans living below the poverty line are "pretty much fucked," Center for Social and Economic Research executive director Jameson Park announced Monday.

"Although poor people have never had it particularly sweet, America has long been considered the land of opportunity, where upward class mobility is hard work's reward," Park said. "However, our study shows that limited access to quality education and a shortage of employment opportunities in depressed areas all but ensure that, once fucked, an individual tends to stay fucked."

According to U.S. Census Bureau statistics, 34.6 million Americans were living below the poverty line in 2002.

"Not only are the down-and-out fucked, but the number of down-and-out fucks is growing," Park said. "Conditions of disadvantage are often passed from one generation to the next, making it especially difficult for young people to emerge from the cycle of poverty."

"Man, my heart goes out to those poor fuckers," Park added.

America's increasingly rigid class system worsens the situation for the poor.

"After analyzing the economic performance of U.S. households over the past several decades, we concluded that class mobility, while steady in the '70s and '80s, declined in the '90s," Park said. "About 40 percent of families ended the decade in the same economic strata in which they began it. That's up from about 35 percent in the '80s. That's good news for those sittin' pretty, but it spells 'fuck you' to the poor."

As a result, Park said, there are more poor people, and those poor people are much more screwed than poor people were a decade or two ago.

"As the split between the upper and lower classes grows, and the middle class continues to shrink, we're moving closer and closer to what can only be called a 'no way out, dude. Sorry, you're fucked'-type situation," Park said. "Not only are the poor fucked at the moment, but any chance they once had of changing their miserable lives is pretty much gone, too. Essentially, they're fucked for all time."

The CSER study identified four major poverty groups within the U.S. The first two groups - one composed of disenfranchised blue-collar workers, the other made up of members of poor rural populations - have been adversely affected by the nation's gradual shift to a technology-based, global economy. Researchers have dubbed disenfranchised blue-collar workers the Factory Fucked, while members of poor rural populations are called the Farm Fucked. Park characterized the individuals in these two groups as "fucked from the get-go."

The other two rapidly expanding groups of poor fucks are the suburban poor, whose members can't afford the rising cost of such basic necessities as healthcare, and the urban underclass, whose members are found in the nation's troubled inner cities. Researchers termed these groups the Recently Fucked and the Utterly Fucked, respectively.

Economist Harold Knoep said there's little reason for sympathy.

"In a healthy capitalist economy, some people are going to be out-competed," Knoep said. "I'm sorry, but some of those fuck-ups have fucked themselves. I am not condoning an anarchic 'fuck or be fucked' ethos, but I can hardly get behind a welfare state that punishes the unfucked by fucking all equally."

While he expressed concern for the nation's poor, House Speaker Dennis Hastert (R-IL) said increased funding for social programs isn't the answer.

"Nobody's saying poor people aren't fucked," Hastert said. "But what about all the people in this great nation who are not fucked? If the financial resources of the economically stable are diverted - through some well-intentioned but fiscally irresponsible social-service program - to the people who are fucked, where does that leave those who were sailin' along fine? Fucked."

Ed Cranston, an under-employed, Detroit-area machinist who made $14,000 last year, said he was not surprised by the report.

"They say I'm fucked?" Cranston asked. "Shit, man, tell me something I don't know."

Ketchup

Ah...It has been a while since my last visit here. Last weekend I took some time off. I asked Kelly when we woke up Saturday morning if the whole weekend could just be the two of us spending time together NOT working. He thought it was a good idea and I'm thankful for that because I needed a relaxed weekend.

