Already 30!

asinine things he said

2005-09-02T15:31:00.000-05:00

"Black women have such nappy hair. Not even black men think they are attractive. Have you ever seen a porn movie with a black woman?"

"What's the difference between your dog and a racoon? Explain that."

"There is a reason for AIDS. It's 100% preventable, and look who's dying from it: homosexuals."

"I'm just more of a Christian than you."

"The problem with women is..." (I didn't hear the rest of that one, thank God!)

And the other jackass whose name also starts with J texted me last night at 6:30 with the ever so clever, "Need a buddy?" I thought he had gotten the message about the importance of advance plans. Was I wrong.

When I said I already had a buddy for the evening, he replied, "You wanted to hang out with me tonight." And I said, "U said u'd call." Then he, "Glad I didn't." Gees...

Maybe I should stop meeting men at the tavern. Any suggestions for a new hangout?

week in review

2005-08-29T17:22:00.000-05:00

Last Monday -- uneventful but very enjoyable date night, except that he called me an ultra-leftist liberal democrat, which is only partly true, and he said I should "soften" my personality. However, he also played his guitar and sang some beautiful songs just for me.

Thursday -- actual fight in my classroom; a violent grill-wearing short but stocky black guy slammed into a bigmouth tall skinny Brazilliam fellow who called him "ugly;" they knocked over a desk, knocked the girl in it against the wall, then fell to the floor where they rolled around until several other boys pulled them apart. Very unsettling.

Friday -- endured unusually bad service at the tavern due to an unusually large crowd attracted by a less than mediocre band; ended up at Waffle House.

Saturday -- couldn't get my much anticipated haircut because for some strange reason the salon had no power; drove to Cville where I spent an hour with my parents, then to Rome where I had lunch with my sister, played with my precious nephew, and pulled my grandmother away from her afternoon game of bingo at the nursing home; in my bed asleep at 9:00.

Sunday -- stopped by PF Chang's for a drink (I got a tall mai tai) so that Jenn could stalk cute waiter guy; shared some spring rolls and steamed veggie dumplings; then cute waiter guy brought us a complimentary dessert of fried bananas and ice cream drizzled with caramel; next, drove to Smyrna for dinner around 9ish; ate some meatballs, followed by a full bowl of salad, then a slice of pork roast with wild rice and carrots, and finally a heavenly piece of cheesecake; washed it all down with a couple of glasses of red wine.

I guess it's no surprise I woke up feeling sickish today.

out of nowhere

2005-08-20T16:37:00.000-05:00

I broke up a fight in my classroom right before lunch yesterday. Well, it wasn't actually a fight yet, but two boys were chesting up to each other and one of them was flinging the mo fo bomb with vehemence and a look of complete rage in his eyes. So I jumped in between them, grabbed the most volatile one by the shoulders, and sat him back in his desk. I held his hand and waved my other hand in his face for about two minutes while telling him to get a grip until he sort of got over it. Luckily, the rest of the class was hushed into a shocked silence instead of urging them on.

After class, I told the violent mo fo that he could fight anyone he wanted to on his own time, but he would not ruin my class with his temper. I promised him that if he ever fights in my class, the cops will haul his ass to jail, and I'll never see him again. He actually apologized. Of course, he lost it when the other guy called him a buster because he is stressed out due to problems at home. We were having such a great time together, all 31 of us -- black, white, Hispanic, Asian, the Ukranian boy and the girl from West Africa with the French accent -- and then all of sudden, boom! Near disaster. Then disaster averted.

More importantly, last night I met a great guy. I wasn't even working the room. I was just chiling at the bar with my girlfriends, and then there he was with his Jack and Coke. When I commented that he is the same age Jesus was when he was crucified, he said, "That's so weird. I just told someone the same thing." Although we disagree about public vs. private schooling, we agree about church. He dances like me, and he's funny. He also throws around words like "nebulous." He has a fabulous voice and used to be a late night 96rock dj. Good shoes. 6'1".

