and she's loving him with that body I just know it

Dlink was a tease and has vacated our apartment.

And I'm reminded of my life before constant wifi. A life with dial up connections and bulky landline phones and waiting forever for pictures to load over emails. Waiting until someone got home to talk to them. Getting into hopelessly lost situations. Eavesdropping on telephone conversations from a line in a different room. Playing in sunshine. Not quantifying friendships with numbers. Talking face to face. Actual underground bands. Handwritten letters. With stamps. And barely legible handwriting. And salutations and signatures with ink. Photos you can hold. Having to invent your own solutions instead of using Google. Encyclopedias. Physical dictionaries. Tangible games. Horses and Buggies. Leeches as medical devices. Dirty hands. Corsets and breeches and lilted accents. Grazing the void. Grazing at the void. Gazing at it. Skirting it. Saaaaaaaaand castles.

Crispy. Hypocritical. The secret love affair of the people who live above you. Scrupulous. Bacon. Culture. Provocative.

That last paragraph was Shawna spewing words at me. Feel free to psychoanalyze her and send me a report. Yes yes.

but talk to you...we're all alright

I had a successful internet hunt tonight! It's name is dlink and it is unlocked and semi-reliable. I'm having serious flashbacks of driving around Texan neighborhoods at night, and parking in front of houses with unlocked internet connections to "borrow." There's got to be a word for that, and I'm sure it's not flattering.

i feel i must interject here

Emma Catherine, my (debatably) faithfullest reader, has also taken on the role of feeder. Blog feeder to be precise. Aujourd'hui, she sent me a link to a video of Swedish phrases translated into English. They include the following:

–My children are watching my land mine
–A whale only has one option
–The corpse looks like another corpse
–Oh my god! Here is Mr. Hermansson imitating the wonderful ermine called Herman
–What is happening to my hands? (Van hander med mida hander)(yes, thought that might be useful)
–Detergent for the flagstaff knob
–The dusy lady was silly in the pond
–Well then, now Siv can reach the tin
–A soul has a reason for stealing a piece of chocolate


Favorites? I really like the Hermansson one.

Now I have a very specific vocabulary for my voyage. I think perhaps I shall write a short story incorporating the previous phrases. A very serious, melo-dramatic story. yes. Shall I put it up on here? Perhaps. Though I think the knowledge that such a story exists should equally enrich lives.

**

Facebook Find: Today's FF was a status and a few subsequent comments.

My first nude sighting this morning over amazing pastries and Kenyan coffee. ah Denmark!

(3 people like this)

Comment 1:: Gross!
2: hahahha...i'm so excited for scandanavian nudity. bring it!
3: Ya, I was trying to decide if I should visit Stockholm during the summer or winter...white Christmas or, um, golden summer?
6) Which was better- the pastries & coffee - or the nude sighting? hope you are having a good time! luv u, Aunt M
10) You're watching nudies while you eat heavenly-foretaste pastries from the comfort of your balcony? Why did I leave Europe? What a boring land I've come to.

**

I recently found a list I began compiling a couple years ago of a few of my friends' irrational fears and pet peeves.

Pet Peeves highlights: Bad Powerpoint presentations, ACs that are too cold

Irrational fears have always interested me. Imagine if every time a car alarm went off you freaked out that it was your car. Or if you developed anatidaephobia (see cartoon). I mean noone would understand that. They'd probably tell you that ducks are harmless. But why is it watching you???

Or if you had an irrational fear of developing an irrational fear.

**

FML Friday: Today, I realized that when my boyfriend said "I'll love you forever" what he really meant was "I'll love you until I meet your significantly more attractive sister" FML

Write a book about that, Stephenie Meyer.

Quote of the Day:

" 'I'm exceedingly ignorant.'
The young man laughed and bowed. 'I am honored!; he said. 'I've lived here three years, but haven't yet acquired enough ignorance to be worth mentioning.'
...I managed to recollect enough scraps of Handdara lore to realize that I had been boasting, very much as if I'd come up to him and said, 'I'm exceedingly handsome.' "

–The Left Hand of Darkness

**

Life Advice: Truth doesn't change from moment to moment. Impressions do.
Oh, and living life like all song lyrics are true could create problems. Abstractly, naturally.

Today's Funky Word: is dedicated to my friend Edmund.
Deipnosophist : A master of dinner-table conversation.

don't go out into the rain, you're gonna melt, sugar

Wake up in the morning with a head like 'what you done?'