As part of our relaxed weekend, we went up to Bogus Basin for skiing. I went skiing once when I was 10 and thought it was one of the most traumatic experiences of my childhood and swore I would never go back. A few years ago my roommate Steve convinced me to let him teach me to snowboard and I let him, despite being terrified of skiing. Steve promised that snowboarding was easier. I went three times that season, but never really felt comfortable with it. It hurt my joints and I couldn't control my speed. After my terrible fall down the mountain, during which I was airborn at least twice, I decided not to return to the snow. But Kelly has been asking me to try skiing once more, this time with him, for the past two years. Last weekend I relented. It was actually a terrific time - after I got over the nausea and stopped crying when he showed me how to click my boots into the bindings. I only fell a couple times all day and found the things far easier to control than a silly old snowboard. I'm even looking forward to returning at some point in the near future. Here's a picture of us just before leaving for the day:


I think that the relaxation of last weekend must have had some medicinal effect on my motivation. We just finished the fourth week of school, which means that there's only 12 weeks left. Somehow, I set 12 as my magical number after which I could definitely make it. It's working. I don't feel as worried or stressed about the rest of the semester at all and it's nice.

I've been saying for a long time that I would post photos of some of my completed knitting projects, but have been quite negligent. Well here's a photo of a hat I just completed for my neice.


Thanks to everyone who commented about the insurance thing. The frustration continues, but I think it's nearly over. I'm going to stick it out with the stupid on-campus people, but only because it's easier. After I graduate I'll get a real job as a real teacher and have health care through their provider. I'm never sick, so hopefully I won't need the insurance for anything serious in the next year and a half.

I added two links in my sidebar for two other blogs - both my own. One is for my class; it's a place where we can discuss our class theme of community. The other is for my observations on my junior high experience. I've started doing observations at West Junior High and have to maintain a log for my professor. I thought I would do the log in the form of a blog so that I have easy access to it and it's easy to maintain if I want to go back and look through stuff at some point down the road.

Kelly said the other day that he wants to not drink for the next month in an effort to be more health conscious. I told him that I was going to hold him to that and that I would even join him in the endeavor. And so we bet on it. If he drinks alcohol prior to March 3, he has to go to the gym wearing nothing but his underwear and sneakers and do five squats in the free-weight area on a day of my choosing. If I drink alcohol prior to March 3, I have to teach an English 101 class in an outfit of Kelly's choosing. This whole thing could prove quite interesting.

Top 10 Romantic Gifts

Here's the article I wrote with help from many of you. If you see yourself here and something isn't entirely right - like your name or where your from or how I know you - just remember that I have creative license as the writer.

