Weekend

It's Friday.
It's 65 degrees.

I'm going to drink a caramel macchiato.
I'm going to buy flowers for my sister.
I'm going to go home.

I will listen to good music.
I will take good pictures.
I will eat good food.

It's Friday.
It's 65 degrees.
And I'm in a good mood.

The hottest Hal

The story is due tomorrow. Seven pages of fictional goodness. I've got two and a half pages of crap. We're counting on a miracle, folks.

So, um, the humongous painting of Harry Waterfield is crooked. I've never wanted to straighten up a wall-hanging this much in my life. And I've never been so scared to do so. If that thing fell off the wall, it would not only kill me and the painting itself, but also about four computers and a student or two. Wouldn't that be lovely?

Speaking of lovely. No class today. That's right. Shakespeare festival is going on. But here's a question. What happened to the Shenandoah Shakespeare people? Is it the same people with a different title? This years it's the Black Friars Stage Company or something like that. Anyway, I'm seeing Richard III today. I think I'd rather see Much Ado About Nothing, which is tomorrow, but I can't. Oh, well.

Would somebody please tell me that all this talk about midterm is a joke?

Here's a thought

My love for Hovie seriously outweighed my common sense when I dialed up ol' RacerTouch to make this semester's schedule.

Why, oh, why did I decide to take intro to fiction?

Numb to good

Self-absorption
Leaves no room for anything else
Hunger for taste
Brings unsatisfaction

When everything's full
Of yourself
Of bread
Bitter and sweet are nothing
But dull

Until I'm empty
I'll be numb to good

O, what a joyous occasion

Dr. Morgan cancelled world lit. What a welcome break. And no class next Tuesday either -- at all. Yay, for the Shakespeare festival. Just call me Billy Shakes.

So. It's happened again. There might not even be a chill in the air. But it's September and I know I should be hearing the introductory claps to "Clarity" and a delicious breeze should be coming through open windows. I should be wearing long-sleeved shirts. And I should be reading Narnian tales.

Right now, it's too hot to coerce the season with a hoodie. So I will conjure it. This is a cancelled-class afternoon, which is very indicative of end of the beginning of the semester, meaning summer is gone. Today is, afterall, the autumnal equinox. Here's to a seance of cider-scented candles. And Heavier Things in the background.

The fifth dimension

Tonight was the first meeting of the EEIA. Okay, not really. The English Education Impression Association is really just a group on facebook. Tonight, a bunch of us girls got together at Guier's house for some professor impressions and Matt B's. We literally spent the whole time talking about English-related topics, but it was great fun. I think we're going to institute this tradition throughout the semester. I sure am going to miss these people when half of them graduate -- or start student teaching, for that matter.

So you never start too early on becoming a slacker. It has already set in. I tell myself I'll get things done eventually. And I usually do. So for now, it's extracurricular reading and naps.

I've taken to reading before going to sleep -- not to be confused with falling asleep whilst reading -- and I'm almost done with A Wrinkle in Time. This is one of those books I read as a kid and didn't understand at all the social and philosophical implications. It's much shorter and not quite as complex, maybe, as The Giver, but it invokes within me that same thoughts and feelings. Way to go, Madeleine L'Engle.

The readings for Hovie can wait until tomorrow. I've got other things to read.

Just a spoonful of sugar

The weekend was good. Kathryn's party was quite cute. The Elmo cupcakes didn't look as good as I had hoped, but all was well. And it was really funny when the icing got warm and the faces started sliding off.

In the last twenty-four hours, occasional sneezing, coughing, and stingy eyes culminated into sick. I just took more allergy medicine and fixed me some tea. I'm thinking of taking one of the few may-cause-dizziness cough syrups I have and call it a night at eight o'clock.

I got my new Spanish dictionary this weekend. It's a teensy-weensy beeby, and I love it. And it's time to lay my old one to rest, what with its lack of a back cover and partially missing and tattered front cover. It will be loved and missed. I will keep it, though. This feels like Toy Story. My dictionaries will be battling over my love like Buzz Lightyear and Woody fight over Andy's love. Okay, maybe not.

