Tomorrow I Fly

Flying home to Pittsburgh for the holidays. This will be Jay's first introduction to my entire family. Up until now he's only met my sister Karlyn... Should be interesting all around, I think.

And I have almost finished all my christmas present making. I just have to finish off the piece for my parents and I will be ready to roll. Or at least to pack...

Wheee!!!!

Visitin'

Yesterday morning I went to the school where I will be student teaching starting in January. I didn't actually get the chance to observe the classes that I will be teaching, but I sat through three of her other classes. The first two were okay, but the third? Little snots. Rude, disrespectful, barely listened to her... Then she asked me to get up and speak to them for a few minutes at the end of class... they listened for all of thirty seconds. One little hootchie mama calls out at she's leaving "See ya, whatever your name was."

My god. Do these kids have to work so hard to be cool that they can't practice the most common of courtesies?

That said, in her other classes, there were at least two of three students who were very interested in the language and several who had questions for me about studying French and living in France as a student. So... not a totally bad experience, and I know I shouldn't be quite so appalled at the third class's behavior, but...

The snow is a comin'

So, Jay says that we are going to get hit with a storm right about the time I'm supposed to leave work. Brilliant. Now, the plows are very good about keeping I-80 clear, but if it starts dumping an hour before I leave and doesn't stop for four or five hours... not going to happen.

If it is snowing like that, he wants me to stay up in Park City for the night - either at the hotel or at my friend Kelsi's place. I have to be back up in town for our group meeting Monday before work anyway. I just hope that Terry doesn't have any problems driving up for her shift, since she's the one to relieve me at 11pm.

Damn snow.

(Actually, I love the snow for skiing purposes, it just sucks for driving in.)

Argh

So many things to do...

Must finish family christmas presents by Monday.
Need to continue with revisions on Revival.
Should finish off two more crits this weekend.
Want to keep working on Retribution.

Also, before leaving on the 22nd, I MUST get rid of this awful sore throat and ear ache. Gah.

More on the weekly theme

That would be Sleeplessness, of course. Somehow I find it depressing that it's not quite 6pm here and I've already been awake for more than 12 hours.

I use the term "awake" loosely.

On the subject, but in a different vein...

Between the time I was 11 and 15, my parents had the master bedroom in the basement. My bedroom was in the attic (3rd floor) and my baby sisters were right below me. Naturally, the walk up one floor to my room was a lot less scary than going down two floors to my parents. During these years, I learned to wake instantly when high-pitched voices whispered my name from the hall. Or at least to wake enough to lift the covers and let the munchkin of the moment crawl up with me.

Did I mention that I had a twin bed? Not large. And very small children, particularly the youngest, can somehow command sections of a bed totally disproportionate with their physical size.

So during this time I also learned to sleep in uncomfortable positions - smack against the wall, with knees and elbows in my back... I think that's why I have no trouble sharing a bed now.

Just a thought.

Edited to add the "NO" that I forgot

Not a morning person

There's something about waking up before 7am that just makes my whole week become a blur. I've started back to work and have been on the morning shift. Since I have a 45 minute drive up there, I have to get up at least an hour and a half prior to my shift. When the shift starts at 7am, this means I'm waking up at Oh Dark Hundred Hours.

Definitely not my preferred time of day. However, might as well be at work while I'm semi-conscious instead of being semi-conscious at home and totally alert at work...

The hardest part is not letting myself take an afternoon nap after I get home. Soooooo sllleeeeeepyyyyyyy.

Back, I think

Only got 2 hours sleep at Jay's Mom's house in New Jersey on a bed that had feather pillows. (I am mucho allergico to feather-o pillows.) Having not slept with feather pillows for a long time, I had forgotten how miserable said action leave me. Sneezing sneezing sneezing.

Also did not sleep on the 5 hour plane ride. Have been home for 3 hours. Very tired. Fading fast. Promise to be interesting sometime in the future.

Wham Bam

And I passed the 50K mark for NaNo today. Nowhere near done with the story itself. I have at least another 50K to go before that's complete, but now I get to let the idea stew over the holiday weekend while I'm traveling and away from computer access. (I could take the laptop, but I don't think it's worth the hassle, and I won't have that much downtime anyway.)

No end to my talents...

Yep, so I was cutting up potatoes the other night (to make some garlic mashed ones) and the furnace guy was here, because our heat wasn't turning on and this weekend the weather dropped into the 20's (fahrenheit)... Anyway. So the guy walks around the corner and starts talking to me. Distracted, I look up but forget to STOP CHOPPING.

Nearly took off the tips of my middle and ring finger on my left hand. Thank god for my strong fingernails. Stopped the knife from going any farther, but I still have nice slashes on the sides of my fingers. Haven't had any of those since I used to work with the jeweler's saws in high school art classes. (Mrs. Posey, 4th period English, just shook her head when I'd show up with bandaids on half my fingers.)

Still not as bloody as the time I sliced into my middle finger (again on the left hand) with a professional bread knife when I was working at the grill. Damn rolls. Went through seven bandaids and had to wear a finger condom for a week at work. Most annoying. Not as annoying as amputating my entire finger would have been, of course...

Considering my record, it's amazing that I'm as comfortable with a knife in my hand as I am.

Just a few subjects

There aren't many issues that I am unable to see both sides of... Most of them revolve around prejudice of some kind.

In the last five years, two of my close female friends have "come out", two more have always been "out", off-hand I don't know how many of my male friends are gay... more than a handful definitely, and if I tried to fit all my other-than-totally-straight friends into my apartment, there would be no room to move. So on the subject of "allowing" gay marriage, I'm sure you can guess which side of the bigotry line I stand on.

Last night I was hanging out with a few friends--girls' night--and one of them says, "So what do you think of that decision allowing gay marriage?" And the tone of her voice led me to believe that she somehow thought that it was a bad idea. Whooomp. I jumped on that subject like a cat on a mouse, baby.

Me: It's about freaking time. Why should there be any regulation of two adults wanting to spend their lives together? Is there such an overabundance of love in the world, that some of it has to be declared illegal?

Small-minded girl: Well, don't you think...

Me: Yes, I do think, that's why I think that this should be a non-issue. Of course same-sex partners should have the opportunity to make their union legal just like opposite-sex couples. Preferably, I'd like to see it kept to humans, of course.

SMG: (humor flying right over her head) I think this is going to be a major issue in the next presidential election. The republicans think it's wrong and the democrats are split 50-50 on it.

Me: Bullshit. Not all republicans are evil.

SMG: Um... (again, missing the humor)

Me: (taking a different tack) What part of the world will start to crumble if gays are given equal rights? How will this hurt anyone else? I fail to see why the "marriage protection" fools think that recognizing gay marriage will bring the sky crashing down. What is the big deal?

At this point, one of my other friends stepped in with "Actually, I think that the state of the economy is going to be a bigger issue." And from there we settled into less volatile subjects.

Now, I didn't like this girl before because she's... she's... actually, I wasn't sure why I didn't like her before this, but now I think I have a solid step up on understanding what it is about her that makes me wish she would go play in traffic. I'm just still in shock that someone I considered reasonably intelligent could hold such a backwards viewpoint.

Anyway... I should be doing homework about now instead of ranting on here. Aaaagh! So pissed, though.

I think I'm addicted to online quizzes and polls...


Elvish


To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?
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dinner table conversation

So last night Jay and I were sitting down to a lovely dinner of leftover spaghetti with turkey meatballs - we eat so well, it's sick - and the subject turned to education. Not unusual since I'm in a Masters of Education program and Jay's taking an education class this term... And I realized why I was getting so fed up with my classes. I don't think I want to teach in the schools here because the schools here are not set up for learning OR teaching. They're total crap.

Average class size around here is 30 kids, usually closer to 40. A lot of teachers have a full course load - in other words, no prep periods, no consultation periods, no breaks at all. So, 7 classes, 35 kids per class... each teacher is trying to get to know and figure out how best to reach 245 kids. TWO HUNDRED FORTY FIVE. WTF? How does anyone think that's going to happen? I can't fathom it in my reality.

Add to that the contradiction between the push for more authentic teaching and the totally incompatible goals laid out by No Child Left Behind (another paving stone in the path to Hell)... well, gee, let's just make it totally fricking impossible to do the kind of job I'd like to do. I don't think I'm cut out to make that many compromises.

However, all is not lost. With my handy dandy teaching certification, I will be able to pick up the lush jobs at tutoring centers and do all that other real, hands-on, actually getting to know the kids sort of teaching.

Which should give me plenty of time to work on my writing and getting published goals, which are a heck of a lot more enjoyable.

Drat. Phooey. Darn. Poo.

Sheila (Starlines) and Holly (Real Writers Bounce) are packing it up. While I suppose this means that I will have fewer excuses to procrastinate in the mornings, uh, afternoons, and uh, evenings... I will miss the near-daily does of both of them.

I am happy that both of them are doing so fabulously with their writing... and I look forward to reading their next books. In fact, I have a B&N Gift Card burning a hole in my pocket, so maybe I will go pick up Sheila's most recent - Blade Dancer written under her S.L. Viehl pen name - which I haven't bought already because I've been BROKE.

I hope both of them continue to pop in from time to time on Forward Motion.

On critiquing

Yes, another writing entry.

Critiques are an invaluable resource for a writer. Often we're so close to our own story that we don't even see the words that are actually on the page anymore because we're so caught up in the images we see in our heads. (you say nutcase, I say writer...)