Despite two bad experiences with Oglethorpe girls, he's taking me out tonight on a real date. I'm excited about it.

I hate it when people say, "you'll meet someone when you least expect it" or "you've got to stop looking if you want to find a man." Maybe they are right after all.

country come to town

2005-08-07T22:35:00.000-05:00

Well, I must admit that Toby Keith brings out the redneck in me. And there is a redneck within, not so deeply hidden. My fabulous friend Robert gave me tickets to see and hear Big Throwdown Tour II -- and I wasn't so sure this was the concert for me.

Was I wrong -- I loved it! First, Lee Ann Womack played my theme song, "I might hate myself tomorrow, but I'm going to love you tonight."

Then, Toby Keith, who burst onto the stage in a large white truck, sang my other theme song, "I'm not talking 'bout locking up forever, baby. That would be too demanding. I'm just talking 'bout two lonely people who might need a little understanding. I'm not talking 'bout knocking out heaven with whether we're wrong or we're right. I'm not talkin' 'bout hookin' up or hangin' out -- I'm just talking 'bout tonight!" Plus, "She's my little whiskey girl" and my favorite, "I should have been a cowboy! I should have learned to rope and ride! I'd be firin' my six shooter, ridin' my pony on a cattle drive-iive. Stealin' the young girls' hearts, yeah, just like Gene and Roy. Singin' those camp-fire songs! Oh, I shoulda been a cowboy!"

And then, of course, the classic -- "I like talkin' about you-you-you-you-usually, but ocassionally, I wanna talk about me! Me! ME! I wanna talk about Me-e-E!" What a blast.

Thanks, Robert. I can't even begin to describe the people attracted by this kind of event.

Adventures on the Redneck Rivera

2005-08-04T10:37:00.000-05:00

Despite my devastation that Miracle Strip Amusement Park closed forever last November so that we couldn't ride the Abominable Snowman or Dante's Inferno or the Musical Express, pleasures I greatly anticipated for quite some time, we did manage to have a damn good time.

Not only did I have fun, I had a man who's killed multiple people. No, he's not a murderer! He's a marine. Small but very muscular guy from Ohio, 41 years old, stationed in Iraq for seven months. He almost convinced me that Bush isn't the devil -- but then, a soldier would have to believe that they are doing the right thing for sanity's sake.

First stop: Wal-mart. How appropriate! Viv grilled hamburgers for us at our lovely townhouse next to Show-n-Tail. Drank daiquiris on the deck of a liquor store overlooking the strip where we yelled at folks passing by who honked at us and yelled back. Fabulous day at the beach on Friday. Read Chloe Does Yale, also appropriate. Ate at Sharky's, Pineapple Willy's, and of course, the Treasure Ship where we wore paper pirate hats and colored pictures of a pirate and his ship while we ate. Flirted with the balloon artist.

Rain on Saturday sent us to see Wedding Crashers! Hilarious. We also shopped at Alvin's Magic Mountain where you can have your picture taken with a small live alligator in your lap. Discovered the "Willy Warmer" at Condom Knowledge and almost bought a mullet wig. I haven't laughed that much in a long time.

Most importantly, we partied all night at Spinnaker's on Friday and Saturday. Jenn almost hooked up with the singer of the cover band who played all of my favorite songs: American Girl, Laid, various Coldplay. I bought a Bud for a precious young guy from Albany who said to me, speaking of his girlfriend, "I just love her, man." Jenn and I danced with a crazy guy whose best moves are "the football" and "gallop like a pony." Fireworks. Escape from Atlanta. Mindlessness and good times.

Strange Girl Shouts Absurd Headlines!

2005-07-26T12:52:00.000-05:00

Three-day Old Chinese Food Tastes Bad!

Neon-Colored Urine Result of Vitamin Tablet!

Beach Pedicure Tonight at 6:00!

Solitare Provides Excellent Source of Procrastination!

Colins Says Recent Weather Is "Africa Hot!"

