Lazy Weekend

Or maybe not so lazy. Saturday, put in a couple hours at school, but mostly just surfed online while Jay did work, because I only have a key to my shared office, and everything else was locked up for the weekend. That includes the room where my computer prints out... But no biggie. I've got it all taken care of today.

We headed home to meet our friends J. and A. (you might remember them from my comments on their wedding last year, and their subsequent visit to us out in Utah). They'd won a trip to some condo/resort up at Jay Peak, about 45 minutes from our place. A. seemed really cranky when she got here, but I'm not always my best after a car trip either, so who knows. We headed out pretty quickly to go up to Lake Willoughby, with the intentions of hiking one side of the gap and then cooling off in the lake.

The hike went fine. A. is really out of shape and the climb was a definite struggle for her, but she kept a good attitude for the whole 3 miles up and 3 miles down. Not bad considering it was the first peak she'd ever climbed. We let the guys go ahead on the way down, and she and I had a nice, normal conversation the entire way. With me alone, she was happy, sunny, even, dare I say, perky. The minute we got back to J. she changed. Shut down. Became sulky and passive-aggressive. Like a totally different person.

Things only got worse when we got to the beach. The closer beach was really crowded, so we decided to check out the west cove. Well, the west cove is gorgeous, but is "clothing optional". A. does NOT do nudity. Being naked is "ugly and wrong" and she became borderline hysterical when confronted with the possibility of seeing nude adults. She "doesn't even like to be naked in the shower".

So we went back to the first beach, and started to wade out into the water. Now, I LOVE to be in the water, and I haven't had many opportunities to go swimming in fresh water recently. (HEY - something GOOD about Vermont!) So I was out there pretty quick. A. seemed to be doing okay, but then she just freaked out about the fish in the water. We're talking minnows here, nothing even half as large as my little finger. What I don't understand, is that when I pointed them out as we were wading after the guys, she had no issue. When J. said something to her, all of a sudden she was freaked out. I don't get it.

From there it just went down hill, and they ended up dropping us off at our place and heading back to the condo. (to watch TV?) They wouldn't even consider staying for dinner, like we had assumed would happen. So Jay and I were left baffled, waving goodbye and renewing our bets on their imminent divorce.

Serious therapy needed on both ends, but I don't think either of them will get it. So either they split, or they make each other miserable forever.

But Sunday was a nice, fun, lazy rainy day. Read books, bought new books, bought groceries, made lasagna, read more books. Not a bad life.

Yay!

I have an office!

And office that I will be sharing with three other people, and one that has a tone of empty shelves and bare walls, but an office nonetheless. So I can stop hauling all my crap around with me and shove it in the corner instead. Yay!

Now if only I had a corrected contract and access to the college software that holds my rosters and grading abilities, we'd be all set.

But one step at a time, eh? One step at a time.

Please, Waste My Time.

Evidently, this is embedded somewhere in the new hire materials for the college. I say this because the last two days I've spent hours and hours in utterly useless meetings. Frankly, if there are more than two (possibly 3) people at a meeting, it becomes a pure waste of time. Nothing applies to everyone, so many people end up sitting around listening to brain cells die while they wait for a few nuggets of information that might be relevent to their needs and job description.

And very few people in academia seem to believe in a concept I call punctuality. The only things that will make me late are bad directions or intestinal aggravation. And I feel that the first is usually not my doing, and the second is really better dealt with before entering a poorly ventilated room of people.

The people in the department seem friendly and willing to help, even though no one can answer a question to save their lives. Now, given a month, or even a couple weeks to prepare for a class, I would be perfectly happy to peruse the fifteen books that other instructors have used for this class and choose the one that I think will work best for me. HOWEVER. Classes start in six days. SIX DAYS. Just hand me two books that worked really well and tell me to pick one. I cannot assess fifteen different books in the next two days. At least, I can't do it well. And I hate not doing things well.

Other than that... I still don't have a signed contract because they goofed and listed it as 8 credits instead of 9 and I refused to sign it and trust that they would fix it later. (Do I look so (stupid) trusting to you?) SO I still have no class rosters and no access to email or any of the other software I will need. Brilliant, really.

Did I mention that bit about SIX DAYS? Hmmm. So I did.

I also don't have an account on the master "z" drive, so I can't really save any of my work, since I don't have a permanent computer... nor do I travel with portable disk space. Oddly enough.

But I swear, I'm not as cranky as I sound. Promise.

off the cuff

And off the network... so spur of the moment posting is still all I can do. As if I ever did anything but...

We drove down to Jersey on Friday for Lou's 80th Birthday. (Jean and Lou - must be said with heavy NJ accent - are Jay's grandparents.) They held it at a Turkish restaurant, complete with belly dancer entertainment. The look on Lou's face - priceless. When he discovered that the dancer had been arranged by Cousin Mike, he said, "You're responsible for this? Thank you." Jay's sister Sierra said it was the most sincere thank you she'd ever heard.

All in all a nice little trip for us. We drove back to Vermont yesterday with stops in Paramus, NJ at Campmor for some new outdoor gear and at a craft store for more stuff for me to paint, and in Hanover, NH for dinner. My favorite Chinese restaurant is gone... shocking. So we ended up at a Thai place that didn't exist when I was a student. Lots of changes to campus and to the town in the last seven years.

Well, and lots of changes to me as well, I suppose.

....

I can't even think of a title for this post.

Just got my official "offer" and "contract" from the college. Choke. They seem to be counting one less credit than was mentioned, and the pay is significantly less than $1000/credit, which is what one of the other instructors mentioned.

So. This is going to be a lot of work. And I'm not sure it's really worth my while. I mean, I could probably make more subbing at the various schools in the area. AND, with the times that these classes are scheduled, I won't be able to sub at all... not good. I'd really like to turn it down. But I don't think I can afford to do that. One, because of the small town issues, and two, because it might not be good money, but at least it is certain money.