I always forget that I don't work on Mondays. That's good because I need to go and fill out my time card after class. Kind of forgot to do that Friday.

Alright. It's time for a tablespoon of less-than-bubble-gum flavored medicine. Let's see how well I can read my HELL chapter under the influence.

Don't get me started

Well, it's home for the weekend. Will definitely be listening to some BTE -- This Time of Year, especially -- on my way home. Can't wait for the leaves to turn on 293. It's really romantic for me and the 293 Deer.

Yesterday at the ESO meeting, we were trying to get organized, because despite the fact it's called the English Student Organization, there has never been anything organized about it. So the president posed the question to us, What do you want to gain from this organization? I had never though about that before. Then I realized that what I really wanted before was to get a Britt fix every other Thursday. Now that he's graduated, I might as well drop out of ESO. For real. That's some pure motivation, right there, isn't it?

Alright. Gotta pack up and get away from my stalker here on messenger. Yep. Yours truly is being stalked. Don't get excited.

I was sitting on a gold mine

I had the most fabulous realization today: The library has books. Yes, quite astounding. Let's do be honest and realize that Waterfield isn't exactly the vastest literary gold mine, but it does have books. Believe it or not, it is a very looked-over fact. Waterfield has computers and coffee. Books? What books? I don't see any books. Ah, but there are.

I've grown so used to having to buy my books -- thus perpetuating my unhealthy love relationship with half.com -- that I forgot there existed the simple pleasure of freely pulling a book off a shelf and taking it home. My obsession with possessing the books had made me forget this. I'd rather have a well-read looking bookshelf than a well-read mind. Thank God for public (or institutional) libraries. I've been perusing Half to see if I could find super-cheap prices on C. S. Lewis' The Four Loves and Madeleine L'Engle's Time Quartet including A Wrinkle in Time, but really, I can read them for free. What's the use in buying more books at the moment? I've already got three CSL books on my shelf that I haven't finished yet. Anyway, yay, for libraries.

Erm, I went to the Study Abroad Fair. I'm going to pretend I didn't look at more abroad options...

I guess I'm going to go to the ESO meeting at Applebee's at 4:30. Afterward, I need to get some last-minute supplies on the for-real Elmo cupcakes. I'm going to go ahead and make the cupcakes here tonight or tomorrow. The party is on Saturday. Can't believe Kathryn is one year old.

Might go to TNT tonight. I don't know.

My mistake

So it's true. I don't take reprimands very well. It's one thing to give me constructive criticism. It's another thing to tell me that I did something wrong and ignore my apology. I understand that I thought I was right, and I realize now the error of my ways. But don't treat me like I'm stupid.

Yeah, so I need to get over it. I've never really been able to calmly react to a reprimand, ever. I remember when I was in about the first grade, and when my bus driver made a crazy curve and I came sliding out of my seat, I yelped. She glared back at me in that big bus-driver mirror, and I automatically started crying. Now, of course, I just get irrationally ticked off.

I guess if someone's done something "wrong," they don't need to be coddled, but I think there are more understanding ways of dealing with someone's mistake. These are the things I need to remember when I teach. God help.

Oh, and about mistakes. Our world lit text book is split into three volumes. Today, we are starting to read from the second volume. I made sure to put the different book in my backpack to that I could read while I'm here at work. Yeah. I brought the third volume with me. Oh, well. Not that it matters.

Nightsongs

I finished both The Ragamuffin Gospel and Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry today. I've been trudging through RG since the beginning of summer. I started RTHMC yesterday. I think I will be a little different from now on having read both of them. Of course, every book you've read (every experience you've had, for that matter) will course through your veins for the rest of your life. But these both had significant impact. I recommend them both to everyone.

I went to the park this afternoon to finish RG. Before I read, I thought I'd take a walk through one of the woods trails. Once I got the Frost line "two roads diverged in a yellow wood..." out of my head, in came Thoreau's "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliverately..." As literary and poetic as the whole experience sounds, all I got out of it was about seventy-three mosquito bites.