But, we need to remember that not all critiques are created equal and not all critiquers (hereafter referred to as critters) are going to have comments that are useful for you or constructive for your story. This is what we have to remember as writers. That we ARE the writers and that we're writing a story that only we can write. We are not bound to change something in a story we love because another person thinks it might be better their way. (Unless that person is your editor and they want to pay you for the book, in which case, negotiation is the way to go.)

All of us have preferences. Some people like everything spelled out for them -- they like to see all the workings behind stage, see all the world-building elements flash through because it makes the story richer and more involved for them. They don't want teases and flirts with the world, they want to KNOW. Other people could care less about things like the monetary system or the art history of your made up people/country because all they want is the story -- what happens, who it happens to, why it's happening in the first place, and most of all, how the hell the characters are going to survive the next twist. For these readers you can drop tidbits along the way, fleshing out the world as you go and that's A-okay.

Either way, someone's going to have an issue with your style.

So what can we get from these crits if half the comments are going to lead us down the winding path to misery? How do you know which comments to listen to and which to dismiss. And I mean dismiss as not helpful to the story you are trying to tell, not dismiss as meaningless. If you made all the changes a critter suggested, THAT reader would be ecstatically happy with your revisions, but you might not be. And guess who has to finish the damn book? Here's a hint-- not the critter.

What this means is that you have to have a strong sense of what you want from your story. You need to know what your central themes are. You need to know what your character motivations are. You need to know everything you can about your story. AND you have to have the confidence to stay true to that vision.

Some of the comments you get, you won't like. For instance, maybe you love a certain scene and can't bring yourself to cut it, but after reading five crits about how it throws off the pace and flow... well, you could keep it, but maybe you'll realize that the critters are right and it does need to go. ("But I love it." "But it doesn't work." "But I love it." "But you know it has to go."... so goes the mental conversation)

Some comments will be pompous and frankly so far off of your vision that you will just have to sit back and stare, jaw on the desktop, because the critter seems to have been reading a different story than the one you thought you posted...

And maybe I'm weird (Hah! MAYBE?) but the whole long disclaimer about how the critter doesn't really know anything, they're so uneducated, but they'll do their best to make you a better writer and possibly that much more fit for publication... PISS ME OFF. Now I don't have a problem with "hey, this is my opinion, take it or leave it" but I don't need the self-effacing BS seasoned with the implication that you actually do know what you're talking about but would never be so rude as to say that outright.

As a counter to this trend, I think I will add "this is the word of the Lord, as channeled through my glorious self" before every crit I do... At least it would keep ME entertained. The hell with y'all.

edit: It occurs to me that it might not be obvious that I meant the last paragraph entirely tongue in cheek... just wanted to clarify.

And another strange writing experience...

So before I started up on the NaNo book on Saturday, I was digging through my stuff (one of the boxes that is yet unsorted and contains all manner of odd tidbits) and found the original map for the Three R's Triology (Revival, Retribution, Restoration). I spread it out on the table and was trying to repair some of the torn bits in the middle when Jay saw it.

He went nuts. "This is so cool. Do you realize what a great teaching tool this would be for meteorology?!?! You have to make me a copy. What's your scale? Where's the 45 degree?"

Me: "What? I just drew this to get story ideas." Another idea hits me. "So, um, well, what do you think the weather would be, say..." I point to the WIP's locale. "HERE?"

Anyway, it evolved into a very interesting discussion about weather and how it would effect my world. Had to add another continent and raise the mountains higher in order to get snow to fall where I want it to, but that's the joy of making up your own world.

When we had some of the boys over for dinner on Sunday, Jay brought out my map again and quized them on what the weather would be. To my surprise they were really excited about it, too. Dang. If I had known, I would have brought it out long before now.

I am a happy girl.

Passed the 20% mark

I'm a fifth of the way to 50K for NaNo. Most of what I'm writing will need serious revision, of course, but at least it will exist to be revised instead of swimming around in my fishbowl brainpan.

I think I'm going to take one day a week to work on Revival though... I'd like to finish the rewrite before the end of the year. Though I now know more about the ending of Revival just by sketching out the start of Retribution. Nifty how that works.

But really, when I go back and read what I've written so far on Retribution I'm like... okay, where did that come from. Because I'll start the scene not knowing how things are going to work out and by the end of the chapter all these characters and dialogue and scenarios have just sprung forth from my fingers. But WHERE is it coming from? I'm not consciously thinking of this stuff while I'm writing. I'll go back and reread and find things that just make me go "what?" I mean interesting stuff that I have no active memory of typing out.

What's most surprising is that it doesn't all suck. So whoever is channeling into my little typing fingers... Thank you.

Strange but true

My mom just sent me a clipping from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. I don't watch TV so I totally missed the whole thing, but the guy - the "star" - of the Joe Schmoe show is a guy I went to highschool with. In fact, he was in my homeroom. His last name Gould - my last name Gold - so we pretty much sat right next to each other for four years.

The article went on and on about what I nice guy he is... perhaps. I don't remember him being particularly nice. But then again, who hasn't improved since high school.

I envy him the $100,000 check though... sigh.

Motivation

I'm finding it extremely hard to be motivated for school anymore. I feel like I'm just jumping through the hoops at this point. Maybe I'd feel differently if our instructor wasn't a complete moron. He's not stupid, he's just an ass. Two more weeks of him and we get to move on though. Back to one of the instructors we had near the beginning - for our third class, I think. And this next class should be interesting. It's officially titled "Action Research" and is supposed to replace what would otherwise be a Master's thesis.

Too bad, because I would LOVE to see some of the yahoos in my program try to write a thesis. Most of them bitch and moan over five pages... Maybe that's the real reason I'm sick of the program. We're all a little burned out, but some of these guys are acting like ten years olds who've been kept inside too long. They practically sit there pouting.

The other night, we went to the Eccles Broadcast center up at the University of Utah to see where and how they broadcast the Ednet system (very cool) and then drove back to school for the last half of class. The instructor was late getting back, so two of the guys decided that they wanted to get home earlier than usual that night and set the clock in the room ahead twenty minutes.

Hello, fifth graders?

I'm not just disgusted with our instructor anymore, now I'm ready to smack half my classmates. No wonder the prospect of blowing off class to go to the NaNo kickoff has me excited.

Argh.

Hmm...


You are Form 4, Gargoyle: The Fallen.

"And The Gargoyle mended his wings from the
blood of the fallen so he could rise up from
imprisonment. With great speed and
resourcefulness, Gargoyle made the world his
for the taking."

Some examples of the Gargoyle Form are Daedalus
(Greek) and Mary Magdalene (Christian).
The Gargoyle is associated with the concept of
success, the number 4, and the element of wood.
His sign is the new moon.

As a member of Form 4, you are a creative and
resourceful individual. You are always
thinking of possible solutions to problems you
face and you generally choose one that is
right. Much of your success comes from your
ability to look at things a little differently
than everyone else. Gargoyles are the best
friends to have because they don't always take
things for face value.


Which Mythological Form Are You?
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Much sadness

My toaster died today. It's in perfect condition, except that its circuits have been fried. Electricity not flowing into my little heating box.

Of course, I'm going out to buy another one right now. You don't understand how many of my meals rely on the ability to toast bread. At least breakfast and lunch - dinner is usually a step or two above that.

Sigh. Better the toaster than the car, though.

Religion and Belief

I posted a few things on the Religious Debates forum at Evolution last month and I been meaning to elaborate on some of those ideas for a while. So, before I get distracted with outlining and worldbuilding for my NaNoWriMo project today, I thought I would try to put some order to my thoughts. (I know, not entirely possible for me. But still, I try.)

Religion and the reasons people choose to believe a certain thing, join a specific denomination, or attend church regularly are things that have always facinated me. Probably because I can't quite wrap my mind around it. It just feels empty to me.

For me, the relationship with God is a very personal issue. As I've written previously (perhaps not here though) I don't have any sense of God when I'm in a church or attending religious functions. (The one notable exception to this is Sacre Coeur in Paris, which just has a quiet presence that never fails to soothe me.) No, I generally feel that connection outside, whether it be at the top of a mountain, under a clear, starry sky, or out in the middle of the Grand Canyon.

Hiking the GC was the first place I had felt that overwhelming sense of how immense and how intensely beautiful a place could be - and also the feeling that I belonged there and... I don't know quite how to explain it. Just this incredible sense of awe and well-being. I've felt it again many times since, but hiking there was the first place I had felt it in a very long time. So for me - that's it. No church, no religion can come close to that feeling. And maybe that's because those are man's constructs and are flawed in the way that we are all flawed - subject to human imperfection and a certain mortal pettiness.

Outside - in nature, if you prefer - you don't have that. There's you and there's wind, rain, rock, sun, trail, mountain... Nature has a certain impassive "been here long before you - will be here long after you" kind of wonder to it. If you don't have respect for the climate and the terrain, you're going to be in trouble. But if you approach the activity/place with the proper respect and preparation, the rewards can be amazing.

So maybe that's the feeling that other people find in their church communities... I'm not sure. I think many people go because they think they have to or because they are afraid not to. That's what I couldn't get behind - that going to church always felt like such a chore. With all the grumbling and fussing it didn't have any JOY in it for me.