Gah.

ANYWAY.

We're heading out in a few minutes to go on the faculty/staff paddling afternoon on Lake Willoghby which should be fun. I've met a few of the other faculty and staff, so perhaps I'll meet them more thoroughly. Which I should do. I've spent the last two days speed painting a CD bookshelf - just scroll work and a few flowers, so nothing as complex as my Utah Shelf. I'll have to post pictures of that one of these days. If we ever get web access at home... but don't get me started on that.

Strangely, painting and listening to some good celtic music had me chilled right out... until I picked up the mail today that is. I bought a Dervish CD in Burlington this past weekend - Live in Palma, 2 disc set - and it was quite excellent. The last time I ever saw my grandma (adopted) before the Alzheimers took over was in Pittsburgh when I took her to a Dervish concert down in Oakland. God, that was so much fun. So listening to them reminds me of how lucky we were to have her as a surrogate grandmother for as many years as we did.

Other good things about pseudo-isolation: lots of reading and writing time. I've started on a revision/read-through of my second book with the intention of finally finishing the damn thing. I have to reread it because I've forgotten so much of it. Sadly, my 2YN project over at Forward Motion seems to have died out. I just don't care about it anymore.

Alrighty - must go. Lake calling.

East vs. West

Maybe it's just a question of who I've met so far, but I have to say that the people around here have been much less welcoming than the ones I knew back in my beloved Mountain Time Zone. It's almost as if newcomers are such a novelty that people don't know what to do with them. So they ignore us.

We went to Burlington this weekend... actually Vergennes... for an Ultimate Frisbee tournament that Jay played in. Conversation was attempted several times, on both our parts, to little avail. Jay was fine as long as he was talking about the game, but I had nothing so interesting to say, apparently.

Here's a fairly typical representation of my attempts:

VTer: Um, what was your name again?

Me: Kate. I'm here with Jay. So where did you come up from today, Vter?

Vter: Oh... Lebanon area.

Me: Jay and I just moved back to New England from Utah. Its...

Vter: Oh, uh huh. (turns away like hearing more might kill her.)

I guess I'm just bewildered by the lack of interest in other people I've encountered here so far. Back West new people are treated like entertainment... someone with new stories and possible interest in the things that interest you. It's a traveling crowd, with individuals who have seen people and places all over the world and are generally happy to share them.

And food. To show up somewhere without food and drink to share strikes me as rude, and not a little bizarre. Yet no one else brought anything, or so Jay tells me. I didn't waste my time at the fields after the first three hours of being invisible. We fed the young'ns at the campground in the morning, and off-loaded most of a batch of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies as well.

Does this come from the people here having rarely been outsiders themselves? Because truly, once you've been the new kid, you never forget how it feels to have someone reach out to pull you in. I haven't felt so totally invisible since... since... um, since the first week of college maybe?

Anyway, it was a thoroughly disappointing experience. I can only hope that things improve once the semester starts up. Otherwise I think I'm going to find that Vermont has even less to recommend it than I currently suspect. Natural beauty and outdoor opportunities only go so far.

Employed

Still no real computer access though, so I'm, going to have to keep this short again.

I did get the job with the college. Perhaps not ideal, but I think it will be a good experience and this way I will have a definite income instead of piecing together substitute teaching gigs. I'll have two classes with the English department for a total of 9 credits - one regular Freshman English, the other a remedial course for at-risk students. Similar to what I was doing at Sylvan, but on a different scale. Pay isn't great, but since I get my benefits through Jay, I don't really have to worry about that aspect.

Hiked to the top of Burke Mountain on Saturday - all the way up to the top of the firetower there. Amazing views of the area - Adirondacks to the west, White Mtns to the east - beautiful sunny day. Excellent all around. Sunday I suggested a bike ride... we took it easy, mostly stuck to the roads, biked up to the ridgeline and tried one of the easier trails. Sadly, I think it confirmed for me that I am not a mountain biker and never will be. I just don't enjoy it at all. So I'll be looking for a good, but cheap, road boke sometime soon. With only one car in the family, it would be good to have a reliable second form of transportation in case I need to get into town while Jay is off doing some crazy outdoor thing that only he would find fun.

Alrighty - off to check out the local co-op with hopes that they will sell food that we actually eat, because the local big grocery store is pathetic. Organized like a disorganized child with a short attention span, and staffed by similar. Also, disappointing selection. I can't really think of a reason to go back. There's a smaller grocery closer to us that has most of the things we buy, but is still missing a few of our staples. Sometimes it is really challenging to eat well. Argh. I miss our Wild Oats. A lot.

More Questionable Use

Of the college's computer lab, that is.

Well, I interviewed with the English department chair today, and unofficially they offered me two classes - 9 credits total - which would put me close to the income I had last year, actually. Officially, she said they had to go off and "talk" before it could be an official offer, but that she would call me soon. So. Hopefully that will work out.

We also are almost totally unpacked, except that we need a few more bookshelves, and I'm not willing to settle for cheapo ones. All the ones that I have now are the wood, stacking, folding shelves. Because, frankly, particle board sucks ass, and the ability to fold flat has great charm when I know we'll be moving again within the year.

Anywho... quick check of email and then it's out into the humidity for us.

OH - and we can't get the wireless access at our house because they maxed out their service capabilities and have to build another tower... We're having the cable guys come by to evaluate the possibilities for getting cable access instead. I do love me my cable internet hook up.

Patience, patience

I keep repeating that to myself.

We don't get cable in our village, so we can't use our cable modem. Instead, we will hopefully be able to get the (ridiculously overpriced) wireless service, except there's a backlog and it might be another month. We're having trouble getting a land line set up because the phone company has been holding on to a unpaid bill from Jay's college days (6 years ago)... and despite never contacting him regarding this charge, they now want $259 before they will grant us the honor of their service.

