Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Part Of My Problem

This is an older story, but it's still applicable:

Me [on the phone with a friend who is coming in from the other side of the country to be at our wedding]: Well I have rehearsal until around 4:00 and the bus doesn't come until 4:45 sooo...if you wanted to pick me up...

Friend: Sure, we can make that happen.
[conversation ends. I'm in the car with Jay, by the way]

Jay [feigning hurt]: I could have picked you up.

Me: Did you want to? I can tell him he doesn't need to. I can do it right now.

Jay [continuing to feign hurt, really obviously]: Oh no! No don't worry about it! It's fine. I guess you just don't want to see me! [or something to that effect]

Me:...you know...sometimes when you are pretending to be mad, I think you really are mad and you're just pretending to pretend to be mad.

Jay:..........what?

Me: [repeats phrase...several times]

Jay:....You THINK too much!

And I do. That's part of my problem. I operate on that level of social scrutiny (paranoia maybe?) 24/7. It's exhausting and I would just LOVE to stop...but it's harder than it sounds.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

How To Terrify Your Roommates

Yesterday I rode a city bus for the first time in my life. I've ridden buses before, don't mistake me. When I was in middle, junior and high school, a bus came to my house every day to pick me up. But the city bus system is much more daunting. There's much more planning involved, and map reading, and time-table-figure-outing. I'm not a cartographer! How could I possible figure all of that out? Well, it took some help. My roommate offered to ride a bus with me from school to home to show me how it's done. She spared $2.00 to help me out and I really really appreciated that.

However. I was anxious about my first bus ride. Waiting for it kind of sucked and there was a Red B bus that came before the Red B bus that I needed to be on and it caused me all kinds of inner turmoil: What happens if I get on the wrong bus? What if I miss the last bus of the day? What if...what if...what if...?

I also never know how much something I am going to say will offend someone and that's thanks to the lack of filter from my brain to my mouth. My mind moves much faster than whatever conversation is happening at the time and often I can't communicate what's going on in my head at the same speed in the conversation.

For instance, Nicole was explaining to me that the seats at the front of the bus are reserved for handicapped and the elderly, so I should give up my seat if one of them comes on. The first thing that went through my mind was, of course, the Rosa Parks incident that was drilled into my 99.9% white school every February. She refused to give up her seat to stand for a white man, etc...Civil Rights...etc...we all know the story. It was unfair and horrible the way African Americans were treated before they were finally given their civil rights and I remember as a kid I couldn't believe human beings could be so cruel to one another.

Except the conversation broke down like this:

Nicole: Not everyone does this, but make sure that if you're sitting at the front of the bus you give up your seat for someone in a wheelchair or an elderly person.

Me: What am I, a Black person?

...


Now, I know. Open mouth, insert foot. But I just wasn't able to tell myself to shut up before it fell out. I realized as soon as I said it that I very much should not have. So I tried to lessen the blow by looking at Zach and saying, "That was my Rosa Parks joke. Did you get it?" laughing the whole time. Zach stayed rigid and just didn't quite look at me.

As we departed the bus and walked to our building, he gave me a bit of advice, "For future reference, no Black jokes on the bus."

Noted.

P.S. I am not racist. Just underexposed and sheltered. Also, my first bus trip was a success and so was my second on my own. ^_^

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Envy

Being a teacher is fun. It really is! Granted, I haven't fully assumed the role of teacher in the traditional sense (I am not the one providing the majority of the content in my classes) but students ask me if they can go to the bathroom...so that has to mean SOMEthing.

However, I will say that I miss being a student. I miss going to class in sweats and a t-shirt. I miss getting to relax my face and not emote when I'm learning whatever it is that I am learning. Going to my ISU classes are kind of a nice break from feigning enthusiasm during some moments at the high school. It's a lot harder to feign enthusiasm when I am not speaking (I do speak some of the time, but I am not given a ton of opportunity to do so yet). It's a lot like when I'm working at Flarget or, indeed, anytime I am just IN Flarget. I feel obligated to smile at least a little bit all the time, so it's ready whenever a guest approaches me. That's just part of my job. Here, though, more hangs in the balance than where a particular sweater is.


((There are so many comic/blog hybrids out there that I read and I know you do too. I have an HP tablet through the school where I'm interning and I thought I'd try it out. Sadly, not even technology can make me a better artist.))


On the other side of the same coin, being a student in a classroom is AGONIZING after being a teacher in a classroom. Even the spatial difference is significant: Up, walking around, speaking loudly versus sitting in a desk-chair (that really is too small for people my height) listening to someone else speak, constantly thinking to msyelf how I would teach what I'm supposed to be learning. I want to be just as active as the teacher but then (even in college) I would be the teacher's pet, and you don't want that label, no matter how removed from middle school you are.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Hermaphrodites

Sometimes, when we're young, we are introduced to words that we are unfamiliar with and someone clarifies them in a memorable way.

When I was younger, my parents watched X-Files. A lot of X-Files. The theme song was essentially my lullaby. One episode that I walked in on late one night had a terrifying worm-person in it. From what I remember (I could look this up but it's more fun this way), the worm-person couldn't reproduce sexually but rather by multiplying itself.

Having just learned what sex was...more or less...I deduced that this worm-person wouldn't be able to make little worm-children and that would be unfortunate for it. So I stepped in to help this worm-person have sex the only way I knew that sex worked, "Well, is it a boy or a girl?" My dad replied, "It's both. It's a hermaphrodite."

And then the camera panned into a sewer drain and we suddenly saw the elusive creature and I was granted an image that will forever be stuck in my head when I think of the word "hermaphrodite":
















Thanks dad.

Friday, August 26, 2011

I Learn Therefore I Teach

Today was my first Friday of my first week of my internship.

I am having a blast! Like most 20-somethings, I was not a fan of high school when I was IN high school. Now that I've come out the other side (and almost am on the other side of college), it's my favorite place to be in the whole world. The environment for learning is so RICH at this school and my opportunities for becoming a better teacher present themselves every hours. I don't want to say too much about it here because I feel that would need to be in a different blog altogether, one about student teaching and nothing else, but I just wanted to communicate that I am feeling like I am in the right place more than I ever have.

Things that I've learned so far:


- In my 9:00 class, I am exhausted. Drink coffee BEFOREhand. It's free in the office, go for it.

- Dressing like a teacher is so much fun, and cheap at GoodWill (I'll have to post a photo of one of my outfits. I'm pretty proud of them to be honest since apparently I "have no fashion sense" according to my sister). Last year I was able to go my entire time at the high school for a curriculum and instruction class without wearing the same outfit twice.