I was raised Catholic. I believe I stopped attending mass around age 16 or 17. I recall numerous times sitting around the dinner table, talking, and the subject of religion and faith would come up. The big question was always, "Well, what DO you believe, then?" I never had an answer. A couple times my mother dressed me down for acting like I was better than everyone else "You think that we couldn't possibly understand how smart and complex you are." But what I don't think she ever understood was that I didn't have the words to give an answer. Belief is such a complex subject. I didn't have the experience or the reference to explain so that I could understand it myself, much less transmit that understanding to someone else. I still don't have it and I might never.

It was never as simple for me as "Oh, Jesus is the son of God and with the Holy Spirit, they are all One as the Holy Trinity." I mean, honestly, what does that mean? I think those are terms that men have established to put something that is beyond human understanding into a package that most people can at least recite, if not comprehend.

On the Jesus subject (very briefly)... I believe there are some people in this world who have a greater connection to God (or whatever term you prefer), a greater awareness of our place in creation. I have no doubt that he existed and was a compelling individual whose intelligence and compassion set him apart in his time. He was most certainly a teacher and a leader. Was he the Son of God? Well... in some sense, aren't we all? Some people just shoulder the responsibility better than others.

The whole cult of Christ - Christianity... I just can't believe that's what Jesus would have wanted. It's become a twisted heap of rules, regulations, hierarchies, and opposing factions. In theory, I think it's a positive philosophy. It practice, it doesn't always come out so good.

The whole Bible argument - "Well, it says in the Bible that..." - used to justify hatred and prejudice... sick. Really sick. Those words were not inscribed by God's hand. Even Christ didn't have a go at them. No. Those words, filtered through the imperfect, and naturally prejudiced minds of men, work hard to interpret what the authors saw as God's message. But it's also a mythological history of a people. Stories have long been used to illustrate an author's point. And while there are clearly factual historic details in there, it's not meant to be a literal thing.

Anyway, I think that's enough for me today. I'll return to the subject later.

Unemployment

So. Filed for unemployment today - that's a first for me. I'll be laid off from the Goldener Hirsch until December 1st, but at least I know I have a job to go back to.

This is a much less nerve-wracking prospect than my three months of desperate job-seeking this summer. Almost three months of unemployment (May-July) does not exactly boost one's self esteem.

I'm still registered to substitute teach, but have not received any calls yet. I think I might need to register at a few more districts... maybe at the catholic school, too. I can still make an additional $80/week without losing benefits - that would be about a day and ahalf of subbing each week.

We'll see what happens.

Now, this, I like.

INFJ - "Author". Strong drive and enjoyment to help others. Complex personality. 1% of the total population.

Take Free Myers-Briggs Personality Test

Hmmm

Has the posting set up changed again, or is it really just this different on Windows versus my beloved Mac?

I hope it hasn't changed and this is just an evil PC anomaly. Please please please.

Absentee Blogging

I'm finding that I can either write or I can blog. For now, writing is taking precedent over babbling away here.

As of October 12th, I will be on a seasonal layoff from the Inn, so perhaps I'll have more time then.

For now, I am completely uninspired in terms of Blogotopics. (As if you hadn't already figured that out.)

Woo Hoo!

I signed up for NaNoWriMo today. Should be pretty dern nifty, I think.

Maybe there is an upside to being laid off for the month of November... heh heh.

Ooh, eeeh, aaah, Owwww

So. Jay got home Saturday night, but I didn't get home from work until midnight... We got up at 8 - I had about 5 or 6 hours of sleep - and after Jay had 3 breakfasts (muesli with bananas, eggs and toast, and a giant plate of left over veggie fried rice) we finally hit the road.

Went up Big Cottonwood canyon and took the Dog Lake trail up to the ridge. The aspen are spectacular - most of them turn gold, but there are varieties that go orange and gold. Granted, not quite on par with NY/PA maple trees in the fall, but as beautiful as I've seen here in Utah. Nicest part was, we went a bit off trail to get to the peak, couldn't see a sign of civilization for 360 degrees. A mere half hour drive from the city... this is why I converted to liking this odd place.

I sense that I'm not as coherent as usual, but that might be due to the fact that I only got about 4 hours of sleep last night. Had to get up at 5:30 to be at work by 7. There are disadvantages to working up the hill. Especially with the construction... takes about an hour. Blech.

So sleeepyyyyy.

CLUNK (sound of head hitting desk...)

So, I survived

I'm not sure what the final deal will work out to be, but Mme. Durst said I spoke very well and she thought I could handle her first and second year French, possibly third year as well. Not the AP classes, of course. I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that -- not when the AP test is at stake at the end of the year.

So, I may end up doing just half-day student teaching, which will mean doing 15 weeks instead of 10, but that will let me work and be sane for the duration.

Then I just need to find out what additional classes I need to take for the ESL endorsement...

.....

I'm so nervous right now, I can't even think of a title for this post. At 2:30 this afternoon, I will be meeting with the woman who might let me student teacher with her this winter. She's a native French speaker, and even though I know I speak very well and have a good grasp of language, literature, history, and culture, I still can't shake the feeling that she's going to turn me down.

Oh, and I have to call the State Office of Education... AGAIN. I've left a couple messages regarding the endorsement requirements and they have not gotten back to me. Very frustrating.

Nerves of Jell-O

I'm just freaking out with stress over the whole certification, endorsment, student-teaching thing. First of all, I have no idea how I am going to be able to student-teach full time and still work enough hours at the Inn to pay my bills. Just don't know. May have to throw myself on my parents' mercy yet again. This has been such a bad year for me financially... and the first half wasn't too great mentally or emotionally either. BUT - I know things will work out somehow.

I just can't shake the feeling that someone is going to call me up and say "Oh, sorry, we just realized that you don't belong here after all. You have to go back to school for another 4 years before we even think of letting you in a classroom as a teacher. Hah!"

It's not exactly a reassuring feeling.

CONGRATULATIONS!!

Congrats to "Mr. and Mrs. Dobscrub" on the birth of their baby girl!

Enjoy every second with her. And of course she is perfect.

KaBOOM! Sploooosh!

That's the sound of the dam of my two-year-long writer's block being blown up to let the river of creativity flow once again. It's a wonderful thing. Better received than blowing, say, Glen Canyon Dam would be.

Babbling, babbling...

Yes, so after two years of being able to produce NADA, I picked up the first fantasy novel I finished way back in 2001 and have begun to rewrite it.I wish I could simply revise it, but it needs too many changes for that.

Some scenes I've been able to keep almost word-for-word, but others have to be tossed and replaced. Plus, I'm fleshing out the two subplots, so that's all new stuff to be added. But the thing is, I've put enough time between writing and rewriting that I'm able to see the whole story... and the huge gaping holes.

My numbers thus far for about 2 weeks of writing whenever I can: 26,748 words. Not bad for me. In fact, extraordinarily good for me. AND - the big bonus: I know how the middle will go. Haven't decided on the end for sure, but the two options I am considering are hundreds of times better than the first attempt.

Do what I say...

...Not what I do. That seems to be the theme of my current class. The instructor is smug and complacent. He has provided no syllabus, which is probably a good thing considering the assignments change week to week. We have no idea what the point value is for any of the assignments. And his politics are showing.

If he makes one more "I don't hate gays, I just hate the lifestyle" comment I am seriously going to have to have it out with him. Two more classes left. I wish it was over already.

Waiting

I was just crawling through the Classmates.com pages to see if anyone else I want to get back in touch with has registered. And then I started thinking about high school -- a subject not very far from my mind these days as I prepare for student teaching and final certification.

High school is a bit of a blur for me. I don't remember the details all that well. Oh, here and there are some memories so clear it's like they just happened this morning. But for the most part, all I remember is general feelings. Mostly that was unhappiness and confusion. I never "got" high school. I wasn't interested in the stuff you're "supposed" to be interested in.

But if I had to put a theme to it -- I'm working on themes in my rewrite of the fantasy novel -- I'd say that it was more like the frustration of being in a holding pattern. Circling around and around but never being able to actually get to where I wanted to be. Sometimes I'd just repeat to myself over and over that it wouldn't last forever. Just wait it out. Just wait it out. Just wait it out.

And it wasn't all bad. I had a few great friends and had lots of laughs and too many of those pseudo-intellectual discussions that you can only be serious about when you are 17 years old.

But I spent a lot of time alone. I still do, of course. I'm comfortable being alone, but happiest when I'm with a few people I know and love. I'm miserable and nervous and lost in a crowd of people. I always feel like there's some code that I'm missing. Like the secret password into the club. I never know what to say and always chose exactly the wrong thing.

Ironically, dialogue is one of the strongest parts of my writing. Of course, there I have lot of time to try out different responses until I find the right one.

But anyway, back to the theme... Ten years after my high school graduation, I still feel like I'm waiting for something. To finish my Masters, to figure out what to do with my "marriageaphobic" boy... not that I'm stressed about marriage - quite the opposite. I'd just like to have kids while I'm still young enough to enjoy running after them. And I don't have any desire to be a single parent - too damn hard.

To wrap up: when I was little I used to say to my mom, "I've only got 10 patients (patience) and 9 of them are gone."

Of course, putting it into proportion...

I'm still alive and no one I know has died in a massive act of terrorism today.

That counts for something.

Some day I will actually earn a living wage. Until then, I'll just try to be happy with the living part, eh?

Just as I was starting to feel better...

Dropped my car off for the yearly safety and emissions inspection today. I knew the right turn signal had to be fixed, and the car needed some work, definitely. BUT. I was hoping not to have to get it done now.

