Conversation and Travels

So, coincidently, I called home last night to talk to my Mom about some stuff but she was busy so she handed the phone off first to my Dad and then to my brother. Can you say "stilted"?

Reasons I love my Dad: I had been stressing about whether or not to go to VT to check the school out in person... I'm broke, so any time I have to put something on my credit cards I cringe. So first thing, before I have a chance to say more than "Hello", he busts out with "So have you thought about going to VT to check it out? I'd be happy to pay for that." Load off shoulders. Second, told him the price of the extra costs of the surgery and he was expecting it to be twice as much, so he is giving us the extra as moving expenses. He may be a shitty listener, but the man anticipates the financials well.

But back to ROBCOW. I asked him what he was up to. He said, "Pretty much nothing. Except I've decided to kill myself in June." I asked him to hang on an extra year so he could be at my wedding. He said, "No, I don't think so." Now, I know he's not serious, because he's made plans to be back in North Carolina to visit friends in July. And he pulls this kind of stuff all the time. Yes, he's depressed. Yes, he's a functional alcoholic. Is he suicidal? Not even close. "I'm going to kill myself" is his way of announcing that I'm not allowed to ask anything else about his life and that he doesn't particularly care about what's going on in mine.

We ended up having a 45 minute conversation about the South Beach diet, the cartoon "The Family Guy" (which I have never seen more than 5 minutes of, but which BubRub can mimic with freakish accuracy. Freakish.), and the movie Sin City - which I found a bit violent, but Rob assures me I'm wrong and am simply too plebian to notice that it's just Pulp Fiction II. Debate is hopeless, because I am always wrong. Suggestions are met with "Yeah, whatever." And any mention of what I am doing is met with, "Well isn't that nice." and a change of subject.

I don't think there's anyone else on the planet who can make me feel quite so useless. He's got a gift.

Bubby Rubby

My brother is 22 months younger than I am, but when we were younger everyone thought we were twins because he was big for his age and I was pretty small for mine. His hair was as blond as mine then and our eyes are almost the same shade of blue. My godparents' daughter, formerly my best friend, couldn't seem to get the words Baby Robby out right, so for the last 27 years, we've referred to him off and on as "bubby rubby".

Of course, there was a short shift to another nick name when he was five or six... Our parents were off traveling in Utah, of all places, and our best babysitter Theresa was staying with us. One day, can't remember why, she asked Rob was his middle name was.

"Cow," he said.

"Nuh uh," I said. "It's Ky-" but Theresa shushed me up.

"Want to know how to spell that?" she asked.

"Okay."

"R-O-B-C-O-W." There is a reason she was our favorite babysitter, eh? "So now we can call you R-O-B-C-O-W."

And we totally did. For years.

I still do on occasion, though Bubby Rubby seems to be regaining it place of honor. For similar reasons, he still calls me Koffee. I guess it reminds us that we used to be friends. Before we fucked that up.

Not as lazy as I seem

I might not have done much besides read, websurf, and go to the library, but I've earned a day of rest.

Airline arrangements would have been all set, except I realized that the dates I had on hold were the same as Jay's graduation... d'oh.

Doctor's appointment made, attended, and Doc found to be much better than the last guy. Same basic diagnosis - deviated septum and enlarged turbinates. In other words, the pipe I breathe through (or try to) is both crooked and too narrow. And we discussed minor cosmetic alternations as well. Going to have the bump reduced and attempt to correct the twisting - it takes a definite lean to the left. Will call back to schedule June surgery as soon as the Doc has his June schedule ready to go. I could have booked as early as April 28th! But I can't afford to miss school for a week or two. And that just seems a little fast, besides.

Also mailed back my first teaching license so I can get the one I was supposed to have in the first place.

Unclogged the shower drain. Gross.

See, I have been productive.

Just not today.

Last Ski Day

Went up Mill Creek Canyon today with Jay for what will probably be my last ski of the season. Considering that it's the second week of April, the conditions were quite good. They've stopped grooming the road, but there's been about two feet of new snow in the last week or so and at least everything was covered. The uneven surfaces gave me massive foot and calf cramps though. Took about a mile and a half to relax into it.

But who care about that when there is so much else to worry about....