Speaking of bugs. I have my windows open. I can hear all kinds of bugs humming and chirping. I love how every place has its own unique nightsong. The combination of pitches, loudnesses, and rhythms of bugs, birds, and dogs is different everywhere. I still know the one I could hear from my bed beside the window when Holly and I lived in 325. And I'll never forget the one that can be heard at the farm.

I guess I just love the things you can only see, hear, feel at night. I love the moon. I love the stars. I love the nightsongs. And I really hate being someplace where I can't enjoy them.

Make a point to notice them.

Chicken, bock bock

I ought to be reading on Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry during the couple hours before I go to the BSU for some cream soda. But alas. It's mindless survey time. (RTHMC is a very good book so far. And everyone who has read it loves it. So I'm excited.)

1. What is your ringtone?
Nokia's Montuno. Forever and always.

2. What was your favorite childhood cartoon?
How about DarkWing Duck? What ever happened to him?

3. Who is the coolest person you've ever met?
Hey, Holly. Remember when we yelled at Scotty Crowe? He's definitely been talking bad about us. What, with that dirty look and cold shoulder he gave us.

4. What did you dress as for Halloween last year?
I don't even remember Halloween last year. I'm going to say I dressed up as myself. That's a safe bet.

5. What was your favorite movie growing up?
Wizard of Oz, fo' sho'. And I watched my VHS Aladdin about a gazillion times.

6. What did you want to be when you were young?
Artist, writer, singer, teacher. Any combination of those would've been alright.

7. What did you want to be when you were in high school?
A psychologist, maybe? And I went through the I'm-gonna-be-a-missionary phase.

8. Describe yourself in sixth grade.
Oh, dear. Well, I was a big confused blob of braces, barrel bangs, and a little cheap-o necklace with two charms: K and Z. Holla.

9. What's the first thing you notice about people?
Honestly, I don't know. I think it might be eyes.

10. Important physical features in the opposite sex?
I'm not sure this is considered a physical feature, but it's a characteristic that manifests itself physically: Eye contact.

11. Worst childhood fear?
Tornadoes. Snakes.

12. Worst fear now?
Being completely alone. In the forever-isolated sense.

13. Describe your first boyfriend/girlfriend?
Well, he looked just like he does now. Only now he has a molestache.

14. Any inside jokes for anyone?
Um, not really. Which is sad.

15. Turn ons?
Goes back to the eye contact. It speaks volumes about other traits I enjoy.

16. Turn offs?
Constant complaining. And silence. Let's talk and let's talk about stuff, okay?

17. Favorite bands in high school?
Hmm. I listened to a lot of the country music, like your Tim McGraws and such. And things like Steven Curtis Chapman and Relient K.

18. What's the worst job you've had?
Well, my resume is a short one. But I venture to say that my current job won't be my worst.

19. What is your worst vice?
Procrastination. As much as I love it, it is not good for me at all.

20. What are your biggest pet peeves?
Chewing with your mouth open. Being talked down to.

21. Realist or dreamer?
We all need to be a little of both. Extremists are scary.

22. Red or blue?
I like both, but not together.

23. PB&J or grilled cheese?
Mmm, either would do.

24. Flowers or chocolates?
Flowers, I think. Though chocolates would be good, too.

25. Gold or silver?
Silver. Definitely.

26. Yankees or Red Sox?
You might as well asked me which eye I'd like a needle jabbed in.

27. What cussword do you use most often?
When it comes down to it, "shit" leaps out most often, and so often goes unnoticed.

28. What was your first job?
I guess tutoring Brittany Kitchens.

29. What is your favorite board game?
So there's not really a board involved, unless you count the one you use to write on. Scattergories.

30. What is the best concert you've seen?
John Mayer, last August, Nashville.

31. What are your pets names?
The one and only John Mayer Cusack.

32. What is the worst fashion trend you've seen?
Tight shirts on guys. Yeeeck.

33. What is the oldest thing in your closet?
Probably those leather easyspirit sandals I bought when I was a junior in high school.

34. What stickers do you have on your car?
A Murray State one you can't see because my windows are tinted, and there is a Kentucky State Police sticker in one back side window. It was on there when I got the car.