However, whoever's in charge of granting wishes must be on vacation.

One of my motor mounts is broken. Yeah. This means my motor is shifting around while I'm driving. Not so safe.

Between the turn signal, the motor mount, and the A/C dial that's jammed... $600. And that's BEFORE I pay the registration fees. Probably another $100 on top of the repairs.

Since I'm just rolling in money right now, eh?

Sigh.

I would rather be sick again

I've got food poisoning. Anything that made it past my stomach completely liquified. Anything that didn't has been expelled.

I wish I could figure out what it was that did this to me, but in lieu of that, I will just never eat anything that I ate last night ever ever again.

At least I seem to be able to keep water down now... because Jay is out hiking and probably won't be home until 6pm or so. I'd hate for him to come home to find my dead, dried-up husk on the floor in the bathroom.

Speaking of bathroom.... running there now! Gah!

The things that excite me these days...

Took our laundry down to the usual place but it was closed for some kind of gas line maintenance. So I drove back home, flipped through the yellow pages, and found another one close to home.

Oh my goodness. So much nicer. And cheaper to boot. And air-conditioned with a friendly older woman running it instead of a couple college guys behind the counter. I'm switchin'. Oh boy.

Now I get to read Brown v. Board of Education and Plessy v. Ferguson before class tonight. Thank god I did all the text reading last night at work. Gah.

Sickies

Jay and I both woke up yesterday feeling wretched - the kind of sick that just sucks the life out of you and slaps you with a major headache - so we took the day off together. Mostly just laid about and slept or read, though we did manage a major push to drive to the grocery store since we had no fruit or good sickie food at home.

All things considered, it was actually rather nice.

Wha...wait a second.

It's Monday already? You know, this "work" thing makes my time disappear like mad. I'm too tired to post now... I'll try to get to it in the morning. Maybe.

Marriage and the LDS Church

For those of you not versed in Utah-speak, the LDS Church = Mormons.

The other night at the Inn we had a woman come in with her younger son to set up one of the suites for a private dinner. She was totally excited because her older son was getting engaged. (I think she's jonesing for grandkids...)

So, a few hours later Older Son shows up. Older Son is 21 years old. 21!! WTF!! The fiancée-to-be is 19. 19!!! Aaaaghhh! The worst thing is, this is completely normal for LDSers. Do they not look around and see all the 26 year old divorcées with two kids and think... hmmm, maybe I shouldn't rush in to this marriage thing. But for them (speaking generally and from my own personal observations) not being married by the time they hit 25 carries some horrible stigma and psychological burden.

As they were leaving, I said to Jean-Louis (our chef, who spends so much time in the lobby I have to wonder who is really cooking...) "They can't get married, they're babies!" And he just gives me the Gaullic shrug and says, "Yes, but zey are LDS. You know how it iz."

I'm afraid I do. And color me cynical, but at least when the divorce rolls around, the little missus will get a hefty settlement because the boy is LOADED.

Morons.

If you are going to have someone wait for 45 minutes in the exam room, half naked, turn off the fucking air conditioning. And don't express surprise when I'm not in the mood to be chatty when you finally do get around to me.

I'm not going back there next year, that's for damn sure.

An Afternoon Quickie

At the gym, that is. But, sticking with the insinuation, I just went out back to pick some tomatoes and noticed one of our zucchini plants... The plant in question has two zucchinis growing. One is sticking straight up. The other has curled itself around the base of the first. Yes, we have cock and ball zucchini, ladies and gentlemen. Somehow appropriate for Jay's garden. hee hee.

Crazy Week

Yes, this is the week when all the things I have been putting off finally come due. Car registration - which I won't pass right now because my right turn signal doesn't blink and my A/C-defog-vent dial is frozen to A/C. A/C is not very helpful when your windshield is fogged over. Nope. At least I got the new windshield yesterday. Damn thing. Replaced it in March and a couple weeks ago I was driving up the interstate when a giant rock pinged off a truck's tires and onto the bottom driver's side corner... where it proceded to go for a little run... across my field of vision. Thank goodness I carry comprehensive insurance, let's just say.

I need to call in to the "subfinder" voicemail system and figure out how the heck it works so I can start subbing. Though I'm not too worried about it because, c'mon, what kind of teacher misses school in the first week?

And tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment of my favorite variety. blech.

Blech.

Blech.

Sunday already?

It's been a busy weekend. This is the first day since Wednesday that I haven't had a huge list of errands to run and calls to make.

Yesterday was fun though. We went hiking in the morning - nothing too brutal - just a five mile loop up to Dog Lake and back down. Then mad grocery shopping and dinner prep. We made dinner for our friends who just had a baby. Figured that this way they could enjoy adult company and not have to worry about cooking or clean-up. Of course, they didn't tell us that they had invited 3 other people as well... Fortunately, they arrived with a healthy slab of Salmon to add to the food we brought. Also fortunately, we cooked more than we'd need with the idea of leaving leftovers for the new parents. There were no leftovers.

We had sole and salmon, brown and black rice, fresh zucchini from the garden, grilled red peppers, homemade bread, and homemade apple pie for dessert. Yum. Quite good and very colorful on the plates.

Of course, we also got a nice peek at the little one. Just twelve days old. He's got the longest fingers and toes I've ever seen... his dad's already planning out the musical career: piano and/or violin. They call him The Burrito because they fold him snugly in his blankets for bed like a little burrito with a baby's head on top. Yum. So cute. So tiny.

Did that just happen?

I think I just had a honest-to-goodness phone conversation with my dad. I mean - both of us got to talk, and there was actual listening on his end.

I have to go absorb the impact of this miracle.

Poésie

For my reading exericise presentation last Thursday, I used Victor Hugo's poem Demain, dès l'aube.... Of course, I provided a translation, but I read the poem in French so the group could get a feel for the rhythm and flow of the verse. The images Hugo uses in the poem just strike a chord with me. The middle verse in particular:

Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos corbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et the jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.

It's the last line especially that gets me. It just doesn't do the same in English - maybe because "Triste" has more impact than "Sad". Nonetheless, my translation:

I will walk with eyes fixed on my thoughts,
Seeing nothing outside, hearing not a single sound,
Alone, unknown, back bent, hands crossed,
Sad, and the day for me will be like the night.

Hugo wrote it on the fourth anniversary of his daughter Léopoldine's death, describing his journey to visit her grave.

Strangely, while I love poésie à la française, English-language poetry has almost always left me cold. Maybe it's the difference between the smooth rhythm of romance language versus the harshness of a more gutteral tongue.

Side effects

Hmmm. I seem to have developed one of the less common side effects of Wellbutrin: tinnitus. Ringing in the ears. It's not extreme. I only notice it in the morning when it's quiet or if I plug my ears. It is a wee bit annoying though. Fortunately, here at the computer I don't notice it at all because the hum of the monitor and the buzz of the upstairs A/C dominate.

In other unrelated news... Jay got home yesterday. I was so tired (and a little disappointed that he didn't wait up for me - I worked until 11) that things started off badly. So I called a do-over, left the room for a few minutes, and came back in. "Hi, hon, I'm home. How was your trip?" seemed to go over much better than my original opener.

Headspinning

Gah! I finished all the things on my "to do" list today. (I don't actually write them down, mind you. Not That Uptight.) Got fingerprinted - again, turned in all the paperwork for subbing, did laundry, changed sheets, put away clean laundry. Perhaps not very exciting, but very necessary from the clean underwear perspective.

And I still have 15 minutes before I need to leave for work.

But what makes this truly amazing is that I only got 4 crappy hours of sleep last night. I just cannot fall asleep when Jay is out of town. AAaagghh! So yes, I expect to pass out about half way through my shift tonight.

I wonder what the warning label means by "excessive caffiene"? As in, excessive caffiene intake may result in seizures... hmm.

Blogging after midnight... is this prudent?

I just realized that other than tonight at work, I haven't actually spoken to anyone since Friday. How does that happen? Oh yeah, that's right, I barely know anyone here.

Both of my friends who are my friends outside of the Jay-loop were moving this weekend. One into her boyfriend's apartment (after only 5 months of dating?!? Crazychild) and the other back up to Park City.

However, I did put the nonsocial time to good use. The apartment is shockingly clutter-free. And I've been rereading my manuscript for details - names, places, description, etc... and shuffling that all onto a spreadsheet. It's interesting the connections and twists that come to mind just looking at all the information. I finally figured out a connection that had been bothering me for a while (since I finished the first draft two years ago... two years, sigh) about how three characters knew each other from the past.

It's nice to feel my creativity start pumping again. Just think how much I could get done if I stopped reading for a couple weeks. (But that's too silly to think about - hah!)

Organization

I didn't start out to clean and organize all the junk in the apartment. I was looking for the manuscript of the first book I wrote so I can maybe start working on it again.

Naturally, I found it in the last unsorted corner in the apartment - all 473 pages of it. Meanwhile, I now have three newly dejunked, cleaned, and sorted closets. Wait until Jay comes home from Ft. Collins and sees this. Hah hah!

Of course, now that I've unearthed the thing, I guess this means I actually have to start writing again. Maybe I will start organizing that stuff before diving in. That way, perhaps I can stay coherent and not babble for pages and pages about total drivel.

I mean, if I want to write drivel, I come here, right?

I'm melting, I'm melting!