And even though we can't get home delivery of our mail, we must pay a yearly charge for our PO Box... which they had to change on us last minute (after we forwarded all our stuff, of course) because the lock on the originally assigned box is broken. Hmm.

The insurance agent only works until 12:30 on Wednesdays, so we'll have to try THAT again tomorrow... and we just ate lunch at a really awesome little restaurant that doesn't accept credit cards... good thing our new bank is right down the road.

And we keep getting mail addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Jay Sgonnagetit. Which pisses. me. off. Dude. And yes, I know I need to chill.

And the condensation from our toilet forms a small pond in the floor. And there are bugs. Which have eaten half my ankles off. And the place smells rather like wet dog. Which we are working on... though if anyone has suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Right now we are going with the open windows and vacuuming method. Sigh.

Bitch bitch, moan moan.

But the trip itself was good - got to see a lot of people. More on that later, because it definitely is story-worthy. Like my twenty-two year old hottie cousin who has decided that women under the age of 35 are not worth his time... and is currently "exploring monogamy" with his 38 year old girlfriend. The kid has already had quite an interesting life. He'd be even cooler if he could toss the grudge he holds against his father for years of imperfection. And he doesn't have much patience with other people's weaknesses. But that's what comes of being a very talented twenty-two year old. I suppose.

Alrighty - I'm out of time. Hopefully I'll be back before another week passes.

Mwah!

In the final stages

We're almost there. Tomorrow we pick up the truck and start loading. Jay is packing his computer right now, but I'm holding out to the bitter end. The fact that I have an iBook makes it much easier to do, of course. It has very little to do with my Internet addiction, I swear. Yeah.... right.

I've been offline for longer stretches. Nearly six months of no contact at all when I first moved to the Grand Canyon in 1999. But I wasn't quite as invested in the whole thing then. I didn't have my own web site, and the sites I did frequent were just starting off. Hence, less content, and still easy to catch up on even after several months away. Now? Oh, hell, I don't even TRY to keep up.

But email is my chosen medium of communication - I suck at leaving voicemail messages and no one I call ever answers their phone. Mostly for legit reasons, I think, but still.

Now we're trying to mentally shuffle our stuff with the space we'll be moving into... and it's just not working. We might have to ditch some stuff at my parents' place in PA. I don't want to stuff the new place and be tripping over stuff every time we turn around. No thanks.

So I might sneak back here for one last post before we head out. If not, I'll see you in August. (And I've decided to ditch Haloscan... now it's started eating comments that I know had already been read by me. Grrr. Now that Blogger has a commenting system, maybe I'll try it instead. But no changes until after the move.)

Shoot me

Yes, it's about 5am and I am awake. I've been awake since 4:14 and I just couldn't stand to lay there anymore. My back aches from packing and all my dreams have been about fricking packing!!! Aaaaggghhh!!! I hate packing!!!

Why is it that the more tired I am, the less easily I sleep? Murphy's Law in action...?

AAAHHHHHCHOOOOOOoooooooooo

You would not believe how much dust we are stirring up with the whole packing thing. It's like a sneeze factory. But, we are getting a ton of packing done.

The plan is to be completely packed (except for clothing, toiletries, and the bed) by Friday night, then load the truck on Saturday with help from the grad slaves, stay at a friend's house Saturday, clean on Sunday, stay over again Sunday night, leave early on Monday morning.

Last night we had a party up at our friends house - just appetizers, drinks, and desserts - pretty mellow. Nice to see most of our friends before we take off, and the ones who couldn't make it, we should be able to squeeze in before next week. I just can't believe that we'll be gone in eight days.

How odd

For some unknown reason, Haloscan is showing "0" comments, even though I have several comments when I click the link... very strange.

Also, to answer the most common question we've heard in the last few days: no, I am not pregnant.

Also, I'm not changing my name because I don't feel like it. And no, I don't think this will be terribly confusing when we have children. But thanks for the concern. (Note: these comments are addressed to people who don't actually read this site, but it's awfully cathartic to bitch it out here.)

More pictures

From our friend Jenny's camera: now with more marriage

Photo Links

Wedding Pictures Just a sampling from my camera - more to be added when the others send them to us.

Surgery Pictures A few old ones in this file, but the glory of my nose surgery recovery is documented here... though the green bruises look more yellow than green. Alas.

Surprise!

Jay and I just returned from the Salt Lake County Clerk's office where we eloped at 3pm this afternoon. In an odd coincidence, both witnesses who signed the certificate were Canadian, and all our witnesses were over-educated science geeks. All in all it was quite nice.

I didn't burst into uncontrollable laughter, and I only rolled my eyes once when I had to say "wife".

Pictures to be posted tonight.


!!!

(We are still intending to do a ceremony and party next October to include the many people we were unable to have there today.)

At least it was quick

First rejection received today on my first ever submission. A rather positive refusal, actually, including the words: "It was the quality of writing that kept me reading to the end, despite the slow beginning."

So. Yeah, I'm not good with beginnings. And really, the beginning was more for the short story challenge that inspired me to write it in the first place. Perhaps I will edit and try again elsewhere.

Or perhaps I should inquire as to whether they would be interested in seeing it with the suggested changes? I'm not sure.

Just Because

I saw this on both Sheila's and Holly's blogs and couldn't resist. Funny little quiz - and surprisingly short.

You're Siddhartha!

by Hermann Hesse

You simply don't know what to believe, but you're willing to try anything once. Western values, Eastern values, hedonism and minimalism, you've spent some time in every camp. But you still don't have any idea what camp you belong in. This makes you an individualist of the highest order, but also really lonely. It's time to chill out under a tree. And realize that at least you believe in ferries.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Out there

Yay - I finally got off my slacker ass and submitted a short story to a new ezine. Though evidently, at least their first issue will be online AND in print. Fingers crossed.

And Happy 52nd birthday to my mom! Must go call...