I never really respected Picasso until I saw some of his earlier works, including very detailed, realistic pencil sketches and paintings. When I saw these and realized that he had mastered realism before choosing/evolving into cubism, I accepted his later work with a newfound appreciation. It's still hard for me to really accept certain "modern" pieces that I feel are within my grasp both creatively and technically. Leave that to the utilitarians.

So yes, I prefer my artists to have technical abilities as well as creativity. Hopefully it's clear I'm not implying that cubism has no technicality, because it does. In Picasso's case, I simply admire the fact that he had complete control over what he was doing before he did his nutso paintings.

**

I took a Philosophy of Aesthetics class junior year. The teacher was a young redhead who sat, barefoot, on a table in front of the class, leading discussions on true beauty and Plato and Welles and artist intent and form.

The discussion inevitably wandered to the idea of copies of art being inferior to the original, which was fascinating. (One of our books was filled with thought experiments on the philosophy of aesthetics – breathing new and weird life into it.)

After some thought, I have decided that I am decidedly proletariat in the way I experience art. While I love museums, and mentally note the difference in seeing original pieces – Dali, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, these are all fabulous – I enjoy copies almost as much. Especially copies which are identical (ie. same materials used, etc.) Even if I were incredibly wealthy, I would be content with/prefer owning copies to owning originals. There is possibly something off in my brain, that I would settle for this secondary experience. But I am content in my contentment.

Today's Quote: “Unlike in music, there are no child prodigies in painting. What people regard as premature genius is the genius of childhood. It gradually disappears as they get older. It is possible for such a child to become a real painter one day, perhaps even a great painter. But he would have to start right from the beginning. So far as I am concerned, I did not have that genius. My first drawings could never have been shown at an exhibition of children’s drawings. I lacked the clumsiness of a child, his naivety. I made academic drawings at the age of seven, the minute precision of which frightened me.” -- Picasso.


I found this thought fascinating. Especially the last line – at age seven he was so self-aware that his actions could frighten him.

**

Boredom is a funny thing. I have known several people who have claimed to have either never experienced the feeling, or have only experienced it once or rarely. (On a side note, I really like the idea of ennui. Great concept.) Concerning this topic, I honestly relate with these people much more than others. Boredom is almost completely illogical to me. Dissatisfaction, certainly. Laziness, definitely. Helplessness, understandable. But boredom?

There is always, always something to be done. And when there is nothing to be done, there is always someone to talk/be with. And if the previous selections are unsavory, there will always be more knowledge than can be retained in a lifetime, available at our fingertips. So, so many books to read.

**

I was talking to a friend tonight, who informed me that I have a lot to say and I have a lot of ideas. (It's always nice to be informed of these things:P). This assertion was based on the fact that I constantly blog. I don't necessarily disagree – I do have a lot to say (you think I'm verbose on here?), and I do have a lot of ideas (again, come talk to me) – but this blog is just a small outlet for some of them. I process through writing, which is nicely tangible.

Everybody has something to say. The key is tapping the right button to get them talking and hoping that it's a form of positive manipulation. Ah journalism. Ah life.

**

Facebook Finds: This is a new section I'm starting. Yes, it's similar to Lamebook, but it's not necessarily lame stuff I find. It will also be interesting/funny. Today's Facebook Find amused me greatly. It was a wall post between two friends that showed up on my newsfeed. (And honestly, if people don't want me to touch their posts, don't make them public. Especially if you're friends with me.)

"My mom decided that I, too, have the hand clams.
I thought now that I'm in the club, you would tell me all your clam avoiding secrets!!
Should I install pocket fans into all my pockets to dry my hands out in private?
Must I survive on a dry diet so that no moisture enters my body - dare it come out my hands?
...Do I simply hand people a neatly printed disclaimer explaining the constant state of my hands before shaking theirs?"

Oh, the joys of hyperhidrosis.

Life Lesson: Paper mache is always, always, always fulfilling.

**

I have rediscovered a new pet peeve. Pet peeves are actually a pet peeve of mine – mostly because I tend to show up on my friends' lists in one form or another, but also because long lists of peeves tend to perpetuate negativity.

But this one bothers me, has always bothered me, and doesn't seem to bother others: using the "out of his/her/my league" term, or saying that someone is "too good" for someone else. (And yes, this spiel has been hovering on the outskirts of my mind since the movie came out.)

Of course I understand that we aren't all equal, no matter what the constitution says. To bring up Dr. L's class again: One day we discussed what the ff's meant when they wrote that all men are created equal. "Look around you," Dr. L said, "Clearly we are not all created equal." One girl's response worked for me: "We are not all equal in functions and attributes, but we are all equal in value."