I'm afraid I haven't been writing lately because I'm totally preoccupied with the whole moving, marrying, finding new job thingy. The interview with the Residential life guy went really well. I'm trying to decide if the disparity in the three people I've spoken to thus far is connected to the fact that I get along much better with men than women. As a general rule. Certainly not a hard and fast one. My best friends are mostly women... Um, that looks wrong. Should probably read "most of my best friends are women." Anyway. Gah. Anyway. I bore myself. Feeling most unclever. I'm trying to figure out whether I should cash in some frequent flyer miles (if possible) to fly back to VT and check the place out for myself. Then I could see the town, see the school, meet with the staff/faculty, and have a better idea of what I have agreed to do.

I think what's really holding me back is one of the guiding principles of my life: don't ask the damn question if you can't handle the real answer. Hence my procrastination. Do I really want to know? Do I want to know that this would be awful and that I could never fit into the school to save my life? (And I'm not speaking from a point of inferiority... sometimes places and people are just not a match for one reason or another.) Do I want to find out that they don't think I'll fit in and that there really are no other teaching jobs available in the area?

Granted, I realize that I need the answers to these questions. And soon. So on Monday I will be calling the airline to see what I can do about getting there. I will have to miss a day of school, or rather, an hour of school on a Friday. I don't know how that will be worked out because as a part time employee I can't get a sub. And who would want to sub for an hour, anyway? Not worth the gas money. And I would need to take about four days off from Sylvan as well. Not a big deal. All together lost wages probably don't come to $150. But since I only make about $1000 a month, this is still something to consider. And Jay has offered to pay for a rental car... and I can stay with friends a few nights and I imagine the school could find me a place to sleep for a night or two while I checked out the area. So I have very few excuses left.

But then again, I've been working on getting the whole, screwed up nose fixed for the last year and I'm stil not any closer to that, despite a lack of remaining excuses... except for the one that letting someone cut my face open and rearrange its parts gives me the willies.

So Romantic

So, okay, we're not the most romantically inclined couple in the world. This seems to worry Jay more than it does me, though for the most part we just accept that we are not gushy gushy sappy no-I-love-you-more kind of people. He's started calling me "wife" and I usually respond by calling him "bitch". Hey, it works for us. It helps that I have a rather twisted sense of humor. (See below commentary on marriage charts and data collection.)

So perhaps it doesn't seem so odd that Jay is still alive after mumbling the following words the other night in bed.

"Could you just roll over so I can hump you or something? I need to get my mind off work so I can sleep."

Can you imagine our wedding vows now? Yeah, me too. Scary.

Gah

On Tuesday I had a phone interview with the foreign language department chair at a private school in Vermont where it would be really nice to have a job next year. That one went fairly well, I thought.

This morning I had another phone interview with one of the current French teachers at the school. This one was all in French. Gah. First, I am NOT A MORNING PERSON. At all. Second, I've been in Utah for four years now... not the most Francophone place in the world. I'm rusty. Give me three months in France, and I'd be back to fluency, but right now... not so much. I understand just fine, but my speaking is not perfect. I also am still recovering from a minor sinus/chest cold.

So I don't think this one went nearly as well. Sigh.

I still have to talk to the Dean of Students and the Residential Life Director... we shall see. The good thing is that the school needs to fill two French positions, not just one, so I think that improves my chances significantly.

But I feel distinctly less confident today.

"Scientifically" Proven

So Jay shows me some research he did last Fall... Evidently, faithless one that he is, that he needed some hard evidence that us getting married would be a good thing. He polled semi-random married (and unmarried?) people on their level of happiness with their partner and what level they had to remain above in order to have a happy marriage. (I may be off on the details, but this was the gist of it.) Broke the numbers down by sex. Women had to be about 81% happy, while men only needed to be happy 73% of the time in order to feel good about their marriage.

Jay, godlove'im, then collected the following data daily for sixty days: sex? yes/no; # hrs spent together; want to marry yes/no?; extenuating circumstances.

Have I mentioned that the boy has very little sense of tact, and absoutely no filter between his brain and his mouth? Most of the time, these are things I love about him, but nevertheless, it explains why he felt the need to disclose all this. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. There were histograms and line charts... so thorough... so Jay.