-Learn which students you can be sarcastic with BEFORE you are sarcastic with them.

- Always look at browser tabs when you are helping a student on their netbook. They StumbleUpon.

- Comfortable shoes are super important

- Include students in ALL lectures and discussions. Ask questions or have them repeat instructions to ensure they aren't zoning and also that they are learning.

- When doing group instruction through the netbooks, make sure everyone is in the same place before moving on.

This school is really unique because it implemented a netbook initiative where each student receives a netbook upon entrance to the school and they are used very heavily in every course. It's really sweet and awesome most of the time, but the rest of the time they're just a pain in the ass. Instant distraction plus technological failures make it difficult to teach with them, which is why I came up with a classroom management solution for them when I teach:

- "Hand check!"

Friday, August 5, 2011

Cavia Porcellus...And Other Things

You guys...it has been a while and so much stuff has happened.

Jay and I have moved from our apartment at Pine Crest with Garret to an apartment at Lancaster Heights (probably about 2 miles away, maximum) with Nicole and Zach, a married couple, the former whom we know through Target. The move went really well with help from my dad who truly is The Man. If you haven't met him yet, just know that he IS The Man. All of us are settling into the awkward phase of getting used to living with one another. I remember going through that with Garret hardcore and now it's like I've adopted a stocky blonde brother.

The biggest adjustment is all of the pets. There is one pet for every human in the apartment. An affectionate cat, a hyperactive dog and two apathetic guinea pigs. Zoe, the cat, is just freaking adorable and she's really easy to live with. Henry, the beagle, requires us to be a bit more aware when it comes to closing closet doors and putting food and valuables down certain places but he's lovable enough. Both of them are interested in Murray and Theo but not enough to harm them, so that's good news. Zoe likes to stare at them a lot...like right now.

As for our two boys, they were separated with a piece of cardboard in their cage because of a slight altercation they had before we moved. Blood was involved. Not a lot but enough to cause worry. They were trying to gnaw through the cardboard ever since. Not to get AT each other, just out of curiosity. Today we really needed to clean out their cage (which is a pain in the ass when there ISN'T a flimsy barrier taped in the middle of the wire) so we took the opportunity to try and reintroduce them.

I was expecting a lot of mounting like last time but they just chattered angrily at one another and nipped a bit harder than they should have for having lived together for, like, six months. However, one more night of cardboard chewing and tape crinkling was going to drive us to insanity, so we came up with another barrier solution:



Those are two sides of those wire cube shelving units that no one likes to put together. Taped and zip-tied together and to the cage. I figured that this way they can SEE each other but they can't GET to each other. Phase one of reintroduction: complete.

I don't know what will happen if they can't get along. Worst case scenario: we have to give one of them away. The only other option is separate cages which we don't have the room for, but we we'll run blindly across that proverbial bridge when we get there.

We do so much for them. Would it KILL them to love us?!

Edit: Apparently while Jay was going in and out of consciousness today in between jobs, he saw Zoe with both of her paws in Theo's side of the cage, batting around in the air while the guinea pig sat in the corner eyeing her warily. She got discouraged, did the kitty equivalent of a sigh, and then tried the same thing on Murray's side. I'm not worried about her hurting them, I think she's just curious as to what the hell they are.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Potter-ing

We saw Harry Potter about a week ago. Probably more interesting things have happened in my life since then, but I promised a post containing what I thought of the film.

*SPOILERS START HERE*
It WAS excellent. When it began, it simply began. It didn't give you some big to-do about the Harry Potter 'verse. There was no time for that. There was a repeated shot of Voldemort getting the Elder Wand just as a reminder, Warner Bros logo, Harry Potter logo, and BOOM: Harry at Dobby's grave. Within the first minute, you're buckled in, ready for the last run of this brilliant ride.

The only problem I have with the beginning was how looooong it took and how much diiiialoooogue there was. I realize Griphook and Ollivander are old but good God how long does it take to tell Harry what he needs to know? I wonder if they felt they had to go slow to make sure the audience knew what was going on. If that was the case, r u srs? This is the EIGHTH film. If anyone in the audience is jumping in at this point, they don't deserve to know what's going on.

There were 2 other minor issues I had with the film. The entire time, I was counting horcruxes in my head. There were multiple points while watching where I went "Okay...the diary, the ring, the locket [and then from memory of the books] that cup-thing in the vault...[once we got there in the film] okay Ravenclaw's diadem aaaaaannnnnddd.......?" The end of the book totally escaped me.

And as Harry was going for the diadem he said something about how it was the last one. Well...of course it wasn't. They had 2 more to get and they didn't know what they were. Then they found out they were Nagini and Harry (the latter of which I totally called in the middle of reading the 6th book).

Other than those minor neural interruptions, I want to see the film again. I also want to read the book again, but have you SEEN that tome? It's too much for right now. My favorite moments in the theatre were closely related to audience reactions. Everyone cheered and clapped when Molly killed Bellatrix and the girl in front of me almost had a happy-seizure when Neville killed Nagini. It was pure fandom and I will miss it all.

I cried a few times, partly from reaction to the story and partly from how real these characters have been to me for so long. So when I lost Snape, when Neville became more than the bumbling kid, when two of my best friends finally got together...there was no way I couldn't react.

In conclusion, I just have one question regarding the entire movie saga: Where the hell was Charlie Weasley?!
*SPOILERS END HERE*

In non-Potter related news, one of my cooperating teachers is my mom's best friend from high school and thus a very close family friend. I will be teaching two sections of Oral Communication, World Literature & Composition and Sophomore Writing. ^_^ Internship, ho!

Friday, July 15, 2011

Keep It Together Man!

Jay and I are going to see Part 2 tonight with another couple (If you don't know what "Part 2" I'm talking about, you deserve a boot to the head. Go get on the Internet). I was just on /r/Harry Potter (the Harry Potter Reddit [I'm now a Reddit n00b]) and just reading all of the stuff about the new movie, seeing costumes and realizing that this is it got me kind of choked up.

And then I saw this:
Aw hell. I'm going to be an emotional wreck at this movie. Someone will need to remind me to bring a box of tissues, and that is no hyperbole. The last movie that I lost it at in the theatres was, oddly enough, District 9. Wasn't expecting to cry at that movie or indeed be moved by it at all, but there were at least 2 distinct moments where I sobbed openly. This was after about a year of being with Jay and he was utterly bewildered by my tears...and also slightly amused.