Quick, someone turn off the heat! It's "only" 97ºF but the sun is relentless.

Hmm... well, at least we still have power, unlike a huge chunk of the East Coast. I can't even imagine being in a major city when BOOM everything turns off. NOT a good time to be in the elevator, for instance.

I'm sure there will be interesting stories abounding in the next few days.

Drugs

Hmmm... do American doctors over-prescribe drugs? Duh, of course they do. At least, some of them do.

My poor friend KB ended up so medication saturated our senior year of college that she barely knew which way was up. Her stupid shrink had her on not only anti-depressants, but anti-psychotics. Hello? WTF? And do you know how bad and chemically anti-psychotics make you smell? FUN-KY. Funkyass bad, that's how. Not that I would have wanted her totally off drugs either. As it was we were having to hide all the knives and we never let her drink out of a breakable glass after the incident with the bottle. Oy.

But for most people, drugs are not the end all solution. Just a stepping stone out of the dungeon, to be used until they get back in the sunlight, so to speak. I know Wellbutrin usually takes 3-4 weeks to fully kick in, but I'm already starting to feel like I have my brain back. Kind of like walking outside after working indoors all morning and realizing how dim your building really is...

Anyway - I have homework that I've procrastinated. Shocking, I know.

Family History

Everytime I think my life is sucking, I just have to talk to my younger brother to see how it's really not as bad as it could be. Ggaaaahhh.

Let me just say as a brief, thoroughly incomplete overview, that the years 1990-1996 were really quite ugly chez nous. Dad drinking and smoking, Mom sleeping on the couch, brother getting arrested, me just wanting OUT but worried about the munchkins. Happily, this is no longer remotely the case. A few wakeup calls (ie: heartattacks) caused reevaluation of what was truly important and what was just fluff. All are much happier, but the damage of the Ugly Years can't be totally erased.

Mental Illness - of the depressive and bipolar varieties - run, if not heavily, then consistently, on both sides of the family. Crazy Great Aunt Joy liked to walk to the store naked in her manic phases... My grandmother didn't leave the house for 4 years after my mother was born... My father = classic bipolar in denial... his father, a sloppy sad drunk who undoubtedly had the same underlying issues. I could keep going, but I'll spare you. And myself.

Unfortunately, my brother seems to have inherited my dad's issues. What's worse is that he knows he has a problem and should get help for it. But he has this aversion to medication - his ex-girlfriend got really zombified on Prozac so I suppose I would be cautious if I were him as well. But. Self-medicating with copious amounts of alcohol and pot are not going to help him either.

So there's another reason I want the whole Wellbutrin thing to work out for me. If it works for me and I can show Bubby Rubby that I am not a zombie as a result, then maybe I can talk him into getting some help also.

Slowly rolling along

Signed up to sub at SL district. Tomorrow I will pick up an application for the Academy on the way to work. Had a nice lazy morning otherwise... read a book, ate some of the blueberry muffins that Jay made yesterday, deposited money into my sad little checking account...

But I think I need some caffiene. It's too damn hot out there and I feel a headache coming on.

Decisions

I'm still waiting to hear about the teaching job. BUT. I've decided not to take it even if they do offer it to me. I can't start something that energy-intensive until I settle into some measure of emotional stability. So on Monday I will go and sign up for substitute teaching at the Salt Lake school district and also up at the Park City Academy (close to home and close to work, respectively).

Now I think I'll have some breakfast and go to the gym. Exercise can only help, eh?

Frickin Ijits

Okay - I think thursday was an all time low (at least since moving here). First the antidepressant issue -- which was met with less than total support from the boy. Then I went to the eye doctor and the assistant chick who did the preliminary exam and put the drops in my eyes was less than good. She told me that I didn't have an astigmatism (which I do, and which is the reason I get prescription reading glasses) and that I should just get a pair of weak reading glasses at Fred Meyer instead. Then she put more eye drops in my right eye than my left. I get home and notice that my right eye vision is really blurry, look in the mirror... I look like a head injury case: my left pupil it almost back to normal but the right was completely blown. Trippy.

clarification: When I got to see the real opthamologist he checked my eyes, wrote out a prescription, and said, "Normally, I'd say you didn't need prescription lenses, but you have an astigmatism and that's probably the source of your headaches." This is why I don't listen to assistants.

So yeah, between the crying and the brutal eye drops, my head felt goooood. Or not.

A prescription for Wellbutrin

That's what I came home with from my doctor's appointment this morning. I know my doctor was right - I am depressed and have been for a while - but part of me feels like I shouldn't be. Though, of course, why shouldn't I?

The clincher was pretty much when she said that the best description she had ever heard for depression was the greek word for it (which I can't remember anymore) that translates as "absence of joy" and I burst into tears. I hate crying in front of people and she was so nice that it only made me cry more. Love that.

And I have to say what a relief it was for someone to take me seriously and not just say "it's all in your head".

And the waiting commences

Just got home from the interview. Good news, bad news. Good news: I think the interview went very well. Bad news: the district office scrambled my information so that the principal didn't know that I wasn't yet certified to teach. I will be as of April, so it's not totally undoable, but if the other applicants are equally good AND they are already certified, it won't go my way.

However, regardless of whether or not I get the position, it was good experience just going to the interview. And I can always substitute teach if it doesn't work out.

Now, I am going back to bed because I barely slept at all last night.

OHMIGOD!!!

I just got off the phone with one of junior high schools - they are looking for a French teacher. I have an interview tomorrow morning.

I so can't believe this.

I'm so nervous. Aaaaggghhh!!!

And other things go BOOM

Things have been blowing up all over the place at the writing site I frequent. Forward Motion The site owner's blog, by the way, is the source for my upset over education commentary.

I'm not excited about the way things have turned out. I've been less and less active since Bryn and Jen left the site last year... mostly because I disagreed with Holly's responses to their posts and some assumptions that were made regarding off-site posts. However, I've been watching the site since Spring of 1999 when it existed as a series of articles written by Holly. It's gone through 3 incarnations of forums since then, with an ever-increasing number of members. AND, for all my discomfort with the way some situations and people have been handled, I have to admit that the site has stayed admirably true to its stated purpose: helping writers improve their writing.

So, other than this statement on my private blog, I am going to continue to keep my mouth shut and get what I can from the site and leave the rest by the wayside.

First day

So tired. Must be brief.

Last night - class until 10pm. Home by 10:15pm. College friend in from out of town who left this morning for Vegas. Talked until 11:45pm. Said goodnight to friend in guest room. Got naked with boyfriend in own room (for conversation purposes only of course). Went to sleep 12:30am. Got up at 5:40am. Showered. Got dressed. Made coffee. Drank coffee on way to work. Stayed at work until 4:15pm. Got home 5pm. Slept until 6pm. Still groggy.

Coherence to follow. Maybe.

When faced with Anger

Note Anger with a capital "A".

Every once in a while I'll read a post on a blog that's so packed with anger and venom that I know better than to respond because nothing I say will penetrate the red haze. Any argument I make will be torn to shreds and discredited simply because it's not spouting the party line. I grew up in a similar environment - with my Dad - and I learned to choose my battles. When he was in a relaxed mood, we could argue religion, politics, culture, or family relations in a constructive, informative manner. When he was in one of his ranting modes, duck and cover was the only safe response. Unless you felt like being verbally crushed into the ground...

Education is one of my passions. I believe - however naively - that I can make a difference in the public school system. Maybe not for every student, but for enough of them. How many is enough? One. Just one. Well, maybe one a year. I'm not greedy, see.

Homeschooling is not for everyone. Some parents don't have the education themselves to assist their children. Utah has one of the highest percentages of homeschooled children in the US. Why? Because there is still a large, if quiet, population of traditionalist (polygynist) Mormon families in this state. Homeschooling allows them to keep their children isolated from mainstream culture. Is that a good thing? Well, I suppose it depends which side of the Temple you're standing on.

Public education is not to blame for all the ills of our country. Public schools, at least in Utah, are not brainwashing children to be Liberal parrots. (Quite the opposite, in fact). Not all teachers are stupid, illiterate bumpkins who can't find another job.

How are the parents who don't support their children's education in the school system supposed to homeschool these same children? Half the problems with the schools today result from the lack of parental and community support. If you expect something to fail, it usually won't disappoint you.

So maybe I'll just young and foolish and don't know what I am talking about. And maybe I would think differently if I had children of my own. And maybe not.

And BOOM click

I am employed. Only part time, 2-4 days a week. But. It's at the beautiful Goldener Hirsch Inn. 20 rooms, totally gorgeous, super expensive, friendly staff. My new boss is the cutest little girl. I say little, because I'm only 5'5" and I towered over her.

She says she never just hires people on the spot, but we just clicked. Anyway, I'm excited, even if it is only part time.

Hmmm...

Well, at least the pictures posted well. Went on another interview this morning. Not sure I want to work there, though. I'd be the youngest by about 15 years or more. Place just seemed a bit too stiff for me.

This afternoon though, I have an interview at this place for a front desk supervisor position. It would be a bit of a commute, but the scenery is gorgeous and a business hotel it ain't.

And I'm in a better mood also because last night I finally prodded at the boy until he spit out what was really bothering him. Damn cranky self-sufficient over-achieving nimrod. Oy. Like squeezing milk from a stone. I know, I know. It's the Y chromosome - it blocks the communication gene.

Wedding Present

So... Jay took these pictures of the wedding gift I made for Dave and Sharon. Hopefully they will look okay here. But I suppose there's only one way to find out.