For the record, I made an 83% all around approval rating.

In a Stunning Reversal

Jay was offered the Vermont job up in Lyndon near St. Johnsbury. We discussed it. He's going to accept.

He asked me to marry him. After I laughed my ass off, he repeated the question, and I said yes. And we both promptly said "Eeeeewwww."

Which I think just proves how unsuited for anyone else we both are.

No, I haven't told anyone else in my family yet.

I'm still working up to that point. But that would mean I would have to say it out loud... I'm working on it.

Thoughts Jogged Loose

I just got back from the gym. Ran two consecutive miles for the first time ever. Not bad for a girl who could barely run a quarter mile at Christmas.

Some of the random thoughts my mind came up with to distract me from what I was doing to my body:

Everything I wrote the other day? Bullshit. I'm really just an egomaniacal bitch with dissociative tendencies. No really. One of my... acquantances in high school called me that once. Personally, I think she might have spent too much time reading her mother's shrink books, but clearly, she had a point. Or not.

I can't stand most reality shows, but the Real World Road Rules Challenges? Sick, but I love 'em. Talk about people wrapped up in their own drama... trying to be so introspective and just coming off like overgrown teenagers. Not unlike other people I could name... sigh.

And what the hell is wrong with people? Women and girls specifically. I followed a link from Wasted Birth Control to Girl Culture this morning on my daily blogwalk. Warped. Truly warped. Some of the other things she had to say about the sexualizing of preadolescents bugged the hell out of me... not because she's wrong. Because it's so obviously true. I only have to look around the school at my junior high students to see that.

However... maybe that explains why I can't find a fricking pair of pants that fits me these days. And why I have "small" tshirts that are seven years old that are larger than the "XL" ones I buy now. Same brand, by the way... And perhaps that explains why everyone I see looks like they are wearing clothes that are far too small for them. You know, the waist bulging, fabric stretching, capri-length, ass-crack displaying fashion that is so prevalent. Gak. And maybe that explains Modern Fit pants. Straight through the hip? Hello? Women's pants... straight through the hip? WTF? I tried on a pair, just for amusement purposes the other day. Ah ha ha ha ha. Fit great... except for the fact that the waistband was about five inches too wide on the pair that did fit in the hips and thighs. Hmmm. I wish that was a isolated experience, but that's what's been in the stores for the last few years. No wonder I'm starting to get desperate for new pants.

And finally... I hate music videos. 99% of them anyway. Especially rap videos. Holy exploitation, Batman. Does no one else realize how gross that is?

On Friendship... why I am the way I am

I don't know why this is such a struggle for me. I was thinking the other day about friends and friendship... and I realized that the only person in Salt Lake that I would consider a real friend is Jay. How screwed up is that? I mean, I've been living here for almost FOUR YEARS. I have one friend from my masters program, but I rarely see her, because she lives in Park City and works down in Orem...and that doesn't leave her a lot of time for socializing. She's cancelled the last two times we planned to get together. So I've kinda left the ball in her court now. The others I hang out with occasionally all started out as Jay's friends, and I guess to some degree I still think of them as such.

But this paucity of friends isn't anything new for me. It's been like that for as long as I can remember. I'm not sure what it is about me that makes it so hard to form connections with people, but I'm so used to it that it doesn't really bother me much. Most of the time, anyway. Even when I think about it and wonder, like I am now, it doesn't really make me sad. Maybe a little frustrated. Undoubtedly bewildered. But I truly enjoy my own company. I like to spend hours or days alone - I get so much reading-writing-painting done that way. But I'm still vaguely aware that other people have friends and enjoy their company on a regular basis and I wonder why I don't.

Maybe it goes hand in hand with my inability to ask for help. Scratch that... I'm able to ask now. Let's just say "extreme reluctance" then. The reason for this actually stems from a revelation I had at a management training seminar of all things. I know, I know. Usually they're cheesy lovefests, but this one worked. I have trouble asking for help because asking for help would mean that I wasn't original or smart enough to do something on my own. Ridiculous maybe. But perfectly logical when you realize it was formed as a guiding message in a 7 year old's mind when her "best friend" accused her of copying.