I plan on joining the ranks of bloggers who have been posting opinions and spoilers about the final film, perhaps tomorrow but it could be in a couple of days. I've been so preoccupied with everything that Harry Potter love kind of had to take a backseat.

But you better believe I will be wearing my Quidditch goggles tonight.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Chill

Warning: May contain information you can never un-know about my bowel movements.

Ever since high school, my stomach has been the center for my anxiety. I never throw up or get nauseous when I'm anxious. I sometimes have 30-minute sessions in the nearest bathroom, intensely embarrassed (especially if it was in a public space) which will, in turn, increase my anxiety and make my insides churn evermore. I'm sure it's brought on by some kind of food but I haven't narrowed down what it is yet.

In the last few years I've tried to find ways to cope with my irritable bowels, trying not to turn to medication (I was prescribed something a long time ago for IBS but the side-effects were not worth it). I become highly sensitive to everything that my senses take in when I get like this. I want to murder someone for saying "Hi!"...mere thoughts of future worries can send me over the edge into a wave of pain. I've come to realize that my mind is the perpetrator in all of this and I've been searching for ways to control its wrath. For now I'm satisfied with putting a towel over my head and pulling down on it whilst covering my ears to block out every sound save for my deep breathing while I wait for things to...pass...

A few months ago I found this great blog Rejuvenation Lounge. It's been very beneficial to me in controlling my irrelevant and unhelpful thoughts. I also got a cookbook in .PDF format full of foods that are good for the body and soul. Check it out, relax a moment. I've found great enjoyment in relaxation, but it takes great effort for me to get there.

Jay Update: Surgery was a success (as far as we can tell). He's in a lot of pain, post-op. Movement isn't so good for him. He can't bend forward very far and needs some help maneuvering from spot to spot, but we knew it would be this way for at least a week. The day when he doesn't need narcotics to control his pain is almost visible on the horizon.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Traditional Media

My computer got sick again. There was no choice but to wipe it completely and take better care of it this time...again. I swear I honestly don't know what happens to it that it becomes so infected so fast. It's NOT PORN!

Time away from my computer was interesting. I had no Internet and neither did Jay so I turned to books. However, I have no books at the apartment that I have not already read at least once. At my house I have an entire bookshelf with 5 shelves from ceiling to floor full of books...most of which I have also already read. I started re-reading "House of Leaves" by Mark Danielewski which is the most effed up book you could ever read. I actually don't recommend it if you have a fragile mind. It's not gory at all, just twisted and written in the most complex way ever: footnotes go on for pages and have seemingly nothing to do with the "main text" which is an analysis of a movie that doesn't exist in reality or in the universe of the book. Sometimes things are backwards or upside down. Later in the book, stuff is written in the corners and you have to really pay attention to the order you've been reading in. This is all in addition to the plot of the "film" which is dark to say the least.

So I turned to Facebook for friendly suggestions about what I should read next. There were definitely some in there that I've been wanting to check out, "The Hunger Games" being at the top of the list. Then I found this site, Good Reads which is pretty awesome. It gives books by specific genre. The only problem is that I don't know what kind of reading mood I'm in. Nothing sounds really good right now, though, aside from re-reading things I already know I like.

I've been invited to Google+ but I still can't sign up. They've exceeded capacity.

I'ma go watch all three Lion King movies spliced together in chronological order on YouTube. Have a good night.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Mr. Inguinality

I still haven't found a suitable or concrete purpose for this particular blog. I like having it, though, as a catch-all for stuff that doesn't go into the wedding blog.

As many of you know, Jay has been in and out of prompt cares, the emergency room and doctors' offices since last Sunday (the 12th). Remember a few months ago when he was having what I deemed a "spazzing liver"? Well on Sunday it all started fresh again, this time with a wave of nausea.

I'll take you through the events in an abridged version:

Sunday: Get home from El Paso, throw up in apartment yard.

Monday: OSF prompt care to assess the damage, multiple wheelchair rides, CT scan that showed nothing, blood panel that showed nothing (after I called them to find out the results...they said they would call us...whatever).

Tuesday: Follow-up appointment with Nurse Practitioner who was ready to diagnose it as "A serious viral infection." To which I replied "Is there any way we can know for sure so this doesn't happen again in four months?" He is prescribed Vicodin for pain and Zofran for nausea. She takes a urine sample that comes back normal and sends us to OSF for another blood panel (that, again, came back normal)

Tuesday at 10 pm: After watching Muppet Treasure Island, Jay's pain shoots from his right side to his left and radiates all sorts of fun places (think down from the abdominal area). Emergency room time! We get there around 10:30 with him leaning on me to stabilize himself, going white with pain. I'm sure everyone in the waiting room thought he had been shot, which was kind of cool, given the circumstances. We don't see the doctor until around 12:30 a.m., who pokes Jay in those "fun places" I mentioned and deduces that he has a hernia (a breach in his abdominal wall by some organ poking out of it). Jay gets a shot of a wonderful painkiller and is prescribed 600 mg of Ibuprofen for further pain management. We get home at around 2:00 in the morning.

Wednesday: I call the hospital to find out his blood came back normal. Again. What a surprise.

Thursday: I had to work, but Jay's mom (who had been with us most of the week so far, bless her) took him to another follow-up appointment with a surgeon who said Jay definitely had a hernia. They did another CT scan and a third blood panel (both of which were normal) and I believe a stool sample.

Friday: I call the doctor at home on accident (it was the only number I saw) to ask him what we do now. He said he would have his office call us on Monday.

Saturday: Waiting

Sunday: Waiting

Monday: We call his office several times, speak to his receptionist and his nurse. His nurse tells us that he does not have a hernia, based on his CT scan, which confuses the hell out of us. She calls us back a bit later after speaking with the doctor and she says that Jay does have a hernia, but they think it has to be something else to be causing the amount of pain it is (Jay: "I mean...I felt like he was calling me a pussy, saying that I shouldn't be in this much pain").

So now, we are out of Vicodin, but Jay can eat solid foods now, thank God. You know that Snickers commercial with Aretha Franklin in the backseat of the car, they give her a Snickers and she turns into their friend again? That's what Jay gets like when he's hungry, and he had been hungry for a whole week on a diet of clear liquids, applesauce and Jell-O.
Link
Tomorrow he's going to see some digestive disease consultants. I'm not a doctor, but I'm sure he hasn't contracted a digestive disease. I think he has a hernia, they need to cut him open, fix it and let him get better. And we're frustrated and confused about why they won't just do that.