So, yes, some people are better looking or more impressive socially than others, but to stick people in "leagues" is dehumanizing and, in my opinion, disheartening. It also implies more of a value judgment on their whole self, rather than one aspect. Same with "you're too good for her/him" or "she could have done better." Really, what kind of a thing is that to say? Is it really okay to place a value judgment on someone's worth? Slamming people with words, in their face or behind their backs, leaves little room for improvement and creates self-fulfilling prophecies.

"Words are living powers, not merely articulated air." (Coleridge).

I understand that most of the time, using this type of language isn't intentional. Most of the language/words used around me isn't. Including my own.

**

Youtube recommended a video for me because I've been 'learning' Swedish. I thought it was pretty funny. The top comment on this video was "We're like Astronauts." I also thought that was pretty funny.

better luck next time, maybe we could have a go

Does knowledge breed tolerance? Truly evil acts are only committed via extremely detailed information – but is that knowledge?

JTB?

The truth will set you free. Interesting.

**

Yesterday I visited the interactive 100 Pounds of Clay exhibit at the Orange County Museum of Art. Basically a sculptor placed 100 pieces of heavy, colored clay on separate stands. The viewer is invited to take a piece, create something, and replace it.

I highly recommend the experience. It was very...tangible.

**

Also at the museum was a collection of photography ranging from Ansel Adams to Andy Warhol. This included 1970's photography by Robert Heinecken (who doesn't appear to be on Wikipedia, so I'm not sure he actually exists). Phase one of Heinecken's photos were of smiling, happy couples dressed identically. Phase two was of the same couples – still smiling –in similar, but not identical clothing. Both sets of photos were surrounded by words -- the explanation of a marriage experiment that he had photographed, which, again, I'm not certain actually occurred.

Basically the experiment was an attempt to improve marriages by creating a sense of unity/teamwork. The hypothesis was that the American divorce rate was so high because couples were constantly being pulled in opposite directions and involved in separate activities. The solution? Isolate them with a bunch of other struggling couples and stick them in identical clothing to create a sense of unity.

Apparently this worked so well that upon reentry, many of the couples had a hard time readjusting to "normal" clothing. Hence phase 2 of the photos: couples in similar but not identical clothing, trying to wean themselves off of their unified clothing fix.

I'm still not sure if this was documented reality, a satire, or a thought.

**

I once heard an acquaintance described like this:

"She's the type of person that if everybody in the world actually became a little more like her, the world would honestly be a better place."

I believe this to be true about my father.

**

I'm thinking of making a list of banned mirrors in my life. It might be easier to make a list of approved ones, though. The topper of that list is our sink mirror – it is spacious, specious, and makes everyone look like Princess Di.

**

Quote of the Day:

Sally: I have just as much of a dark side as the next person.
Harry: Oh, really? When I buy a new book, I read the last page first. That way, in case I die before I finish, I know how it ends. That, my friend, is a dark side.

People who skim novels drive me a little crazy. So do people who read the end first, though that possibly stems from a traumatic childhood experience.

**

My sisters went to the public part of the royal wedding in Sweden. Princess Victoria married her personal trainer who she met at the gym. Below is a picture of crowds waiting for a glimpse. (courtesy of Hannah Stewart). I can't decide if I would rather be the royalty who finds love in the most bourgeois of places, or the random towns person who serendipitously falls for the heir of a country.

'cause i see the trust in their eyes (though the sky is falling)

Yesterday, I was reading a children's book series with Katie. (Around a 3rd grade age level.) I was appalled – no I'm not exaggerating – to find that because the book was from the 1st person POV of an eight year old, the author thought it would be appropriate to use atrocious grammar to create a sense of realism. In the narration, not dialogue.

Why was this appalling? Because every single adverb had been switched to an adjective.
"Our hands didn't fit together good" "I sat quick" etc. Every single one. On almost every page. How is a child supposed to develop an ear for writing, language, speaking, if children's books are speaking down to them?

It reminds me of a Moreland book I read freshman year. He said that to expand his mind, he would often read books much higher than his intellectual ability in order to stretch himself. This developed his vocabulary and his conceptual faculty. Of course, yanni, there are books that will stretch minds in other ways – or simply provide entertainment and distraction. (I have a friend who reads the entire Harry Potter series after breakups because they are light enough to easily distract, but heavy enough to immerse in.)