Emory Library Denies Access to GSU Student!

Bailey WonderDog Sleeps All Day!

ramblings

2005-07-25T22:15:00.000-05:00

Funny how I have so much to say tonight yet don't really feel much like talking to anyone. I'm sure I'll feel like talking to people again tomorrow, but right now, thank God for my blog.

Speaking of not wanting to talk, soft-hand Jew boy (does that sound like a racial slur because I only mean it as a description -- you know, someone could describe me as obnoxious short cracker girl and I'm ok with that) left a message on Saturday because I didn't want to answer, then called again and didn't leave a message. Out of curiosity I called him Sunday and left a message, and then he called back and I made the mistake of answering. He's started whining and complaining, and he saps my energy because he argues with everything I say and never gets to any kind of point, and we're not friends! So I cut him off mid-"I hate my job" and said I'd call him later.

A girl in my class tonight said it's bad karma for me not to call him back. If I call him back, I'm likely to say, "I really don't want to talk to you anymore because you make me tired, unless of course, you have decent movie passes this time." Isn't it better if I just don't call back?

Riding home on Marta listening to the various languages spoken all around me, I feel so inadequate because I only speak standard American and South Georgia English. I really want my child(ren) to be at least truly bilingual. I was excited about them learning Serbian, but then I thought about how much it might upset me if they said things behind my back in a language I don't understand. But now maybe we can learn a language together, or you know -- they're going to talk about me behind my back anyway. It might as well be in another language. And of course, I don't even have a boyfriend, so children might not be much of a possibility especially since I'm "already 30."

You shouldn't pick away scabs because they actually contain some kind of healing agent produced by your body, but don't you just want to get rid of them? I know they eventually come off when their job of healing and protecting is done, but they're ugly. And why can't I shave without cutting myself? What I really want to know is: if you smack a mosquito on your body and leave the guts there, is it a warning to the others that they should leave you alone? I hate mosquitos.

meaningless sex

2005-07-22T11:02:00.000-05:00

I've decided that for me, sex is to my life what salt, or olive oil, or ketchup/salsa is to eating. I love to eat foods with salt and olive oil and ketchup/salsa -- they totally enhance the flavor of most dishes. However, I do not enjoy eating salt by itself, or drizzling olive oil directly on my tongue, or spooning up mouthfuls of straight ketchup. That's gross. And I've discovered that sex by itself, "just sex," is the same way. I need something to go along with it, some kind of connection.

Sex needs to be the extra punch that makes ordinary, even boring, baked corn chips yummy. Those chips need to be cooked in oil, and salted, and eaten with salsa. You just can't get the same kind of pleasure from pure oil, salt, and salsa without the chips to make them substantial and enjoyable. At least, that's I how I feel about chips and salsa, and sex. I need sex that is part of some kind of meaningful relationship of some sort. I can't get excited about the idea of "just sex" because that's all it is. What I really want is a relationship in which I feel loved and respected and appreciated and then add lots and lots of sex to it.

I think my summer spree is almost over. I guess I wanted to know that I don't have to sleep alone, and I have realized that I don't. I can find some random man/boy to come home with me, but that doesn't really mean much of anything...

Vegas / Nashville

2005-07-21T07:32:00.000-05:00

One of the things I will really remember about this week of my life is that I ran out of Paxil. You aren't supposed to just stop taking it - and I knew that. But I figured, I take a small dosage, and it's only a week. I hate that I am dependent on a drug.

The reality is that my body now depends on 20 mg of this drug. Withdrawal creates dizziness, nausea, general anxiety, and uncontrolled crying. Not right away, of course -- I was fine on Mon., ok on Tues., but Wed. was bad, and Thurs. I broke down completely. Oh, well. Guess I'll keep taking it for a while...

