Friday, November 28, 2008
I think...
This was one of the best Thanksgivings ever. Yay, friends! Yay, great food! Yay, going to sleep off a turkey-induced coma! G'night!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Random notes from Thanksgiving preparation
-We pick up The Bird from Baby Blues BBQ in Venice tomorrow. Oh, deep-fried turkey that I do not have to deep fry, how I love you so.-Whole Foods is insane the night before Thanksgiving.
-The plastic flamingo in our front garden is wearing a turkey costume.
-Every nook and cranny of our house is shiny-clean, and the entire place smells like a combo of lemon and cinnamon. It's cozy.
-Tomorrow we embark on a pie-making, green-bean casserole concocting, potato-mashing journey. Dinner is at 4. Wish us luck.
Monday, November 17, 2008
My husband is good at surprises.
This is what greeted me when I walked out the front door on the morning of my birthday:
Yes, that IS a bright, shiny Trek hybrid. Rock! Or should I say roll?
Yes, that IS a bright, shiny Trek hybrid. Rock! Or should I say roll?
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Why I love Los Angeles, Part I
This morning we went to free yoga in the park. I would like to point out that it's November, and I was definitely barefoot, wearing a tank top...and sweating. I love Los Angeles.(Photo credit salomon888)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Cougar Cafe
Author's note: I am well aware of the fact that I haven't blogged in months. Getting married and a subsequent move halfway across the country, the realization that I would need to figure out an alternative plan for nursing school, and the fact that I needed to find a job all took up a bit of time. Excuses aside, I'm back; we're married; life is good. My blog style will be changing slightly - for now, I've decided to blog short snippets of real life, with the occasional profound foray into All Things Deep and Philosophical. Without further ado...
Today my dog jumped off a cliff.
To elaborate:
Today my ever-fabulous neighbor, Lanie, and I took our dogs to Runyon Canyon. Basically, it's a 134-acre off-leash park with a wide path that gradually climbs to the top of the canyon, affording views of downtown L.A., the Hollywood sign, and on clear days, the Pacific Ocean.
The pooches loved it. All was going swimmingly until Lanie's pooch, Calliope, found a stray tennis ball. My somewhat intellectually challenged dachshund, Badger, loves tennis balls. Now, we use the word "love" a lot - we "love" pizza, we'd "love" to take a nap. This does not compare to the way Badger loves balls. He loves them, pardon the expression, like a fat kid loves cake. He will do ANYTHING for a tennis ball. He proved it today when one of the dogs let the ball drop on an inclined part of the path.
The ball rolled over the edge - and Badger soared over after it. Just to give you an idea of this "edge" I reference, please see the photo* below.
See the path? Yeah. See the drop? Yeah. That's what Badger leapt from. The dog has a death wish, I swear. I turned around in time to see a flash of golden-brown fur flying down the slope...and then nothing. I was sure my dog had been eaten by a cougar. (An actual cougar, not a forty-year-old woman dating a twenty-year-old man. Although, now that I think about it, there are probably more two-legged cougars than four-legged ones at Runyon, and they really have no interest in dining on dachshund.)
We called. We cajoled. We started to draw a crowd at the top of the hill. Lanie began stripping off layers so she could dive down after Badger and Calliope, who had now decided to follow Badger down on a rescue mission. And then, in a moment that truly should have had musical accompaniment, (c'mon, Hollywood, where are you when I need you?) Badger and Calliope emerged intact from the brush, Badger with the hard-won tennis ball clamped in his jaws.
The rest of the Runyon trip was uneventful. The ride home was peaceful. Fierce was taken directly to the groomer for a wash 'n curl and is now a pretty, pretty princess. Badger has been asleep for the last six hours. Los Angeles? I think I love you. Tomorrow: My love/hate relationship with IKEA.
*Photo credit: Alain Demour.
Today my dog jumped off a cliff.
To elaborate:
Today my ever-fabulous neighbor, Lanie, and I took our dogs to Runyon Canyon. Basically, it's a 134-acre off-leash park with a wide path that gradually climbs to the top of the canyon, affording views of downtown L.A., the Hollywood sign, and on clear days, the Pacific Ocean.
The pooches loved it. All was going swimmingly until Lanie's pooch, Calliope, found a stray tennis ball. My somewhat intellectually challenged dachshund, Badger, loves tennis balls. Now, we use the word "love" a lot - we "love" pizza, we'd "love" to take a nap. This does not compare to the way Badger loves balls. He loves them, pardon the expression, like a fat kid loves cake. He will do ANYTHING for a tennis ball. He proved it today when one of the dogs let the ball drop on an inclined part of the path.
The ball rolled over the edge - and Badger soared over after it. Just to give you an idea of this "edge" I reference, please see the photo* below.
See the path? Yeah. See the drop? Yeah. That's what Badger leapt from. The dog has a death wish, I swear. I turned around in time to see a flash of golden-brown fur flying down the slope...and then nothing. I was sure my dog had been eaten by a cougar. (An actual cougar, not a forty-year-old woman dating a twenty-year-old man. Although, now that I think about it, there are probably more two-legged cougars than four-legged ones at Runyon, and they really have no interest in dining on dachshund.)
We called. We cajoled. We started to draw a crowd at the top of the hill. Lanie began stripping off layers so she could dive down after Badger and Calliope, who had now decided to follow Badger down on a rescue mission. And then, in a moment that truly should have had musical accompaniment, (c'mon, Hollywood, where are you when I need you?) Badger and Calliope emerged intact from the brush, Badger with the hard-won tennis ball clamped in his jaws.
The rest of the Runyon trip was uneventful. The ride home was peaceful. Fierce was taken directly to the groomer for a wash 'n curl and is now a pretty, pretty princess. Badger has been asleep for the last six hours. Los Angeles? I think I love you. Tomorrow: My love/hate relationship with IKEA.
*Photo credit: Alain Demour.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Accepts with pleasure
Here's a fun game - go ahead and Google these terms for me:
1. Wedding planning
2. Preparing for marriage
Just play along. Google them. I can wait.
OK, you're back? Good. I'm sure you noticed that your efforts were rewarded with roughly 7 million hits on search 1...and 300,000 results on search 2. This seems backwards to me. In wedding reception language, it's almost like serving the five-layer buttercreme-frosted cake before the demi-glazed duck. Putting the tulle-covered carriage before the white horse, even.
Where did we get the idea that Choosing a Dress That Will Flatter All Seven of Your Bridesmaids and Still Guarantee That You Will Look Better Than They Will! is more important than preparing for and maintaining what will surely be more important than Your Big Day - namely, the next 50 years of your lives?
This "big-day" mindset perpetuates the idea that is probably at the root of America's divorce statistics. I'm sure you're familiar with the numbers, but just in case - they're sitting right around 50%. Now, those surely don't apply across the board, but let's say (for the sake of argument) that they do. In that case, I hope you didn't engrave anything too couple-y on the toaster you gave Amy and Chad* last weekend, because odds are they're going to be in court disputes over who gets the good kitchen stuff sometime within the next seven years.
Could these divorce statistics stem from the fact that from the time we're little, we're fed a "happily ever after" mindset?
As women, we must sit around and wait for a man on a white horse (or at least driving a white Honda) to sweep us off our feet and away to a life of 2.3 children, a home with a white picket fence, and a perfectly housebroken Labrador. Gentlemen, I certainly hope you are both sensitive and manly, but not too much of either, and only in the appropriate situations. (Sensitivity is never appropriate while watching football. Manly behavior is banned while shopping for throw pillows at IKEA.)
Perhaps, as the Tom Robbins says, "we waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love." Maybe we should stop thinking that the ultimate display of love is a $125 bouquet of roses and a box of chocolate. Or let go of the delusion that when love ceases to be "exciting," it certainly must be boring. Perhaps we should learn to accept that the perfection of love lies in its ability to grow, adapt and evolve. Perhaps we need to remember -
"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.”
*Names are hypothetical and are not intended to imply misery or doom for any couple named Amy and Chad or variations thereof who may or may not have recently received an engraved toaster.
1. Wedding planning
2. Preparing for marriage
Just play along. Google them. I can wait.
OK, you're back? Good. I'm sure you noticed that your efforts were rewarded with roughly 7 million hits on search 1...and 300,000 results on search 2. This seems backwards to me. In wedding reception language, it's almost like serving the five-layer buttercreme-frosted cake before the demi-glazed duck. Putting the tulle-covered carriage before the white horse, even.
Where did we get the idea that Choosing a Dress That Will Flatter All Seven of Your Bridesmaids and Still Guarantee That You Will Look Better Than They Will! is more important than preparing for and maintaining what will surely be more important than Your Big Day - namely, the next 50 years of your lives?
This "big-day" mindset perpetuates the idea that is probably at the root of America's divorce statistics. I'm sure you're familiar with the numbers, but just in case - they're sitting right around 50%. Now, those surely don't apply across the board, but let's say (for the sake of argument) that they do. In that case, I hope you didn't engrave anything too couple-y on the toaster you gave Amy and Chad* last weekend, because odds are they're going to be in court disputes over who gets the good kitchen stuff sometime within the next seven years.