Then throw in the fact that we moved when I was 4 and a half. That I didn't go to preschool. That I started kindergarten a year and a half later after playing with no one but my baby brother and some pseudo-cousins during that time. That everyone else in my kindergarten class HAD gone to preschool... together.

Pretty much been the outsider for as long as I can remember. Oh, and don't forget the Teacher's Pet disaster of 3rd grade. That showed me the ugly mob side of human nature, all turned against little 9 year old me. Really nice. Did I mention that I have excellent hearing? Yeah. Heard some of my "friends" saying nasty things about me when they thought I was too far away to hear. So maybe it boils down to a trust issue.

I competed gymnastics 5th-8th grades, so I wasn't around much, though I was around long enough to make friends with a new girl at school. Of course, by 10th grade she no longer acknowledged my existence because I wasn't into trying to get upperclassmen to make out with me, or cut school, or raid my parents' liquor cabinet... but anyway.

After I broke a vertebrae (fun!), I quit gymnastics and ended up with a different circle of friends, which proceeded to implode with teenage game playing. See, Winnie dated Jack. Jack and Alex were best friends. Winnie and Jack had a fight. Winnie got back at Jack by sleeping with Alex. Brilliant, neh? Did I mention that we were only 15 at the time? Yeah. So then Winnie got back with Jack and they got busy in the backyard tent. So Jack and Alex were no longer best buds, nor were they paying attention to anyone else in the clique because they were distracted by their dicks. (names changed to protect the guilty)

You know, I'm reading this as I write, thinking: Is it any fricking WONDER I don't trust people? Gah.

I did okay with friends in college, for the most part. The only drama there was with "relationships" and watching all of us make dumb mistakes with members of the opposite (or same) sex. But none of that affected the friendships... not permanently. The problem is that most of my friends were not friends with each other.

But during the two years I lived at the Grand Canyon, I didn't really have any friends. A few in passing, because that's the kind of place it was. I'm still in touch with 3 of the hundreds of people I worked with there - two roommates (Pamela the Brit and Aaron the pot head) - and Angela, from Brooklyn, who is my mother's age, and who calls me "the brat she never had". So I do connect with some people. Sort of.

I have certain standards, I guess.

No game playing.
Honor commitments.
Be willing and able to use your damn brain.
Have a sense of humor (humour)
Have a sense of adventure.

It frightens me how rarely all of those are met. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not being too demanding... but honestly, these are things I'm not really willing to compromise on. And so I don't. And so sometimes I don't have anyone to go shopping or to a chic flick with. And sometimes it is lonely.

But I have Jay, of course, and I will always have my sisters, who are my best girl friends ever. I just wish they lived a little closer.

And that little ramble was much longer than I intended...

Strike One

Looks like the New Hampshire option is a no-go. Jay heard back from the University and they offered the position to someone else -- more experience and an area of expertise not already represented by the current faculty were the reasons, I believe. Maybe I was a tad bit unsympathetic... but I was also a little disappointed. However, who gets the first job they apply for? Not me, that's for sure. Successful academic life doesn't really prepare one for the harsh realities of the job search. Job searches suckass. Either the job you want doesn't want you, or the job that does want you isn't your first choice, or even your fifth. But sometimes you get lucky. Just rarely on your first time at bat.

Anywho. So NH is not happening, and the Vermont option just doesn't seem like a good fit, personalitywise or specialtywise. We'll see what happens, but I'm thinking no. But that's totally okay, because I did my time in New England, and while there are many good things about it, sunshine, low humidity, and the ability to hike in Chacos are not among them. And I've really grown quite fond of all those things during my 6 years out west.

To My Parents: six things I'm grateful for

Okay, I realize that some of my recent posts have perhaps outlined the less savory aspects of my parents habits/personalities. Hence my thoughts in creating this list:

1. To both my parents for never making me doubt, even for an instant, how much they both love me.

2. And for instilling in me a love of reading and education and adventure.

3. Their generosity in providing the financial means to further that education and explore the world around me.

4. And especially for my brother and two sisters. What would I be without them?

5. To my dad for teaching me that punctuality and keeping your word are important. (As long as there is no alcohol involved...)