One last upset: I know that doctors are busy. They have a lot of patients and hospitals have certain procedures they have to follow. But come on! Two CT scans and three blood panels to get no results every time?! Not only that but we had to get in touch with them to find this out?! Shit, I'll do the surgery! Gimme a scalpel and some mesh, let's get this done.

((Cross-Posted at Holy Matrimony!))

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Second Class

So It's 12:20 in the afternoon on a Sunday. I'm sitting here in the shirt and shorts I slept in, haven't showered since 2 nights ago and Jay is in Lincoln working for Kraft (after coming home from working in Bloomington already). Bein' lazy around here just makes me feel like a douchebag.

I saw X-Men: First Class on Friday night with Jay and our friend Michael. Now, the thing you need to know about seeing comic-based films with Jay is that he will be more than happy to tell you what was accurate or inaccurate about them. However, he will only do so if you ask him what he thought about it (which everyone likes to do because he is our resident Comic Book Guy). So I got to see the movie, enjoy it as a separate entity from the other films and what little X-Men background I have (which is mostly from the films) and then afterwards in the theatre, lobby and parking lot, I drilled him for the lowdown on what was right and wrong.

It's like seeing two movies for the price of one, almost, because I then formulate what would have happened if Hank McCoy hadn't turned blue and furry in this movie (because he really shouldn't have if Hollywood wants to stick to their own canon).

On a scale of 1 to 5, I'll give it a 3.5. I wasn't blown away by the film. The thing I enjoyed most was anything James McAvoy said and...ummm...nope, that's pretty much it. He pretty much made that movie for me. Michael's Fassbender's young Magneto was very well done from an acting standpoint, I have to say. Watching the man before the "dorky-looking helmet" go through his own turmoils before deciding on which path to take as a mutant and a minority was great in rounding out Magneto as a baddie.

Kevin Bacon just threw me for a loop. I enjoy Kevin Bacon, but all I need him to do for me is dance. Say nothing and dance. Or do this commercial

Thursday, May 19, 2011

"Hibou"

As part of my 22nd birthday gift in March, my mom got me a wooden owl puzzle. It wasn't anything super-high-quality or expensive. Just something fun to do. At least...it looked fun, until I got into it. Let me take you through the process:

The lighting in our living room in the evening is pretty horrible and everything is drenched in a yellow-hue, so bear with me. The point is, it looks really cool when it's all assembled, and I dig owls, so I dove right in.


Every individual piece of the freaking bird had to be punched out of the sheets of wood (shown bottom-most picture, right). Keep in mind: These are WOODEN. Splinters were involved. But fear not, they gave me a 1"X1" square of sandpaper to fix any rough edges -_-


I finally got each sheet punched out and arranged like it is in the diagram on the back of the 1-sheet instructions. Here's a close-up!

And then construction began:

This was after perhaps an hour of searching, finding and forcing together. The instructions recommended glue to hold pieces together, but I did not have glue of any kind and there was no way I was going to glue pieces together if I wasn't 100% sure they were the right ones to go together only to have them be wrong.

At this point I was getting pretty exhausted/frustrated but also excited/accomplished. But then, pieces started to come off when I tried to attach others. It was like putting together a card castle, but with wood and a lot more swearing.

Here's the "finished" product:

And I have all...these...pieces left:

Yeah. Those are individual feathers that I could not find a place for, and therefore decided to disregard. They were probably extra anyway...right?

In the end, I showed Jay and Garret who both showed mild interest, and then I put it in the garbage. Sorry mom. ^_^ Thanks for the thought! At least I tried.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Floral Arrangement and a Potter

It's May. Time for flowers.

I picked a tulip out of my parents' yard last week and one of our glass soda bottles (that we apparently collect and display on the stove now) was a perfect vase.

I've started a Harry Potter binge. I saw these screenshot comics the other day and they make me laugh so hard every time I read them. It rekindled my lost love of The Boy Who Lived. For those of you who don't know, when I was the age of a Hogwarts first year, I was a Harry Potter fanatic. I knew spells, I owned Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them AND Quidditch Through The Ages. I regularly purchased Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, I role played (yes...yes I did) on the Harry Potter web forums. I was into it.

While waiting for the release of the 7th book, the fangirl in me withered away, favoring a new wizard named Harry (The Dresden Files) as a supplement. I still saw the films and appreciated them, but it took me one long-ass time to get through Deathly Hallows. Took me two tries, but I finally did it.

Last night, sitting home alone in the dark, baking even though the windows were open and both box fans were running, I read most of and finished The Sorcerer's Stone. This morning I started up Chamber of Secrets and my Harry Potter fix is being sated. I seriously doubt I'll get through all 7 by the time the last movie comes out (July 15th) but being reintroduced to characters that have helped define the person I am today stimulates some part of my brain that I can't identify.

The only downside is that I've seen the first three movies so many times (Memorized them. I was kind of a lonely middle schooler/high schooler) that the inflections of movie lines are penetrating my head when I read dialogue from the books. It gets kind of annoying and I have to re-read lines so that it's my reading of it (because I'm picky about stuff like that, so sue me).

Thursday, April 28, 2011

A Tale of Intense Academic Interest

I was up until 3:30 a.m. crafting a 10-page paper from start to finish. The writing process also included much of the research that I cited in the paper itself. Jay and I have a seldom-spoken agreement that when I have such a task to perform, he does something in the living room while I get the bedroom to work. This may be where he got the idea that the living room is "his space" (I had a lot of work to do this semester and sort of took the bedroom out from under him). Regardless, I have a few photos from my academic exploit yesterday/today I thought I would share.

3:31 p.m.
This was around the time Jay got home from work. I had spent most of the day reading research that I had found for my paper (which was about marriage as portrayed in theatre in eighteenth century England, if you care to know).

I had uploaded several online articles into Microsoft OneNote (which I cannot live without anymore) and had one book from the library that I was planning on using in my paper.

Jay saw me working diligently and so as not to disturb me, he wrote me a note on a post-it and stuck it to my laptop. It made me smile so I put it on the wall in front of me.

Here's a close-up:
(The text reads: You look very cute today! P.S. I ate all the turkey *picture of a turkey*

So time went on, I read a bit more and we went to another couple's house for some lentil soup as payment for driving them to their mechanic a couple of times when their car broke down. We were having a really nice time, feeling very sophisticated drinking tea and eating a vegan dinner at an actual table with other adults, talking about sophisticated things like The Blair Witch Project when I had to kill the mood and suggest that we leave.