Could these divorce statistics stem from the fact that from the time we're little, we're fed a "happily ever after" mindset?
As women, we must sit around and wait for a man on a white horse (or at least driving a white Honda) to sweep us off our feet and away to a life of 2.3 children, a home with a white picket fence, and a perfectly housebroken Labrador. Gentlemen, I certainly hope you are both sensitive and manly, but not too much of either, and only in the appropriate situations. (Sensitivity is never appropriate while watching football. Manly behavior is banned while shopping for throw pillows at IKEA.)
Perhaps, as the Tom Robbins says, "we waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love." Maybe we should stop thinking that the ultimate display of love is a $125 bouquet of roses and a box of chocolate. Or let go of the delusion that when love ceases to be "exciting," it certainly must be boring. Perhaps we should learn to accept that the perfection of love lies in its ability to grow, adapt and evolve. Perhaps we need to remember -
"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.”
*Names are hypothetical and are not intended to imply misery or doom for any couple named Amy and Chad or variations thereof who may or may not have recently received an engraved toaster.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Celebratory weasels
This is a shallow blog. I'm just warning you - if you're expecting deep or insightful, click onward.
I am having my hair put up for our wedding. I'd debated doing it myself, and then remembered several key points -
1. I have semi-long, extremely thick, naturally curly hair.
2. It is August.
3. I live in Kansas.
4. Kansas + August + long, thick, curly hair = one potential giant ball of uncooperative frizz.
Thus, I have an appointment at a local salon in order to get the mass tamed, pinned, and otherwise coerced into submitting for the better part of eight hours.
I have my hair trial next Friday. I'd debated canceling said trial, and then remembered the last two times I had updos done by unknown stylists:
Stylist 1: I wound up with a French twist. I haaaaaaate French twists. (Disclaimer: this statement only applies to a French twist on me. Go ahead and twist away - I think they're gorgeous on everyone else.)
Stylist 2: I had what appeared to be an angry, lopsided weasel (ALW) living on top of my head.
In the hopes of avoiding an angry, lopsided weasel, I went ahead and kept the hair trial. In the event that I DO end up with an ALW, I'm hoping that between Lorenia, Atoosa, Brooke, and a big ol' pile of bobby pins the ALW can at least be turned into a weasel who's there to party.
I am having my hair put up for our wedding. I'd debated doing it myself, and then remembered several key points -
1. I have semi-long, extremely thick, naturally curly hair.
2. It is August.
3. I live in Kansas.
4. Kansas + August + long, thick, curly hair = one potential giant ball of uncooperative frizz.
Thus, I have an appointment at a local salon in order to get the mass tamed, pinned, and otherwise coerced into submitting for the better part of eight hours.
I have my hair trial next Friday. I'd debated canceling said trial, and then remembered the last two times I had updos done by unknown stylists:
Stylist 1: I wound up with a French twist. I haaaaaaate French twists. (Disclaimer: this statement only applies to a French twist on me. Go ahead and twist away - I think they're gorgeous on everyone else.)
Stylist 2: I had what appeared to be an angry, lopsided weasel (ALW) living on top of my head.
In the hopes of avoiding an angry, lopsided weasel, I went ahead and kept the hair trial. In the event that I DO end up with an ALW, I'm hoping that between Lorenia, Atoosa, Brooke, and a big ol' pile of bobby pins the ALW can at least be turned into a weasel who's there to party.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Dear God: Thank You.
Whenever I start to be slightly nervous about moving to Los Angeles (which is directly related to my super-paranoid fear that I'm not good at maintaining friendships, which is directly tied to the fact that a friend of almost ten years decided this year that our friendship wasn't working for her [for the second time]) something happens to reassure me that all is love and light in the world.
Today it was a delightful blog comment from Atoosa, and the appearance of my friend Dara at The Cheese. The appearance of Dara at Cheese may not seem too monumental, until you consider that she's spent the last few years in the Peace Corps in Africa and was then off to Italy for Montessori training, and is now in the midst of a move to Toronto. Walking around the corner at work and seeing Dara's sweet face did good, good things for my heart.
Today it was a delightful blog comment from Atoosa, and the appearance of my friend Dara at The Cheese. The appearance of Dara at Cheese may not seem too monumental, until you consider that she's spent the last few years in the Peace Corps in Africa and was then off to Italy for Montessori training, and is now in the midst of a move to Toronto. Walking around the corner at work and seeing Dara's sweet face did good, good things for my heart.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
What I Did Last Week
The ol' What I Did Last Summer post is a little too overwhelming, so here's a sample of last week:
-Worked National Cheesecake Day at My Favorite Corporate Restaurant on Wednesday. The Cheese Higher-Ups decided it would be a fabulous idea to celebrate by selling slices for $1.50 each. It was a fabulous marketing idea. Until The View and Sprint got ahold of it and informed the entire country. People were showing up in droves (I actually never thought I'd have a chance to use that word in this blog - yippee!) on Wednesday. They waited for an hour in the lobby, and then sat down only to wait for another hour to get a slice of cheesecake for $5 less than normal. I will confess that when a table decided, at 11 p.m., that they wanted to order cheesecake, thus guaranteeing that we would be there at least another hour, I offered them $5 each to just come back and get it the following day at normal price.
-Cleaned up the small swimming pool that formed in the basement, kitchen, and living room after the water hose detached from the fridge and began spewing water at the rate of 3 gallons/minute.
-Was really glad that wedding dress was not hanging in basement.
-Realized that Certain Events involving Certain People this summer have made me super-paranoid and really suspicious.
-To-dos: remember that people are inherently good. Forgive people who have made life rough. Pray more. Start noting blog-worthy items in Moleskine, because a heckuva lot more fun stuff happened last week that I am unfortunately unable to remember at this point.
-Worked National Cheesecake Day at My Favorite Corporate Restaurant on Wednesday. The Cheese Higher-Ups decided it would be a fabulous idea to celebrate by selling slices for $1.50 each. It was a fabulous marketing idea. Until The View and Sprint got ahold of it and informed the entire country. People were showing up in droves (I actually never thought I'd have a chance to use that word in this blog - yippee!) on Wednesday. They waited for an hour in the lobby, and then sat down only to wait for another hour to get a slice of cheesecake for $5 less than normal. I will confess that when a table decided, at 11 p.m., that they wanted to order cheesecake, thus guaranteeing that we would be there at least another hour, I offered them $5 each to just come back and get it the following day at normal price.
-Cleaned up the small swimming pool that formed in the basement, kitchen, and living room after the water hose detached from the fridge and began spewing water at the rate of 3 gallons/minute.
-Was really glad that wedding dress was not hanging in basement.
-Realized that Certain Events involving Certain People this summer have made me super-paranoid and really suspicious.
-To-dos: remember that people are inherently good. Forgive people who have made life rough. Pray more. Start noting blog-worthy items in Moleskine, because a heckuva lot more fun stuff happened last week that I am unfortunately unable to remember at this point.
Back!
I haven't been able to access Blogger for, like, ever.
It appears to be cooperating again, and now I find that I have nothing to say.
I'll work on coming up with some witty observation tonight if you'll reassure me that you're still out there after such a long hiatus.
It appears to be cooperating again, and now I find that I have nothing to say.
I'll work on coming up with some witty observation tonight if you'll reassure me that you're still out there after such a long hiatus.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
I stole this from Sarah.
The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed. Well let's see.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Italicize and bold the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who've only read 6 and force books upon them. (If you have not read The Handmaid's Tale or A Prayer for Owen Meany, please go to your local library right away.)
1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible - God
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. 1984- George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Italicize and bold the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who've only read 6 and force books upon them. (If you have not read The Handmaid's Tale or A Prayer for Owen Meany, please go to your local library right away.)
1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible - God
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. 1984- George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
Not sleeping
It is almost 3:30 a.m. and I am awake.
Again.
I can sleep - during the day.
For now, I will content myself with watching a documentary on bears (thanks Hulu!) and waiting until dawn, at which point I'll probably drift off. Again.
Any tips on removing myself from the land of nocturnal creatures would be appreciated.
Again.
I can sleep - during the day.
For now, I will content myself with watching a documentary on bears (thanks Hulu!) and waiting until dawn, at which point I'll probably drift off. Again.
Any tips on removing myself from the land of nocturnal creatures would be appreciated.
Friday, June 27, 2008
NOW what do you think about global warming?
Scientists from the National Snow and Ice Data Center are quoted on CNN as saying, in reference to global warming, "Not to say I told you so...but I told you so."
The North Pole is melting, people.
The North Pole is melting, people.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Here, kitty kitty
So I am a huge sucker for animals. Especially if they're small. Especially if they're hurt. ESPECIALLY if they're small AND hurt.
