I am who I am

My annual date with Roger Fererer

2008-07-06T11:41:00.000-07:00

Ahh, Roger Federer. Once a year I get myself dressed up and prepared for my date with him at the Wimbledon championship game. Nadal has joined us the last three years, which I don't much care for, but I guess I can't complain too much. He gives my boy a run for his money which, essentially, extends our dates well into the afternoon. I don't see Federer during the year...once in awhile on manly-smelling-stuff commercials or on the occasional Open match, but I don't stalk. I don't seek him out.

Three years ago, back in '06, I had no idea who Roger Federer was. I knew a bit of tennis, like that Wimbledon was important, and I knew the Williams sisters and Steffi Graf, Andre Agassi, and, of course, John McEnroe. But I didn't know the scoring (love? deuce? what?) or care much who won.

But then, I was also dating Greg. Greg liked his tennis. And, as enthralled as he was with the game, he was equally irritated that I didn't understand the simple concept of tennis scoring, so he set out to explain it to me. We watched *lots* of tennis together throughout our tenure. What Greg didn't know, though, was that while he was explaining the scoring, I was listening with about 75% of my brain. The other 25% was devoted to wondering how exactly Roger Federer could have an ass that tight and still be able to move his legs independently of one another. Hinges, surely?

I never told Greg this because our only fight that held any weight was one where he got pissed at me because I was discussing my full-on crush on Johnny Depp. He was troubled by what he described as my "boy crazy" side. So, I left out that little detail about my evolving love and admiration for the Swiss, namely one Roger Federer. (Never mind that while he was on my ass about being in lust with a celebrity who lives in France and has two children with a French model, Greg was in love with a girl from, you know, like, down the street.)

But, fortunately, Federer isn't nearly as judgmental. He's content to allow me to watch him bounce around the court for a few hours once a year and doesn't mind that I *heart* Johnny Depp and a few other highly hot people. Ahh....I love championship Sunday.

Things so beautiful they make us weep

2008-07-01T19:52:00.001-07:00

The other night I was watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and talking with Jodi. I mentioned how the scene where Charlie finds the ticket in his candy bar always makes me cry. She asked why, and I said that it's such a beautiful thing--for a deserving person to get exactly what they want. Not to have to work for it always, but for all the stars to align for a good person who deserves a bit of luck and it just happens. It's magic, I think, and that's what always makes me tear up at that moment. That, followed up by his grumpy grandpa saying "There's lots of money. They're printing more every day." And he tells Charlie to use the ticket rather than sell it.

Jodi said that what had made her cry from beauty was Where the Hell is Matt?. I clicked to it, and I haven't really been the same since. I watched it, and though Matt's dancing didn't make me cry (I did appreciate the profound message of it), what moved me, and continues to move me, was the song he dances to.

I downloaded the song and have listened to it almost non-stop for three days. I mean that. I've listened to it almost a hundred times at home on itunes and it's the only song I play in my car. I heard it in my head during my bio test and it got me through it. This has been a tough week--a tough five weeks, really--and this song overwhelms me with the feeling that absolutely anything is possible. The combination of strings and piano with the singer's incredible voice is beyond the pale. It's the sort of beautiful music that makes my chest hurt because I can't breathe for the wonder of it. It makes me smile, it makes me cry, it makes me feel like the moment I'm in is the most exquisite moment of my life.

So, it's a good song.

The song is called Praan, and I've wondered non-stop about who the singer is. I assumed she was an Indian woman hanging out in India (mostly because the words of the song aren't a language I recognize--I sound like a braying donkey when I try to sing along.) I googled her, googled the song, googled everything I could think of.

Come to find out thanks to channel 9, the singer, whose voice has filled my soul with a joy and wonder I haven't felt in a long time, is a 17 year old girl from Minneapolis. Her name is Palbasha Siddique, and the song is in Bengali. I wish I could call her up and tell her how much this song has moved me. She was paid $1000 for the song, which is akin in my mind to Edgar Allan Poe's $12 for The Raven.

Beautiful things that make us weep should be celebrated. The feeling of joy that swells within and threatens to burst out all on its own is so rare and, well, beautiful. Whatever its source, weeping for joy and love and beauty is a thing to be treasured.