1. The gift of time.
Sometimes life gets so wrapped up in phone calls and out of town business trips that we forget to unwind.
For a change, turn off your cell and clear your calendar. Take time together. Bogus Creek Outfitters offers rides through the snow on a turn-of-the-century bobsleigh for $65 per person. After cuddling in the sleigh, enjoy a warm meal and cowboy poetry in a mountain cabin.
"We had a good time keeping each other warm on the sleigh ride, looking at the beautiful wildlife covered in snow," said Boise State University faculty member Annie Ritter. "We talked and laughed and forgot about everything else for a while."
2. The gift of service.
Has she been asking you to make her a new set of shelves? Has he been wanting you to make his favorite dinner? Make now the time for that activity. If your partner has been asking for it, you know the action will be unappreciated.
"Brandon is not a cook. It takes him twice as long to make things as it would if I made them myself, but he spends hours shopping for and preparing healthy, fresh meals because it means a lot to me," said Julie Johnson, a diner at the Flipside Cafe. "The dinner itself isn't as important as the fact that he's doing something difficult for him simply because it will make me happy."
3. The gift of memory.
Frame some old pictures of the two of you.
"She gave me pictures once that she took of herself," said Patri Thompson, a hostess at Asiago's in Boise. "They were a big surprise because they were for no reason at all. Unless you count love as a reason - and I do."
If scrapbooking is more your speed, Boise has a number of scrapbook shops that carry all the supplies you'll need. Plus, they have cooperative and creative staff who can help with your project.
4. The gift of relaxation.
Taking the entire day off is one thing, but it's better to spend some of that time at a spa, especially since that isn't a luxury most people invest in for themselves. Most day spas offer services for both men and women in a calm and rejuvenating environment. Zoberski Salon on State offers a couple's massage at a location of your choice. They bring music, champagne, snacks and flowers to accompany the hour and a half dual Swedish massage for a package cost of $265.
5. The adventurous gift.
If your loved one craves adrenaline, look in to an extreme activity that you can do together or your partner can do while you watch and take pictures. For $175 each, you can skydive with Skydive Idaho. Or, for about the same price plus a quick jaunt up to Sun Valley, you can paraglide with Fly Sun Valley.
6. The practical gift.
Sometimes the most wonderful gifts are those that fulfill a need.
"Thoughtfulness can be very romantic - especially thoughtfulness to give someone something that they might never buy for themselves," said Echo Savage while perusing the literature section at Barnes and Noble. "My work shoes are the best gift I've gotten in a while. I was about to start a new job where I'd be on my feet all of the time, so she bought me a pair of Danskos because she knew that I needed them. I wear them every day."
7. The sexy gift.
It doesn't matter who it's for - everyone appreciates something that makes them feel good. This could be anywhere from lingerie to a satin robe to massage oils, just so long as it's something you think the two of you would be able to enjoy together.
8. The gift that tastes good.
Treat your partner to a delicious restaurant with a delectable atmosphere. Milky Way, Mosaic and Mortimer's are wonderful downtown spots, with Berryhill and Cottonwood a little farther out. Be sure to sample the wine at any of these restaurants, as they have a terrific selection. For dessert, try French pastries at Le Cafe de Paris or a Split Decision sundae for two from Goody's.
9. The gift of words.
"When we were dating she had to leave to visit her parents for awhile so I gave her 30 envelopes, each with candy and a love note, in a little box - one envelope for each day," said George Irwin over his coffee cup at a poetry reading at the Flying M.
Compose a poem or a letter. Make a card. Write "I love you" on sticky notes and leave them around the house. Tell your partner why you are in love with no one else and make sure your words are something to remember forever.
10. Combine the gifts.
Anything on this list is enough to be a pleasant surprise, but if you're really aiming for an over-the-top encounter, combine ideas. Prior to dinner, stop by the spa for your hour of pampering. During dessert, slide a package across the table with a love note on top. Purchase you and your partner a set of matching gloves, scarves and hats with a new fuzzy blanket you could share on a sleigh ride. Ultimately the choice is yours, but whatever the decision, remember that your gift will be most appreciated if it is from the heart.

Sometimes I really hate Boise State.

Insurance.

If I'm covered under the school's plan it's far less expensive than if I were to be covered under Kelly's work plan. I didn't know that my student health insurance wasn't accepted anywhere under the sun except for BSU. So three months ago when I went to pick up my birth control I had to pay full price for it because my old insurance had finally died and my new insurance was worthless at the old place.

So I talked to the people at BSU and they gave me pills for the following month. To get more after that I needed to have an annual exam done. I looked into having it done at my old place, but my doctor has moved offices and is no longer practicing in Idaho, so I would have to change locations anyway. Plus, as previously mentioned, my insurance is worthless anywhere but on campus.

Going entirely through the on-campus clinic wouldn't be such a big deal to me except that every woman I've talked to who has been to that clinic has a scary story to tell. Scary annual exam stories make me anxious. That is an exam that should be done carefully and nicely without problem or cause for tears. I have yet to hear about that story from the BSU clinic.

Plus, in order to get my pills from last month on, I need an exam. However, the BSU health clinic only does same-day scheduling. That means that you can only make appointments for Monday on Monday. You can only make appointments for Tuesday on Tuesday. That means that if you call in five minutes after everyone else has called in, you're shit out of luck. Last month I was unable to secure an appointment and was lucky enough to have one prescription refill at the old place, so I just picked up another pack of birth control at full price. This month, however, I don't have that option. I either get them from the campus clinic or I don't get them. The problem is that I cannot get them unless I get an exam. I cannot get an exam because I cannot get one scheduled. Plus, I don't really want them to give me the exam because I feel like I'm entering the wolf den based on all the horror stories I've been told.

At this point, I'm just frustrated. I don't feel like I have any options. This prize of birth control is being held over me for one stupid exam and all I want is to have sex without worry of a pregnancy. But to them, the important thing is giving me that stupid exam - no exceptions. I don't have options, I can do nothing to change the situation, and I have no possible course of action other than to do what they require. It isn't fair, it isn't fun and I almost want to cry over it all out of sheer futility.