This has gotten me into trouble before. Like the time a couple of years ago when I was driving back to Kansas City from Manhattan and saw what I thought was a litter of kittens on the side of the road. I stopped to investigate, thinking that I would load the tiny, helpless, mewling creatures into my car and drop them off at the no-kill shelter, thus saving their lives and providing several area families with the Perfect Pet.
It turns out that when one is driving 70 mph at night, it is fairly easy to mistake a group of baby possums for a litter of kittens. And possums do not take kindly to the idea of being bundled into the car and taken to the shelter.
I was out running this morning and saw a bedraggled black-and-white cat limping along the sidewalk. You know where this is going, don't you?
I approached him, crooning, "Here, kitty kitty..." trying with all my might to look like a friendly cat-lover, one who had pockets full of tuna and catnip. I just wanted to HELP him.
I'm not really used to being around cats, but I'm guessing that flattened ears and hissing means that they probably don't want to be approached.
Because I did not feel like explaining to either Andrew or my mother why I came home from this particular run looking like a scratching post, and also because I'm fairly sure that a series of rabies shots can't be added to the gift registry, I abandoned this particular mission.
But I still hope the little guy finds his way home safely, and that there's tuna waiting for him, and that someone will fix his hurt paw.
This has gotten me into trouble before. Like the time a couple of years ago when I was driving back to Kansas City from Manhattan and saw what I thought was a litter of kittens on the side of the road. I stopped to investigate, thinking that I would load the tiny, helpless, mewling creatures into my car and drop them off at the no-kill shelter, thus saving their lives and providing several area families with the Perfect Pet.
It turns out that when one is driving 70 mph at night, it is fairly easy to mistake a group of baby possums for a litter of kittens. And possums do not take kindly to the idea of being bundled into the car and taken to the shelter.
I was out running this morning and saw a bedraggled black-and-white cat limping along the sidewalk. You know where this is going, don't you?
I approached him, crooning, "Here, kitty kitty..." trying with all my might to look like a friendly cat-lover, one who had pockets full of tuna and catnip. I just wanted to HELP him.
I'm not really used to being around cats, but I'm guessing that flattened ears and hissing means that they probably don't want to be approached.
Because I did not feel like explaining to either Andrew or my mother why I came home from this particular run looking like a scratching post, and also because I'm fairly sure that a series of rabies shots can't be added to the gift registry, I abandoned this particular mission.
But I still hope the little guy finds his way home safely, and that there's tuna waiting for him, and that someone will fix his hurt paw.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
One of us
Dear Chicago,
Thank you.
You see, it's been a bit of a rough year. I've lost a few good friendships, and the process of those losses has caused me to question myself. Am I REALLY that funny/smart/interesting/good at using proper punctuation?
What if I'm selfish and boring and have been using semi-colons incorrectly this whole time?
You, all of you, made me feel entirely wrapped up in and surrounded by and connected with love. You're all such amazing, wonderful, (insert complementary adjective here) people - and spending the weekend with you made me realize that maybe it wasn't my fault that I lost those particular friendships - maybe it was just part of the process that happens when two people are growing, but their relationship is not. And not to go all Hallmark on you, but this past weekend really gave me a lot of hope for new and healthy relationships in the future.
So thank you, Chicago. You were more healing than you know. And also, you have really great hotdogs.
Love,
Erin
Author's note: The term "Chicago" includes but is not limited to Minnesota, San Diego, Massachusetts, Haifa, and Los Angeles.
"Someday, the light will shine like a sun through my skin & they will say, What have you done with your life? & though there are many moments I think I will remember, in the end, I will be proud to say, I was one of us." - Brian Andreas
Thank you.
You see, it's been a bit of a rough year. I've lost a few good friendships, and the process of those losses has caused me to question myself. Am I REALLY that funny/smart/interesting/good at using proper punctuation?
What if I'm selfish and boring and have been using semi-colons incorrectly this whole time?
You, all of you, made me feel entirely wrapped up in and surrounded by and connected with love. You're all such amazing, wonderful, (insert complementary adjective here) people - and spending the weekend with you made me realize that maybe it wasn't my fault that I lost those particular friendships - maybe it was just part of the process that happens when two people are growing, but their relationship is not. And not to go all Hallmark on you, but this past weekend really gave me a lot of hope for new and healthy relationships in the future.
So thank you, Chicago. You were more healing than you know. And also, you have really great hotdogs.
Love,
Erin
Author's note: The term "Chicago" includes but is not limited to Minnesota, San Diego, Massachusetts, Haifa, and Los Angeles.
"Someday, the light will shine like a sun through my skin & they will say, What have you done with your life? & though there are many moments I think I will remember, in the end, I will be proud to say, I was one of us." - Brian Andreas
Friday, June 6, 2008
Things I Am Terrified Of, Part I
So I live relatively close to a pond. Said pond is in the "yard" of a big corporate office building, and is thus on the corner of a really busy intersection.
Across the street from the pond is a hill full of juicy young clover blossoms and succulent, delicious grass.
Neither of these facts are of any importance until you add in the geese.
The pond is filled with several Canadian geese and their too-cute-to-be-believed little goslings.
Several times a day, the geese take it upon themselves to leave their watery home and meander across the street (and by "street" I mean "six-lane road close to the interstate") for a delicious snack.
I am terrified that I am going to be driving down Metcalf, changing the radio station or sending a text (dear Officer Dad, of course this is just for illustration - I never text while driving, no, no!) or taking a bite of granola bar or doing something else that may require that I take my eyes off the road for a second - and in that second, I will plow through the line of geese, thus incurring the wrath of all Canadian geese everywhere (those suckers are mean!) and making it look as though my Honda just lost the world's largest pillow fight.
These are the things I think about, dear readers. These are the things I think about.
Across the street from the pond is a hill full of juicy young clover blossoms and succulent, delicious grass.
Neither of these facts are of any importance until you add in the geese.
The pond is filled with several Canadian geese and their too-cute-to-be-believed little goslings.
Several times a day, the geese take it upon themselves to leave their watery home and meander across the street (and by "street" I mean "six-lane road close to the interstate") for a delicious snack.
I am terrified that I am going to be driving down Metcalf, changing the radio station or sending a text (dear Officer Dad, of course this is just for illustration - I never text while driving, no, no!) or taking a bite of granola bar or doing something else that may require that I take my eyes off the road for a second - and in that second, I will plow through the line of geese, thus incurring the wrath of all Canadian geese everywhere (those suckers are mean!) and making it look as though my Honda just lost the world's largest pillow fight.
These are the things I think about, dear readers. These are the things I think about.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
What do you say to this exactly?
Comments from work last night that I was not sure how to reply to:
1. "You're really hot, for a 27-year-old!" Um. Thanks, I think.
2. "You have really big lips!" Yes. Yes I do. I grew them myself.
3. "If you're not a good boy, we're going to send you to the kitchen with the waitress, and she's going to make you wash dishes!" Please do not use me to scare your children. The fact that I'm wearing a tie is frightening enough.
1. "You're really hot, for a 27-year-old!" Um. Thanks, I think.
2. "You have really big lips!" Yes. Yes I do. I grew them myself.
3. "If you're not a good boy, we're going to send you to the kitchen with the waitress, and she's going to make you wash dishes!" Please do not use me to scare your children. The fact that I'm wearing a tie is frightening enough.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Wednesdays are for randomness
*I attribute part of my obsession with coffee to the fact that I like the lingo.
That statement doesn't make any sense, until you consider that, outside of a coffee shop, the words, "Iced double tall skinny vanilla latte" make no sense. Therefore, in my mind, it's kind of a code.
My obsession with codes/abbreviations/secret languages (if you will) probably goes back to when I was about nine and made up a flashlight code with my neighbor/BFF so that we could communicate after our designated bedtime. We also spent a lot of time speaking in Pig Latin o-say as-hay o-tay annoy-hay y-may rother-bay.
Anyway, I have ascertained that my Summer Coffee Obsession is the drink mentioned above. It's cold (nice in the summer), delicious (nice no matter the season) and involves skim milk (nice for those of us who hear, "If you eat that you're not going to fit into your wedding dress!" several times a day.)
*Speaking of not fitting into our wedding dresses, someone needs to have a chat with Facebook. I'm slightly creeped out by targeted advertising; I'm even more creeped out by the fact that every time I log in to Facebook, I'm greeted with a banner ad: "Don't be a FAT BRIDE." Thanks for your concern, Facebook, but at my last fitting, the seamstress informed me that if I didn't eat more, my dress would fall off. That's why I'm enjoying these delicious nachos at this very minute. I'm doing it for you, my beloved wedding guests, so as to avoid losing my dress mid-ceremony. That's just awkward.
*And on another wedding-related note - I was going with mom for the aforementioned fitting when I mentioned that I was flummoxed about a veil. (These are things I have never worried about before, and do not anticipate worrying about ever again.) The conversation went as follows:
Me: "Mom, do you think it's weird that I don't want a veil?"
Mom: "Um. I would be a lot more concerned if you DID want to bail, but if you're even CONSIDERING bailing, then I suggest you bring that up now so that..."
Me: "Mom. I said 'VEIL.'"