Pretty please?

2008-06-25T15:59:00.001-07:00

Maybe if I ask really, really nicely, the biggest annoyance in life as we know it will quietly go away. Maybe. Let's try it, shall we? Community effort.

Please, please, PLEASE. STOP. EATING. Everywhere I go, whether I'm in bio lab, in the classroom, walking down the street, walking in a hallway, people are eating. No wonder this country has a weight problem--people eat from the time they wake up in the morning until they close their eyes again at night. They never fucking stop.

Okay, you can eat. A few times a day, and in restaurants or areas where eating is an appropriate behavior. Classrooms are not an acceptable place. Let me repeat that: classrooms are not cafeterias.

To the girl who sits next to me in biology and smacks on her doritoes every day, please knock it the fuck off. Class is two hours long...you won't starve.

To the girl who sits next to me in fiction class and somehow, somehow, made blueberries a noisy food (not to mention the cherries, where I had to look at the nasty pits she'd spit out every time I turned my head to the right), please also knock it the fuck off.

People on airplanes with your onion-laden burgers and your Taco Bell, people in meetings with your smelly pasta salads, knock it the fuck off.

You'll die if you don't have food every hour on the hour? Hypoglycemic are you? Diabetic? Knocking on death's door? Haven't eaten all day and you're about to pass out? Hey, I have a heart, I can abide by that. Here's the solution: remove yourself from the classroom/meeting area (which is, let's say it together, 'not a cafeteria!') and go sit in the hallway and eat. What? You'll miss important information? Well, if your need to eat is truly that life-or-death, then you should miss some information so that you don't pass out/go into shock/die. Absolutely. But you know what? I bet you wouldn't leave. I bet you'd plan ahead and eat something in the five minutes before class, or at the 10 minute break, or you'd wait and let your tummy do its rumbling act until the class/meeting was done. I bet you'd do that. But why do either one--leave or plan ahead--when you can lay out a spread that rivals the Mother's Day buffet at the Holiday Inn and smack your chips, your berries, your soup, your carrots, in my ear? Maybe because you have a sense of respect for those around you? Maybe? Please?

Paging Dr. Nash...

2008-06-22T18:49:00.000-07:00

What have I done all weekend?

Math.

Literally, ONLY math. I ate a little, and by eating I mean I ingested and digested rational expressions, imaginary numbers, and the square of the hypotenuse. I did 54 pages of problems--front and back (54 of my pages, not the book. God only knows how many book pages I did). Oh, and I snuck in some yoga. Hey, I had to do *something* to clear my head of numbers, numbers, numbers.

The next time I decide to forgo math in place of going out and partying like it's my birthday, smack me. Seriously. As much fun as the week was, this weekend was sheer fucking hell. But I needed to do all eight sections in preparation for tomorrow morning's exam.

Okay, on to Biology. Quiz tomorrow on cell reproduction and then exam on Tuesday on photosynthesis, cell reproduction, and aerobic respiration. Funsies.

Closing out of Birthday 2008

2008-06-20T17:14:00.000-07:00

Last night Yoga Molly took me out for dinner and drinks to celebrate my birthday. We went to Bonfire and ate pizza and drank Mojitos. It was fantastic--great conversation, great company, great food---a terrific way to close out my birthday week. I'm so glad that I met Molly and that we've become friends; she is absolutely fantastic.

Today I worked for two hours and then, theoretically, had the rest of the day to work. My body had other plans, though. I got home from school at around 10am, and then proceeded to lounge in the great red chair of sleep until, well, pretty much right now. I took a nap, ate some lunch, ate some dinner, graded a few grammar packets, but on the whole this day has been one of total mental release. I didn't realize how exhausted I was this week. Every week at this time, I guess. It's probably why I'm getting so freakishly emotional on Thursday nights and into Friday mornings. Or, maybe it's just that I'm a freakishly emotional person. Whichever.