The other thing I will remember is that I do not like to travel with large groups, unless we are in a remote location with nothing to do. If I go camping or to the beach, the more the merrier. Those trips are designed to sit around and just socialize. When I travel to a city I want to see as much as I can -- I want to eat good food, see a show, shop. The idea of wasting an hour standing in a buffet line at 8:30 pm (when my stomach says it's really almost midnight), even if it is at the Bellagio and someone else is paying, because ten people couldn't agree on where or when to eat, and because they couldn't all get there on time anyway because of bathroom stops, picture stops, not eveyone fits in the same cab, half the group gets lost in the casino and can't find the buffett line... aaarrrgghhh!

So on day two, I said, "I'm not going to meet anyone anywhere at any time today for anything." And I had a great time by myself. Saw some sharks, an IMAX about the Nile, and finally Mama Mia. Ate a leisurely dinner with two cocktails at a great restaurant by myself. Played some slots and stalked a group of cute fellows. And I was happy.

Then my principle and I traveled to Nashville from Las Vegas, via Denver where we had a three hour layover. The plane from Denver to Nashville had only 30 seats. It was tiny. When we arrived, our reservations at Opryland were cancelled because the hotel overbooked by about 200 and there were 8,000 people attending this conference. So we shared a room on first floor of the Countryside Inn next to the chain link fence posting the sign: Beware of dog. There was no dog. Who knew my principle enjoys watching Fear Factor?

So glad to be home!

a summer retrospective

2005-07-05T16:41:00.000-05:00

May 20: Met old German K, approx. 65 years old, who convinced me to order healthy stir-fry instead of burger and fries; two subsequent dates. Very serious and intense and German.

Later same night: Went home with young A, approx. 25 years old, who grew up in Florida and played baseball at my alma mater OU. Never heard from him again.

May 23: Watched the Incredibles at my house with Jew-boy J who has girly hands and only takes me out when he has free movie tickets. We are going to see Dark Water tonight, despite the fact that neither of us like horror movies, because the passes are free.

May 27 (my 30 birthday): Surprise fellow #1 -- friend of a friend, has a girlfriend, hot but not my type; I was curious and now I wish I had my curiosity back.

May 28 (day of my birthday party): Surprise fellow #2 -- also friend of friend, has a girlfriend, tall, not sure how or why, but he's a nice guy.

June 4 (first outing with new friend Jenn): Picked up tall B from Kansas who, yes, has a girlfriend. They aren't married because he said, "I keep meeting nice girls like yourself."

June 17: Picked up very tall, young Serbian D who has a distinctly ghetto dialect that he attributes to playing basketball in college here in Georgia. He threw up mostly in my toilet. Saw him out again on Saturday...

June 24: Picked up tall, young J who is an internet security engineer from small town AL. Went to Auburn for two years, graduated from GaTech. He came over to watch American Choppers with me last Monday and met me out on Saturday. Agreed to take me out to dinner...

July 4: Met short 51-year old G who is a CPA and enjoys nudist resorts. Graduated from Cross Keys HS in 1971 and from UGA in 1975 (the year I was born). I push his buttons, so he says. He's funny and interesting. He is taking me out to dinner on Friday...

So far, 30 has been good for me. And summer is only half over!

potential topics

2005-07-02T08:05:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in over a week because I'm having the time of my life yet there's not much to write about...

Here are the ideas floating around in my head:

1) Playing dating games -- unnecessarily complicated, impossible to avoid. I waited all week for J to call me, and he waits until 6:00 on Friday night?

2) The gym -- a vigorous 30-minute workout with my trainer is damn near better than sex. I have gained five pounds since I started going to the gym religously a month ago, and I like to think it is the replacement of fat with muscle, but my trainer said I'm probably just eating too much.

3) The Sound and the Fury -- "The sound of bees diminished, sustained yet, as though instead of sinking into silence, silence merely increased between us, as water rises."

4) Cooking -- the perfect way to boil and peel eggs, according to Southern Living and tested by me, and an imperfect attempt involving a bloody chicken leg

5) Sam -- spending the day with my precious nephew

6) Upcoming trips -- Las Vegas, Nashvegas, and the Redneck Riveria

7) My classes this fall -- World Lit and AP Language / American Lit! Hooray!