That statement doesn't make any sense, until you consider that, outside of a coffee shop, the words, "Iced double tall skinny vanilla latte" make no sense. Therefore, in my mind, it's kind of a code.
My obsession with codes/abbreviations/secret languages (if you will) probably goes back to when I was about nine and made up a flashlight code with my neighbor/BFF so that we could communicate after our designated bedtime. We also spent a lot of time speaking in Pig Latin o-say as-hay o-tay annoy-hay y-may rother-bay.
Anyway, I have ascertained that my Summer Coffee Obsession is the drink mentioned above. It's cold (nice in the summer), delicious (nice no matter the season) and involves skim milk (nice for those of us who hear, "If you eat that you're not going to fit into your wedding dress!" several times a day.)
*Speaking of not fitting into our wedding dresses, someone needs to have a chat with Facebook. I'm slightly creeped out by targeted advertising; I'm even more creeped out by the fact that every time I log in to Facebook, I'm greeted with a banner ad: "Don't be a FAT BRIDE." Thanks for your concern, Facebook, but at my last fitting, the seamstress informed me that if I didn't eat more, my dress would fall off. That's why I'm enjoying these delicious nachos at this very minute. I'm doing it for you, my beloved wedding guests, so as to avoid losing my dress mid-ceremony. That's just awkward.
*And on another wedding-related note - I was going with mom for the aforementioned fitting when I mentioned that I was flummoxed about a veil. (These are things I have never worried about before, and do not anticipate worrying about ever again.) The conversation went as follows:
Me: "Mom, do you think it's weird that I don't want a veil?"
Mom: "Um. I would be a lot more concerned if you DID want to bail, but if you're even CONSIDERING bailing, then I suggest you bring that up now so that..."
Me: "Mom. I said 'VEIL.'"
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Notes from all over
*I do not have appendicitis. And the Weird Pain went away, so I can stop worrying about it.
* I'm working on applying to schools in Los Angeles. I'm excited. And reeeeeealy ready to move. Surf lessons, anyone?
*I'm terribly afraid that the Peru trip has given me a Travel Bug that I may never get rid of. And by "afraid" I mean "excited."
*Some people are weird.
*Wedding planning is hilarious. Excerpt from a conversation with the florist: "I use orchids like most people use carnations!" Gulp.
*This blog is starting a new five-part series. Wednesdays will be Blogging for Brent. Stay tuned!
* I'm working on applying to schools in Los Angeles. I'm excited. And reeeeeealy ready to move. Surf lessons, anyone?
*I'm terribly afraid that the Peru trip has given me a Travel Bug that I may never get rid of. And by "afraid" I mean "excited."
*Some people are weird.
*Wedding planning is hilarious. Excerpt from a conversation with the florist: "I use orchids like most people use carnations!" Gulp.
*This blog is starting a new five-part series. Wednesdays will be Blogging for Brent. Stay tuned!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I CONFESS!
The more superficial my blogs are (see below) the more emotional upset I'm typically in.
I think I'll go biking. Because it's beautiful outside. And I need to try to breathe.
I think I'll go biking. Because it's beautiful outside. And I need to try to breathe.
6 more weeks...
The following conversational excerpt is the primary reason I will not miss waiting tables:
Me: (Random introductory stuff to table, followed by request for drink order.)
Man at Table: "Iced tea."
Me: "Sir, have you had our iced tea before?"
MAT: "No..." (Suspicious glare.)
Me: "It's tropical passion, made with an infusion of several different flower and plant flavors...it tastes a bit like mango." (Internal cringe at the fact that I am required to say "tropical passion" to strangers several times a day - David Overton, if you could refrain from naming your next iced tea flavor after a Fox reality TV show, that would be super.)
MAT: "I just want regular iced tea."
Me: "We only have the mango tea and green tea."
MAT: "You don't have just regular iced tea?"
Me: "No, sir. Only the mango tea and green tea."
MAT: "You really don't have just a regular house tea?"
Me: "The mango tea IS our regular tea, sir." (Internally: "You caught me! I've been lying this whole time! The trick is to ask more than three times for the regular ice tea, and then it will miraculously appear!")
MAT: "Mango tea, then." (Heavy, suspicious sigh.)
Me: (Random introductory stuff to table, followed by request for drink order.)
Man at Table: "Iced tea."
Me: "Sir, have you had our iced tea before?"
MAT: "No..." (Suspicious glare.)
Me: "It's tropical passion, made with an infusion of several different flower and plant flavors...it tastes a bit like mango." (Internal cringe at the fact that I am required to say "tropical passion" to strangers several times a day - David Overton, if you could refrain from naming your next iced tea flavor after a Fox reality TV show, that would be super.)
MAT: "I just want regular iced tea."
Me: "We only have the mango tea and green tea."
MAT: "You don't have just regular iced tea?"
Me: "No, sir. Only the mango tea and green tea."
MAT: "You really don't have just a regular house tea?"
Me: "The mango tea IS our regular tea, sir." (Internally: "You caught me! I've been lying this whole time! The trick is to ask more than three times for the regular ice tea, and then it will miraculously appear!")
MAT: "Mango tea, then." (Heavy, suspicious sigh.)
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Dear universe, please advise.
I already know what the answer to this question is, but feel free to chime in. Because I like confirmation. To make a long story short, the required grade for my Patho class here in KC is 75%. I got a 74%. I have always believed that Things Happen For a Reason.
A 74% is good enough for the nursing program I was thinking about applying to in Los Angeles. Further, the random theology/philosophy courses that I have already taken are also required for school in Los Angeles.
Choices:
Option 1: Retake patho this summer. Get married. Move to Los Angeles. Live in LA until August 2009. Move back to KC with Andrew, who would complete an internship in the KC area and then move BACK to LA for 8 months to finish school, while I stayed here in KC to complete school.
Option 2: Don't retake patho this summer. Get married. Move to Los Angeles. Apply to school in L.A. Get accepted to school in L.A. Go to school in L.A. Same program - accelerated option, loan forgiveness. Won't require that we have a long-distance marriage for 8 months.
Some things seem so much simpler after writing them out.
A 74% is good enough for the nursing program I was thinking about applying to in Los Angeles. Further, the random theology/philosophy courses that I have already taken are also required for school in Los Angeles.
Choices:
Option 1: Retake patho this summer. Get married. Move to Los Angeles. Live in LA until August 2009. Move back to KC with Andrew, who would complete an internship in the KC area and then move BACK to LA for 8 months to finish school, while I stayed here in KC to complete school.
Option 2: Don't retake patho this summer. Get married. Move to Los Angeles. Apply to school in L.A. Get accepted to school in L.A. Go to school in L.A. Same program - accelerated option, loan forgiveness. Won't require that we have a long-distance marriage for 8 months.
Some things seem so much simpler after writing them out.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Go to sleep, little appendix.
So much happened in the last two weeks that I'm basically opting out on blogging it. It would take forever, and you probably wouldn't want to read a 894-paragraph blog anyway. Suffice it to say - Peru was amazing, Bolivia was beautiful, and I have the best fiancé ever. (Side note: he left for California yesterday - HOW was that only yesterday? - and I miss him terribly. But I digress.)
World travels and engagement news aside, let us move on to more mundane aspects of my life.
I have a Weird Pain in my side. (Hey, I said mundane.) My lower right side. Which, traditionally, is where your appendix lives.
(This would probably be a good time to point out that I know just enough about medicine to be dangerous. My mom taught me to read on her American Journal of Nursing magazines, which resulted in a four-year-old me running to her with a bruise and saying, "Mommy? Is this a symptom of acute mylogeneous leukemia?")
Anyway, at the first sign of a Weird Pain in the general area of my appendix, I waste no time in jumping to the conclusion that my appendix will surely burst, I will immediately develop peritonitis, and tomorrow will find me in the hospital having emergency surgery instead of taking my theology final. Because the only symptom of appendicitis that I am currently manifesting is this weird abdominal pain, and not nausea, vomiting, fever, or anything else that goes along with Needing To Have Your Appendix Out, my appendix (whom I've nicknamed Melvin) and I are going to go to bed. Hopefully a nap will calm him down, and all will be well in the morning.
World travels and engagement news aside, let us move on to more mundane aspects of my life.
I have a Weird Pain in my side. (Hey, I said mundane.) My lower right side. Which, traditionally, is where your appendix lives.
(This would probably be a good time to point out that I know just enough about medicine to be dangerous. My mom taught me to read on her American Journal of Nursing magazines, which resulted in a four-year-old me running to her with a bruise and saying, "Mommy? Is this a symptom of acute mylogeneous leukemia?")
Anyway, at the first sign of a Weird Pain in the general area of my appendix, I waste no time in jumping to the conclusion that my appendix will surely burst, I will immediately develop peritonitis, and tomorrow will find me in the hospital having emergency surgery instead of taking my theology final. Because the only symptom of appendicitis that I am currently manifesting is this weird abdominal pain, and not nausea, vomiting, fever, or anything else that goes along with Needing To Have Your Appendix Out, my appendix (whom I've nicknamed Melvin) and I are going to go to bed. Hopefully a nap will calm him down, and all will be well in the morning.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
To myself at 17.