Seriously though, what you put in is often what comes out. As Mike Warnke says "Eat fat, greasy food, become a fat, greasy dude." Same with reading.

So why are we destroying our children with questionable writing? My roommate Rebekah took a class on Children's Lit. for her elementary ed. degree. She read a wide spectrum of children's books – young children's books – and told me that the books from 40, 50, 100 years ago were much more intellectual than the children's books of today. They were often layered plots with high vocabulary (sprinkled in, not constantly). Look at Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, etc.

No, not all children's books need to blow minds; some of them are there to simply encourage practicing reading. Fine. They can be simple, fun, and amusing, without eroding young minds by purposefully using bad grammar.

**

Junior year I took an aerobics class with my roommate Christine, who, after 10+ years of ballet, is flexible like Gumby and coordinated like Beckham. I'm more along the lines of the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. Before oil.

The instructor loved using Christine as an example for the class. But she also loved me, because although I was constantly flailing and failing, I was failing with a smile. That and my mismatched, colorful socks – she labeled me as creative because of them. Christine said they were a product of my laziness when doing laundry.

Even the silliest things have a million causes. Some people like to find the biggest, most directly linked reason, and cling to it like Saran Wrap. Others like to examine every single possible impact, and try to assign them accurate weight. My problem with considering every possibility/plausibility, is that I often impose issues that aren't actually there. Some people are extremely influenced by the power of suggestion. That's why I watch LOST. It's always focused, clear, and thoroughly expunged of hints.

**

Quote of the Day: I have never met a person I could despair of, or lose all hope for, after discerning what lies in me apart from the grace of God.
– Oswald Chambers

like a ragged soldier catching butterflies

This is post 100. My centennial post, as it were.

So I'm sharing a clip from the fantastic Freaks and Geeks.



I love them. So much.

i'm not a present for your friends to open

Today it hit me that I'm leaving for Sweden in a month and have an entirely Southern Californian wardrobe (with the occasional remnant from a childhood in the Middle East.) I'm not talking fashion here, I'm talking warmth, sunshine, heat.

My current plan? Use my wardrobe as an excuse to stay indoors on horrid, freezing days. It's not that I don't like the cold – I actually really enjoy drizzly, rainy, overcast days. There's something artistic about the sky becoming moody. But I like these days to be spaced out for better appreciation. When it rained in Oman (a couple times a year during winter), teachers would let us out to go play in the rain. In high school. So yes, I prefer my chilly weather as a rare treat like sushi...not cereal.

And then I tend to try and pull the whole "mind over matter" thing and will myself not to be cold. Even if my teeth are chattering, my nose is numb, and my arm hairs look like they're about to march into battle, I will deny being cold – and in my head I'm not. I'm a little worried that if Sweden is constantly freezing (which it is – its summer temperatures are what I'm used to during winter), I will eventually have to a) confront reality and realize that I get cold or b) sink irreparably into my delusion – which I mostly wouldn't mind except I like having the option to visit reality. (Choices and all that.) Also, I might get frostbite or something.

Anyways, while I'm on the subject, Sweden is home to the world's largest (and only) ICE HOTEL. It melts and is rebuilt every year. This reminds me of Roald Dahl's description of a chocolate hotel. Or was it Paulo Coelho?

**

I went to Walmart to get my passport photos done. My current passport is about two years old, but as of August I will no longer be a dependent of my father, which means I lost my diplomatic passport. And immunity. I never even got to properly exploit it. Sigh.

Anyways, the passport guy was this mid-thirties scowling fellow with wonderfully deadpan sarcasm. (Or what I seriously hope was sarcasm.)

He abruptly told me to push the hair out of my face and look up. Not up at him, but up into the air. He then told me to stop smiling because they wouldn't accept it. Naturally, the minute he told me to stop smiling, I burst into laughter, and he lowered the camera glaring at me. (Apparently it's easier for some people...). I quickly tried to straighten my face, but the corners of my mouth kept climbing, and I ended up with a really awkward "I'm trying to stop smiling and I really don't think this is that funny but I can't help it and I hope I don't look ridiculous" look on my face – while I was looking up as though I was about to be raptured. (Add that element to my expression.)

During some point of my inner struggle, and after telling me to "stop looking like a terrorist," he snapped the photo. I, of course, was a little nervous, and asked to see the image that I would be stuck with on countless voyages over the next ten years.

He told me not to worry about it because only two people would ever be seeing it; him and the airport dude. I told him that a whole ton of airport people were going to see it, and I'd really rather have a look. Reluctantly he let me glance at it for a couple of seconds.