Jay makes tea and I like to paint stuff, so together we put together this tea box with some basic ingredients and tea recipes. Chamomile, Peppermint, Licorice, and Lemongrass as base flavors. Cloves, Orange Peel, Lemon Peel, Fenugreek, Cardamom, Cinnamon, Fennel, and Catnip as additional flavors.

You know what?

I just don't want to talk about it, okay?

And now I sound like a fecking Canadian, phrasing everything in the form of a question? No one wants to hire me? I can't even pay my bills? Time to go play in traffic, eh?

Blech

Survived the wedding weekend. Actually not as horrific as I had anticipated. (How could it have been?)

But. Today... two job interviews, two more strike outs. Haven't heard back from the consulting company.

Now I must run out and fax my resume to five more people who won't want to hire me.

Sigh.

Off to see the wedding...

...the wonderful wedding of Oz, uh, Long Island. Yeah. Back Sunday night - try not to miss me. Hah.

Helpful tips

If you are running low on gas, in the middle of the summer, in triple-digit heat, don't forget to fill up before stopping at home to pick something up.

I just walked 2 miles round trip in 103 degree F heat (that's something like 41 degrees celsius). With a gas can. Naturally, the way back with the full gas can was all uphill.

Crap, I can't stop shaking. Must replace electrolytes. Gasp.

What does this mean?

I had a dream last night that I had a baby. Yes, scary enough on its own. But what was really disturbing was that the baby had a neon green forked tongue.

Yeah, I know. Maybe I shouldn't reproduce.

Generation Gap

Honestly, this IM was so disturbing to me, I had to share. My baby sister's IMdentity has been changed, since she's underage. Mlle D'Or would be me. A mere 10 and a half years separates our ages... but the culture gap? Shocking. Just shocking.

K3: have you heard the song "right thurr"
mlledor: Gaaaahh I fricking HATE that song!!! AAAGgghhhhhH!!!!
K3: hahahaha. it's the song right now....me and my friedns LOVE it. plus my nick name nowadays is "kurr" and in the remix of right thurr trina says kurr as care and it's so awesome!!
mlledor: You are sick sick puppies. That is the worst song I have ever ever heard. And when I was your age, Vanilla Ice was popular, so what does that tell you?
K3: hahaha lol. yea you def listened to some weird ass shit
mlledor: you know, a "cur" is a mean dog, right?
K3: nope
mlledor: I never said I actually *listened* to Vanilla Ice. Just that he was on the radio when I was in HS
mlledor: PLEASE.
K3: hahah. shush
mlledor: How did you stray into rap music anyway? You live in the suburbs?
mlledor: It just seems wrong
K3: haha..lebo has gotten really ghetto
mlledor: What? What do you mean, "ghetto"? Like, on purpose?
K3: umm....
mlledor: Tell me that the boys don't wear their pants under their asses. Please, for the love of god, NO!
K3: a whole bunch of black kids go there now....and we have many wannbes
K3: haha. we have everything
mlledor: Oh my god. there's... diversity? Is that allowed?
K3: like you see every kinda dress
mlledor: But the whole pants under the ass thing started in the prison system.. so they would know who the... uh... bitches were.
K3: yea mom told me that!
mlledor: Don't they know that? It's like asking someone to assf**k you. Duh.
K3: and i think she said that to rob (new boyfriend) tonight actually. duh
mlledor: tell me he knows which side of his ass his pants belong on... please.
mlledor: Your silence makes me wonder. Is he an assboy?
K3: hahaha. he's rather skinny so they fall sometiems but usally there's up
mlledor: I'm looking at that picture of you and me on the couch... you look so sweet and innocent. What happened? ;-)
K3: hmm... i was like 4 kate
mlledor: You were like 2, Kerri. Because I stopped wearing that sweater when I was 13 - at the latest.
K3: good. it was ugly
mlledor: You're still only 7 in my mind. Leaning out the van window saying "Go ahead, talk to someone"
mlledor: Shit. that was 9 years ago. I'm getting old.
K3: yea. you're showing it too
K3: haha i'm joking
mlledor: thanks.
mlledor: you little Cur

Hoop Jumping

I just wonder sometimes... if, when I finally jump through all the flaming hoops the State Office of Education has aligned for me, will I even be able to find a school district to hire me?

I got a glowing reference letter from one of my instructors from the University of the Three Stooges and fully intend to send it and the others out to the one school district who requested more information (out of the 4 I sent the initial blitz to).

Blech... I think I'm hung over. It was worth it.

Loosey Goosey Losers

Okay, if I see one more "loose" (an adjective - not tightly fastened or secured...) in place of "lose" (a verb - to be unable to find, maintain, keep, or win) I just don't know what I will do. It's everywhere - blogs, forums, emails, letters, class papers, presentations. It's starting to make me question my sanity.

Similarly, these words are not the same and should not be used interchangeably:

where, were, we're
there, their, they're
to, too, two

But I would be totally satisfied if everyone on the Internet (and elsewhere) would just master the difference between "loose" and "lose" - the first one is pronounced "loos", the second is "looz". Say it with me.

I'll even give you some examples...

My pants are loose. I must be losing weight. (wishful thinking here on my part)

Don't lose your head, you might need it later. (for hat storage or something)

Be careful not to lose my keys. The fastener on the keychain is loose.

Okay, do you see the difference now? Will you try to get it right in the future? Ack. I realize that I can't make people care about stuff like this. Hmmm. Unless I had children and I could warp them into my own image. Hmmm. Yes, someday this may prove to be a viable solution to my grammatical ranting. Hmmm. Young minds to shape and twist. Just as my dear daddy did to me.

You'd think I would know better by now...

So after I typed up my last entry, I picked up the next book in my stack from the library, intending to start it before making dinner and returning the videos to Blockbuster. Yeah. Comme d'habitude, starting turned to finishing.

Damn you, Nora Roberts. I had no idea you were really that good a storyteller. Yes, I have a mild prejudice against romance novelists. Only because I've read some real crappy ones in the past, mind you. But seriously, I could not walk away from the characters or the story.

Compare this to the Tom Robbins books I've read in the last week... I was unable to finish Still Life with Woodpecker because I didn't care what happened to the characters. Hollow, hollow, hollow. Jitterbug Perfume was better, but it took awhile to grab me, and I skimmed most of the scenes with Wigg Whatshisname because it didn't interest me or seem very central to the story. There is such a thing as trying too hard. It leaves me cold.

My standards have gotten more stringent in the last year or two. Maybe it's because I need glasses... When I pick up a book, I have to ask, "Is this worth getting a headache over?" I'm generous... usually I'll give the author fifty pages to hook me. Usually. I have a John Updike novel my mother sent me that knocked me unconscious in the first five pages. Blech.

I dunno. Call me crazy (it's certainly been said before), but maybe I just prefer the classical approach. You know, like actually putting the story ahead of the style? Shocking, I know.

Interview, round one

Just got home from a job interview. Yes, an interview for a job. A job with a fairly new (6 months old) consulting company as their receptionist/admin assistant.

I passed round one with their office manager - round two with one of the partners will be either monday or tuesday of next week.

Pay is decent: $10/hr, though she indicated that it will probably go salary - in other words, no overtime. To compare for the area, receptionist positions usually start at $8/hr and office assistants around $8 or $9/hr. Low cost of living out here... The office is a five minute drive or a ten minute bus ride from my house. Atmosphere seems to be professional but relaxed. I wouldn't say no if they offer it to me. (Of course, there's not as much that I would say no to as there used to be.)

Also on the bright side of my life - I figured out my transportation issues for the wedding this weekend. I just have to take a train into Penn Station and then pick up the Hempstead Line of the Long Island Railroad out to Garden City where Jay will be picking me up even if he has to walk out of the rehearsal to do so.

Yeah.

Dress rehearsal... check!

Just finished a run through of hair, makeup, and costuming for next saturday's Long Island wedding. Though I'm still trying to decide between the black viscose wrap and the silver silk one. The silver matches the blue-violet/silvery tones in the dress better, but the black is softer and more comfortable. Decisions, decisions. Hah.

I finally figured, that if I have to be there, I'm going to look kick-ass fan-fricking-tastic. Ahem. If I do say so myself.

Jay will wish that we were not sharing our hotel room with another couple that night. Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Rule Changing

I hate it when people are constantly changing the rules. In this case, I mean a situation where I've already set my expectations for one thing and then I'm told - "oh, well actually..."

See, there's this wedding next weekend. There's also a wedding this weekend - which I am missing because I couldn't afford both trips. I had intended to go to the earlier wedding because it's for two of Jay's college friends whom I have never met. HOWEVER, the bride from the later wedding lives here in Utah and begged me to come to her deal instead. I am a sucker for such things. So I changed my plans and bought tickets for next weekend.

And since then, it's been one thing after another. First of all, Jay's in this stupid wedding, so I won't get to hang out with him much. Almost all the other people I know are in the wedding, so I won't see much of them either. Two of the people I would have enjoyed hanging out with decided that they weren't going. Hmmm. This is going to be a church wedding with a full wedding mass. Who am I supposed to roll my eyes at? Argh.