Hey Em,You've never liked wasting time on sugarcoating, so we'll jump straight to the point. Just so you know - you are much too young to worry as much as you do. Learn to live in the moment. Sure, planning is never a bad thing - but try to focus less on what's going to happen tomorrow, or next month, or in college, or after college, or when you're 50, or when you're old.
Spend more time with your best friends. Time with them will be different as you all start getting older, entering careers, marrying, and having children. Also realize, though, that some friendships will grow with you, and others won't. Learn how to recognize which relationships are healthy - and which ones to let go.
Let mom and dad work out their relationship on their own. Know that their divorce WILL skew your view of relationships - but it will skew it in such a way that you will be all the more determined to fight to make yours a good one.
Accept early on that you're probably not going to be in the same career forever. So do your best in bakery science and give communications a try. When you're 22, you're going to think you're "too old" to change your major. At 22, you are practically larvae. (Yes, dear readers, I realize that at 27 I'm not exactly Little Ms. Old and Experienced either, so please stop snickering.) You are never too old to change your major, or start another career, or go back to school. For now, though, stick with it, and always remember that you don't know what's at the end of this path. You can't go into healthcare yet, but there's a good reason for that. And you will eventually, so just be patient with the whole bakery science thing and appreciate the friendships (and the knowledge of muffins) that you'll build there.
Finally, learn to communicate - really communicate. Realize that being assertive is not the same as being mean. Don't take good relationships for granted. Learn to maintain friendships - and realize that even though you've lost touch with someone, odds are they'd still appreciate knowing you're thinking of them, even years later. Don't date people to fix them. Don't date people who make you feel like less of a person. Don't ever be afraid to hold fast to your beliefs. You have a strong sense of intuition - follow that. Know that it's OK to question your faith. Know that the right faith will encourage questioning. Finally - love yourself for who you are, and learn to recognize your own perfection. Do not be afraid of your own success, for by doing so, you'll cause yourself to fail.
With love and hope,
Your future self
P.S. You will never regret not getting a tattoo.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Is there a theme here?
I've been on a "blogging about personal struggles" kick lately, it seems. I'm sure I'll be back to hotdogs in tomato soup in no time. But we all need balance, and, well, life isn't always hotdogs in tomato soup. (Thank goodness.)
I keep hearing that God will continue to present you with tests until you have learned what you're supposed to from them. The ol' "struggle with control and trusting in God" issue seems to be rearing it's ugly head again.
You see, I like to be in charge. I am GOOD at being in charge. Delegation? Organization? My strong points. I mean, you are reading the blog of someone who organizes her closet by COLOR. So this whole "Guess-what-sister-you-are-not-running-this-show" message that I keep getting from God is hard. To. Deal with. Because I feel like I'm being turned inside out. And I am terrified of what will happen if I let go. Terrified. But it's getting to the point where I'm MORE terrified of what will happen if I don't.
Because while I seem to be doing a fabulous job of organizing my closet, the amount of time I've spent in tears over the past week or so makes me think I'm not quite as good at running my life as I'd like to think.
That being said, I'm about to share something a bit personal. Because, well, this is my blog. SEE HOW MUCH I LIKE CONTROLLING THINGS? I didn't even mean to type that. OK. I can control my closet and this blog. But that's it. Anyway. I realized some time ago that my periods of meditation aren't going to be periods of quiet emptiness. They actually tend to resemble something akin to conversation. Excerpt:
Me: "Well, you see, I've been trying really hard to..."
- "Have you?"
Me: "Yes! I think so... OK. Good point. I THOUGHT I was trying to let go and know that when You close a door You open a window and all that - but I'm so anxious sometimes. What if I'm not cut out to be a nurse? What if I'm not smart enough for school what if I don't make friends what if I let myself settle into being happy and actually BELIEVE that I can have the life I've always wanted (you don't mind a cliché, do you?) and then it all gets RUINED?"
- Laughter.
Me: "What??"
- "Haven't we been over this before?"
Me: "Yes."
- "OK. Let's start over. Let Me do this. I'm good at it. Better at it than you are, even. Trust Me. Trust. Me."
"O SON OF BEING! With the hands of power I made thee and with the fingers of strength I created thee; and within thee have I placed the essence of My light. Be thou content with it and seek naught else, for My work is perfect and My command is binding. Question it not, nor have a doubt thereof." - Bahá'u'lláh, The Hidden Words
I keep hearing that God will continue to present you with tests until you have learned what you're supposed to from them. The ol' "struggle with control and trusting in God" issue seems to be rearing it's ugly head again.
You see, I like to be in charge. I am GOOD at being in charge. Delegation? Organization? My strong points. I mean, you are reading the blog of someone who organizes her closet by COLOR. So this whole "Guess-what-sister-you-are-not-running-this-show" message that I keep getting from God is hard. To. Deal with. Because I feel like I'm being turned inside out. And I am terrified of what will happen if I let go. Terrified. But it's getting to the point where I'm MORE terrified of what will happen if I don't.
Because while I seem to be doing a fabulous job of organizing my closet, the amount of time I've spent in tears over the past week or so makes me think I'm not quite as good at running my life as I'd like to think.
That being said, I'm about to share something a bit personal. Because, well, this is my blog. SEE HOW MUCH I LIKE CONTROLLING THINGS? I didn't even mean to type that. OK. I can control my closet and this blog. But that's it. Anyway. I realized some time ago that my periods of meditation aren't going to be periods of quiet emptiness. They actually tend to resemble something akin to conversation. Excerpt:
Me: "Well, you see, I've been trying really hard to..."
- "Have you?"
Me: "Yes! I think so... OK. Good point. I THOUGHT I was trying to let go and know that when You close a door You open a window and all that - but I'm so anxious sometimes. What if I'm not cut out to be a nurse? What if I'm not smart enough for school what if I don't make friends what if I let myself settle into being happy and actually BELIEVE that I can have the life I've always wanted (you don't mind a cliché, do you?) and then it all gets RUINED?"
- Laughter.
Me: "What??"
- "Haven't we been over this before?"
Me: "Yes."
- "OK. Let's start over. Let Me do this. I'm good at it. Better at it than you are, even. Trust Me. Trust. Me."
"O SON OF BEING! With the hands of power I made thee and with the fingers of strength I created thee; and within thee have I placed the essence of My light. Be thou content with it and seek naught else, for My work is perfect and My command is binding. Question it not, nor have a doubt thereof." - Bahá'u'lláh, The Hidden Words
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Standards for living
My primary example for marriage was not a good one. Stony silence, or worse, polite conversation was the order of the day, as each of us moved in elaborate dance steps, trying desperately to ignore the problem that ate with us at dinner and tucked us in to bed at night. We all dealt with it in our own way - my father tried to be The Perfect Husband - cooking and cleaning, but not dealing with his anger issues or his resentment at my mom's withdrawal. My mom worked constantly, viewing 60-hour weeks and extensive travel as a way to cope until she felt my brother and I were past the age for drawn-out custody battles and summers and holidays in separate houses. My brother rebelled, pulling pranks that were not quite bad enough to get him arrested but were just enough to pull my parents' attention toward him. I simply tried to be perfect, getting good grades, joining everything from the cheerleading squad to the science club, and eventually establishing what I came to view as my handpicked family built from a group of tight-knit friends.
I'm realizing now just how strongly my idea of marriage as a "fortress for well-being and salvation" was influenced by the way I grew up. Marriage should be a place of safety, comfort, and love - but also an institution that is prepared for challenges and attacks, from within and without. There will be bad days, and worse days, and days where it may seem easier to just quit. That is when I must remember that I DO want what I grew up with - fighting and determination and stubbornness - but I will fight the desire to give up when life's challenges seem to be more than we can handle. I am determined to build a marriage that is worth defending - and one that will last forever. And I will stubbornly, stubbornly cling to the idea that it IS possible to be one-half of the old-couple-holding-hands-on-a-park-bench who love each other for the best and despite the worst.
"You may not remember the time you let me go first. Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn't that far to go. Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up. You may not remember any of those, but I do & this is what I have to say to you: today, no matter what it takes, we ride home together." - Brian Andreas
I'm realizing now just how strongly my idea of marriage as a "fortress for well-being and salvation" was influenced by the way I grew up. Marriage should be a place of safety, comfort, and love - but also an institution that is prepared for challenges and attacks, from within and without. There will be bad days, and worse days, and days where it may seem easier to just quit. That is when I must remember that I DO want what I grew up with - fighting and determination and stubbornness - but I will fight the desire to give up when life's challenges seem to be more than we can handle. I am determined to build a marriage that is worth defending - and one that will last forever. And I will stubbornly, stubbornly cling to the idea that it IS possible to be one-half of the old-couple-holding-hands-on-a
"You may not remember the time you let me go first. Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn't that far to go. Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up. You may not remember any of those, but I do & this is what I have to say to you: today, no matter what it takes, we ride home together." - Brian Andreas
Monday, March 10, 2008
No translation necessary
"The purpose of religion as revealed from the heaven of God's holy Will is to establish unity and concord amongst the peoples of the world; make it not the cause of dissension and strife." - Bahá'u'lláh
Baha'i devotions are beautiful to me for this reason - the Faith brings together people from so many different backgrounds - and there we are, all gathered in one room, not necessarily speaking the same language, but all there to love the same God.