Belatedly

So. I wrote the note below before I left on our VT trip so I would remember to write about this. And then, of course, I forgot. Until now! Ah, the excitement.

From the time I was 3 until I was 14 and a half (back when the "and a half" mattered so much), I was a gymnast. During those years, if I had to think of words that defined me and would allow anyone to pick me out of the crowd of my peers (those bastards), the four to do it would have been: smart, blond, shy, gymnast. So, clearly, a large part of my identity at the time - and the most significant identifier I've lost in the intervening 15 years.

One of my earliest clear memories - other than ones that involve headers from the top of sliding boards - is of the day in the gym when I learned to say "no". Oh, yes.

When I was three years old, I started going to Gymkhana, a relatively new gymnastics club started by three friends: Alison, Ed, and Elliot. Alison has since moved out of state, Elliot has shifted from coach to business manager, but as far as I know, Ed still coaches team. When I started, they all coached all levels, including we midget beginners. I was a fairly timid child and Ed scared the living daylights out of me. Imagine a six foot tall, lanky guy with crazy curly red-brown hair and beard, and a big nose.

Well, I also had 1 friend in my class, a girl named Chelsea Dice. I don't know how I remember her name, because it's probably been 26 years since we set eyes on each other, but there you go. One day, Chelsea did not show up for class. I didn't know anyone else who was there that day. So, with 3 year old logic, I decided that there was no way that I was going to get out there on the floor mat with everyone else. Not without a friend to protect me.

My mom was unimpressed. Probably because getting me to the gym required a bus trip with myself and Bubby Rubby... and I can only imagine how fun that must have been. (My mother's bus-riding stories can make me laugh until I cry.) She would not let me leave. Ed didn't think I should leave either. I tried to explain that I couldn't stay because Chelsea wasn't there. But Ed told me that I could, I was just choosing not to. And if I chose not to, then I had to sit with him during warm ups and all the way through the rest of the lesson, too. Horrors!

But I did sit with him. I remember sitting in his lap on his scratchy hairy legs and watching the other kids warm up and being so determined not to cry, even though I was soooooo angry. And I sat out through balance beam, and bars, and even trampoline (my favorite!). And then, I must have gotten tired of just sitting there, because I decided to participate on the floor rotation even though I liked floor the least.

Why is this memory so clear? Perhaps because it was the first time an adult has talked to me seriously about the differences between "can't" and "won't" (never say can't!). But more, I think, has to do with the fact that my mom was so annoyed with me that she grounded me from having ice cream for three days. And three days is a long long time when you are only three years old.

So basically, when peer pressure rolled into my life, I was pretty well immune. I mean, if I'm not going to cave to the horrors of having to sit on a scary man's lap and losing my ice cream privileges, WHAT really could change my mind?

home again, home again?

At least where home is for another 3 weeks. I started packing today... and already have made a few random finds - either "what the heck is this?" or "so that's where that went". My stack of clothes that will not be making the trip with us is getting much larger as well.

We found a place to live - yay! It's not ideal, but it's certainly good enough. It's a one bedroom apartment over a garage - no neighbors under or over us - with the bedroom in what would otherwise be the attic. Hopefully the sloping ceiling won't make us too crazy. Might be better if it weren't painted dark red... but hey, I'm not really complaining.

We also have a full-sized refrigerator, a gas stove, a wood stove in the living room, and since the place usually comes fully furnished we also get a big TV with DVD player. So my little 13 incher can go into storage for the time being. The clincher for this place, though, was the deck and big back yard with the path leading to the ultimate frisbee field and the trail system complete with swimming hole. Jay will be able to bike to school when the weather is good, though he might not want to when the weather is very warm. Stickiness - ick.

The lady we're renting from lives in the house up front. She teaches math at one of the private high schools and also at the college. And oddly enough, happens to sideline as a wedding planner. One stop shopping, so to speak. She lives with a big lab mix (part bear, maybe - BIG dog) named Max and he's part of the reason that we got the place. Evidently, the other couple who had looked at the apartment had two smaller dogs, and Max didn't much care for them. So perhaps it's just as well that we decided to hold off on the dog issue.

We also took precedence over two women who were wanting to rent the place because, as Doreen put it, it's really meant for one person or a couple. Just gets ugly with two guys or two girls... well, unless they're a couple, of course.

I think that was when Jay and I realized that we were no longer in Utah.

Like Utah, everyone was extremely polite and friendly. Very helpful and welcoming. However, instead of being the result of Church influence, it's because you can't afford to be rude in a town that small. It'll be an adjustment, but not as difficult a one as some people seem to think. Of course, I still don't think I'd want to spend the rest of my life there. But a handful of years might be fun.

the search is on

Tomorrow morning, we hop a flight to Manchester, NH and from there we'll drive up to the NEK (that's North East Kingdom, Vermont also known as BFE - and you'll have to figure that acronym out for yourselves.) The object? Find a place to live. And, also, attend some wedding in New Hampshire on Saturday. But mostly, I'm interested in the finding a place to live part.

We've got four places lined up to look at, and hopefully one of those will be both livable and within our budget. It doesn't have to be perfect; buying a house is on next year's agenda, so wherever we live, it will be more temporary than most places I've lived since college.

OH - and, yes, Jay's PhD defense was yesterday, and YES, he survived. Mostly. One of his committee members... well, some of his commentary afterwards seemed like a "mine is bigger than yours, so there" kind of thing. And generally, I think the man is just not a happy guy. But as one of the other students put it: critical is good, but there's no need to be an asshole. But Jay got enough signatures to pass, though he needs to do more revision work than he hoped. So it will still be another 2 to 6 months before the Doctor Jay is official. Fortunately, it doesn't affect the job in Vermont much. Minor salary difference is all.

In the meantime, I recently had an encounter with a person who reminded me of an important lesson I learned that had a rather large impact on my attitude toward life... or perhaps it was just representative of my pigheadedness at an early age. I don't have time to do the story justice tonight, but I'll post when I get back on the 4th. Anyone else have any formative experiences in the pre- "age of reason" years?