35. What do you hear right now?
"Fever Dream" by Iron and Wine. The A/C.

36. If you could have a drink of anything this second, what would it be?
That cream soda sounds good.

37. Does anything on your body hurt right now?
I kinda feel a headache coming on, but we'll ignore that.

38. What's your job position called?
Lab supervisor. What a joke.

39. Do you own a picture phone?
No. I'm still clunking around the dull silver Nokia with pieces missing.

40. What's your mom's favorite band/musician?
If I asked her, she'd say she doesn't know. Then she might claim somebody like Rod Stewart or Aaron Neville. Or John Mayer.

41. What's your dad's favorite band/musician?
He likes the Elvis. Anything bluesy or with pretty guitar or piano instrumentals.

42. What was your high school's mascot?
The Trojan, Travis Jordan.

43. What's your favorite bottled water?
Sam's Choice, no doubt.

44. What's the next concert/show you're going to and when?
Erm, Century Century on October 22?

45. What's the next movie that you want to see?
Everything is Illuminated.

46. What were you doing at 9pm last night?
Leaving my sister's house.

47. What's your favorite Starbucks drink?
Caramel macchiato. How I miss you.

48. What are you wearing?
My Moonlite Bar-B-Q tee-shirt (which reminds me of being Tror's teacher's aid, for some reason) and the jeans I don't like.

49. Did you attend your high school prom?
Senior year. That was enough.

50. Who's your dream man/woman?
I started my list about him this summer. Not complete, and even when it is, it probably doesn't matter. And chances are, you'll never see it.

Green tea

Can I just say that my Celestial Seasonings Green Tea with Mint makes me very happy? With a little honey and a packet of demerara sugar, of course. I love. It's not quite Horniman's (I'll never forget that) Té Verde con Poleo Menta and Alfonso's monks' handmade honey marmalade. But it will definitely do.

Okay. That's all I wanted to say.

A vicarious occasion

This, my friends, has been such a productive day. Ha. Okay, here's what I got accomplished: Though I started last night, I got all three Harry Potters watched. I did dishes, or the dishwasher did, rather (I put them in). I mopped my floor. I did some HELL homework. As you can see, I spent lots of time working on my bad posture by working on this blog. And, um, I...got...the...mail...? Real productive, I say.

Let's get real. The only reason I'm posting is to christen my redesign.

To make your time here worth it, let me give you some advice: Be a stalker. Get Google Earth.

A baby sleeps in all our bones

Why don't I copy the text of a post before I publish? Sometimes I do. I just wrote a huge post, and it disappeared. Oh, the ire that burns within me!

So yes, we will resort to the all-mighty bulleted list.

• I'm at work. I'm procrastinating. What's new? I'm sure you don't miss the usual entire paragraph explaining this phenonmenon.
• Mom and I had a very deep and cleansing (like deep-cleansing face wash, but not) converstaion last night. It was good. May expound some other time on this.
• Can I get an editorial in the Murray State News about the practical use of double doors? It's traffic with the two-lane possibility, but the people choose to funciton like two-way traffic on a one-lane system.
• I want to go see The Grey this weekend at Cinema International.
• I love the "goofs" feature on IMDb.com.
• The Study Abroad Fair is next Thursday, 11-2, Curris Center dance lounge. Go. See the world. And vote for my photos. Nothing like a little affirmation in the form of a cash prize.

Alive

I'm guessing this was in something like 1997, which would make me 13 or 14. I was spending the night with Ashley Holt. Every time I spent the night with her, we'd sleep on those fold-out cushion chair/bed things. We'd both sleep in the floor. Looking back, there's something that speaks of friendship in that neither of us slept in the bed.

Anyway, we were lying there, lights out, talking. I'm not sure what about. Probably who we thought we were going to marry. Either a thoughtful silence ensued or maybe Ashley fell asleep. But as I watched the glow-in-the-dark star stickers whirl around on her ceiling fan, I began to ponder the concept of memory.

What makes you remember something, I asked myself. Why do I remember stupid little things? Things, that seem to have no significance at all. It would seem that a memory would have a very strong feeling associated with it, be it happiness, fear, disappointment, and so on. But many of my memories are just memories. So that night, I promised myself I would remember that moment. I wasn't experiencing any obvious emotion. I supposed it was my own little experiment in the realm of memory.