6. To my mom, for teaching me that laughter is a good subtitute for either tears or shouting. (Though it can occasionally lead to both when applied at just the wrong moment...)

Happy Birthday to Me!

It's Kate Day here in Salt Lake City... the big, uh, Two Nine. Last of the twenties birthday... Hmm. But anyway, Jay and I drove down to Sundance nordic ski center and WOW, kickass trails there. Snow conditions just about perfect. Blue skies and sunshine. Barely anyone else on the 24km of trails. So perfect. I'm still jazzed. The distances aren't specifically marked on the trails, but we figure that I did about 12 miles and Jay probably came in around 16 miles. (We've learned not to try to ski together - especially when I'm on classic and he's doing skate skiing.)

My mum-who-loves-me called to wish me a happy bday and so did my Karlyn. Haven't heard from the rest of the family yet... but the day is young. Somewhat.

I did get a birthday card/check from my dad though. Guess who's buying dinner tonight? Yum! Now to scout of menus online to decide which lucky restaurant gets to serve me on Kate Day.

What to do with an irrational man...

A couple days ago, I received an email in which my father wrote that he and my brother were "so mad at [mom] that [they] are spitting nails." The anger was prompted by her attendance at a Girl Scout cookie booth during a weekend in which she was sick and hacking. I responded that it seemed silly to be mad at her for honoring a commitment, even if it might have been a poor choice. Mom being who she is, backing out of something she promised to do wasn't really an option that would have occurred to her. I suggested that rather than being all mean and angry with her, they could turn that energy towards being supportive of her recent, very serious efforts to eat healthier and exercise regularly. (She's finally signed up with a personal trainer at the gym and has already lost about 15 pounds. Yay, mom!)

This was my father's response:

I guess I'd like to think she was going to be around for your children and the rest of your nieces and nephews should they ever arrive, but I have sincere concerns over her mid- and long-term health.  You can defend anything you choose, but I hope that you won't refuse to get a mammogram after you turn 50.  That's just plain dumb!

That would be like me refusing to go the hospital when the cardiologist ordered your mother to take me.  I know - I should have recognized the symptoms when they were occurring, but that's denial of a different kind.  If someone had sat me down and explained the situation I would (probably) have gone to the hospital for a checkup. 

Oh well, it's your mother - if you choose to support her in this matter try to make sure you take a lot of pictures when you're next home - you ought to have something to show the kids later.

Yep. Yesterday, when I received this message, I was some flaming combination of shocked, appalled, and pissed. Now it just kind of makes me sad. Dealing with my dad is like reasoning with a five year old sometimes. Any hint of disagreement will send him into a name-calling rage. Jay's response when I told him about the message: "Ah, was he drunk when he wrote that?" I wish that was an unfair question. However, I suspect not. I suspect it has more to do with his own sense of guilt and fear at the thought of my mother not being around forever. In my reponse, I let my dad know that we foolish women in the family had fully expected to lose either him or my brother to a drunk driving accident some time in the last decade, but how would he feel if I nagged him about this on a daily basis? Would he want to be around me still, or would he be more secretive with his dangerous actions? Would he feel free to discuss the problem with me, or would he feel defensive and want to avoid me at all costs?

I'm afraid I was also mean and implied that his condescending rage was part of the reason I enjoyed living 2500 miles from the family... I'm not very good at putting up with abusive behavior anymore. Not even from the mentally ill. I love him. I just won't allow him to speak to me like that without defending myself.

In which I ramble happily

Salt Lake News

I just got home from a long weekend in Denver and my French Praxis scores FINALLY showed up. 192 out of 200. I needed only 181 to "demonstrate compentency". Ha! Take that State Office! :-p

In other recent news, I won the much esteemed Lemon Expert story challenge in the Utah Writing Monkey's1st short story challange. Yay me. I am mostly happy because this is the first time I ever managed to complete a short story, much less one that was any good. So now perhaps I will be able to get the more instant satisfaction of creating short stories rather than exclusively working on novels. I mean, I love the novel writing, but gaaaaah... finishing one is not a daily or even monthly occurance for me. Nice to have some visible progress to mark. Now I have to come up with the seed for the next challenge. To my surprise, I actually have a ton of ideas. But I think I'll try to do something slightly different than last time.