Mawwiage

My high school AP US History teacher, Mr. Oskey, used to tell us how he met his wife and fifteen minutes into their first date proceeded to ask her to marry him. Six weeks later, they were hitched. Pure insanity, right? Well, maybe not. At the time of the telling, they had been married for over twenty years and had three children. The rush had to do with Mr. Oskey's pending overseas posting with the Army.

My parents were a more standard case, I think. Except for the 16 year (okay, 15 and a HALF) year age difference. They met in 1972 (my mom graduated from high school in 1971), married in 1974, and had me in 1976 and then my brother in 1978. After that, of course, their every 2 year life change schedule sort of broke down. Though they did move into our house in 1980. So let's just say that the 80s and 90s were a mess. Big time.

Jay and I met 4 years ago. Let's just say that we do not intend to wait 2 years to start having hairless monkeys of our own. Mostly because I'll be 30 next year and I don't want to be like my grandmother and keep having babies until I'm 46. (Mostly because I'd like a shot at knowing my own grandchildren, eh?)

This pace has suited me just fine. In fact, when I hear about some of our friends who have been together a lot less time than Jay and I, I tend to have the "what? didn't they just meet?" reaction. Some examples: one friend (female) still dating several people in May of 2003. By July of 2003 is functionally moved in with one of these boys. Six months later, they are engaged. Two months later: married. Crazy. Another friend (male): starts dating girl with newborn last spring. three months later she is pregnant again. They are married by February and now have a baby girl together as well as one that "came with". Seriously crazy.

On the other end of the spectrum, Jay was in a wedding in 2003 for a couple who had been together for 9 years, engaged for 7. They went to college togther but then their grad school plans didn't mesh, so they lived separately for several years. My understanding is they want to start trying for kids in the next year or so. So that's the other side of the extremes I've witnessed.

Experiences? Comments? Boredom?

More highlights

And I am totally going in to work for a couple hours tomorrow, despite the phlegm gagging thing. So bored here at home. Eyes tired from reading both online and off... and I have only so much tolerance for tv. Need some human interaction.

So the antibotics have completely reduced my bowels to water. Dirty water. Sick sick sick. Sorry for sharing. I'm not going to take the final day's worth. I need my bacteria back, dammit.

The tattoo on my wrist would actually look even better if I had reddish-brown skin. The IV bruise on my hand has drifted.

Jay was in the room when the tubes were YANKED. from. my. NOSE. Though he was very definitely staring down at his meteorology notes, his comments afterwards were roughly: "Oh no, didn't want to see it. Tried very hard not to look. But then he pulled that thing out and you... LAUGHED." :shudder: :shudder:

So... the women in my family tend to laugh hysterically under the influence of moderate pain. It's when we go dead silent that you have to worry.

Hmmm

After having subsisted on mostly liquids and squishy foods for five days and being a bit wonky in general from the antibiotics and aftereffects of anesthesia, do not be surprised when your tummy ache presages wicked diarhea, Likewise, do not be startled by its flaming crimson color. Recall, instead, the remarkable staining power of the mighty beet. (Holy crap... no pun intended... freaked me out for a minute last night.)

Also, I would pay a lot to be able to blow my nose. But not until Saturday.... sigh. Gagging up bloody snot is losing its glamour somehow. Yeah. Somehow.

Recovering: and why I love Jay

I look kind of like I'm wearing a tribal mask at the moment... yes, I'll post pictures eventually. The area around my eyes is very yellow, with purple stripes starting near my eyebrows including two that look like Nike swooshes under both eyes. Most interesting are the two green - yes, GREEN - stripes falling from the corners of my nose down to my chin. Those, I'm fairly certain, are new as of today.

I also have a small trio of bruises on the inside of my right elbow and a spectacular capsule-shaped bruise about 3 inches long on my left hand from the IV. I miss the pretty turquoise color they were two days ago. Alas.

We just got home from the follow-up appointment. Dude. They had some nastyass TUBES up my nose. And they had to YANK. Them. OUT. Motherfucker. So gross.

But the nose looks good - healing well, straight but swollen on the outside, and the inside evidently looks even better than the doc had hoped. So that's all good. And some day I might be able to scrape the last of the adhesive from my pores... so unsexy.

So Jay was a total rockstar for this whole thing. Went with me to the hospital and waited until I went in for surgery. He was there when I woke up and I think I only told him to fuck off once when he asked me where on the pain scale I was. He filled my meds and drove me home and stayed with me for the next 24 hours - the first night he got up every 2 hours to check on me. Got up during the night for the next two nights as well. Also entertained my niece, going way above and beyond the call of duty to make sure she had a good visit. All of this is made more impressive by the fact that he's in the final crunch days before his PhD defense. What a guy.

He has emptied countless bags of bloody tissues and made sure I had things I could eat. Even homemade applesauce - my favorite! So between him and my mother, I was well taken care of during the last five days. I'm still sleeping on the couch to protect my nose for the rest of the week, but good things are in his future if you know what I mean.

Anyway, I'm doing okay. Still in a bit of pain and definitely weak from lack of sleep and lack of regular meals. But starting to feel human again. yay.

Scheduled

Alrighty. I am officially scheduled to be at the hospital at 12:15pm tomorrow afternoon. This kind of sucks, because I'm not allowed to eat anything after midnight tonight. Hmm. However, in light of the fact that they aren't getting around to me until afternoon, I am graciously allowed to drink water or clear juice until 8am. Wow. Thoughtful, eh?

I am mostly not thinking about it. Because, truly, I have no idea what to expect and I suspect it might be better that way. Naturally, I've read everything I can find regarding the whole shebang, but everyone responds differently to these things. I've heard enough anecdotal evidence to figure that much out.