**

I Skyped with my younger sister today, who is currently paving the way for me in Sweden. She said it was really strange to live in a place where you looked like the locals, but weren't one. Apparently she has to avoid saying "Hey" back to people because in Swedish "Hey" means "Hi" and then they assume you know the language.

After this conversation I realized that I will be experiencing a completely different cultural phenomenon in Sweden. Growing up, I always stuck out as a non-native, and there was always an immediate understanding/label based purely on my appearance. Moving to the States was strange because I looked and talked like everyone else, and the differences were all on the inside. In Europe, I will look like everyone else, but not actually be one of them.

And people think my identity issues stem from acting. :P

**

I have a friend who is currently deciding between getting a subscription to Vogue or The Economist. This is why I love my friends.

**

I love the Bible. It's like Harry Potter – every time you read it, you get a million new things out of the same words. (Okay, mostly I made that comparison to scandalize my readers...) I remember in high school, trying to explain why I was trying to live by certain Biblical principles, and my friends pointing out that it was an ancient text and not applicable to modern day. I disagree. But I digress.

David never gets old to me. He spent whole life building morals and ideas for them to be shot in a minute: in that one moment he became so irrational that he simply ignored years of experience and life standards. I used to slightly judge him. David and Jonah and Gideon. I always figured that if God spoke directly into my life, there was no way I would ignore it. I also thought that I would always be perfectly logical in important situations. There were human elements that I hadn't experienced and didn't fully understand. I was young and extremely principled. I still am.

FML Friday (Yes, I realize it's Tuesday.): "Today, I was watching a movie with my sister, my roommate, and my girlfriend. Half way through the movie, my girlfriend left the room and texted me that she was breaking up with me. She then came back in the room, sat on my bed, and enjoyed the rest of the movie with us. FML"

Best Video in the World:

somebody spoke and i went into a dream

Today 9-year-old Christian asked me what puberty was. I restrained the urge to be sarcastic, avoidant, or really really mean. Instead I explained that it was what happens when you start to become an adult. "For example," I said, "Your voice will change. It will start sounding like this," I did an (in my opinion) accurate impression of said voice change. He laughed hysterically and for the rest of the afternoon randomly shouted "Puberty!" and burst into manic laughter. Yes. This is my life.

Anyways this incident reminded me of Louis, Emma Cole's pre-pubescent alter ego who made frequent appearances in our apartment for a while. I miss him. Evie, Emma Cole's insanely angry and violent driving personality, I miss less. Mostly because she was less humorous (but only fractionally.) I had about four different personalities in high school which I enjoyed randomly inhabiting, not including the confused transitional one that I used when I switched between personalities "Who am I? What is all this?" My friends encouraged me in these activities – in fact I have always had friends who have encouraged some pretty bizarre stuff. (Of course I am easily encouraged.) My brother calls them "Siobhan friends" or something along those lines, and says I always manage to find them.

**

Brian had some pretty interesting homework excuses today. "I didn't do my homework because my neighbor attacked me...and then a tree fell into my house."

And then there was Jessica's wonderful writing entry:

Word: Imminent
Definition: Hanging threateningly over one's head
Sentence: He imminented her from head to toe.

I think possibly she decided that if she managed to get one of the words in the definition into her sentence, she was doing all right. I changed the description to something along the lines of studying for an imminent test, but I kind of liked the original definition. It was almost poetic. Almost.

Today I also discovered that laptops need to breathe and if you consistently cover their vents by using them on soft surfaces for several years, they will DIE. I thought this seemed like important information to share.

On the T9 setting on phones, my name typed in comes out as phobia until it's added into the dictionary. This makes me feel strange.

Today's Article is about the cheeseburger cat website people. I thought it was pretty neat that they were willing to take a financial risk on something they believed in.

I have an uncle who guzzles self-help books that range from liver cleansing to internet entrepreneurial endeavors. Every time I visit him, he is incredibly enthusiastic about a new scheme.

This is the same uncle who gave me a vegetable high. Literally, he made me a vegetable drink (by shoving a bunch of vegetable into an awesome squeezer) and the drink brought me high and then dropped me low. Definitely a strange feeling. Definitely would do it again.

Speaking of relatives, my Auntie B has a fabulous blog which has kept me up to date on the goings on in Boerne, Texas. One of my favorite posts of hers is about the pool I've swum in most summers for the past 10 years. It's been through a lot.