On the way home, we stopped by CVS to pick me up some Red Bull and a couple of candy bars.

I unwrapped my Three Musketeers, cracked open my Red Bull and got to work at around...

9:39 p.m.
My laptop is closed here with my lamp on top of it (the Internet beckoned so many times, but I ignored its call, burying my face in a chapter on wife beating). I would have taken notes in OneNote, but I find it easier to write with a pen when reading from not-an-internet-article.

Jay was still out in the living room, I believe he was playing Assassin's Creed II. At some point I heard him switch from the game to a show or a movie.

I plowed through the articles, absorbing information like a sponge. Time flew by surprisingly quickly because I was able to keep my eyes from the clock (I have two on my desk, my laptop and an analog clock). I finally cracked open my laptop to review the notes I had put in the articles on OneNote to find connections I could make. Luckily that was very easy to do (historians like to talk about a lot of the same things, especially where feminist and gender studies are concerned).

THEN I got out the plays that I had read for the course. All of them:

1:28 a.m.
Because I'm smart and figured out what I was going to be writing my final paper on fairly quickly into the semester, I had made pencil marks and notes in the margins where significant lines were and was able to just go in and sticky note the bejeezus out of just about every play except for perhaps one or two out of the 9 or 10 read.

I traded Red Bull for water. I had a second one but I was feeling pretty good at this point, aside from a moderate stomachache that had been throbbing all afternoon. It didn't seem like it was 1:30 in the morning and I was still going strong.
At 3:20 I began to print my baby out. I went to fetch Jay who had fallen asleep on the couch to tell him he could come to bed. I stapled it all together and crashed myself.

Then this morning I proofread and revised it, printed it out again and stapled it much more confidently. To my surprise, I'm a fair typist and writer after midnight. But you would not believe my handwriting:

Neatly printed class notes:--------------------Insanely scribbled research notes:










((Click to enlarge))
I've been in college for 4 years now. This was the first time I've ever attempted to stay up into the wee hours of the morning to finish (much less start and finish) a project...especially with the aid of an energy drink.

All that said, I'm really proud of the paper I wrote. I didn't just pull it out of my ass and hand it in, I really thought about it and organized it. Before I endeavored to do what I did last night the paper had been swirling and stewing in my head so that all I had to do was create the mold to pour it into. Am I bragging? I feel like I might be bragging. Point is: It's done, done well and now all I have to focus on is concocting three lessons of a unit plan to be turned in on Tuesday.

If you read all that, congratulations. You're a better person now. ^_^

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

"Betting Living Through The Undead"

I have a twenty-page paper due on Thursday at 5:00. So far I have pounded out ten pages and within those pages is all that I have. My paper is concerned with the interest in the Infected zombie and the collapse of civilization that follows it. There was, believe it or not, scant research on this specific type of zombie (but a ton of research on the Haitian witch doctor zombie. It's too easy to make the connection to slavery with that one, and everyone and their mother did in the articles that I read).

Right now I'm having Jay read my paper and mark it up for me with suggestions, questions, rearrangements and so on. He's an art education major, but we both share the same love for the "zombie narrative" (a phrase I crafted in my paper). I'm hoping he'll have some valuable insights that can help me stretch it out a bit...in essence, double it.

Every November there is a writing contest called National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo for short). In this contest, participants write 50,000 words in one month. That averages out to around 1600 words per day. When you get around Thanksgiving, you start to get desperate to up your word count, so you throw in dream sequences, pages from Jack's typewriter in The Shining and really long-ass chapter titles that often involve a quote loosely related to whatever the hell your chapter is about.

I'm considering starting each section of my paper off with a center-aligned quote. I did start the entire paper off with something my roommate said:

“In a world where there are zombies, everything that you would like to do to people you don’t like, like with a chainsaw because of the law, you can do with reckless abandon.”

He responded with this when I started to bounce ideas off of him one afternoon before my paper really started to formulate. I credited him with it by including his name, and since no one knows who Garret is, it kind of holds some weight. It is directly relevant to the middle section of my paper where (in theory) I describe the survival-story part of the zombie narrative. Point being: It takes up two whole lines at the beginning of my paper and I'm down with that.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Le Bistro

Our small metropolis isn't exactly on the cutting edge of liberal policy, but you wouldn't think that we have a booming population of homosexuals clamoring for a place to call their own. However, we have not just one, but two gay bars. Thursday night was karaoke night at The Bistro and our friend David (who is gay) asked us to go.

I love karaoke, so I jumped at the chance.

I won't sum up the entire night for you (we were only there for maybe two hours) but there were high points and higher points:

-We saw someone we work with at Flarget. I never really talked to her, presuming we had nothing to talk about. Also, she doesn't really exude an "I'm friendly, talk to me!" sort of vibe. But the next time I see her I will not be able to think of anything but her kissing upon her girlfriend and something about that calms me about our lack of conversation. It was sweet.

-Punk/Goth lesbian singing Pink and walking around the bar. We looked away for one second and when we looked back Jay said, "Wait...who is singing?!"

-Jay: "That guy just pinched my ass." Enough said.

-Old patron giving me a fist-bump after my rendition of "Criminal" by Fiona Apple (which went much better than when I did it in California).

-Jay's description of the place: Dark, sweaty and sticky. All three are completely factual. But you get over it when you take into consideration the different levels of people there are to enjoy, how much everyone digs on each other and this general feeling of "We don't give a damn, we're here to have fun, go to hell if you don't like it."

The three of us sat in a balcony-type area on barstools for a while while a bunch of people played pool behind us. I realized we were just gazing down into the milieu of people, talking about the current singer. "It feels like we're up here judging everyone." David laughed and then proceeded to pretend to be writing things down in a judgmental manner.

It was a good time. I will be happy to spend the occasional Thursday night out there. You should come too!

Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Grid

I woke up the other morning to my fiance and our friend watching Tron: Legacy on Blu-Ray. I had seen the original Tron while visiting Jay's sister and her family in California over Thanksgiving break. I remember not enjoying it very much. Granted we were playing Sequence at the same time and there were constant interruptions from sleepy children wandering down the stairs, rubbing their eyes saying "Moooommyyy..."

Legacy was fantastic. Visually stunning and of course, Daft Punk's presence made it much more appealing to me than the original which is lacking in any interesting musical score. Last night I went back to watch the original (also on Blu-Ray) and once I got through the "80's-tastic" format and focused on it, I enjoyed it much more.