Denver Trip News

I was in Denver to visit one of my college roommates. It's interesting how much we both have changed in the last ten years (we met Freshman year, fall of 1994). We just don't have the same values or goals or... frame of reference. So we get along great while talking about things we shared in the past, or about our families. When we start talking about present or future though... it just felt weird. The feeling like "who is this alien inhabiting my friend's body"? But then, I don't act the same way around her as I do around the people I know from recent years.

Maybe I am just profoundly unable to understand an intelligent, successful woman who repeatedly says things like "I want a baaaaby. I want to get married. I don't want to buy my own house because I just want to get married and have a baby. My biological alarm clock is ringing." and yet is totally unable to appreciate a book of penis humor. Seriously, the girl would not look at the funny book of penises (peni?) (Frankly, I can't think of another body part with quite the comic value... but maybe that's just me.) So I had to ask her: "You, ah, DO know where babies COME from, right?" And she just says... "Oh, Kaatheeee."

College Flashback

Have I mentioned the fact that for the first twenty-two years of my life I went not by "kate" but by "kathy"? Oh yes, it is true. However, we had this roommate senior year at Dartmouth named Ellen. And she was--to put it as politely as possible--a fucking psychopath. Perhaps her inherent instability was tipped over the edge by the fact that she had lost her virginity in our very same senior apartment when she was but a sweet freshman. Perhaps in the quest to erase those memories, she paraded a handful of men through our apartment and her bedroom that year... often we would come home to find her sitting on the futon (my futon) in the living room, watching TV with some guy, oblivious to the fact that her miniskirt had slid up around her hips and we could all see her flower print underwear. She drank my gin. And tonic. And wine. And diet coke. (back when I used to drink Diet Coke like water). But her most annoying habit was to overuse people's names in conversation. "Kaaatheeee, do you understand what I mean?" "Kaaaaatheeee, I don't know what you're talking about." "Have you seen my [butt ugly] scarf, Kaaaaatheeee?" I shudder just to remember it. Gaaah.

End Flashback

So the point of that little tangent is that I cannot FUCKING STAND to be called Kathy anymore. Oh, my family can get away with it. I don't even register when they do it, because they've always called me both Kathy and Kate fairly interchangeably. But there's a way of saying it that just sets my teeth on edge and that's what my friend in Denver was doing.

Other than the personality conflict surprises, it was a good trip. I spent Saturday on my own because KB had an all day conference thingy at her new job. Really nice day - did some grocery shopping, explored the area, went to Washington Park to run/walk, read, and cooked dinner. Second day she and I spent together... went to lunch, went downtown, went to see Finding Neverland which was probably the best movie I've seen since The Incredibles. Though, clearly, quite a different style of film. Monday KB got off work and we had a pretty good day. I went back to Wash Park for a run/walk. KB didn't want to do the park, so she stayed home and had her dad come and take away her old couch (just bought a new one - tough life). We went to Hammond's Candies factory store and took their tour. I think the best part was watching all the little kids with their faces pressed to the windows, watching all wide-eyed at the candy makers working. Of course, we bought a bit of candy on our way out. Only polite. Heh. Dinner we did in Boulder, after browsing their trendy little shops. Ah, if only I had money. And then home again just in time to catch a phone call from my Karlyn and from Sylvan who want to hire me as of tomorrow. Yay.

And with those thoughts (mostly the candy and dinner ones), I think I'll hit the gym before I need to pick Jay up at the airport. It's good to be home.

When does it become harrassment?

I have received two letters from the USOE in the past three days, in addition to the email I already mentioned. The tone has been unremittantly nasty, continuing to imply that I lied about the number of phone inquiries I attempted, and again claiming that my complaints (aka: whining) has ruined the USOE's relationship with the University of Phoenix. But my questions had nothing to do with the advisement agreement between the two institutions... at the bottom of the web page it says to contact this woman about language skills learned without benefit of transcript proof (or however they phrase non-classroom learning).