I have to take 8 math quizzes this weekend to make up for celebrating my birthday in place of doing math all week. I have to do that so that I can take the chapter 10 test on Monday morning and go to yoga on Monday night. At least there's a nice reward at the end of it. I also have to study for bio, clean the house, and grade summer school work. What's most important, though, is that I utilize tonight to the max that I can. I always feel like I throw away Friday nights and end up stressing on Sunday nights. Hopefully I can do a lot of work tonight and then not be so crazy on Sunday.

We'll see.

Simple pleasures, the bad with the good, the silver lining, fate stepping in (aka my 32nd birthday)

2008-06-18T13:57:00.001-07:00

The fates are really trying. They're gathering around, totally rallied, working together to try to outwit the badness (karma?) and make my birthday the best possible day. Here is the yin and yang that has been my first fourteen hours of 32:

+ Going out for fabulous drinks at my only official "party" which wasn't really official
-- I sometimes feel when I'm with the people that I was with that I'm a total outsider and kind of like they just let me tag along (I know all of the aforementioned people read this and we all know it's me and my brain and not you at all so don't flip out *grin*) and like I don't really know anything about books or music or any of the important things in life.
-- When I got to my car there was a glowing ticket there for $105. Thanks for the birthday gift, Hennepin County.

-- This morning I woke up crabby and hot and angry.
+ When I let Gatsby out there was a marvelous breeze that cooled me down (on all levels)

-- Had to teach summer school rather than sleeping in, and the kids talked non-stop
+ I had a great conversation with three kids and when I was walking out of school with my bag and my coffee I felt every inch of 32 in the best way possible: professional, together, needed.

+I studied for my bio quiz and felt like I knew everything there is to know about photosynthesis
-- I got a C on the bio test I took on Tuesday

+ I did not get an F on the bio test I took on Tuesday
-- I definitely failed the quiz on photosynthesis, which I had trouble seeing since I was literally wiping away my tears from the C on the test.

--I went to the vending machines between bio class and lab and realized I was 20 cents short of affording anything.
+ I dug deeply in every crevice of my purse and bag and found a quarter

-- I put all the money into the machine and found out everything in the machine is mislabled and I was five cents short. No food.
+ As the tears were threatening again 'Stay' by Lisa Loeb and the Nine Stories came on the radio. My karaoke song.

See what I mean?

My birthday has been a day of enjoying simple pleasures. It could have very, very easily have been a bad day. There was a time when I would have made it a bad day. But, the fates seem insistent that for every bad that happens there is a good right along with it, and I'm totally willing to go along with them on that. I stopped at picked up some chinese food on the way home from lab, and now I'm crashed out on the couch reading a shitload of messages from people who love me and don't mind telling me so on my special day. One of the realizations that comes with being older is realizing that a person has to pave their own way in this world, and that includes their happiness. I can dwell on the Cs and the failures and the expensive ticket, or I can be loved, eat Chinese food, pick up fresh dry cleaning, enjoy the gorgeous 78 degree, cloudless sunny day, and read the summer Tin House.

Happy birthday to me---here's to another year of learning, growing, and loving my friends and family. In the last calendar year I've met new people, some of whom are becoming very dear to me. I've also had some pretty staunch reminders that we aren't guaranteed anything but this present moment and it's important to make that moment special and surrounded by people I care about. Thirty-two years is thirty-one, -two, -three longer than a lot of other people get, so I'm incredibly thankful.

Is it Friday yet?

2008-06-16T20:53:00.000-07:00

Today in biology I tried so damn hard to stay awake--I really did. And I was successful, but there was a small problem. I was concentrating so hard on staying awake that most of what my prof was saying missed me almost entirely. I got all the notes and I think I mostly get what's going on, but it was brutal. The most brutal part being, of course, that just making it through class isn't enough; I also had to make it through a three hour lab where we measured shit in milliliters. Oi.

Fridays have significant meaning to me these days, since they are the only day of the week I don't have class. Mondays are five hour bio class and math, Tuesdays are usually exam days and now fiction class, Wednesdays are five hour bio class and math, Thursdays are the beginning of the descent--two hour class, math, yoga (yay!)....and then blissful Friday. Those first three days of the week, though, man, Dude. TGIF.

Now, of course, I have to study for biology. The test tomorrow is on bacteria, intro to metabolism, and membranes. Oh, and archaea. Whatever those are. HA!