What I really want

It's snowing today, but instead of sitting next to a window with a good novel and a cup of tea, I have chained myself to my desk in an attempt to be a real student and a real teacher. I did do my preferred activity this morning for about two hours, but it just isn't the same as doing it for an entire day. The thing is, I haven't actually started the semester yet. I mean, I've been attending classes but I haven't been doing my homework or reading assignments or even really grading anything my students have turned in. I'm still in winter break mode. Only 14 weeks left until the end of the semester. What does it say about my motivation that I'm already counting the weeks until summer break?

What I miss...

is feeling well-rested throughout the day.

is the anticipation.

is knowing that the only reading I have to do is for me.

I know will come again, if only because I will make my own time for it.

is staying up until 3 a.m. and feeling OK about it.

is working because I genuinely want to.

is saying "Yes" to extra obligations.

I hope misses me too.

Neighborly Goodness

Our neighbors came over for dinner the other night. I went out on a limb I don't frequently go out on and basically asked them to be our friends. I'm so glad they accepted; I don't think my shyness could have handled a denial. But my insecurities with friendships are another post entirely.

The point is...They came over for dinner and we all had great fun. I informed them that we decided that they should get a dog so that Radley has a neighbor to play with on lonely days when he's home alone being a latch-key dog. They informed us that they had decided that we should soon have a baby so that their newborn would have a neighborhood kid to play with so that they don't have to be his primary entertainers.

I like it that we're already to the stage in our friendship that we're deciding things for each others' lives.

However, I told them that getting a dog is easier than getting a kid and so therefore, our request trumps theirs. They laughed.

Yay for Kelly!

I have pretty much the best husband ever. He's in the kitchen right now chopping, slicing and stirring away with two cutting boards out, the stove on, and stuff outside on the grill making me stuffed peppers for dinner. I'm sure they'll be delicious, if only because of the love put into them.

In honor of our yummy dinner, here's a picture of our little family up in McCall this winter.

That class did not inspire me.

Today was the first day of class and, true to form, was anticlimactic. I only have six students in my two 101 classes and the other professors with offices in my hallway have found out. That, I think, spurred the most exciting part of my day. Annie came stomping in my office shrieking about it not being fair and saying she would gladly give up half of her 50 students to me. I've promised them all that it wasn't my fault and that there was no hexing or candle-lighting ceremonies involved in my low class size, but I don't think they necessarily believe me. I decided I wouldn't feel threatened until they started coming after me with pitchforks and lit torches, but I'm starting to think that may be just around the river bend.

I had one class today that I'm taking (as opposed to the two classes today that I taught). So far, it is as George said (the genius behind this post's title): completely non inspirational. The rest of the classes have got to be better than the first one, where I almost fell asleep (yes, I realize the bad impression that makes on a professor). One good thing about that class will be that George is in it, which means we can argue all semester about when he invented the internet.

This morning one of my profs from last semester gave me a huge compliment. I saw him in the mail room and he let me know that he requested for me to come work with him for my student teaching stuff. This guy is really good at handing out praise but doesn't do it unless you deserve it because you've worked your ass off. When he does praise, he does it very well. I contacted the office that sets up student teaching and they verified that I will indeed be working with him, so that makes me very happy.

Thanks to all the people who posted romantic gift ideas! I had no idea that some of you could be so sweet and thoughtful. I've started the article and it's going well so far, but if you come up with more ideas, lay 'em out here. I think I may post the article when it's done. I don't usually post the articles I write because they're boring articles about people I don't know, but this one is turning out to be a lot of fun!

Off to start my first homework assignment of the semester...

CALLING ALL LOVERS!!!!

Even though my slacker reader base doesn't often respond by commenting here, I'm asking - even begging - you to comment just this once. I'm writing a newspaper article on the top 10 most romantic gifts and would like your input. What has been something romantic (and I'm hoping for a little unique) that you've either given or received? I 98% refuse to put flowers, chocolate, lingerie, jewelry or stuffed animals on this list, so that may save some of you the inconvenience of posting. I say 98% because I'm not completely closed to a really good idea.