So we shall see. I might be offline for a few days. Then again... I might not. We shall see.

Because while blowing off steam is well and good...

I don't want my pissy post to be the first thing I see when I come in. So really, there's no purpose to this post except to knock the other down a bit. I could delete, but I meant what I said when I said it, and... hey, whatever.

But now that I'm thinking of it...

I was a little bit disturbed at the phone call I got from my surgeon's assistant today. She called to ask if the cosmetic portion of the surgery was all we were doing on Thursday... and I'm like, Nooooooo, that's the secondary reason for my getting sliced up, thanks. I'm really more concerned with the whole "being-able-to-breathe" thing. And she quickly replied that in that case she would make sure to schedule that in.

???

Um. Surgery is THURSDAY. Shouldn't this have been scheduled weeks ago? Like when you called to confirm scheduling with me on May 3rd? Hmmm? The call I should have gotten today should have been from the scheduling people at the hospital to confirm my day, time, and procedure. Not reassuring. This better not get derailed. This week is really the only time I can do this this year. I'm not even sure if I will have health insurance as of August. And I have no idea how far I would have to travel in Vermont to get a similar set up. I'm guessing it would be farther than the 3 blocks I now live from the major medical center in the area... Just maybe. So maybe I should call back tomorrow and double check everything. I confess that I was so surprised by the nature of her call that I didn't clarify exactly what I am expecting to happen on Thursday. And the fact that she didn't seem to have any idea whether I had paid their $1500 or not rather unnerved me as well. Hmm.

Might be worth that call.

A request is not to be met with an attack: or WHY I have a "bad" attitude right now.

Make a simple request... repeatedly. Well, nevermind.

Got a few more leads on education jobs, including one teaching English at Jay's college. Might be interesting. Probably wouldn't pay all that well, but definitely good experience. We shall see - the resume is sent.

Nita asked how did Jay and I meet... would you believe me if I said the Great and Powerful (and at the time FREE) Yahoo Personals? Sigh. Well, it would be true. Amazing what you can find online these days. The returns policy is a bit shaky though... grrrr.

I'm sorry. I'm abandoning three years of career building efforts to follow your sorry ass to Ice and Bug-filled Nowheresville. I expect to be treated like a fricking PRINCESS until I resettle. M'kay? I'm so glad we have that resolved. You asked if there was anything you could do to help me. I said only, "don't be an asshole this summer." Not a huge request, considering. You're not being very helpful at the moment. And as a helpful hint for future survival... never talk to me like I'm a five year old unless you INTEND to escalate the disagreement.

On another note... 5 more days until my facial rearrangement. I. Can't. Wait. woo.

Also - the US vs Costa Rica game was awesome. The Real Salt Lake vs FC Dallas sucked ass. I will never sit through a double-header again. Especially not when the second game is so blatently a waste of my time.

Damn, I'm in a pissy mood now. Thirty minutes ago, before Mr. Speed Walker decided to go Fundamentalist on my ass, I was having a good night. Funny how that works. I guess if I didn't care, I wouldn't be so irritated.

Confirmation: no, nope, nyet, nada, no thanks, not happening

Got my answer from the school in VT.

I expected it, but I'm still just a bit crushed.

Mothers, mumbles, and mental illness

My mom and I have always had a weird sort of relationship. In many ways, I'm very like her. Not surprising, since I had to learn most of my bad habits somewhere, eh? But we definitely don't have the kind of mother-daughter relationship that I see in my friends families, or even in between my sisters and my mother.

I think it has a lot to do with me being the oldest child in the family, and with the fact that my father is nearly 16 years older than my mother, and that he used to be a rather extreme functional alcoholic. So I was more partner than child to my mom, especially after my baby sisters were born. And not to put any pressure on me (:cough cough:) my mother likes to tell the story of one night when I was 11 and my father had been on a particular rampage, how I came to her after he'd stomped off to bed and hugged her and told her that I was sorry Daddy was being so mean and that it just wasn't fair. She credits this comment with making her realize that he wasn't treating her fairly and that she didn't just have to sit there and take it just because they were married. To her credit, she was barely 33 at the time and had been married to my dad for 13 years. (Sometimes it blows me away to realize that my mother already had three kids at my age.)

So while my mom was on her path of self-discovery... just another reason I've never been in a rush to get married... and also busy raising young babies, I pretty much got to raise myself. I never had help with school projects because my mom didn't realize that she was supposed to (or perhaps, allowed to) help me. We never talked about girly stuff, because I had already read enough in books and elsewhere to know more than she could tell me when she finally got around to trying.

I don't really know how she feels about this, but I've realized that I carry a certain resentment for my absentee parenting experience. And perhaps I know it isn't fair, but her occasional flares of guilt only make me angrier. I've said before, I don't have much use for guilt. If it's something you'll feel guilty about, either act so as to avoid the guilt or just accept the mistake and move on. I know that she did the best she could with what she had to work with at the time. What is harder to forgive is all the times that I was feeling good about myself and she found cause to remind me that I wasn't as great as I thought. I think she views it as keeping me humble. I view it as Catholic backwash.

I also know, looking back, that I was a very compartmentalized kid. I had my family life, my gymnastics life, and my school life. Later, I lost the gymnastics life after my back injury, and was pretty much off-balance for the next five years or so. Rarely did I allowed any of them to mix. I didn't date in high school, because from my observations, dating made my friends stupid and unreliable. Not to mention emotional and overwrought. I know that most of them considered me cold and unhappy. I probably was.

I like to think that I've worked out most of these lingering neuroses over the last decade. At a wedding of one of my oldest and dearest friends in January of 2003 (Hey, Dev!) one of our other friends from high school remarked that he'd never seen me look so happy... or happy at all... "glowing" was the word he used. I think that was when I realized how deeply depressed I had been for so long. And even then I wasn't completely out from under it. Summer 2003 was my rock bottom crash.