Nothing like a heart attack on a Saturday morning

2008-06-14T09:44:00.000-07:00

The first three hours of my Saturday morning were uneventful. I had toast and raspberries and coffee for breakfast, read a story, watched some Seinfeld, played with the dog, and played on the computer. Thought about doing some math. Looked at my list of things to do today from last night and added "laying out in the sun" to the list.

Then I checked in on Jodi's bittersweetheart and it was at that point that my Saturday evented. Have you people seen What's Wrong With This Room? I mean, my GOD. I can't believe it.

Things that boggled my mind today:

2008-06-13T19:17:00.000-07:00

1. Needing my second complete brake replacement on the same car.

2. A man standing in a parking lot eating Chipotle. Standing. In a parking lot. Eating Chipotle.

3. The six people that ran a red light because they couldn't find their accelerators, apparently, when the light was green and let it run out.

4. The Sex and the City movie.

5. How much weight Candace Bergen has gained. Especially because she's apparently a vegetarian.

6. How bothered I am by the Sex and the City movie.

7. The amount of math I did today and that I think I may almost mostly understand it.

8. A boy returned my phone call.

9. That friends of a close friend of mine are pissed at her for going out of town for the weekend when she was "supposed" to visit their house for a party.

10. I bet I saw a dozen cars run red lights today. Not pink lights--RED damn lights.

Apparently I'm fully boggled today. I am. Dude. I need to go sit down.

My inner alien

2008-06-03T06:58:00.000-07:00

I've named her Betsy. Little Betsy Tropwood, from David Copperfield. I don't know why. I should name it Sigourney.

My inner alien is a tap tap tapping that is coming from just behind my ribs. It isn't a stomachache, it isn't gas, and it isn't a fetus (or if it is you can call me Mary II). It's a spot right behind my right ribs, and it just.....taps. Against my ribs. In a tapping movement. If I put my fingers to my ribs I can feel it.

I won't be freaked out unless it continues for another week or so. Or a fetal alien comes bursting out of my chest. That would also be cause for freaking.

Go away! Wait, come back! Go away! Wait...

2008-05-30T18:15:00.000-07:00

This last week was one of the most stressful I've had in a long time. I went back and read through my teaching posts to give myself some perspective. Tomorrow is Craig's funeral. The last time I went to a funeral that was held in a gymnasium it was for my own English teacher in high school. I know that I will draw significant parallels tomorrow between myself now and myself as a fifteen year old.

No doubt it's due to the events of the week, but over the last few days I've felt so unbelievably needy I almost can't stand to be with myself. I've become obsessive, paranoid, and, what's worst, I feel lonely. I almost can't be by myself. That's so damn annoying. I'm a loner--I always have been. I've savored my time alone to the point that occasionally I'll actually cancel plans with people in order to spend time with my numero uno: me. I'll turn off my phone. But now, I'm reaching out like crazy to anyone who will listen. But, my friends are the type of friends a loner person can have--they're busy people, always off doing things. So they're not really around. And that's okay, 99.9% of the time. This week, though, not so much.

It's Friday night. I'm watching the National Spelling Bee, playing games on pogo.com, and hanging with Gatsby. I plan to make popcorn later, do some math, and read my book. I need to get back to where I'm okay being in my own head. This is just very, very strange to me.

Stepping slowly back from the ledge

2008-05-27T22:03:00.000-07:00

After a lengthy conversation with Jodi tonight, I'm simmered down. When I freak out and panic beyond all reason, I go to my single women friends who don't judge my hysteria and offer precisely the right suggestions or listening for what I need. Jodi is often the best choice for this type of conversation.

And, after the chat, a nap, a diet coke, and Hell's Kitchen, I'm more myself than I was this afternoon when I was ready to burst out of sheer irritation. I'm very lucky to have the outlets that I do, and I need to remember that things only get worse inside my head. Holding everything in all day long and pretending that I was fine only pushed me into a bad place that I couldn't get out of on my own. I'll probably wander in there several times this week as I'm reminded every day of Craig's death, but it'll be okay. It's okay to be unhappy about this whole deal.

No, no, I'm fine. Really. Thanks for asking.