But it gets better. Jay told me to fly into Newark instead of JFK because then he could pick me up and we could spend the night at his dad's place. Except that the groom just told him two weeks ago that the rehearsal is at the same time as my plane gets in. So I have to take the shuttle to JFK (in rush hour) and then pay for a taxi to wherever the group is at that point - probably the rehearsal dinner. I checked as soon as I found out, but it would cost me as much as the tickets cost to change airports. Did I mention that I am unemployed?

Oh, but wait. I won't be able to ride to the wedding or from the wedding to the reception with Jay either because the wedding party will be traveling by limo. Fan-frickin-tastic.

And yet, I'm still going. I almost backed out. Last night was not fun. Anyway. I'll try to be less cranky in my next post. Promise.

Aaaggghhh!!

I need a job!!!

How can I be over-qualified for half the jobs and under-qualified for the other half? How? Aaaaggghhh!!!

Maybe I just need to strip the references to education from my resume and send it out again. Frickin ^$%@&*^**#@(@^&%#!!!!! Aaaggghh!!!

Give me passion

For the Blogsnobbers out there, and for anyone else who lists a description of their blog with the purpose of having other people read it -- if you put the words "Bored" or "Boring" in your description, you can rest assured that I won't be wasting my time by clicking the link.

As a general rule - so general that it's practically cliché - people who are bored are boring. Granted, you can be unchallenged in your current environment: situationally bored, if you will. But if when you think of yourself one of the first five words that pops into your head is "bored", then you gots problems, honeybun.

I don't want to know what you did all day - unless you can spin some humor on it. I don't want to know what you ate for breakfast - unless it will make me want it, too. (Or gross me out, or make me laugh, anything but make me yawn.) I don't want to know what you are packing for your trip - unless it includes a blowup doll or the teddy bear your baby sister gave you when you went away to college.

Show me how you see the world. Show me what's funny, what's ridiculous, what's sad, stupid, borderline illegal, fricking wacked, etc. Tell me what you like to read. (I always need new authors to try.) What breaks your heart? What makes you roll your eyes? What do you hope for -- what gets you up in the morning? What do you hate more than anything else in your world? Who do you love?

I want to laugh at your funny stories, cry at your tragedies, roll my eyes at your foolish co-workers, or groan at your terrible jokes. (Which are, naturally, the best kind.) So what I'm saying here is... Passion, people. Give me passion!

Is that too much to ask?

Adding links

I've added a few more links to blogs that I've been reading. I hate to take them off once I've put them up, so usually I don't add them until I've read them consistently for at least a month.

I'm not overly concerned with increasing my own circulation, though it's fun to know that random people are reading my words, so I only add links as a way to make life easier for myself. It's much more convenient to use my page as a portal to the other blogs I read regularly than to just keep them bookmarked on the browser.

Okay, the headache is becoming overwhelming again. Time to hide in the dark.

Drugs aren't ALL bad

Normally I'm not a big fan of medication - barring the whole conception prevention variety - but I am drugged to the gills (for me) and just barely regaining functionality.

See, my allergies have attacked with a vengeance, so I broke down an splurged on some Claritin-D, aka My New Best Friend. I can breathe again. Through my nose and everything. Considering that my twice-broken nose doesn't work well under the best of circumstances, this is a Very Nice Thing.

And then this fricking heat has the migraines cranking... blinding pain and nausea. So I added some Exedrin Migraine, aka My Long Time Lover, to the mix and now I can actually see well enough to look at the computer again.

I really need to make an eye appointment and get new glasses. My last trip to the opthalmologist was back in 1997, so I am a wee bit overdue. But now that I have health insurance, I can go! Yay! So exciting.

So with all this added incentive to crawl into a dark, cool hole and die, my trip to the gym this morning should gain me extra weight-loss points, neh? If only.

Were you the 1000th visitor?

According to my sitemeter, I have had exactly one thousand visitors since I started in October. Well, maybe a few more than that because I didn't discover site meter until November, I think. Granted, most of those visits were for zero minutes and zero seconds, but still...

So back to the party - it was at this little corner bar in Clinton, New Jersey called Johnny's. We walked in through the front bar area - narrow, dark, smoky, with a few older, raggedy-looking, beer-gutted men sitting on the stools. The back room holds about a hundred people and was almost as dim as the bar. Decorations from the fifties for sure, and nothing more modern than the seventies. Horrible carafes of wine - Burgundy, Chablis, or White Zinfindel. The red tasted like vineger, the white like piss. The White Zin was drinkable, but only because it's supposed to be sickly sweet, right? No worse than a wine cooler, I suppose. And certainly better than the watery Budweiser that was the other choice.

The paid entertainment - a lounge singer-type in a periwinkle blue tux and a dyed black, slicked-back pompadour. He sang every song, including "The Electric Sliiiiiide". He had an okay, if totally lifeless voice which made the whole thing too too funny. I seriously could not stop laughing.

The unpaid entertainment - the Saturday night Elvis impersonator stopping by to pick up his check - Dottie, one of Jean's (grandma's) friends, singing show tunes - Dottie, grabbing Jay's butt and giving him a kiss - Jay telling me afterwards that Dottie had tried to "slip him the tongue" - one little old man harrassing everyone to join in the line dancing - Jay's Dad telling me that the man was a line-dancing instructor for the blind - the "white trash Italian" food - Jay's brother Forest showing up looking like Andy Gibb, but with a full beard - the parade of old ladies coming up to Jay and saying "Forest, no Jason! Jason!" and planting a kiss on him - Forest dancing with Jean to "Tequila!"

We spent the night at Jean and Lou's house (the grandparents). Jean collects cats. Not live ones, just figurines, stuffed animals, pictures, paintings, etc. Lou says, "Yeah, I live in a Cat House." Jay couldn't figure out why I was laughing until I explained that Cat House = uh, how to say? House of Ill-Repute. From the look on his face, I think a lot of his grandfather's jokes suddenly came clear.

Anyway, enough for now. I must eat lunch. Mmmm.

Home at LAST

Well, I'm home, out of the atrocious humidity of the East Coast, and mostly alive. However, I am becoming my mother. Yes, the genetic kiss of death strikes again!

I would hear myself saying things that were funny to me but clearly unfunny to EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ROOM... and then I would slap my own cheek (lightly) while they stared in confusion.

Actually, all in all, it was a lovely trip. I got to see friends I hadn't seen in three or four years as we made our whirlwind trip through New England - slept in a different bed the first five night of the trip - NJ at Jay's Dad's, NJ at Jay's Grandmother's, MA at Kev and Leann's, NH at a little B&B, and VT at Molly's (my college roomie's) family's camp for people with special needs. Just so you know, every single one of the Down's Syndrome camper can throw a frisbee more accurately than I can. I have what is politely referred to as a "trick" throw. Meaning that the trick is to guess where it's going to land...

Spent four nights at the family cabin in the Adirondacks... spent most of the time scratching at the mosquito and black fly bites. Grrrr. So, instead of being pasty white, I am now tan with red spots. Yes, I'm sexy.

Thankfully, everyone in Jay's immediate family is perfectly reasonable, if a little obsessed with organic foods... it's just some of the hangers-on who are scary. Scary, in this case, meaning too into exploring spirituality and wanting to talk about it all the time and taking themselves just a wee bit too seriously. In other words, they didn't think I was funny. Pshaw.

Anyway, I'm wiped from the flight and the traveling. I just want to shower the grime away and put some food in my belly and pass out. However - a few teasers about the party - which was fricking HILARIOUS:

New Jersey Italians - including an actual Cousin Vinny, bad wine, watery beer, a seventy year old line dancing instructor, a periwinkle blue tuxedo, and a performance from the Wedding Singer's competition.

On to the next reason for nervousness

So. Tomorrow morning Jay and I will get on a plane and fly to New Jersey. Where his entire family lives. His entire family whom I have not yet met. Correction - I've met his Dad and his brother on separate occasions when they visited Jay out here, but since that was in such a nice, controlled, on-my-turf situation, I don't feel like it counted. Sunday is Jay's grandmother's 40th wedding anniversary party. Everyone will be there. Yep.

Now, I feel mildly queasy about the whole thing, but maybe not for the reasons I expected to. First of all, I get the feeling that his mom his totally off her rocker. Just living in a world with a different set of rules and expectations than the rest of us... And his sister sounds like a bit of a new age fruit cake. But she's also only 21. Okay, so here's the thing -- I'm not worried that they won't like me. I mean, they're not the ones who have to sleep with me, are they? No. We live in Utah. They live in Jersey. Not going to affect my day-to-day existence one bit. However, I have this really bad habit of just, well, spitting things out. Calling 'em as I see 'em. Opening mouth, inserting foot. You get the idea.

The worry, therefore, is not that they won't like me, but that I won't like them and will manage to convey that to them. I think that could be bad. I mean, I don't usually enjoy upsetting crazy people who aren't related to me by blood.

This whole thing is, of course, aggravated by the fact that we have been together for two years and have not met each other's families except for a stray brother or sister here and there. So we've had time to hear all the evil stories without any real world context. Kind of strange now that I think about it. But that's what comes of dashing all over the country and picking up boys on the Internet.

In my defense, I moved here BEFORE hooking up online. Thanks.

Anyway, I'm going to the gym. Perhaps I will make more sense after sweating a bit, eh? One can only hope.

What is it really?

Jay and I were talking the other night about what makes Utah different from other places. Not the physical place itself, but what makes the people different... We're here in the capital, so it's not like it's 80% Mormon like the rest of the state. In fact, it's only about 30% LDS and 70% other.