Depression runs in the family on both sides, along with bipolar disorder... is it any wonder I've struggled? One of my mother's brothers has gone through many long stretches of dark despair, yet refuses to seek medical help for the problem. He claims that studies have shown that taking those drugs permanently alters the structures in your brain. Well, isn't that the POINT? I clearly had something wrong with me - something that I couldn't fix by "toughing it out". I asked for help - finally - and as a result spent four months taking Wellbutrin SR. The change was amazing and immediate. I could smile, I could think, I had energy and desire again. And after four months when I stopped taking it, I still felt better than I had ever felt, mentally and emotionally. So, yeah, I'll buy that those drugs can alter your brain structure. But I'm not sure that isn't a good thing.

Anyway. I have a short story to write for the Writing Monkey's current contest.

It's not that I have a lot to say. I just don't have much to do.

Mellow day today. Tutoring center cancelled because all the kids called in... or rather, their parents did. So sad... this means I get a three day weekend just like all the bozos who work for the government. Heh.

For the record, I would like to state that I did go for a nice walk this afternoon. And this morning I bought groceries that we needed. And I wasn't completely wasting my time on line between those two spurts of productivity. Only mostly. Heh. I also would have taken a longer walk this afternoon, except someone asked me if I wanted to go to the Real (Ray-al) Salt Lake game tonight and I said yes... but said someone has not returned home and said game has just begun. So.

Also, oddly, in the last few days I have become convinced that the private school job is not happening for me. And I'm okay with that. Granted, if it did happen, I would be okay with that, too. But it would be a huge time commitment and I think maybe I don't mind treating this like a chance to explore something new instead of the crushing of my current career path.

Maybe I could even focus more time on my creative stuff if I went back to having a job that was just a job. If that makes sense. Maybe take a class or two, even. Though, where I would do that, I'm not really sure.

Anyway... I'm feeling much more zen about the whole enterprise.

Look at Me!Me! (or what I thought a meme was before I stood corrected)

According to Emerald/Matt, I am "it". So here it be. Apologies for any mistakes in author names or titles. I am just too damn indifferent to search my shelves/floor/tables/backpack for the accurate info.

TOTAL NUMBER OF BOOKS I OWN:

No idea. After multiple moves in recent years, currently living in a city with a kickass public library, and being mostly broke for several years, my book buying/owning/transporting fetish has subsided. I'll buy it if I want to travel with it (aka: airplane reading), or if the waiting list at the library is over 100 and I don't feel like being patient, or if the library doesn't have it at all.

That said, I know there are easily 500 books in the house. Not looking forward to packing those. Might donate some of the paperbacks that I will never read again to the library - that's where most of their paperback collection has come from.

LAST BOOKS I BOUGHT:

- Laurell K. Hamilton - A Stroke of Midnight... (yeah, so I enjoy kinky porn disguised as contemporary fantasy, sue me.)

- Lian Hearn - Grass for his Pillow (book 2 of the Otori series)

- Kelly Armstrong - Bitten, Taken, Dime Store Magic, and Industrial Magic. (The Library has not discovered her books yet and I didn't feel like waiting.)

ON THE TO BUY LIST:

- None. Though I will probably pick up Holly Lisle's new books when they come out, as well as Tamara Siler Jones's, Wen Spencer's, and Kelly Armstrong's.


LAST BOOKS I READ:

- Age of Unreason trilogy by J. Gregory Keyes.
- The Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn
- Dead Witch Walking by Kim Harrison
- Rough Justice by Lisa Scottoline


FIVE INFLUENTIAL BOOKS:

- Uh... I'm actually not sure how to fill this category. Everything I read has influenced me to some extent, but I've never been one to have idols or heroes, or even to think that if something worked for another writer that it would necessarily work for me, too. So the most honest answer I could give would either be: "every book I have ever read" or "no book in particular"

However, these three things immediately sprang to mind...

- Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. Generally, I think OSC's an ass, but I love this book and have reread it dozens of times. Influential because... well, despite its flaws, I love the story and the problems and the brilliant quotable one-liners.

- Diana Gabaldon's Outlander books because they pretty much prove that if you tell a good story with interesting characters, you can break any other "rule" you want.

- The course listings at my alma mater. I had fun learning shtuff there... so many possibilities.

AND:

Since I'm not sure if I know anyone (who actually READS) who has not already done this, I will open it to my (small, but beloved) audience. Give it a go if you've got nothing else to write about. :grin:

Survival Tips

1. Why, yes, that red light does apply to you, Mr. SUV driver.

2. Crossing a busy street when many cars are waiting to make a turn is not the best time to stop and point out local landmarks to your visiting friends. Wait until you reach the sidewalk, or don't leave the safety of the first one. You have been warned.

3. Don't pretend that your visit is solely to help me out and then bring my hyperactive half-niece with you. If you want a few days away, great. But let's be realistic.

4. When I say not to hit me in the morning - no, not even with your version of a love tap - then fucking cut it out. The correct response is not to ask what died up my ass and tell me that you hope I shit it out soon. The correct response would be: Sorry, I won't do it again. Even if we know that you will, in fact, do it again.

This 'n' That

So, I'm still waiting. La dee da dee da. Sigh.

My surgery (septorhinoplasty with turbinate reduction) is coming up quickly - just 16 more days. I'm a little weirded out by that, since I've never had surgery of any kind before, unless you count stitches in my gashed up arm when I was 8... and I don't count that. But hopefully, after the misery of healing is done, I will be able to breathe through my nose in ways I have only dreamed of before now. That and it will be straighter, I guess.

I haven't been writing jack since March though... somehow trying to imagine what my life is going to be like next year is much more interesting than leading characters through twists and turns on the page. Been doing a little painting - finished up the bookshelf and made a nice big mirror. But I don't want to keep going, because anything I make, we are going to have to transport to Vermont. Better to wait until we are there. Mostly just been doing a lot of escapist reading.