K - So tell me the most romantic gift you've ever given or received (or both) so that I can perhaps put it in my article. It would help tremendously if you told me why you think it would work because if I like what you've said I may just use it in my article.

I can't believe it isn't noon yet.

Last night was a rough night for both Kelly and me. He has a cold right now so sleeping was frought with moments of difficult breathing that would wake him up. His difficult breathing made it difficult for me to sleep as well. When he came downstairs at 8 to try sleeping sitting up on the couch, I couldn't sleep in the bed any more either so I came down with him. We watched a movie and then finally napped some together on the couch sitting up. Because I'm already feeling the strain of stress sneaking up on me - school starts in a week from today - I had to get up and start working on something. Besides, now he's sleeping peacefully because he can breathe easier.

It always catches my attention how beautiful Kelly is when he's sleeping. He looks strong, but not stern, and ever so calm. His attentiveness to me remains; he can sleep through any noise, but when I whisper to him to roll over or to wake up, he responds appropriately. He is gentle and requires gentleness in return. It's one of those images that makes me want to create an exquisite painting on a rich canvas with delicious colors that emote true adoration and elegance.

Mini-poll

A friend of mine has been wondering about this, so I thought I would see what help I could uncover here...

How soon after you start "hanging out" with someone should you become exclusive?

In other words...You go on a first date...then a second date...it's going well...What amount of time - if there is such a standard - should you allow to lapse prior to settling into a serious dating relationship with just this one person?

Up for grabs!

We have half a box of instant white rice in the cupboard left over from when our roommates moved out about a year ago, but we're not going to eat it. We prefer our Japanese rice in the rice cooker. And so, this year-old half a box of instant white rice is up for grabs. Perhaps you like year-old instant white rice. Or perhaps you're planning a prank or an illegal after-wedding rice affair. Whatever the case, if you would like this year-old half box of instant white rice, just say the word and it is all yours.

Here we are

...at the beginning of a new year. I've never understood everyone's fascination with the new year, how people can look to it as though it has rejuvenative properties. The season is the same dead season and the stress of the holidays is still upon us. Things from last year are not wiped clean and are not forgotten. It is merely another beginning of another month, a carry-over of yesterday and the day before that. We still like the same things, dislike the same things, worry about the same things, and know that in reality nothing is different now from before the year changed. In this time of resolutions and great hopes we somehow lose the perspective of the continuity of time and look to this moment to make a great change in hopes that now will be different, that now will make the difference.

As for me, I can say that I love this time of year simply because it means that the holiday bullshit is over. Drivers return to normal driving patterns and shoppers return to normal shopping patterns. Strangers stop wishing me holiday greetings on every street corner and the numerous and oh-so-joyous holiday gatherings are finally over. I like this time of year because this is a re-entry into reality - what life is like before the glitz of strings of tiny lights and fat men in red suits change the community perspective of what "cheer" should resemble. Because we all know that all that egg nog-induced happiness is just a way to excuse the normal human tendencies that encourage us to be rude to our friends and pass it off as "not my problem, not my fault." It's a way for us to feel good about ourselves if for just one or two weeks out of the rest of the miserable, miserable year. Or at least a way to convince ourselves of that goodness. Meanwhile, every holiday party becomes our own to control to our leisure.

So welcome to 2006. I encourage you to donate to the homeless and starving throughout the year - because they aren't only hungry from November 15 through December 31. Lose weight all year long by exercising and eating vegetables every day. Be nice to people, especially your friends and the people you love most. Talk to people everywhere like they're someone you know. Don't be so foolish as to think that you can make decisions without checking first with the people those decisions will effect. And don't crash parties or invite others to do so either. Recycle.

Here we are - facing all the seasons and all the holidays all over again. Birthdays, anniversaries and celebrations will come again and in a year we will be back at this place...This irrelevant space in time that inevitably contains so much expectation.

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.