2008-05-27T15:04:00.000-07:00

I'm so incredibly pissed off today I don't even know what to do. It's the death anger, misplaced onto just about anything that moves (or doesn't move, in some cases). The type of anger that makes me not want to be in my skin because it's just all too much.

Today at school was miserable. I'm having some issues with colleagues that I can't really talk about out of professional obligation. They added to the sense of total disorientation and numbness of today. I knew it would be hard. I'm trying to remember that everyone deals with death (and with people who are dealing with a death) differently so I shouldn't be hypersensitive to my own perceived feelings. I'm trying to pretend that everything is normal, and maybe that will make it normal again.

There is so much more than Craig's death going on. So much that I wish I could talk about but I can't and won't because, well, I'm starting to think that maybe my life is becoming a bit too public and my expectations based on that set me up for failure.

I'm just in that spot that no one wants to be in---emotional discomfort. There's nothing but time that will make it better. And a change of scenery come June 6th. I can't wait for June 6th.

The second time is not okay

2008-05-26T11:08:00.000-07:00

*Edit: May 27: Craig did not die on My 24 as I stated below, but on May 25.

In April of 2007, my blog became, briefly, the most popular blog in all of the tri-city area. And, I got into some trouble. A former student died and I wrote about it. It was the entry I wrote before (since deleted) that caused the ruckus. The night that Kyle died, I was at a wedding reception for good friends of mine. I wrote about some very un-teacherly things and then the next day wrote about Kyle, and the back-to-back entries was too much for many people. Their shock over my behavior at the party (nothing too outrageous, just not the kind of thing you want to read about the person who teaches your kid Macbeth) eclipsed the emotional message I wrote about Kyle, so I deleted the party post.

I've struggled since the night of Kyle's death knowing that at the same time he was drinking to a point that would, ultimately, lead to his death, I was also engaging in the same behavior. I was having the time of my life while Kyle was dying. I find these shared moments, times when you can match up the minute you were doing something fun while someone else was experiencing tragedy, so complex that I haven't been able to find the words to explain them. And I still can't.

While I was at Molly's party on Saturday night, my former principal and current friend, Craig, passed away from ALS. For the second time (in a row--the last major party I was at was the wedding reception) I was at a party having "the best time ever" when someone I care about left this Earth. And that, friends, really fucking sucks. I hate that now I have two memories that are exactly the same--me, drinking and carousing with friends while someone else dies. My heart is breaking for his family and for the thousands of people who were touched by him.

Craig was an absolutely amazing man. He and I had our differences, to be sure, but they were always quickly smoothed over by a beer and a Packers game, or by sharing our travel experiences. He was a beautiful pianist, a generous spirit, and a great man. Thank God he and his amazing wife, Mary, raised their two children with all of the great traits they share--his spirit will live on in all three of them.

Party on, Dude

2008-05-25T12:28:00.000-07:00

One of the only things that was getting me through last week was the impending soirée at Yoga Molly's house. Last night Jessie and I arrived at 6pm and left at around 2am. The eight hours in between are something of a blur to me, but I do know that I had a blast.

One of the hazards of going to a party where you don't know anyone is that afterward the whole experience can seem surreal and imagined. I spent today pretty much in my own head, recalling conversations, jokes, etc. but not being able to tell them to anyone and, in short, debrief. That, combined with the after effects of an unbelievable amount of alcohol, has left me feeling somewhat emotionally raw. Not in a bad way, just in that post-party way. I met very cool people and got to know Molly better. I behaved myself (I really did!) and it's so nice to not have to add regret to the list of things I'm feeling.

So, tomorrow is a vacation day which should give me a bit more time to recover. I have to clean the house and grade some stuff, but I'll still find time to enjoy the day.

Crabby Pants

2008-05-22T20:55:00.000-07:00

They're back on. And on they'll stay until June 6th when I'm finally released from the hell employment that manages to crush my hopes and dreams on a daily basis.