The conversation arose from me being really sad again about not having friends here. I have lots of people I work with who I adore, but we never manage to be able to get together outside of work. Well, once I managed to have dinner with one of the people, but that's all. I've invited them to our apartment warming, and no one showed. I've been invited to go out for drinks, but then they'll forget to call me and let me know when and where -- AND THEN ask me why I didn't come. God help me.

And the people I've met through Jay's grad school friends aren't any better. I've made plans a couple times, only to be flaked out on at the last minute. A girl could get a complex here. Is it just that people don't understand the idea of doing what they say they are going to do? I feel like I'm in a little bubble of reality, surrounded by pod people. No, really.

Evidently, I'm not the only one with this problem. My syblings all suffer from friend-failure. Maybe our parental units raised us wrong - ha! Instilled in us the idea of loyalty and honesty and the idea of following through on things you say you are going to do! How dreadful! What were they thinking????

Sometimes I feel like I've totally invisible. Je suis phantome.

Why, I ask you...

No, really. Why is it that basic decapitations, dismemberments, stabbings, shootings, and all that nasty stuff that happens to characters in books (please, I'm not a total psycho) doesn't gross me out nearly as much as a description of someone getting their eyeball popped out? Why is the image of someone getting a thumb through the orb so absolutely grody to me? Yeeeeaaauck! Just thinking about it gives me the willies. I think I've been reading too much Laurell K. Hamilton again.

The trip up to the Tetons was a raging success. Weather was decent - rained only the first night - got in five miles of moderate hiking on Sunday and Monday... got a touch of sun but no burn. All in all, just what I needed.

Now to catch up with everyone else's blogs...

Clarifications

The poison ivy is drying up - thank god. My general mood and outlook on life has improved. Coincidence? I think not.

I'm heading up to the Tetons on Saturday instead of Friday. We invited a friend over for a blueberry pancake dinner celebration Friday night and I totally forgot about it. Mmmmm... blueberry pancakes.

Also, when I volunteer to coordinate group information, that means that the group members are supposed to supply me with said info prior to our having to turn in the outline. Coordination no equal creation. Thanks.

Paralysis with Insomnia

I know I'm never going to sleep tonight until I hash this out. I just finished a book Waltzing the Cat by Pam Houston, and that may be what set me off. Or maybe I was already off and that just brought it to my attention. I dunno. The character in the series of stories is like I would have been had I not met Jay here in Salt Lake.

I love him to death. It hurts to think about not being with him and honestly, he is at least a thousand times better than any other guy I have ever been with. And then there are the nights like this. Or maybe that should be the weeks like this.

Weeks when all I can think of is how much I want to go online and find some meaningless job in some breathtaking place where I can breathe and think and be creative without the cares of someone I love to make me feel self-conscious.

Sometimes choosing to be happy here is so hard.

I feel like my options are closing down with every choice I make, and yet I know that every choice also opens up options that didn't exist before. But sometimes I don't know what I want more -- love and family and a settled down sort of life, or adventure and creativity and the aloneness that sometimes come with that.

I think maybe that lately I've been too accepting of criticisms. I've forgotten that I don't really care if people think I'm rude because I don't want to play "let's say goodbye 14 times" before we actually leave. I've let myself believe I don't like to do some things just because I don't like to do those things in the same way that other people do. I think maybe I've lost sight just a little of who I am and what I need to be happy. So much so, that I can't think of what those things might be right now. I don't like that feeling.

So after Thursday night's class I'll be packing up the cooler and going to bed early so I can make an early start of it on Friday. Head up to Wyoming - Jackson Hole and the Grand Tetons. Might go as far as Yellowstone, but I don't think so. Take my journal and my sketchbook and my library books and see if I can't get myself straightened out.

Poison Ivy! Ack!

I went on a nice little hike Saturday... but I decided to go "exploring" and ended up on what was somewhat less than a trail. Oh, it started out looking very much like a trail. But it was all a lie. It was merely a former trail still in possession of some trail-like characteristics. Mostly it was overgrown and steep and parts of it had slid down the hill. Which means, of course, that I got to scramble through multitudes of plant life and sharp branches.

Naturally, I quite enjoyed it at the time. I mean, I like climbing up hills - especially when I am alone and no one can see how silly I look or hear how hard I'm breathing.

BUT (there's always a but) Sunday night I developed itchy red bumps on my left knee. Bug bites, I said, clearly in denial. By Monday those small red bumps had grown into bubbling blisters... POISON IVY! AGAIN!!

I had the damn stuff last year - 13 months ago exactly, if the records at the InstaCare clinic are to be believed. So, the clinic is $50 richer, the pharmacy has an extra $8.99, and I have a nine day prescription of prednisone. Again.

Fortunately, it's very effective. And until it stops itching, I will keep slathering on baking soda paste - the only thing that stops the itch. To hell with hydrocortizone.

About my Dad

Now, I've perhaps given a warped picture of my dad in past postings. Yes, he's an alcoholic from a long line of alcoholics. His dad was a old drunk who had suffered enough heartattacks and strokes to render him a confused and cranky old man by the time my dad was a young teenager. My grandfather was about fifty (we're not sure exactly what year he was born) when my dad was born in 1937 and from all accounts, looked more like 80. He died before I was born. Both my dad's parents were first generation Americans - I believe his father came over from Germany as a small boy - and neither had much in the way of education. So, in light of that, here are some things I find really impressive or humorous about my dad.

My dad pays the electric bill four months ahead because when he was a boy their bill was usually late and the electricity was often shut off before it was resolved.

There's a street corner in Pittsburgh with a heating grate. Everytime we pass it, my dad says "There's the grate that saved my life... or at least my toes... when I was a boy." He used to sell newspapers on the corner in the mornings before school.

In 1955, My dad was the first member of his family to finish high school. He joined the Coast Guard and then started working in 1958 for the same company he works for today. He started as a lab technician and the scientists he worked with encouraged him to go to college. Newly married (to his first wife) with a new baby, my dad worked full time and went to night school and got his bachelor's degree from the University of Pittsburgh. Later (after the divorce) he did his doctoral work at Princeton.

He met my mom when she was eighteen and he was 33. They married two years later -- he asked her seven times before she said yes. He used to sign his gifts to her "PB" for "persistent bastard". When I was little they told me it was for "persistent botherer".

My dad cries when he talks about sick children and people who have made sacrifices for the benefit of others. He got so choked up while visiting the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach with me, telling me about the movements of the troops to take the strategic points, that I started to cry.

My dad will always offer dessert when we eat out. He will never complain about how much we spend or what we order.

He will offer to loan us - his children - money for continuing our education. Then he will tell us not to pay it back.

Granted, we've had some ugly times in the past. But looking at the whole picture, I have to say I'm pretty darn impressed with what he's managed to accomplish - both for himself and for his children. He's been a good dad. I'm glad to have him.

Bend it Like Mia Hamm

Okay, US kicked Irish ass 5 to nil. Watching the team, it's easy to see why the US women's team has been continually kicking ass left and right. They don't hesitate, they run, they cover the entire field, they run some more, their passing is incredible, and they run faster and harder. And I at first thought it was kind of silly the way everyone got all hyped up when Mia Hamm came out on the field... but then I watched her handle the ball. Seriously impressive. As you can tell, my vocabulary fails me when it comes to soccer, but it was a damn good show. Damn good. We had 19,500 fans in attendance - the largest crowd to see the US women's team ever. Hopefully that means that we'll be able to draw the team back here for a few more games.

Oooh oooh oooh - it's Father's Day! Must call home!!!

Hold your horses

Grocery shopping, eating, and then going to the US women's soccer team vs. Ireland up at the U. Those are my plans for the evening.

But hey, at least I finally alphabetized my links, eh?

Hmmm...

Not really liking the new format for editing. This is an upgrade?

Anyway, a few updates:

I finished Lord of the Rings - whipped right through Return of the King and I'm still not sure why I stalled out for so long in the middle of The Two Towers. Having finished the last book, I'm really curious to see Peter Jackson's interpretation of the story. I will say that I agree with other comments that I had seen or heard complaining about Faramir in the movie. He was way cooler in the book. Shafted in the movie. But no one is perfect all the time, I suppose.

Okay - back to my siblings and their nicknames....

I can't really talk about Bubba without mentioning Spud. Bubba and Spud - my two sweet baby sisters. Honestly, I cannot remember how or where or why Kerri became Spud. Maybe because it sounded good with Bubba. Maybe there's some reference that I just missed. Who knows. However, Bubba (Hi Karlyn!) has a history.

Karlyn was one of those babies with big round eyes that don't miss a thing. Baby owls, if you will. Of course, with the big round eyes came big round cheeks that quite overcrowded her little mouth. Picture a living Cabbage Patch doll -- something she was commonly mistaken for in her first year on the planet. So all this staring and cheekage produced copious droolage. Natural for babies, of course, but it looked like she was constantly blowing spit bubbles. And so we started calling her Bubbles.

Ask any of my friends and they will tell you how much I love to play with people's names. (-licious is my current addition of choice... Brookalicious, Alilicious, Ninalicious... you get the idea) So Bubbles became Bubbalooie or Bubbaloo, eventually shortened to plain old Bubba. In fact, I don't think we called her anything except Bubba until she started pre-school. No wonder she's so odd.

Perhaps not as funny as AreOhBeeSeeOhDoubleYou, but the memory of her fat little cheeks and constant spit bubble beard make me giggle.