Stuck
I haven't been writing much anywhere lately. But I think being stuck with my writing is just a symptom of feeling stuck in other aspects of my life. Lately I've been feeling twitchy again, like I want to pack up and move on and start again somewhere else.
I don't think this is what I really want, but it feels good to think about it. Car packed to the gills, speedometer up around 80 MPH, open highway, changing scenery, possibilities ahead... I miss that.
I keep thinking about what I have now though, and what I've been working toward for the past two years. As soon as my test scores come back, I'll be able to get my teaching certification and a "real" career option. I've finally finished a submitable version of my first book, and have worked out the next two books in the trilogy...even if I am stalled out halfway through book two...sigh.
What don't I have here that would make things better? A real network of friends, I think is a biggy. There's a few people I hang out with, but almost everyone I know, I know through Jay. One of my friends from my Master's program seems to have vanished... the other one I just keep playing phone (or email) tag with.
Maybe it would be better if I didn't feel so trapped out here -- if I weren't too broke to spring for a plane ticket outta town two or three times a year. I haven't gotten out of Salt Lake since Christmas...five months now. It's starting to make me a little crazy, I think.
We are planning a road trip in June up through Idaho, over to the Oregon coast, and then down to San Francisco to visit friends. I'm hoping that will settle my edginess. But for now, I'm starting to lose it.
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Just buzzing through
It's late and I really should be writing something more productive than a blog entry. So I just want to say that I saw Pink Martini live in concert with the Utah Symphony last night and they ROCKED. Awesome musicians. Clearly having so much fun doing what they were doing that it was pure joy to watch them perform.
That's all. Nothing more to see here, nothing more to see.
It's late and I really should be writing something more productive than a blog entry. So I just want to say that I saw Pink Martini live in concert with the Utah Symphony last night and they ROCKED. Awesome musicians. Clearly having so much fun doing what they were doing that it was pure joy to watch them perform.
That's all. Nothing more to see here, nothing more to see.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Sunday, May 16, 2004
When did it become cool?
I've noticed a disturbing trend in the past few years. I think it started with Beefy Boy -- was it for Chef Boyardee? -- he'd smear his face with sauce and say "Mmmmm, Beefy." Gross.
Now we seem to be moving out of the gross out trend and into an even less attractive quality: rudeness. The milk ads piss me off everytime, and even if I wasn't already lactose intolerant, these ads would be enough to make me stop drinking it for good. The latest in the series is a kid who goes into the store to buy chocolate milk. At the cooler, he looks around furtively before using a quarter to scratch through the UPC symbol. At the register, the woman tries to scan the milk, but cant't get a reading because of the scratch, so she runs it past the scanner repeatedly before finally calling for a price check. Now, the point is that the stupid numbnuts customer gets someone else to shake up his chocolate milk. Mmmm, yum. He's so clever and isn't that milk yummy.
Little shit. Shake your own damn milk. It's not that hard to do.
The thing is, these ads and others like them are meant to be funny. But I can't help but see them as a giant insult to my intelligence, and to the intelligence of the shmuckity actors who get paid to be in them. That's our "anything for a buck" American culture at its finest, I suppose.
Gah.
I've noticed a disturbing trend in the past few years. I think it started with Beefy Boy -- was it for Chef Boyardee? -- he'd smear his face with sauce and say "Mmmmm, Beefy." Gross.
Now we seem to be moving out of the gross out trend and into an even less attractive quality: rudeness. The milk ads piss me off everytime, and even if I wasn't already lactose intolerant, these ads would be enough to make me stop drinking it for good. The latest in the series is a kid who goes into the store to buy chocolate milk. At the cooler, he looks around furtively before using a quarter to scratch through the UPC symbol. At the register, the woman tries to scan the milk, but cant't get a reading because of the scratch, so she runs it past the scanner repeatedly before finally calling for a price check. Now, the point is that the stupid numbnuts customer gets someone else to shake up his chocolate milk. Mmmm, yum. He's so clever and isn't that milk yummy.
Little shit. Shake your own damn milk. It's not that hard to do.
The thing is, these ads and others like them are meant to be funny. But I can't help but see them as a giant insult to my intelligence, and to the intelligence of the shmuckity actors who get paid to be in them. That's our "anything for a buck" American culture at its finest, I suppose.
Gah.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Another One Bites the Dust
Or rather, another two. Checked up on some of my links only to find site abandoned by their creators... The blogging neighborhood keeps changing as new people move in and old people move on.