Here is what's keeping me from slitting my wrists (metaphorically, of course):

--> An invite to Yoga Molly's kegger this weekend (for which I have expressed such excitement I'm pretty sure Molly thinks I never get invited to parties)

--> A visit from Jessie, also this weekend

--> Memorial Day

--> The fact that after Memorial Day there are only eight days left of school for underclassmen

--> The fact that after Memorial Day there are only six days left of school for seniors

--> I can watch Sweeney Todd whenever I want

--> I can do a shoulder stand in yoga, mostly unassisted (after my initial "dead bug" appearance at which point Molly rescues me)

--> Seinfeld

I think that's it.

Right now, I want to eat Asian noodles and take a nap and read a book. What I need to do is clean the guest bathroom for Jessie.

"under review"

2008-05-16T18:27:00.001-07:00

So I've been waiting along with everyone else* for my "economic stimulus" check--not a gift from George W. but a return on my investment as a tax-paying citizen. I wait and I wait and I wait. Then I get a letter from them with the word 'payment' stamped in HUGE red letters on the back. I think 'yippee!' and then I open it and find out that my check is "under review." Great.

I'm a single, childless, full-time employed worker with a taxable income of less than 50 grand a year. What are they reviewing? I didn't marry an alien, claim 30 dependents, change my name, file an amended return, cheat the IRS or lie to the President. I'm a tiny blip on the IRS screen. Or I was. Now my file is sitting on the dining room table of some overworked-underpaid government employee in what is essentially the "slush pile" of the IRS.

But it's okay. I stimulate the economy plenty. And why do I need money? The tuition, books, overwhelming gas payments, they basically pay themselves.

*Wait, amend that, no one is waiting anymore but me.

Which of the seven deadly sins is pride?

2008-05-14T18:40:00.000-07:00

Not that it matters.

Let me sit down with you and have a chat. Seriously....come here, next to me, pull up a cushion. We need to talk about grades and about hard work because I learned a few things over the past five months and I want to share them with you.

Comfy? Excellent.

Okay, so as a teacher I know how arbitrary grades are. And they're biased as hell. I give kids breaks left and right, and, while I don't take points away from kids just because I don't like them, I don't do those kids any favors either. The whole grading system is flawed beyond measure......yet it is the only system that "matters" to success for eighteen years of a person's life. There were doors that opened and closed to me based on whether or not the professor a) had had their coffee; b) liked me; c) agreed with my opinion; d) actually graded the stuff or had a TA do it that may or may not have known more than I did. Or many other reasons. As a result, I tend to make sure the overall grade for the student reflects their effort and the work that they completed. I give extra credit. I'm more in favor of hard work than of knowledge. Maybe that makes me unfair, but that's how I am.

So, my point. I finished my last final test tonight, and went home praying I had done enough to not wreck my A. My arbitrary, biased, doesn't-matter A. And I got it. I earned 3 As. With teaching an overload, with a second job at a funeral home, with a dog, with having a life. I earned my first 4.0 ever in my life. And let me tell you---I have never, ever been more proud of myself than I am tonight. Not when I graduated from St. Olaf, not when I got accepted to the Zoetrope: All Story writing conference, not when I was honorable mention in the Mentor Series. This is pride that comes straight from hard work-your-ass-off work, which I've discovered I've done decidedly little of in my life.

I know it's only going to get harder from here. This is the tip of the iceberg, and the further I get into it, the more pressure I'll feel to maintain the 4.0. But I'm focused now in a way that I wish I could share with my students--I wish I could make them see the difference between a B that's handed to them (what I accepted my whole life) and an A that is well earned. The difference is immeasurable.

A secret for you---I wasn't a good student. I look like I would have been, acted like I would have been, but I worked far below my actual ability level. Because I'm lazy. And sloth, also one of those seven deadlys, was a huge downfall for me. I'm not a totally smart person--I'm not a natural A girl, I'm a girl that needs to work for her As. And I never did before this January.

So, I'm basking tonight in a feeling that I've honestly never felt before---total and complete pride in a job truly well done. I know I did my best, and I was rewarded for it. Am I placing too much emphasis on grades? Absolutely. But, well, sometimes it's okay to do that.

Ravenous

2008-05-13T20:59:00.000-07:00

I'm absolutely starving. All the time. I'm doing that whole Meredith Baxter Birney-Lifetime movie-bulimia thing without the purging. I can only blame it on the fact that I've removed meat from my diet and therefore my body is always in want of the one thing it can't have. But, if I told you everything I ate today you'd hurl on your shoes.