So much so that it has infiltrated how I look at some of the things I do, say, for example, my job in retail. Check it out:

I work at a chain department store, let's call it Flarget. It is surprisingly easy to superimpose The Grid in Tron (either the original or Legacy) to the physical and mental set-up of a sales floor job.

Identity disc: Name tag

Color-coded uniform: Red shirt and khaki pants

Lightcycle: Shopping cart

Master Control Program / CLU: Whatever manager may be "messing with your whole zen thing, man"

Dumont: Fitting room operator

"Water" / Source of nutrition: Free PB and J sandwiches in the breakroom

The Grid: The Physical Sales Floor / "The Racetrack"

"The Games" between programs: Interaction between team members and guests (not all the time...but there are times, oh there are times)

There are endless other lines to be drawn between the Tron universe and Flarget, but that's enough for me to get over the fact that I actually have to work tonight, the first time in three days where I was really enjoying high points of productivity.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Tag, You're It

Good bloggers know that it's important to tag your posts. I have been an epic failure at this.

For those of you who aren't familiar with tagging...I'm not either really. But I do know that if you tag (or label) your posts according to what they're about, it makes them easier for people to search for, either within your blog or outside of it.

I used to do this for Holy Matrimony! I even had them organized into subcategories (yes, I was that overreaching). But the more I wrote, the random-er I wrote. My topics were so erratic that I found myself coming up with more tags/labels where the ones I had were "too general."

You know what's weird, though? I have no pressing things to do today. I have class at 5:30 where, once there, I will listen and respond to my classmates reading their papers that we all just wrote. I suppose I could turn my paper into something more readable for next week...or start my global revision for that class...or write some clinical observation reports...or write a reflection about my teaching demonstration yesterday...

Why do my posts turn into a "What I should be doing"? Is it my guilty conscience that gets the best of me? I think part of it comes from a lack of anything substantial or interesting to write about. Well, that's not true. I have lots to say but not always something everyone cares about. I mean, I can only talk about certain things so many times without getting boring.

I know! Maybe I'll figure out a way to post copies of my YA Zombie Literature blog that I had last semester. That had some direction in it. Maybe I could find the most embarassing, *facepalm*-y LiveJournal posts that I've kept and share them with you (with the disclaimer that I am not the same person I was in 2004).

I'll think about it.

Yeah...try coming up with a tag for that post and using it again.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Cycling

I came up with so many good and different blog ideas today. Where did they go? Hell if I know. But here's something I wrote in my daybook in my teaching of literature class (paying attention isn't worth my time much of the time).

"This morning, I rode my bike to class. It was a rather over-zealous endeavor to save money and not hurt the environment. I hadn't been on a bike that wasn't stationary for what feels like ten years. Hell, for all I remember it may actually have been that long exactly.

It was cold. Uncomfortably cold. My lungs burned in icy labor the entire way. Snot threatened to spray from my nose and my ears stung from propelled wind. The seat was adjusted for a 6'4" man and I felt like a child every time I clamored off of it at an orange hand..

Later in the day as I looked out a floor-to-ceiling window of the student center, grey clouds were crowding a not-so-distant expanse of the sky. "Fuck." A thirty-minute bike ride in forty-five-degree weather was miserable enough without perpetual drenching."

All 100% true. It didn't rain, thank goodness but my crotch...oy it hurts. It doesn't quite help that last night in the mall I took a jump on the bungee trampoline (because it was my birthday and I do what I want). The harness strapped around my waist and my inner thighs. While being sprung about 100 feet up into the air was the most fun I've had in a long time, it didn't do my fragile flesh any favors.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

A Rather Desultory Post

This morning has been intensely random. I've done things that don't make sense for me to do. For instance: I painted my nails. BOTH SETS! That's not a thing I normally do, and will probably take the polish off of my fingernails within the next 48 hours.

I was reading a new book called The Search for WondLa and on the cover, the main character has her hair done in the most fantastic way.

No, I didn't do the Princess Leia spirally things, but I really dug the fishtail braids.

Fishtail braiding is something I never thought I could achieve with my hair. Sure it's long enough and it's definitely straight enough, but it takes for-ever.

What the hell, while I'm procrastinating in every other facet of my day, I'll give it a go. One YouTube tutorial later, I came out with this:













It took maybe 20 minutes to a half an hour to do both and I think they turned out pretty well! It is really easy and once you do it a million times (and by the end of it it feels like a million) you start to really get the hang of it.

Have a close up!

My family is taking me out to eat for my birthday (which is on Wednesday) and I've been basically killing time until then.

I could be working on:
a) Global revision for Eng 300
b) 7-10 page paper about self-punishment, also for Eng 300
c) One of three observational reports for Eng 297
d) One of five unit lessons, also for Eng 297
e) Reading The London Merchant for Eng 327
f) Anything even remotely more productive than braiding my hair. Which would be just about anything.

After family time (and laundry time because, let's face it, free laundry is pretty fantastic) I may go see Red Riding Hood with a friend of mine for frees at the theatre where my sister works.

Have a happy weekend everyone!

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Time To Mellow

My job is not difficult all the time. Like any other job, it has its moments where when I'm performing it I wish very much that I wasn't. This past week was a rotten one work-wise and life-wise (on the fiscal end) and I have done nothing but complain about it since it started.

Last night when Jay and I got home from closing together, I pissed and moaned about the entire night, how busy I was, how little recognition I get for what I do while his job is "where its at" as far as getting recognized for doing well. This is a very common conversation. So common, in fact, that he interrupted my rant to throw it right back at me, almost word-for-word what I was going to say. Then proceeded to clarify that his job is often just as thankless as mine is.

Wake up, Meg. Complaining does nothing to help anything. It just makes you feel worse and more exhausted than you already are. Also: You're pissing off people you love.

So: Stop it. Just stop it.

Today (at work, believe it or not) I decided to make a change in how I run myself. I will not complain: about work, about money, about school, about family, about anything. If I feel the urge to complain...well...I'm working on that. Changing my train of thought to another track is really hard. Getting the train to stop altogether or even slow down is damn near impossible for me but I'm going to make a conscious effort to chill out about everything from now on.

I WILL get over myself. Ironically I'm waiting for a humbling experience to come along and sit my ass down on the metaphorical pavement and tell me, "Look, this is how it's going to happen from now on."

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Spring...Break?