It's always apparent that the spirit behind these gatherings is so sparkling, so alive.
Sometimes (more often than not, actually) things happen that bring tears to my eyes and leave me completely in awe of God's power and presence.
We gathered on Saturday to break fast and pray. One of the men present was the president of the Muslim Student Association at UMKC. He offered to chant a prayer in Arabic. We debated having him translate this prayer for us, but came to the conclusion that it wasn't necessary. We did not need to understand the exact words being said - the intention behind it would be clear, and that was the most important thing.
He chanted a Muslim prayer, and we read the next prayer in English from a Baha'i prayer book. As we finished the reading, he looked up.
"That was the same thing I just said. Almost verbatim."
We smiled, and exchanged looks of disbelief. Why disbelief, I'm not sure. The intention was there - and so we all understood, whether or not we spoke the same language.
Baha'i devotions are beautiful to me for this reason - the Faith brings together people from so many different backgrounds - and there we are, all gathered in one room, not necessarily speaking the same language, but all there to love the same God.
It's always apparent that the spirit behind these gatherings is so sparkling, so alive.
Sometimes (more often than not, actually) things happen that bring tears to my eyes and leave me completely in awe of God's power and presence.
We gathered on Saturday to break fast and pray. One of the men present was the president of the Muslim Student Association at UMKC. He offered to chant a prayer in Arabic. We debated having him translate this prayer for us, but came to the conclusion that it wasn't necessary. We did not need to understand the exact words being said - the intention behind it would be clear, and that was the most important thing.
He chanted a Muslim prayer, and we read the next prayer in English from a Baha'i prayer book. As we finished the reading, he looked up.
"That was the same thing I just said. Almost verbatim."
We smiled, and exchanged looks of disbelief. Why disbelief, I'm not sure. The intention was there - and so we all understood, whether or not we spoke the same language.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Perhaps you'd like my firstborn child, also.
I just got my schedule for the accelerated year of nursing school. They want my paperwork, proof of vaccinations, proof of CPR certification, and my soul sealed up and mailed back by August.
Think trimesters. Roughly 21 hours each. Two days off in October, two days for Thanksgiving, slightly over a week for Christmas. Four days for spring break. Four days for "intersemester break."
And THEN - August 8th, 2009. Pinning ceremony, and I'm FREE. Let the countdown begin.
Think trimesters. Roughly 21 hours each. Two days off in October, two days for Thanksgiving, slightly over a week for Christmas. Four days for spring break. Four days for "intersemester break."
And THEN - August 8th, 2009. Pinning ceremony, and I'm FREE. Let the countdown begin.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
A touch of random
It may be because it's 6 a.m., but this struck me as absolutely hilarious. It's a described as a "Portable Lunch Box Stove that plugs into your car's cigarette lighter! Now you can enjoy a hot lunch anywhere, anytime by using koolatron 12 Volt Lunch Box Stove! The Koolatron 12V Lunch Box Stove delivers what you've been waiting for - a hot lunch while you're on the road without stopping for a questionable roadside meal! You can cook your food at home and bring it with you on the road along with the Koolatron Lunch Box Stove for a home cooked meal anytime!"
Emphasis on "questionable roadside meal" is mine. Mainly because I suspect that anything that you could cook with this thing would probably be more questionable than something you'd be able to buy on the road.
Speaking of lunch, and questionable, has anyone ever heard of hotdog fishin' as a lunch idea? No? Prepare to be enlightened. And grossed out. (My comments in parenthesis.)
The description below was contributed by: Ruth Bartley on Oct 10, 2000 12:41:59AM (Ruth, did you actually make this for your children? If so, are they still speaking to you?)
Recipe Rating (Four stars as compared to WHAT? Sending your kid to school with a can of catfood?) | Estimated time to complete recipe: Description of lunch box recipe: Directions: Other suggestions and comments: |
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Friday, February 29, 2008
Unleashed
Tonight I was presented with an unexpected Friday night off, and thought it would be as good a time as any to renew my faltering relationship with my gym. I'm extra-motivated now, because we leave for Peru in approximately 55 days, and while I know the group that I'm going with has a lot of love for me, I'm not sure they'll maintain that same level of love if they have to carry my panting self up the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.
I was sweating away on the Stairmaster when I noticed one of trainers incorporating a new technique. He had strapped his client into a weighted vest and had essentially leashed her to him using a resistance band. She was running in front of him (or trying to) while he walked the opposite way behind her, pulling back against her as hard as he could.
I will happily walk on the incline trainer wearing my weighted backpack. I will not complain about doing squats on the Bosu ball. I will hum along with my iPod while alternating lunges with sprints. But the second my trainer attempts to introduce a leash into my program...I'm out.
I was sweating away on the Stairmaster when I noticed one of trainers incorporating a new technique. He had strapped his client into a weighted vest and had essentially leashed her to him using a resistance band. She was running in front of him (or trying to) while he walked the opposite way behind her, pulling back against her as hard as he could.
I will happily walk on the incline trainer wearing my weighted backpack. I will not complain about doing squats on the Bosu ball. I will hum along with my iPod while alternating lunges with sprints. But the second my trainer attempts to introduce a leash into my program...I'm out.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
...And then I did not get carjacked.
There have been a few carjackings on and around campus lately. Not your average, friendly, get-outta-the-car-or-I'll-hit-you-with-this-crowbar carjackings, either - no, these have involved real, actual guns. Campus security has been sending out e-mails, everyone is supposed to be extra-vigilant, yadi yadi. So you may understand why I'm a teensy bit paranoid.
Tonight after class, I walked out to my car, got in, started it up, and started to drive off. Then I heard a sharp, metallic "tappa-tappa-tappa-tappa" from the passenger side. Gulp. I slowly looked over. Nothing. I checked the back seat. Nothing. I made sure the doors were locked. (They were.) I started the journey home again, a bit more quickly this time.
More tapping, more urgent - "Tappatappatappatappatappa!"
Me, mentally - "I'm-so-sorry-sir-if-you-want-my-four-door-mom-car-with-the-factory-speakers-
here-go-ahead-and-take-it!!!"
I proverbially screeched to an actual halt. This set off a "TAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPA!"
At this point, I realized what it was. Ice from the beverage I'd had earlier was clinking against the side of my shiny new travel mug that I'd stuck in the cupholder on the passenger side. It was chilly enough to keep all of the ice from melting...but warm enough that my drink hadn't frozen solid, for the first time in several months.
To-dos: drop paranoia. Clean out car.
Tonight after class, I walked out to my car, got in, started it up, and started to drive off. Then I heard a sharp, metallic "tappa-tappa-tappa-tappa" from the passenger side. Gulp. I slowly looked over. Nothing. I checked the back seat. Nothing. I made sure the doors were locked. (They were.) I started the journey home again, a bit more quickly this time.
More tapping, more urgent - "Tappatappatappatappatappa!"
Me, mentally - "I'm-so-sorry-sir-if-you-want-my-four-door-mom-car-with-the-factory-speakers-
here-go-ahead-and-take-it!!!"
I proverbially screeched to an actual halt. This set off a "TAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPA!"
At this point, I realized what it was. Ice from the beverage I'd had earlier was clinking against the side of my shiny new travel mug that I'd stuck in the cupholder on the passenger side. It was chilly enough to keep all of the ice from melting...but warm enough that my drink hadn't frozen solid, for the first time in several months.
To-dos: drop paranoia. Clean out car.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Did I stop too soon?
This post was partially inspired by the following conversation with my mom:
Mom: "What mascara are you using now?"
Me: "I dunno...I never remember the names of them. Partly because they're always named Super Triple Extra-Length Amazing Volume Stupendosity, or something like that."
But seriously - maybe I gave up on copywriting too soon. Maybe instead of writing ads for tractors, I should have gotten a job just naming stuff. Which made me think of Mitch Hedberg's take on this:
“I want to get a job as someone who names kitchen appliances. Toaster, refrigerator, blender.... all you do is say what the shit does, and add "er". I wanna work for the Kitchen Appliance Naming Institute. Hey, what does that do? It keeps shit fresh. Well, that's a fresher....I'm going on break.”
Yeah. That job would be perfect.
Mom: "What mascara are you using now?"
Me: "I dunno...I never remember the names of them. Partly because they're always named Super Triple Extra-Length Amazing Volume Stupendosity, or something like that."