So, what to do? Continue eating like a state fair hog and gain 30 lbs? Eat meat? (Isn't there a short story about a person whose hunger can never be satiated? I think there's meat involved there too.) Starve myself? Rest assured, I'm not losing any weight.

I think I may need to trot over to Whole Foods and find some good meat substitutes. I'm a little afraid to go in there, but it's either that or continue nibbling away at vegetables and fruits like a vegetarian Rainman until I eventually explode and go out and kill myself a steer.

Okay...going to make some popcorn.

Huh...this pressure cooker thingy has a lid...

2008-05-10T11:38:00.000-07:00

Last night I took my bio final. I won't speak of it beyond that I only needed seven points to hold an A in the class (50 point test) and I'm really hopeful (but not positive) that I got seven right. I have my accounting final on Tuesday and my Death and Dying final on Wednesday and then I'm done.

And a funny thing happened when I woke up this morning. At 1pm. The sac of stress I've been floating in since January broke open during the night and I felt a level of calm that I don't remember feeling in months. I definitely prefer to work harder during the term so that finals don't matter quite as much (opposed to the girl in my bio class who didn't even show up for the final because there's no way she can get a C in the class even with a perfect score so she has to retake the class anyway).

Today is my day to sit and enjoy. To read my book. Practice yoga. Play games on the computer. Yeah, I need to clean and do laundry too, but that's cool, I can do that. Later I'll go to the grocery store and get some beans, mushrooms, veggies, to match up with my new food plan. I'm excited for today.

In a tad more than three weeks I start the summer term: cellular biology and intermediate algebra. I have bio for 14 hours a week. Yeech. The learning for that class will be intense: both fast and hard. But, I can do it. In three weeks.

"Mary Moo--oo--oon, she's a vegetarian"

2008-05-07T21:07:00.000-07:00

So I'm on day whatever of being a vegetarian. Or, rather, I should say I'm on day whatever of not eating meat. I don't really consider myself a vegetarian because I'm guessing this phase will pass eventually....as soon as the memory of the uncanny resemblance between chicken and rat fades away.

But do you know what I miss? Bacon. I miss bacon. It doesn't appeal to me--like I can't imagine eating it--but I miss it all the same. I miss the crunchy greasy fattiness of it. Somehow tofu doesn't have the same appeal.

Meltdown #618

2008-05-06T07:08:00.000-07:00

When I spoke of my meltdown last week, I didn't really imagine that I'd have another one quite so quickly. But, well, I guess my freaking out is an hourly occurrence these days. But, last night while I was sitting down doing my accounting and chatting with Jodi about various sundry items, I suddenly flipped out again.

Now when I say 'suddenly,' I mean just that. I mean that like a switch was flipped inside me, 'suddenly' everything was wrong and I was going to fail accounting (well, get a B, which is just as bad) and I couldn't get the problems or the exercises and blah blah blah.

Because Jodi is my friend and knows me well, she didn't bat an eye when I went from normal conversationalist to suicidal bitch. She switched right along with me, complaining about my professor and the stupid exercises and how could I be expected to do work when it's not explained? And that, folks, is a true friend. Sure, she threw Moist Frank in at the end, but it was a well deserved jab.

I've always, to some degree, had the freakout gene. Having classes, though, and being at the break point for stress 24/7 has only exacerbated an already unruly situation.

Chicks will WHAT?

2008-05-05T17:37:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I went to my high school's production of Grease. I'd never seen the production before (only the movie), but I knew there was a "censored" version that was performed by high schools around the country. Chicks scream, no one gets off their rocks, there are no tits, and the wagon is of the station variety rather than the feline.

So I'm sitting in the auditorium with BFF Erica and the strains of Greased Lightnin' begin. A boy who is yet not old enough to vote sings, "You are supreme, the chicks'll cream" and my mouth drops. I turn to BFF and she whispers "I don't think he was supposed to sing that." At which point I dissolve into giggles and am really glad I'm not the high school musical director.