Apparently someone in Italy and someone in Russia viewed my blog recently...

I'm down with that.

So this is my spring break which, if you are a college student over the age of 20, you will know is not actually a break but a week-long allowance that we get from the university/college to do the incredible amounts of work that we've amassed so far in the semester. Not out of procrastination, but because professors work this week into their assignment budget. It's like a spending spree in which students are required to learn and prove that learning while educators (and not all of them) do not quite as much.

However, this is also the week that the younger crowd (so college students 18-19 who haven't stepped into their majors yet) go away for a whole week and take time off of work to do so. That leaves a lot of hours open in the retail business for people like me to pick up. I'm totally cool with working more hours because I'm totally cool with having money. However, here's how a phone conversation went with someone dealing with the schedule for this week:

"What's your availability for spring break?"
"Well...I mean...I have open availability but..."
"So I can schedule you for 40 hours?!"
"...but I have papers to write and quite a bit of work to do..."
"So how many hours?"
"Uhm..."
"Because about 11 people have taken that week off *shuffles papers around* Oh...more than 11."
"Well...I need the money so, I'd say no more than 35 hours."
"Okay. That's how many I'll put you down for!"

35.75 hours is what I'm working this week. Luckily, I have Thursday off in which I can do some catching up. It might not be so frustrating if I didn't work until 10:30-11:00 at night because it's not like I can do work when I get home. And trying to start a paper or, indeed, get back into a paper that you started yesterday is difficult to do when you know you need to get ready for work in a few hours. It's possible, but difficult.

That's all I have for today. Maybe I'll suddenly become more fascinating next time I post.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Want To Know What The Cutest Thing You'll See Today Is?

Jay and I have a guinea pig named Murray.

Here he is:
This is from about two years ago right after I got him. At the time, Jay was endeavoring to get me a hedgehog (my not-so-secret ultimate pet desire). He happened upon a woman giving away her 6th grade daughter's guinea pig.

Murry is...less than social. "Antisocial" is a good word, actually. He doesn't like to be touched...at all. Trying to pick him up is a chore and once you finally have him he sits there in terror. I don't know what that girl did to him, but he does not like to be handled. We figured we would try and get him a buddy someday to get him to be more social.

Skip to a few days ago when Jay told me a friend of ours from work was moving to Colorado and had some guinea piglets that he needed to give away before they ended up at a pet store. I'm learning more and more every day that Jay has a bleeding heart for animals, especially ones that are of the cute and fuzzy variety.

Tonight, we brought home Theocoles: The Shadow of Death.

Okay, so he's 2 1/2 months old and was the runt of the litter (hence, why the name is so ironic-funny). Omigod he's so soft and cute! I can pick him up with one hand! And he lets me!

Garret is much more pleased with this guinea pig than "that other one."

As a bonus, we also got a really big cage. It's probably a little over 4-cubic-feet (which is ideal for one guinea pig but these two will easily be comfortable in it, even when Theocoles gets bigger).

We have not introduced them yet. Right now they're in "quarantine." They really should be in separate rooms but as we have limited space, they're in separate cages on opposite ends of the wall in the living room (Murray is occupying the bigger cage because he's huge and we felt we should get him used to it).

Here are a couple parting shots:



((Cross-Posted at Holy Matrimony!))

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

March.

It's March! It's March! It's March! It's March!

I love March.

Here are some reasons why:
-Spring happens!
-Spring break happens! (Which ends up being a time when I do more work than any other week out of the semester)
-My birthday is on the 30th!
-St. Patrick's Day! (Which I tend to celebrate in the lamest way possible: Corned beef and cabbage dinner with my family. I may endeavor to drink this year if not until I'm gone [which doesn't take a lot] at least a beer or two)

Last, but not least, here's my most favorite thing to do in Springtime, maybe even ever:

Flying a kite!
These particular photos are from 2009



Our kite was a jolly roger that I named Achmed (I love to
anthropomorphize almost everything through names. Jay likes to do it too, but he mostly just makes a throwing-up sound when liquid is coming out of a container [i.e. garden hose, pitcher, sink, bucket, etc...])

Unfortunately, Achmed broke that very day. We didn't have any kite string so he's tethered to a roll of sparkly pink ribbon that we found in the shed. Something about the tension of the ribbon wasn't quite as good as a real string and Achmed's center pole snapped in half. But not after hours and hours of running to and fro laughing like a 4-year-old!

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

MultiPass

When I was a kid, I remember The Fifth Element being on TV a lot. But I always came in on my parents watching it and it was halfway through the movie. I had no idea why there was a tall blue lady singing opera/techno-pop while this angry orange-haired chick beat up aliens, but I knew that I liked it.


Several years later, I have 2 DVD editions of the movie (one just the film and one special edition that was made when they realized everyone loves The Fifth Element), a book adaptation (that's god-awful and reads like a 12-year-old watched the movie as he wrote it, and the soundtrack.

The soundtrack is on my iPod which I mostly listen to during my commute to school and the town 40 minutes away where I do my clinical observations this semester. One of the songs (dubbed "Akta" after what Leeloo says to Korben in the cab once the police have caught up with them) is super fun to listen to while driving.

I really wish it went into the song directly after that when Korben is speeding through the New York of the future in his beat-up cab, throwing out quips like, "Look, lady I only know two languages: English and Bad English." That song is very up-beat and has words in some language other than English, but it's fun and would really fuel that part of me that wants to be in either a space ship or a car chase whenever I'm driving.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Waiting...For A Spazzing Liver

So...yesterday was fun.

Saturday night, while Jay and I were at my parents' house doing free laundry (and watching Hercules, the Disney version, because we're cool kids), all of a sudden he started feeling sharp pains in his lower right abdomen. He would wince and hold his side while sucking in a quick breath. We called several people (my mom, his family and one of our HR ladies from work [if you know her, you know what I mean when I say she's like having another mom]). After describing the symptoms we were convinced it was his appendix.

Sleeping Saturday night was next to impossible for the both of us. He couldn't sleep in the bed for fear of keeping me up all night, but the couch was less-than-comfortable for him, so he went from one to the other a few times.

Sunday morning his pain was more constant but less intense. So we decided to go to the closest prompt care...and wait. And wait...and then he went in! And then came back out to wait some more...dad came by after breakfast with friends in town and then mom came out to look after us while we endeavored to get him better.