**
Today I met a personality that I had never encountered before. Okay, I'm not being ridiculous – I understand that people are like snowflakes and no two of us are the same, etc. But snowflakes have general patterns they fall into, and so do people, so I'm often surprised when I meet someone who I struggle to easily place/read (even if it's just easily reading what they want me to read.) I like this sort of surprise. It's nice to be reminded that I don't have everything figured out, and that is absolutely fine.

**

I like natural light. It just feels...different. And it looks different. The Swedes are also fan of the sun. After working at The Chimes for a year, I became used to a naturally lit office environment. (Literally if someone flipped the light switch, our features editor would announce that the giant florescent lights in our room caused cancer, and switch them back off.)

So at the two subsequent office jobs I held, I would leave the lights off in my room and bask in rays from the window. At the Embassy in Egypt, this occasionally perturbed my boss and coworkers, because, as they put it, "I keep forgetting you're here because the light is off." They also possibly found it strange that I sat in the room with lights off and classical music playing online in the background. It was peaceful, ignoring all the pacing and conversations and anxiety in the jarringly artificial florescent world just outside my door.

I never had enough work. I often sat there, over analyzing every detail of each task, trying to make them last longer, completely opposed to the idea of being paid for doing nothing or surfing the internet. I missed the rush of constant deadlines and unending issues to be dealt with at The Chimes. I felt much more overwhelmed with the free time than with the stacks of deadlines and unresponsive writers and unedited stories.

Funny old world, isn't it?

Word of the Day: Noctivagant. According to dictionary.com, it means "Pertaining to going about in the night; night-wandering."

and if i should falter

Thought I'd share some FMLs...


Today, my husband was playing Pokemon in bed. He hid the screen from himself and guessed the name of every pokemon encounter based on the sound of their cry. He got all 65 encounters right. This happens every night. FML

Today, I borrowed a novel about Sherlock Holmes from the library and detective novels are always my favorite. I turned a few pages to where characters are introduced. On one of the name, apparently someone circled and wrote "He is the murderer" right next to it. FML

Today, I was talking to a guy at school I had a crush on for a few months. When I asked him for his cell number, he sent me a 7-line math problem to figure out the last 4 digits. I couldn't solve it. FML

Today, my girlfriend's mom married my dad. Now I'm dating my step sister. FML

Today, I met my boyfriend's parents for the first time. His stepmother is my former psychiatrist. She knows every single unflattering detail of my past. FML

Today, I realized that I have serious talks with my dog about hogging the covers. FML

Today, the vet told me that my cat is too fat to clean her own butt after she uses the litter box. I'll have to do it for her. FML

Today, I realized that the only thing that's keeping my boyfriend and me together is the Harry Potter audiobook we started the other day. I don't want to move out before it's done. FML

Today, I found out that what happens in Vegas, stays on Facebook and bank statements. FML

Today, I returned home starved. After making a sandwich with the remaining food in the fridge, I decided to take a shower first before eating it. When I came out, I found my TV, laptop, all the phones and my car keys stolen. I had no way calling the police. Oh, and they ate my sandwich. FML

Today, during our daily commute to the college where my mother works and I attend, my mom decided to tell me all the things she thinks I'm doing wrong with my life, and un-invite me to lunch. As if it wasn't bad enough, she decided to say it all with an Irish accent for some reason. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. FML

Today, my husband and I went to dinner to celebrate our 1st anniversary. I mentioned that we'd never had a single fight. Now, I'm sleeping in the living room and we aren't talking. We got into a fight about if we had ever fought before. FML

Today, I was playing "Who wants to be a millionaire" on my iPhone. I finally made it to the million dollar question when I gave the wrong answer. I was so mad I lost. Then I realized it was the closest I ever came to achieving any of my goals in the past 4 years. FML

Now that you know I'm trapped; sense of elation

Today I quelled the fear that my blog fodder will dry up after leaving the tutoring center. I discovered that as long as I live with myself, there will be no shortage of moments to write about – and I have intermittently bleeding foot and swollen thumb to prove it.

**

But first, the latest BCLC update:

The children all have a weird mechanical pencil fetish. I don't know if I'm blocking this from my childhood memories, but I don't remember being obsessed with them. The pencil adulation has caused many loud moments "WHO HAS 0.5 LEAD???!!" and fights "Christian stole my pencil!" etc. So I shouldn't have been surprised when I brought in a mechanical green pencil and got nonstop comments and mini gatherings. Here's the kicker:

Christian (age 9): Where'd you get it from?
Me: My aunt.
Christian: (huge shock on his face) You still have an aunt!!?