Last night, for the first time, I remembered that memory. It was triggered by a passage in a book that didn't hold all that much significance. But it reminded me. And though I could not find a feeling to attach with that moment at Ashley's at the time, the remembering brought about a feeling I hadn't expected. It was akin to that cold shudder I get in my chest when I talk about love or Nana. It was akin to that hollow pit I feel in my stomach when I think about the time before my sister got married.

I can't explain these feelings. They are both physical and emotional. It's not longing. It's not melancholy. I think it's the feeling of being alive.

The most strangely uneventful moments fill my memory. I remember a man named Bill showing me his callouses from playing guitar when I was probably five years old. I remember going through the McDonald's drive-thru with Becca, and we told her mom that meander was on our spelling list that week. I remember Holly's brother showing me his WWF underoos probably 6 or 8 years before Holly and I became friends. I remember a lady who called the waiting room at the hospital when Victoria was being born thought I was somehow else and told me I sounded "chipper" when I answered the phone.

I don't know why I remember these things. They are just simple moments of life. And for that reason, I'm glad I remember them.

"For everyone, there's a person, place, or time that brings you back and makes you feel alive." Better Than Ezra, "Cry in the Sun"

I've been watching CNN. And I guess we all knew it was true, but I think we Americans just might be the most self-centered people on the planet.

It is terrible what has happened because of hurricane Katrina. Days into the aftermath, people (elderly, babies) are dying because of the conditions. There is no food or water, and I imagine people's supplies of medication are running out. The heat is unbearable. People are stranded with what we might consider their entire lives torn away. No jobs, no schools, no families, no homes. Right now, over twenty thousand people are scrambling to get into packed buses to take them to the Astrodome in Houston. Others of them have started marching en masse up expressways in hopes of finding help -- somewhere. These people need our help, and if we believe in love at all, it is our duty to help. Few people would disagree.

But this is what I find disturbing. As I watch the footage on CNN, I see devastation. I see hopelessness. I see people who now understand so much more about life than most of us. It isn't about our jobs and what we own. They are trying, fighting, and dying in the process to carry on living. This is something we can see because a natural disaster struck our soil. We saw it also when the tsunami hit Asia. And we are moved and we want to help. But the truth is that this thing happens every day in parts of the world we never see. There are people who have lived their entire lives starving. What is admirable is that they keep on living a livelihood that Americans would consider the end of life altogether. But they die, too, while we worry about whether our computer is good enough to get us through the school year or if a bookshelf is big enough to hold all the books we have.

I guess I'm getting at two things. Something about how life is more than what we've got and what we've accomplished. And something about how devastation is every day, not just when CNN decides to cover it. But I think the bottom line is that we refuse (whether we mean to or not) to see beyond ourselves.

I know I can't single-handedly save the world. And I don't even know where to begin to try to help. You know, the thought crosses my mind, What, are we supposed to sell everything we own and give the money away and basically stop living because other people are dying? Part of me says, Of course not. And the other part says, There is more to life than petty things we fret about giving up, things that we think we need.

Maybe we should just live like there are other people in this world besides ourselves. Maybe we could stop worrying about what we want and start considering what someone else needs.

You would be surprised how little we actually need. Consider it. Now imagine if those few tiny things that you need weren't even available to you. That is where so many people in this world are. How selfish am I that I can ignore that? I've done it all my life.

If I learned anything from T. Martell, it is this saying of Plato's that I've taken to quoting frequently. "The unexamined life is not worth living." Maybe I'm taking it out of context, but that statement is so true. How selfish and lifeless (void of true, real, authentic life) is the life of someone (me, for instance) that has never been considered for what it really is. It is just me sitting on top of a pile of weak accomplishments and scavenged goods. Who needs that?

But all this clanging is about so much more than giving everything away. That's not what it's about. The root of it all is in love. I probably sound like a jumbled up mess of John Lennon, "What The World Needs Now is Love," and 1 Corinthians 13, but that's okay. I guess I am.

"There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds." Matthew 6.26

"If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere." 1 Corinthians 13.3