But seriously - maybe I gave up on copywriting too soon. Maybe instead of writing ads for tractors, I should have gotten a job just naming stuff. Which made me think of Mitch Hedberg's take on this:
“I want to get a job as someone who names kitchen appliances. Toaster, refrigerator, blender.... all you do is say what the shit does, and add "er". I wanna work for the Kitchen Appliance Naming Institute. Hey, what does that do? It keeps shit fresh. Well, that's a fresher....I'm going on break.”
Yeah. That job would be perfect.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Me-OW
This is kind of how I feel right now. I am NOT going to get sick again. To do today:
1. Down another gallon of OJ. (Yes, that does imply that I have already downed one gallon of it...delicious!)
2. Take a nap.
3. Intermix napping and OJ with oil of oregano, that magical, natural, anti-microbial elixir.
P.S. To the girl in my class who left her lungs on the desk behind me Wednesday - it's NURSING school. No one will be mad if you're sick and skip class. In fact, we will applaud you.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Tainted Love
If I were describing a dating relationship, you would tell me to get out now. You see, we take each other for granted. One of us leaves, or we tell the other one to leave. I've ended it twice. And both times, I've gone back, asking for another chance. Not only does this relationship leave me physically sore, and feeling somewhat soulless, it also controls what I wear and who I spend time with.
I'm talking about my relationship with...The Cheesecake Factory.
I've gotten new jobs twice. The first time, I didn't even start. The shirts at New Job Number One had a rhinestone logo, and the place reeked of cigarette smoke and meat. (It wasn't a frat bar. It was a steak place in Leawood.)
I actually started New Job Number Two, but quit three days in, after:
1. Spending eight hours a day in training without sufficiently going over table numbers or the menu.
2. Being asked to serve a lunch shift while being followed by a trainer without sufficiently going over table numbers or a menu.
3. Being asked to spend several hours at night memorizing asinine facts about the menu, including all fourteen ingredients in the chicken salad. (Which, if you're curious, are dijon mustard, yellow mustard, salt, pepper, basil, oregano, red onion, green onion, worcestershire sauce, garlic, parsley, and red wine vinegar, apples, and walnuts. I would assume there's also some chicken in there somewhere.) You may assume that this would constitute going over the menu, but (perhaps not surprisingly) people usually don't ask how many ounces of dijon mustard are in the chicken salad.
4. Coming to the realization that there appeared to be only one other female who served in the restaurant.
5. Being told that women usually didn't make it at that particular restaurant.
6. Being told that we were not allowed to request time off but instead were responsible for finding someone to cover our shifts.
7. Having a phone conversation after the third day wherein the other party stated that at least I hadn't fallen on my face. I remembered after this comment that no, while I had not fallen on my face, I had slipped on the kitchen floor and managed to bruise both knees, my right elbow, and my right glute. (Don't ask.) Thing is, I had completely forgotten about falling because it was not actually the worst part of the day.
So anyway. Here I am. Still at the Cheese. One day, I hope to break the cycle. For now, I will continue to wear white pants, and be sure my guests realize the tea is a mango flavor. Did anyone save room for dessert?
I'm talking about my relationship with...The Cheesecake Factory.
I've gotten new jobs twice. The first time, I didn't even start. The shirts at New Job Number One had a rhinestone logo, and the place reeked of cigarette smoke and meat. (It wasn't a frat bar. It was a steak place in Leawood.)
I actually started New Job Number Two, but quit three days in, after:
1. Spending eight hours a day in training without sufficiently going over table numbers or the menu.
2. Being asked to serve a lunch shift while being followed by a trainer without sufficiently going over table numbers or a menu.
3. Being asked to spend several hours at night memorizing asinine facts about the menu, including all fourteen ingredients in the chicken salad. (Which, if you're curious, are dijon mustard, yellow mustard, salt, pepper, basil, oregano, red onion, green onion, worcestershire sauce, garlic, parsley, and red wine vinegar, apples, and walnuts. I would assume there's also some chicken in there somewhere.) You may assume that this would constitute going over the menu, but (perhaps not surprisingly) people usually don't ask how many ounces of dijon mustard are in the chicken salad.
4. Coming to the realization that there appeared to be only one other female who served in the restaurant.
5. Being told that women usually didn't make it at that particular restaurant.
6. Being told that we were not allowed to request time off but instead were responsible for finding someone to cover our shifts.
7. Having a phone conversation after the third day wherein the other party stated that at least I hadn't fallen on my face. I remembered after this comment that no, while I had not fallen on my face, I had slipped on the kitchen floor and managed to bruise both knees, my right elbow, and my right glute. (Don't ask.) Thing is, I had completely forgotten about falling because it was not actually the worst part of the day.
So anyway. Here I am. Still at the Cheese. One day, I hope to break the cycle. For now, I will continue to wear white pants, and be sure my guests realize the tea is a mango flavor. Did anyone save room for dessert?
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Best comment to a table, EVER.
I wait tables. Sometimes, it sucks. Today, I worked 13 hours. I did get a ten-minute break, though, and I got to go to the bathroom once, so maybe I shouldn't complain. My feet are the feet of an 80-year-old woman that have somehow attached themselves to my 27-year-old legs. A coworker, who was sharing a similar schedule (and similar feet) made the following comment to a lady at his table today:
Lady: "We have been waiting THIRTY MINUTES for our table!"
Co-worker: "I've been working for seven hours! I win!"
Lady: "We have been waiting THIRTY MINUTES for our table!"
Co-worker: "I've been working for seven hours! I win!"
Thursday, February 14, 2008
It happened one night...
Disclaimer: despite what you may think after reading this post, I am not on hallucinogenic drugs of any kind. That being said, take my hand, and venture with me into the wild world of Wednesday evening Philosophy class.
In addition to the disclaimer, I also need to preface this by saying that I will be referencing the girl who sits in front of me as Pickles. This is because last week, she brought a Pickle Pak to class and proceeded to eat sweet pickles for two hours straight. That is, until she knocked the Pak over, sending sweet pickle juice cascading over the desk and onto the floor. Fortunately, she was able to mop up...with her gloves...and then clamp the pickle-juice-covered gloves over the noses of her friends for the remaining forty minutes of class, causing them to squeal and recoil in disgust.
6:00 p.m. Class begins. Girl who had been pregnant comes in quite obviously not pregnant. Professor: "Wow! You must've had your baby! Are you sore?" Now, how exactly is New Mom supposed to answer this? She had a baby on Sunday. It's Wednesday. I've never had children, but as I see it, she has one of two possible responses:
1. "You'd be surprised, really - pushing something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon really isn't all that bad!"
2. "I sure am - that episiotomy was a real b*tch!"
Of course she's sore. But why are you asking?
6:05 p.m. Class commences. We continue adding to our list of "Things to Get Off The Moral Hook, Spring 2008." The premise: come up with reasons that we are not morally responsible for hitting a small child with a car. Included in the list so far: "My prosthetic leg got jammed under the brake pedal." "I was high and thought the kid was a monster." "I'm driving Christine."
6:27 p.m. Pickles pulls out a can of pineapple and a spoon and starts a-snackin'.
6:42 p.m. Pickles wraps up dinner and commences cleaning out her hairbrush, dropping wads of hair on the floor.
7:00 p.m. A discussion on our responsibility to vote begins. Professor Bill points out that the voting machines are all made by one company with ties to a certain political party, and the possibility exists that they operate a master control somewhere.
7:16 p.m. A strangled scream comes out of the heater vent next to me. I think it's the guy one classroom over being exceptionally animated. I THINK.
7:31 p.m. Professor Bill launches in to a detailed synopsis of Moby Dick.
7:33 p.m. Professor Bill wants to know if we know the first and last lines of Moby Dick. The first line? "Call me Ishmael." The last line, according to him? "Call me fish meal."
7:39 p.m. Wrap up synopsis of Moby Dick and begin synopsis of The Neverending Story. When Professor Bill begins talking about Fantastica needing a hero, he does a little leap and bursts into a rendition of Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero." With arm motions. (There is no way I could make this up. I'm not that good.)
7:42 p.m. Weird noise from the heater vent again.
8:03 p.m. Pickles pulls a wad of hot-pink Silly Putty out of her bag, fashions it into eyeballs, and affixes them to her glasses, where they remain for the better part of ten minutes.
8:22 p.m. More strangled screams. I begin to think that someone is actually being tortured in the ductwork.
8:39 p.m. Professor Bill wraps up class with the following statement: "In order to be a moral agent, you must be convinced of your moral responsibility. Chickens might be moral agents, but until you get more evidence, I'm not buying into it."
8:40 p.m. Another day in Philosophy draws to a close.
In addition to the disclaimer, I also need to preface this by saying that I will be referencing the girl who sits in front of me as Pickles. This is because last week, she brought a Pickle Pak to class and proceeded to eat sweet pickles for two hours straight. That is, until she knocked the Pak over, sending sweet pickle juice cascading over the desk and onto the floor. Fortunately, she was able to mop up...with her gloves...and then clamp the pickle-juice-covered gloves over the noses of her friends for the remaining forty minutes of class, causing them to squeal and recoil in disgust.