I have so far declined to respond to these letters of "apology". I am wondering, however, if I should consult with the U of P or with the teacher's union representative. I feel like these letters are personal attacks, implying that I should have just kept my head down and shut up about my problems. I am so not in the mood to deal with this crazy person. Do I shut up and ignore it, considering that I will most likely not be in this state next year? Or do I reply in a civilized manner, explaining my position? Why do I feel so defensive? I'm pretty sure that I'm not the one who screwed up here...

Crank Relief

Wow. Hmmm. Just rereading some of my more recent entries... now I think I know why I've been in such a good mood in real life lately. I've been dumping all my crankiness here. How unfortunate. Or perhaps not so unfortunate.

My happy creative energy has been put to good use though, just not here. Using one of zette's suggestions for creating timelines from the Two Year Novel project, I've outlined the rest of my 2YN and have been fighting to do the same with my other work-in-progress Retribution. The plan is to finish the 2YN by April, per project guidelines, and finish Retribution before NaNo2005.

Speaking of books and titles... I don't really understand how I can be so quick and certain with naming characters, yet coming up with the name of the book itself is an impossible task for me. Hence I call the book by the overall theme instead of a true title. Ah well. If I ever make it to the publication stage, I will most likely not get final say-so on it anyway. So I'll just stick to worrying about grammar, punctuation, character development, and a tight plot. Truthfully, it's the tight plot thing that hurts me every time.

Now I guess the only question is... do I take 4 hours to go xcountry skiing today, or do I cut that down to 2 hours by going to the gym instead? New snow... freshly groomed trails up Millcreek... I'm leaning towards the ski.

Words Fail Me

So. As I think I mentioned, I actually did get my teaching license in the mail last week. Still waiting for the Praxis scores back so I can add the French endorsement. One of the University of Phoenix education coordinators contacted me to let me know that all I needed for the French endorsement was the Praxis exam and then I would be in. This is not what has left me speechless. I was perfectly ready to let bygones be bygones, move on with my life, forget the incompetence I had encountered.

But then I got this email....

----------
Ms. -----

I would like to apologize for the non-responsiveness of USOE staff. For your information, I have only one message recorded in my phone log for you (Sept. 18, 2003 1:35 p.m.); no other entries in the phone log. If you were forwarded to my assistant, she did not provide any information to me concerning your inquiries. She generally leaves phone message slips of paper on my chair but apparently goofed twice. However, I do take responsibility for my own staff members.
--------------

So far, not bad, though she does imply that I'm lying about another call. In fact, I said that I left two messages on her answering service and was twice forwarded to another employee whose name I did not record.


--------------
MB ----- does not work in the Educator Licensing Department but rather in Curriculum. Have you completed the reading endorsement application? If so, the application would have been submitted to S---, logged into your CACTUS file, and forwarded to MB who is required by her supervisor to review the application within one week and respond to my department. S---- is a secretary who tracks the endorsement applications; she has no authority sufficient expertise to inform applicants
of endorsement requirements.
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Okay, totally missed what I in my email to the U of Phoenix people which was forwarded to her. I said that recently I talked to Mary Beth about another issue, about getting a letter of approval that I was on a endorsement track for reading. It was not about submitting an endorsement request, and I am fully aware that MB is not in licensing.


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I mailed a letter to you today with your French endorsement review and by the end of tomorrow, you will have been placed on a State Approved Endorsement Program for French.
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While this is nice, it's irrelevent. I'm not teaching French right now and won't be until summer or later. But the next part is where it gets good.


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Concerning the four month delay in reviewing your application: it is inexcusable. However, please keep in mind that Utah's Educational system continues to be under funded, my staff members have significantly more work to complete in a 40-hour week than they can accomplish. Easy problems get solved first; more difficult one are delayed. Your problem was delayed
because it involved researching the Dartmouth College French and Italian Department course descriptions. Once your file was placed on my desk, I reviewed the file and made the decision by the end of the same work day. Your complaint has precipitated a change in the working relationship between the University of Phoenix license candidates and the USOE curriculum specialists. As it appears that we do not have sufficient time to complete our licensing tasks, USOE staff will no longer advise any pre-license applicants.
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I am completely cognizant of the limitations placed on Education by the chintzy bastards in the state legislature. But this bitching and moaning that it wasn't REALLY their fault because blah blah blah? And as for researching the course descriptions and major/minor requirements? I was able to pull that info off the Dartmouth website in 10 minutes. And they were advising pre-license candidates? REALLY? I thought my problem was caused by the fact that I didn't get any advice beforehand.