Two of my Utah Writing Monkey crew happen to own/operate a POD (print on demand) publisher and further more happen to be the ones who handles Daniel Keys Moran's work. I discovered his writing when I was still in high school and have managed to collect several of his early books - the ones printed before he broke his contract with Big Publishing House. I like his characters and think he view of the future is interesting, if unlikely. He's the author of some of my favorite quotes.

But my friends have told me that he's a wee bit eccentric, and seeing the book they just gave me as a going away present, I believe them. He did everything himself - would not even let them supply the basic proofreading for typos - including choosing the cover... blue background, blue writing... While clearly talented, I think he's one of the authors that I've always been warned not to be. I haven't read the book yet - The Long Run - but we shall see what egomania has wrought.

Also, I usually don't bring cookies and shtuff like that home... usually I'll take it to school and leave it in my filing cabinet for when I want a snack... but this time, I figured maybe Jay learned something from the conversation that we had regarding nagging and eating habits (since it did include charts and graphs and whathaveyou). It appears not. If he calls me "Cookie Monster" one more time, he might be searching his abdominal cavity for the family jewels, of you know what I mean.

Love you, sweetie. (Or should that be "salty"?) Just don't make me have to open a can of WhoopAss on you.

Kill me

This waiting thing is killing me. I put off updating beacuse I was supposed to know about the job in Vermont today. Instead I got an email that they are still discussing the options for next year's faculty and will get back to me very soon. Aaaagh!

Updates on the prom - not a big deal, just chaperoning, didn't even bother to really dress up, just wore black slacks and a black and wine top. Felt strangely guilty after the prom court was announced... I hate to see girls cry over shtuff that doesn't really matter. As I said to Molly, "Didn't we used to make fun of Prom Queens?"

One observation: the people back east are generally much bigger than the people out west. So I felt pretty good about myself in that respect. On my tours of the school campus, I was the only one not gasping for breath going up and down stairs and hills. Of course, I did have the advantage of living at 4500 feet and being down around 1000 ft during the visit.

But seriously, I just don't know if I can be happy in Vermont without a real job to look forward to. I refuse to go back to hospitality type work. My mental health is more important than $8/hour, or whatever the going rate is back there. If I don't get this job, I think I will just sit down and cry. Which really sucks, because this whole Vermont thing is just Jay's dreamlife made real. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

exhausted

Haven't had a good night's sleep since last Tuesday. Too tired to be coherent. I think the school visit went well. Also visited with my friend and got to go to prom! Oooooh. Aaaaaah. Was forced to judge "Grand March" - aka: Prom King Queen and Court.

More update after nap.

zzzzzz

Very Sad... but onwards I go

For some reason, I am blocked from three of my most often read sites. I don't know if it's my server being bitchy or if they've had problems with other people on the comcast server or if they've just taken their sites private. In any case, I am very sad.

However, I have lots of other procrastination tools at hand... so perhaps I should just get on with my life, eh?

Other than that.... I leave for Vermont around midnight on Wednesday. Just treading water until I leave. Honestly, I have no idea how this is going to go. But on the bright side, I finally got in touch with my weeneresque former roommate. She hadn't opened the card I sent. She's got her bills on automatic pay and hadn't bothered to check her mail for the last three weeks because she's in the middle of grading term projects. She fully admits to being a weenerhead doodyface - she so is! So I'm probably going to the Windsor High Prom on Saturday with Ms. Prom Advisor. You know you're jealous.

Addressing Inequities

Jay (to friends): Yeah, so after we get married we'll just start popping them out...

Me: Popping them out... What's this "we", white man?

Jay: Um, it does take two people, you know.

Me: No, I believe that you get the "popping in" job while I get stuck with the "popping out". Want to trade?

Jay: : errrrr.

Me: (trying not to laugh) Good thing you're so cute.

when paranoia takes over

Alternative title: mind games you can play alone.

So lately I've been going around in circles... annoyance to guilt to worry to embarrassment to irritation to guilt to... well anyway. I'm not a person who does the guilt thing very well anyway. Generally, I don't second guess myself very often, thereby avoiding that foolish trip down guilt road.

See, this getting married thing must be messing with my head. That's the only explanation. It doesn't seem to matter that most of the people I've told have been effusive... even frighteningly effusive... in their excitement upon hearing the news. But a few people I considered good friends haven't said a word. Nada. Nothing. Not even an acknowledgement that they received my email or card. Bottom line, that's just kind of rude, neh? How hard is it to reply to an email?

But I can't seem to help thinking: "What did I do to piss you off? Why don't you care enough to say congrats?" And then I come up with a laundry list of things I wish I had done differently with/around them. AND I KNOW this is futile. I know that the problem probably has less to do with me and much more to do with them being busy or lazy about correspondance or whatnot. SO THEN I feel like an egomaniac for thinking that it IS about something that I did. Are you with me? Total head trip. I must stop.

This silly drama is probably exacerbated by the fact that I emailed an old friend from college around New Year's after I noticed that, according to our alumni directory, his address had changed. Just a friendly, hey, how ya doing, noticed that you've moved and how funny because we're thinking about moving back east, too, kind of note. So I had some other addresses to look up the other day, and I plugged in his name out of curiosity and found that he had requested that the college not give out his information anymore. Slap. Well, at least I know he got my email...

Now I get to try a couple possible phone numbers for my former college roommate who I had hoped to see/stay with in Vermont while I'm there over the weekend of the 13th-15th. I'm pretty sure she's still alive because I got a birthday card from her in March...

No wonder I contemplate becoming a hermit somedays. Sigh.

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.
--------------

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.


--------------
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.
--------------


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.


--------------
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.
--------------


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.


--------------
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...
--------------


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.)


--------------
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.
--------------


Interesting, but what EXACTLY does this have to do with my case and why should I give a flying fuck?


--------------
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
--------------


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?