On an unrelated subject... today is my LAST DAY of student teaching. Thank god. Teaching in someone else's classroom with kids who have become used to that teacher's rules and procedures is difficult even under the best of circumstances. And this second half of teaching with the new teacher at the new school has been the best of circumstances. But still, thank god it's over.
Or rather, another two. Checked up on some of my links only to find site abandoned by their creators... The blogging neighborhood keeps changing as new people move in and old people move on.
On an unrelated subject... today is my LAST DAY of student teaching. Thank god. Teaching in someone else's classroom with kids who have become used to that teacher's rules and procedures is difficult even under the best of circumstances. And this second half of teaching with the new teacher at the new school has been the best of circumstances. But still, thank god it's over.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Quit Changing Things Already
Looks like Blogger has changed the template set up yet again. Probably an improvement, but we'll see.
However, I am less pleased with the change to my "permanent" email account. They eliminated the choices of version 3, which I used, and version 4, which I didn't. Now version 5 is the only option, and there are no explanations about the change, nor were any announcements made. I logged in on Saturday and it was the same old interface I knew and could work with. I logged in Sunday - BANG - everything changed... many useful features missing.
Don't get me wrong. I love change. I change my underwear everyday, in fact. I've changed addresses no less than 6 times in the last 6 years. I've changed jobs almost as frequently. And boyfriends? Well, not that frequently... nor do I want to change now, in case you are reading, Jaylove...
What I don't like are changes that I have no control over -- ones that I am given no choice about. So dammit, consult me before messing with my methods of communication. Grrrr.
Looks like Blogger has changed the template set up yet again. Probably an improvement, but we'll see.
However, I am less pleased with the change to my "permanent" email account. They eliminated the choices of version 3, which I used, and version 4, which I didn't. Now version 5 is the only option, and there are no explanations about the change, nor were any announcements made. I logged in on Saturday and it was the same old interface I knew and could work with. I logged in Sunday - BANG - everything changed... many useful features missing.
Don't get me wrong. I love change. I change my underwear everyday, in fact. I've changed addresses no less than 6 times in the last 6 years. I've changed jobs almost as frequently. And boyfriends? Well, not that frequently... nor do I want to change now, in case you are reading, Jaylove...
What I don't like are changes that I have no control over -- ones that I am given no choice about. So dammit, consult me before messing with my methods of communication. Grrrr.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Two Critics
So, as part of the online writer's community Forward Motion and also as a high school teacher, I've had to balance my two critics. Inner critics, I mean. On one side there is the sharp-clawed, impatient, catty critic. On the other is the calm, patient, tactful critic. I try to keep the first on a tight leash. Especially in the classroom.
However, with critiques, I find that I'm unable to be tactful unless I first let all the snotty, potentially damaging comments out first. So my first pass through a work to be critted has been known to have notes like "Are you completely stupid?" "Do you think I am competely stupid?" "Fucking A, heard of grammar?". You know... all the stuff you say to yourself when you read something in need of serious help... or a good bonfire. But presumably, the person who has posted their work for crit knows that it's not perfect, so you don't actually want to rub their face in it. (There are exceptions.)
Obviously, the catty comments are the easiest, floating so close to the surface as they are... Meow meow meow meow hsssssss. So it usually turns into a scenario of my responsible, tactful critic beating the living shit out of the evil kitty who then sinks its claws into the teacher's ankle and purrs while teacher tries to comment nicely.
No wonder I'm getting burnt out in the critting arena. I figure I have a good six months before I need another hiatus.
So, as part of the online writer's community Forward Motion and also as a high school teacher, I've had to balance my two critics. Inner critics, I mean. On one side there is the sharp-clawed, impatient, catty critic. On the other is the calm, patient, tactful critic. I try to keep the first on a tight leash. Especially in the classroom.
However, with critiques, I find that I'm unable to be tactful unless I first let all the snotty, potentially damaging comments out first. So my first pass through a work to be critted has been known to have notes like "Are you completely stupid?" "Do you think I am competely stupid?" "Fucking A, heard of grammar?". You know... all the stuff you say to yourself when you read something in need of serious help... or a good bonfire. But presumably, the person who has posted their work for crit knows that it's not perfect, so you don't actually want to rub their face in it. (There are exceptions.)
Obviously, the catty comments are the easiest, floating so close to the surface as they are... Meow meow meow meow hsssssss. So it usually turns into a scenario of my responsible, tactful critic beating the living shit out of the evil kitty who then sinks its claws into the teacher's ankle and purrs while teacher tries to comment nicely.
No wonder I'm getting burnt out in the critting arena. I figure I have a good six months before I need another hiatus.
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