I refrained from telling him that I, in fact, have all my aunts, and several great aunts.

And then two days ago I was placed in sole charge of the children because my boss had an event and my co-worker had nonstop personal tutoring sessions. This was also the day that my body decided it was sick of walking in the sun and I started flashing hot and cold like the menopausal mom on "That 70's show." My stomach decided to kick in with early scurvy symptoms – which really shouldn't have surprised me seeing as I always lost a few members to scurvy on Oregon Trail – possibly from eating really funky (non nutritious) food for several days. (My real life scurvy, that is. Not Oregon Trail.)

I slumped in my chair, threatening the miscreants with my cell phone ("If you don't sit down, I'm going to call Miss Esther) and trying to help 6-year-old Katie with her reading homework which she refused to do until I gave her a "birdy" – pouring water into her upturned mouth. Ashley kept wandering over and offering to tell me pointless stories (I'm being very literal) and then started stealing the other students' stuff for fun. During snack time I looked up to see Evan and Dylan crawling on the floor from out of nowhere and Nathan Vo announcing that everyone should watch him stuff a bunch of spicy hot food into his mouth. Brian began shouting Spanish swearwords and asking me what they meant...and on.

To be honest, it was all rather amusing, minus my body planning a mini revolution against itself.

I ended up telling kids off for stealing, stalking, and stabbing (with a pencil) so there were some nice poetics going on with the alliteration.

**

Today I had this conversation with Daniel:

Daniel: I'm on the list???!
Me: Yes. You called me a skank, so you're on the list.
Daniel: But I don't know what it means!
Me: Don't use words you don't understand.

Charming.

**

And now for something entirely different.



The Exploding Glass Incident

I was really excited to make a simple Chicken Parmesan recipe for dinner tonight. I had wanted to make it last night, but hadn't let the chicken thaw long enough, so I postponed it until tonight, figuring the anticipation would improve the entire experience.

Everything was going rather well (unlike the semi-clothed hot oil incident from a couple days ago) until I realized I was missing the mozzarella cheese which seemed like an important, if not vital, ingredient. Luckily, after pan frying the chicken for a few minutes, the recipe calls for a half hour bake time, so I was able to fly to Vons, grab some cheese, and make it back in time. This was a decidedly minor mishap, and I was well-pleased that my night's mistake was so minor. Cue: Ironic foreshadowing music.

I arrived home with a few minutes to spare, threw some mozzarella cheese into the oven, started my broccoli in the microwave, and stuck some bread into the toaster (which only toasts one side, but I'm not picky.) I pulled the chicken out of the oven and put it on the stovetop. I stared at the bubbling sauce in the dish, thinking it was odd that it was still bubbling and I didn't even remember it bubbling inside the oven. (Cue: Ironic foreshadowing music intensifies.)

I removed one piece for my plate and left the other in the glass dish. I was then distracted and walked away from the oven when I heard a BANG and turned around to see that the glass dish had, in fact, exploded. (Cue: Gasping soundtrack.)Yes. It didn't break; it burst into a million pieces, projecting them across the entire kitchen. Turns out I had forgotten to turn off the stovetop, which had been heating for half an hour. Also turns out glass doesn't like extreme heat.

Though I was startled, I was completely unharmed until I started to clean it up – barefoot. Bad life decision no#23. My feet worked as a sort of improved broom; until a glass bit embedded itself into the sole of my foot. (Naturally, I didn't notice this until later when I realized I couldn't put my full weight on my right foot, and tried to squeeze the piece out, unsure if my foot was bleeding from glass inside it or from me jabbing at it.) In the mean time, I was methodically picking up glass and dumping it into the trashcan. Problem was, I was using a paper towel and grabbing large pieces of glass, which managed to cut through both the towel and my thumb, creating a mini geyser of blood. It was all very artistic, the blood blending in with the marinara sauce on the glass filled paper towel.

Halfway through the cleanup process, I realized that the kitchen was becoming extremely smokey. My initial thought was that it was from the explosion, but I realized that it had gotten much worse since then. I looked over to the toaster in the corner and saw that it was still cooking my "toast" – which were actually both completely charcoaled on each side, so it had managed to cook bread evenly for the first time. (It's the little things.)

I then decided to move my plate of chicken to the table. Setting it down, I leaned a little on the table, tired and hungry (it was 9:30 and I hadn't eaten since brunch), forgetting that our table is highly unstable. We use weights on one side to keep it up – and I was leaning on the other side. It began to collapse under my weight, and I grabbed it as it pummeled toward me.