Prompt care sent us out to the hospital to get him an ultrasound (the entire reason we went to that prompt care was because I thought they had an ultrasound. And there was a prompt care at the hospital that we clearly should have gone to first and you'll see why in a minute). The ultrasound tech was on call...so we waited an hour for her to show up. One ultrasound later, the tech could see his appendix, which is unusual and "suspicious," so she ordered a CT scan.

Jay drank "irradiated banana," and we waited for over another hour for the barium to get into his system. He was scanned and came back to the waiting room. The nurse said we needed to go back to prompt care to wait for the results.

Okay.

Another car-ride later, we were waiting in the same place we came into 6 hours previously that morning. After waiting one last time, Jay went in to hear the results. Turns out he has a viral infection in his liver which was causing it to swell which was pushing his appendix out, which was why it was visible in an ultrasound. He's on anti-nausea medication and I guess there's no medication to treat the liver itself. I suppose he just has to ride it out. It's a bummer that we had to go through a sonogram, a CT scan and 6 hours of sitting in order to find this out, but them's the brakes. Luckily the hospital offers an application for charity for the uninsured towards the bill which we filled out promptly and I have to return to them.

We're both tired and he's nauseous and in pain. I worked 6-10 this morning and went to my clinical observation site from 12-3. Now I'm...well...I'm blogging, let's be honest. But I do have homework to do before tomorrow and I'm a little backed up after yesterday.

This is all part of being married or even just committing yourself to someone in general. I was tired, I didn't want to be there, I had other things to do and I had to put my personal life on hold for his liver and his well-being, but I was not bothered by it. I find myself wanting to fore-go everything else and stay home making sure he's alright. There isn't much I can do for him save for make him comfortable. But dammit I'll be the best pillow-fluffer and blanket-bringer that I can be!

((Cross-Posted at Holy Matrimony!))

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Panopticon

We all feel the panopticon from time to time (this awareness that our every move is being watched by someone or something. It's a type of shared paranoia that tends to alter our actions).

If this sort of thing were REAL, I imagine that whoever was stationed outside of my apartment building would be very confused at my exits and entrances, especially today (provided they didn't follow me when I left):

5:50 a.m. - Leave with hair still wet and frizzing as it drys wearing khaki pants and a red shirt with shoulder bag

10:10 a.m. - Return

10:45 a.m. - Leave in heels, grey pants, floaty top and a silver statement necklace with hair straightened with backpack

3:45 p.m. - Return

5:15 p.m. - Leave wearing jeans, moccasins, hoodie and backpack

8:10 p.m. - Return

My comings and goings make sense if you're me.

I did my first few hours of clinical work today and it was a BLAST. I've never had such a good time. My coordinating teacher is fantastic and I can't wait to learn from him. At the end of the last hour the class got done very early with their plan for the hour and they sat with me, giving me advice on what to do and what not to do as a student teacher. I'm telling you, every pre-service teacher should get a chance to do this before they teach, and maybe even a few times after. My CT made an off-hand remark that he was also taking notes as we had the discussion.

At one point, 6th hour, the entire school was apparently going across the street to the community center to watch scenes from "Old Macbeth Had A Farm," a parody of the original, KFC-style. So I got on a bus today and took a mini-field trip not thinking that I would be doing so. "Big part about being a teacher, being flexible, right?" my CT mused as he locked his classroom door. No kidding, bro. No kidding.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Stuff I Am Working On

1) [Teaching of Writing] Inquiry Project - What kind of effect does using writing as punishment have on students?; Requires heavy research

2) [Teaching of Writing] Unit Plan - Ray Bradbury short stories used to teach students to produce a short story of their own

3) [Teaching of Writing] Teaching Topic Presentation - Reluctant Writers; Requires research (anyone want to put in their two cents as reluctant writers in certain areas or fluent writers in others?)

4) [Teaching of Writing] Teaching Demonstration - Sentence Emphasis

5) [Teaching of Literature] Individual Lesson Plan - Ray Bradbury's "The Pedestrian"

6) [Senior Seminar] Read pp 1-111 in "Never Let Me Go" / Read Chapter 5 in "On Longing"

7) [Senior Seminar] Research for global revision paper - Human Fascination with Zombies

8) [18th Century Drama] Figure out what to write for my 5-10 page close reading essay

They say you're not supposed to take Teaching of Writing and Teaching of Literature at the same time. Now I know why. On top of assignments I also have to perform 10 hours of clinical observation (at a high school 45 minutes away from the apartment) for each class. That's 20 hours in case you lost count.

I didn't include due dates because that would make me panic to see them up there in my list. The sheer fact that I need to do them...like...now...is enough to get me going in earnest.

But hey...have a good Tuesday. You deserve it ^_^

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

I'm Trapped Inside...

Well...mostly. There was quite a winter storm last night, in case you haven't heard. I could get my car out of the parking lot if I absolutely had to. This category contains (in order from most to least likely to persuade me):
1) Justin Bieber horde
2) Zombie horde
3) Fire
4) Insect infestation

While those things aren't happening for the time being, I figured I could best waste my time by explaining a bit about my situation.

I am 21 years old, living in an apartment a short distance away from my college campus. I am a senior English education major. I live with my fiance, Jay and our roommate, Garret. My fiance and I both work at Target for the time being. Jay is one semester away from getting his degree and teaching certificate in Art and Garret is a graduate student in information technology.

My immediate family lives 25 minutes to the north in a small town, and Jay's family lives an hour away in a similar town. We like to visit both on occasion...we also like to do laundry there because it doesn't cost $2.50 to do so.

Zombie literature and culture is probably my most favorite thing in the world. For my senior seminar paper, I will be doing a global revision of a paper I wrote a year ago on the different manifestations of the apocalypse stemming from an Old English poem that I had to translate for the assignment (oh yeah...I can do that shit). You wanna talk zombies? I can talk zombies.

Chances are that I'll forget half the things I just said to save myself time in later posts and post them again and again. But if you read this one, you get to skip over those bits. Aren't you lucky?

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Shameless Attention-Seeker

I come here to get my fix. I tell people that I'm not a "huge fan" of writing. That's not entirely true, but it's not entirely false. The more accurate way of putting that is: I love being read. When I was in high school, and even the first few years of college, I would always force my parents to read my papers, craving a stroke for my ego. They knew I was smart. I knew I was smart. Sometimes I just needed someone to tell me, or even challenge me (although I never really accepted challenges until later in college when I learned not to take it so personally).

In short: Read my blog. Comment upon my blog. Engage me in a discussion about my blog. You'll be doing yourself a favor, trust me.