6:00 p.m. Class begins. Girl who had been pregnant comes in quite obviously not pregnant. Professor: "Wow! You must've had your baby! Are you sore?" Now, how exactly is New Mom supposed to answer this? She had a baby on Sunday. It's Wednesday. I've never had children, but as I see it, she has one of two possible responses:
1. "You'd be surprised, really - pushing something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon really isn't all that bad!"
2. "I sure am - that episiotomy was a real b*tch!"
Of course she's sore. But why are you asking?
6:05 p.m. Class commences. We continue adding to our list of "Things to Get Off The Moral Hook, Spring 2008." The premise: come up with reasons that we are not morally responsible for hitting a small child with a car. Included in the list so far: "My prosthetic leg got jammed under the brake pedal." "I was high and thought the kid was a monster." "I'm driving Christine."
6:27 p.m. Pickles pulls out a can of pineapple and a spoon and starts a-snackin'.
6:42 p.m. Pickles wraps up dinner and commences cleaning out her hairbrush, dropping wads of hair on the floor.
7:00 p.m. A discussion on our responsibility to vote begins. Professor Bill points out that the voting machines are all made by one company with ties to a certain political party, and the possibility exists that they operate a master control somewhere.
7:16 p.m. A strangled scream comes out of the heater vent next to me. I think it's the guy one classroom over being exceptionally animated. I THINK.
7:31 p.m. Professor Bill launches in to a detailed synopsis of Moby Dick.
7:33 p.m. Professor Bill wants to know if we know the first and last lines of Moby Dick. The first line? "Call me Ishmael." The last line, according to him? "Call me fish meal."
7:39 p.m. Wrap up synopsis of Moby Dick and begin synopsis of The Neverending Story. When Professor Bill begins talking about Fantastica needing a hero, he does a little leap and bursts into a rendition of Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero." With arm motions. (There is no way I could make this up. I'm not that good.)
7:42 p.m. Weird noise from the heater vent again.
8:03 p.m. Pickles pulls a wad of hot-pink Silly Putty out of her bag, fashions it into eyeballs, and affixes them to her glasses, where they remain for the better part of ten minutes.
8:22 p.m. More strangled screams. I begin to think that someone is actually being tortured in the ductwork.
8:39 p.m. Professor Bill wraps up class with the following statement: "In order to be a moral agent, you must be convinced of your moral responsibility. Chickens might be moral agents, but until you get more evidence, I'm not buying into it."
8:40 p.m. Another day in Philosophy draws to a close.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Why study when I can blog about the weekend?
Last weekend, I got to escape the frigid plains of Kansas and hop a plane to sunny L.A.Despite my arrival at an insanely early hour, Andrew oh-so-cheerfully picked me up at the airport and we commenced spending the Perfect Weekend together. Granted, the Perfect Weekend mostly consisted of homework, but it was really fantastic to be doing homework where the distance between us was the length of the coffee table, instead of the length of most of Kansas, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada. Just to give you a glimpse of what life in California is like (and to reassure all of you Midwesterners that yes, 80-degree weather will indeed come again someday...) I've included some photos. Note: I've also included a photo of Andrew and I for everyone who keeps asking who this Andrew person is, anyway. Note II: I did not suddenly become insanely talented with a camera. All photos by Andrew Johnson.
No, this is not a postcard.
Look, Mom! No mittens! No shoes either, for that matter.
Yes, it really was this idyllic.
Meet Andrew! (Confession: I think we're cute.)
Thursday, February 7, 2008
I think I'm done pouting now.
Note to self - don't blog while tired. The world tends to look better after 8 hours of sleep and a cup of green tea.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Leftovers
I've been completely emotional lately for no reason whatsoever. I feel unsettled, off-center, whatever you want to call it. The problem is, it's not consistent - I can deal with feeling consistently one way or another, but I go back and forth between being pretty content and being completely, totally sad.
I think it has something to do with being back in school after such a great break - and not only am I back in school, I'm at Real Actual Nursing School instead of just at small friendly JuCo, and it's a different atmosphere. I also think it has something to do with feeling like I never see people anymore - I spent so much time over break with so many people I love, and now I feel like I bounce between class, work, and homework with no time to do anything else but sleep. I also think it's partly that I feel like I don't know anyone well enough to be real yet - I mean, sure, we spend six hours a day together, but it's not exactly like I'm going to be anything but cheerful.
I think I just need some time to get used to everything. Maybe? Is that it? What's going on?
It makes me think of something New Friend Ben said in class today - "Drama is kind of like Chinese food. It's OK sometimes, but not very often, and you definitely don't want it sitting in your fridge."
I need to clean out the fridge.
I think it has something to do with being back in school after such a great break - and not only am I back in school, I'm at Real Actual Nursing School instead of just at small friendly JuCo, and it's a different atmosphere. I also think it has something to do with feeling like I never see people anymore - I spent so much time over break with so many people I love, and now I feel like I bounce between class, work, and homework with no time to do anything else but sleep. I also think it's partly that I feel like I don't know anyone well enough to be real yet - I mean, sure, we spend six hours a day together, but it's not exactly like I'm going to be anything but cheerful.
I think I just need some time to get used to everything. Maybe? Is that it? What's going on?
It makes me think of something New Friend Ben said in class today - "Drama is kind of like Chinese food. It's OK sometimes, but not very often, and you definitely don't want it sitting in your fridge."
I need to clean out the fridge.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Be not of those who doubt.
My biggest challenge in relationships has always been jealousy. Initially I thought it started in college, when my first "real" relationship ended after a planned camping trip was canceled early due to rain, resulting in a late-night visit to a boyfriend's house. This visit culminated with me walking in on him in bed with a girl whose name I will not mention here, though I still remember it, and her, as vividly as I remember the feeling of complete and total betrayal. When it comes up, I've always told this story with a twisted sort of amused self-deprecation, as if I didn't really mind, and as if the memory of that night doesn't cause my stomach to twist a little even now.
I've carried those feelings of betrayal and jealousy into every relationship I've had since then, always expecting that any sentence that begins with "I love you," will surely be followed by "but ________."
I wonder sometimes if this insecurity blanket that I carry with me goes back to my childhood, to the weeks when mom was gone on business trips and dad would wonder aloud what she was doing, or if she would come back. I wonder if it has to do with knowing that sometimes dad would search for nonexistent clues that mom was cheating, or if it's due to the fact that I realized before I turned ten that at least for my parents, "I love you" did not mean, "I love you and the person you are because you are independent of who I am, and I love the life that our separateness will enable us to build together." Instead, "I love you" implied possession, control, suspicion, and ultimately, failure and loss.
I am determined to fail. And I will lose. I am determined to fail to perpetuate this cycle. I will lose the feelings of jealousy and suspicion that have tainted former relationships. I refuse to hurt those I love by applying past behaviors to current situations.
I've been using a journal as part of my periods of prayer and meditation for some time, and two phrases are beginning to establish themselves as a clear theme.
Be not of those who doubt.
Act as if.
Clearly, negative associations from former relationships can no longer apply. Further, acting as though I must protect myself from being hurt may do just that - but it will most certainly prevent me from realizing the complete happiness that comes from being willing to trust. I will focus on accepting, learning from, and letting go of past experiences. I will make wise choices in the future. I will choose not to wallow in the past, or fear being hurt again. And I will believe that the Divine Someone who has planned everything to this point has also planned everything that is sure to follow. Because His vision is far superior to mine, I am giving up. I cede my desire to control to His ability to do so.
I will not be of those who doubt.
I've carried those feelings of betrayal and jealousy into every relationship I've had since then, always expecting that any sentence that begins with "I love you," will surely be followed by "but ________."
I wonder sometimes if this insecurity blanket that I carry with me goes back to my childhood, to the weeks when mom was gone on business trips and dad would wonder aloud what she was doing, or if she would come back. I wonder if it has to do with knowing that sometimes dad would search for nonexistent clues that mom was cheating, or if it's due to the fact that I realized before I turned ten that at least for my parents, "I love you" did not mean, "I love you and the person you are because you are independent of who I am, and I love the life that our separateness will enable us to build together." Instead, "I love you" implied possession, control, suspicion, and ultimately, failure and loss.
I am determined to fail. And I will lose. I am determined to fail to perpetuate this cycle. I will lose the feelings of jealousy and suspicion that have tainted former relationships. I refuse to hurt those I love by applying past behaviors to current situations.
I've been using a journal as part of my periods of prayer and meditation for some time, and two phrases are beginning to establish themselves as a clear theme.
Be not of those who doubt.
Act as if.
Clearly, negative associations from former relationships can no longer apply. Further, acting as though I must protect myself from being hurt may do just that - but it will most certainly prevent me from realizing the complete happiness that comes from being willing to trust. I will focus on accepting, learning from, and letting go of past experiences. I will make wise choices in the future. I will choose not to wallow in the past, or fear being hurt again. And I will believe that the Divine Someone who has planned everything to this point has also planned everything that is sure to follow. Because His vision is far superior to mine, I am giving up. I cede my desire to control to His ability to do so.
I will not be of those who doubt.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
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