Finally finished with the cleaning, I grabbed the pieces of chicken, examining them closely for bits of glass (remembering warnings of glass getting into your system and cutting up your insides as it gets digested.) When I found glass on both pieces, I decided that the warnings had probably been exaggerated and I looked up information online. The Yahoo community had no clear consensus, but a man who brought up potentially negative ramifications used the term "eternal" bleeding instead of "internal," so I ignored his advice and went with the lady who signed off as "nurse" and said that a little glass swallowed isn't a problem. I'm hoping "nurse" isn't a 'Little John' type nickname that she uses for online clout. I'm also hoping that the man actually did make a mistake when he warned of "eternal" bleeding.

Today's Article: Is about a glass eating fraud. The second to last line is the best.

Today's Life Lesson: Well...let's not.

but i just had to look, having read the book

Spite: Deliberate nastiness.
Definition: My dog had a very stinky spite when we didn't give him a bath for 3 days. (crossed out and changed to: "My dog bit me out of spite" by Miss Garcia.)

This one cracked me up and I took the time to write it down. A couple of summers ago, my brother and I housesat and dogsat for my uncle's fiance in Austin. There were several memorable experiences during that week, (including accidentally ending up in an adult movie store, an encounter with the police, and some terrific cafe music), but the one lingering memory is that of Patty's (literally) old dog, Oliver. Oliver was a wonderful and well-respected family member, but in his later years he had formed the unfortunate habit of creating little mounds of feces on the carpet.

Ooj (my uncle) described it as little balls of spite. The location and design of the feces appeared to be very methodical. He said it was Oliver's way of communicating his displeasure with us – by creating spite.

**

Evan: My stomach hurts when I raise my arms
Me: Maybe you worked it out?
Evan: ...I fart a lot
Me: thanks
Evan: oh yeah and I did pushups

crazy little woman in a one man show

(click to enlarge)

Jason is gone. June Woo is gone too. I found out about June Woo two days ago, and about Jason today. They both simply disappeared. To me, that is – I suppose their parents informed BCLC quite a while ago, but the news didn't get back to me until they had officially quit. How's that for closure?

My workplace is a strange environment. I see the children/my coworkers every day, spending more time with them than almost anyone else in my life. But the relationships are built on a very specific non-personal structure. I am Miss Stewart, just another authority figure telling them to quiet down and do their work.

On the other hand, I've spent such a large amount of time with them that I cannot help feeling affected by their presence in my life. I understand that developing a relationship is not like getting a pilot's license – you don't hit a certain number of hours and suddenly have a friend. Still, time together seems to be a huge aspect in the comfort level and acceptance in a relationship, which is why strange friendships form when people are thrown together for periods of time. (ie. becoming friends with a weirdo from work or a fellow survivor on a desert island.)

All that to say, part of me is bummed that I won't be getting real closure with my kids, even though I don't really need it for the type of relationship that we've had. And part of me – the part that has always avoided closure – is fine with it. In life, it's important to be able to do the velcro thing: nothing on earth is permanent.

**

A couple of days ago, Brian asked me what my last name was.
Brian: "Miss Stewart, what's your last name?"
Me: "Stewart."
Brian: "No, what's your real last name?"

I don't know if he thinks teachers work incognito, or if he is confused as to the concept of last name, but I found the conversation a little strange.

And this week's highlight was, of course, Andrew. He gave me a quick verbal quiz to determine what percentage male and what percentage female I was. The result? 100% female. This would have surprised me, had I not heard the questions. Andrew, of course, was surprised. "Wow," he said. "Most people are mixed." Five questions Andrew. Come on.

Timothy was also 100% female.

**

I'm starting to work on a list entitled "Non PC things that my kids do" Here's the beginning:

NON PC THINGS THAT MY KIDS DO

- make constant 'gay' jokes (including "you wish I was gay" "ewwwww!")

- get on their knees, put their shoes in front of their knees and shout "we're dwarves! you're in dwarf town!"

- "I don't like Japanese people. I don't know why."

- toss an eraser with 'yes' written on one side and 'no' written on the other, asking it questions like "Is Jessica fat?" "Is Nathan a female?"


Today's Article: Deals with the subject of an accidental work friendship.

Quote of the Day: "The problem with people is that they don't look at the big picture. Eventually, we're each going to die, our species will go extinct, the sun will explode, and the universe will collapse. Existence isn't only temporary, it's pointless! We're all doomed, and worse, nothing matters!"
-Calvin