The next evening I had Saturday Night Live on in the background as I...well, I was probably studying. Christopher Walken, one of my favorite hosts of all time, does a skit of, guess what, a high school performing Grease. Running through the song in his 'Save the Drama Stage' t-shirt, he gets to "chicks'll cream," and he stops the song. "Chicks will WHAT? That's DIRTY."

He then discusses "get off my rocks", and "real pussy wagon" (and disposes of 'greased lightnin' ' itself all on his own) and changes them to something cleaner because, as he says, "If I let you sing that that the school board will put me in a box and push me down a hill."

Who says life doesn't imitate art?

Yoga saves the day

2008-05-04T17:39:00.001-07:00

I could try telling you about this week. I could attempt to explain the insane combination of events that sent me into the weekend begging for just a few hours to not have to think...Could try to explain in detail any one of the following events:

--> The adverse and somewhat numbing reaction to the death of an old friend's baby daughter

--> The irritation felt by finding out that I need to attend my 7th hour every day until the end of the year because my batch of 25 honors-level seniors cannot be trusted to behave themselves with a substitute teacher.

--> Completely wigging out in a somewhat overly-dramatic moment in which I announced that not only was I quitting teaching, I was quitting my at-risk program *today* and then there was some stalking off and some door slamming, followed by a lot of tip-toeing around by my coworkers and students out of straight up fear that I might lose my shit all over again.

--> Partner yoga, in which I became intimately involved with a stranger whom I know only as Moist Frank

--> Finding out that not only did my best friend's fiance quit his teaching job four months before his contact expired, but he lied about quitting for two months (yes, you read that correctly) and continued to get up every morning to "go to work" until he finally had to pony up the truth eight weeks after the fact

--> Forgetting the casket spray after taking the casket from the sanctuary, leading to a not-so-serious yet definitely present first mistake in the funeral biz

Yes, any of those could be expanded and expounded upon for some length, particularly Moist Frank and the lying-asshole-fucker-loser my best friend seems to still plan to marry, but I'll spare you.

Instead, today I went to yoga. Beautiful, fantastic, amazing, mind-sheltering yoga. Alicia and Molly are sharing the class, and today was Alicia's day. BFF Erica is taking the Sunday class with me, and it was a fine, fine way to finish out what may be the Shittiest Week In Which Nothing Actually Happened Directly to Me.

Sad news on delay

2008-04-30T06:34:00.000-07:00

When I was in high school I had the fortune of a very special woman coming into my life: Amy Haugen (now Beecher). She was the youth director at my church, and she let me spend most of my senior year of high school on her couch, in her kitchen, and lounging on her floor. She never sent me away when I showed up on her doorstep unannounced late at night. When I worked at a bible camp during the summer and was absolutely exhausted, she gave me a safe haven in her air conditioned room in the ARC (for visiting youth directors and pastors) so I could nap. She was an unbelievably good friend to me and, I would say, the most important person in my life.

She got married to Jason and though I liked him very much, I felt like I was losing a big sister...and I was. Our paths split--she went into married life and I went deeper into college and my own world. I went to visit them in the summer of 1999 in Colorado, and that's the last time I've seen them.

Amy and Jason have two children--Noah and Jess. This morning I woke up having dreamed about Amy. Random dream, we flew to France together, but what wasn't random was the incredible urge I felt to contact her. To reconnect. For whatever reason, I googled them rather than just shooting off an email. I met shocking news: Jess, their daughter, died last summer from complications due to epilepsy. I knew that she struggled with this illness, but I guess I just assumed that because the email updates stopped coming that Jess's seizures were under control and she was happily enjoying being a 4 year old kid. She died on June 18th, 2007.

In honor of her memory and to raise money for seizure related disorders such as Epilepsy and Tuberous Sclerosis, Jason is doing 'Journey for Jess,' where he will travel to 31 national parks taking pictures and collecting donations for their local chapters of the Epilepsy Foundation and TS Alliance.

Please consider donating to this extremely worthy cause. What Amy, Jason, and Noah have gone through is something that no one should have to. Taking this loss and turning it into a positive impact on others is exactly the type of thing that Amy and Jason would do. They are a kind, generous, caring couple. Donate whatever you can to help Jason and to help their family heal.