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The problem of significant delay in USOE review should be solved when the Educator Licensing Department moves to an on-line application process for the ten Utah teacher preparation institutions (July 1, 2006 target date). On the other hand, the Bureau of Criminal Identification (where criminal background checks are processed) is currently experiencing a five-month
backlog...
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Yes, that's why we were required to submit our paperwork for processing a year in advance. (That would be March of 2003 for those of you paying attention.)


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Meanwhile, we will begin accepting institutional recommendations over the signature of each university's compliance office by July 1, 2005 so long as the teacher's ETS Praxis scores are submitted with the recommendation. In other works, the ETS score will substitute for the transcript.
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Interesting, but what EXACTLY does this have to do with my case and why should I give a flying fuck?


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I would like to express my regrets for the mistake in the evaluation of your undergraduate French credits as either a "major equivalent" or a "minor equivalent". B----- may have misunderstood the course numbering system for Dartmouth or may not have reviewed the major/minor of lower division/upper division distinctions when he mailed in your institutional recommendation.

J----
Coordinator, Educator Licensing
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Wow. Allow me to translate this one for you people who aren't fluent in Bitch. "I'm sorry you're such an idiot that you didn't realize that your pathetic low-level classes didn't qualify you to teach in this state. Obviously, if you can't decipher the vague directions posted online, then that is not my problem. Oh, and too bad that your advisor was an idiot, too."

So tell me, am I being too sensitive, or was that the biggest non-apology you've ever read?

Slog slog slog

Well, the good news is that I talked to one of the secretaries at the USOE (Utah State Office of Education), because lord knows that secretaries are the ones who really run things, no matter what the business. She told me that my license had been issued last week, but she wasn't sure if it had been mailed yet. She said she would follow up with that and if it didn't show by the end of the week to give her a call back.

So. If the District office looks in their computer records, it will show that I am licensed to teach secondary ed in the state of Utah. Unfortunately, the private tutoring companies don't have that access. So. I'm hoping that the paper will appear in my mailbox very very soon.

But other than the minor inconvenience of not being fully employed (the money issues), the break from "full time" work has been nice. I put full time in quotes because I wasn't really full time last term either. But close enough. So I get to sleep in every other day for at least another week... then I should put in to start subbing on my off days... and get back to the Sylvan people about evening tutoring, as well.

In the meantime, I'll just keep reading through my mountain of books from the library, writing as much as I can, and perhaps even finishing up with my painting project that I started last summer... oh, and going to the gym, too. The goal for this year is to shrink my ass by a third. I'll let you know how that goes...

Ho Hum

I feel like I'm stuck in some sort of holding pattern here. Like I'm in some sort of odd loop. I feel like my days go by so quickly, and yet nothing really happens. I feel like I'm always getting ready for bed, but what did I really accomplish during my waking hours? I don't know, but maybe that's why I haven't had much to say here.

I've gotten some writing done. A whopping 1200 words in the last two weeks. I just can't get into it. Into anything. But I'm not really depressed or anything. I know how that feels, and this ain't it. I feel like I've misplaced my attention span.

I'm still trying to get a response from the Utah State Office of Education, one of the largest collections of useless bureaucrats. It's now been 27 weeks since I first filed my application for licensure. Their website advertises a 20 DAY turnaround. UNofficially, they tell everyone 6-8 weeks. Note the discrepancy. Sadly, without the licensure, I'm kind of screwed. I can't substitute teach in my district because signing up to sub would bring attention back to the fact that I still don't have my licensure, which might make the job I do have somewhat more iffy. I've had an offer from one of the big "supplemental teaching" (aka: tutoring) centers, but they can't hire me until I have license in hand. So basically, the state of Utah has found yet another way to fuck me over.

Maybe this odd state of mind is the result of my trying really hard to just "go with the flow" and not be stressed and not be depressed and not be all bitchy about how fucked up living here has been for me.

Could be.