Well, anyway, happy holiday weekend. More to come.

Miss Georgia's Outstanding Teen Pagent

2005-06-24T07:51:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I watched my youngest cousin Lauren perform in Columbus for the title of Miss Georgia Teen -- she is currently Miss Historic Southern Plains. All 39 girls danced the opening number, "Living in America," in their red, white, and blue casual wear outfits. Then they answered an on-stage question, followed by a "fitness" competition and talent competition. Finally, they competed in the evening wear competition. These preliminaries culminate in the announcement of the top ten semi-finalists on Friday night and further competition for the crown, $2000, a silver tray, flowers, a limo ride, a picture with Miss Georgia, and other prizes.

A sampling of the "best" on-stage questions and answers, chosen specifically from the resume of each girl:

1) What is the most difficult part of playing golf? Concentration. I'm a social person, and it's really hard for me to focus on the game.

2) Where do you go camping? We go to the lake. We stop by the grocery store and buy a lot of food, and me and mama and daddy eat and play games and a just have a great time together.

3) Do cheerleaders really influence whether or not the team wins? I think every girl has to give 100% and each member of the team has to do her very best.

4) What do you hunt? White-tailed deer.

5) Why do you want to become an orthodontist? Well, I love the medical field, and first I wanted to be a surgeon, but then I thought about all the time away from home, and I decided being an orthodontist would let me spend more time with my family.

Instead of a swimsuit competition, the girls now wear a "fitness" leotard with a shirt they may purchase or make themselves -- the competition has nothing to do with actual fitness. I really liked that Miss Onion Capital's contestant had an onion on her shirt, but I was appalled that one contestant had a picture of herself on her shirt and another contestant wore an "I love NY" shirt.

The winner of the "most ads sold" in the program appears in 78 pictures on 24 pages. Unfortunately, that's all she's going to win.

A big surprise: the girl who stole the title of Little Miss Sumter Seedling from me sat in the row behind me at the pagent yesterday, and she had the audacity to come over and give me a hug. Of course, that was over 20 years ago, but I still feel a grudge.

A little background: my grandmother has eight grandchildren, and seven of us are girls. (She also has nine great-grandchildern, and seven of them are girls as we are a girly family.) Anyway, before my three younger girl cousins were born, I remember spending the night at Mommie's house with my sister Dawn, two older girl cousins Paige and Carla, and our second-cousin Dana. We had a pagent to compete for a crown that was actually a John Deere hat.

Later in life, Carla was the Sumter County Forestry Queen, and my sister was Miss Sumter Seedling. Twice, I lost the Little Miss Sumter Seedling title, and the second time I demanded that the judges explain why they didn't pick me. I guess we can't all be princesses and queens, but we can make fun of them...

The Four Loves

2005-06-21T17:10:00.000-05:00

Before discussing Shakespeare's sonnets addressed to a man, my class read this book by C.S. Lewis about the distinctions between affection, friendship, romantic love, and charity. It is an excellent examination of love with good examples and insights. Here are a few.

He begins with Affection, the most humble and least discriminating. It needs to give, and it only requires familiarity. "Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our natural lives." Luckily, I have a closely-knit family and the most wonderful dog on earth -- I am needed by them on some level, and I appreciate that.

Next, he describes Friendship as raising us to the level of gods or angels because it is freely chosen and least natural: "Without Eros none of us would have been begotten and without Affection none of us would have been reared; but we can live and breed without Friendship." Instead of providing us survial value, it gives value to survival. The modern world largely ignores Friendship as love, but it is superior in many ways: it is least jealous, it is freely assumed rather than "needed," and it allows us to be "disentangled" from our other contexts because friends meet on neutral ground -- thank God for my friends.

He explains that Eros is not as much about sex as it is about the beloved. Lewis believes that we take sex much too seriously, which he refers to as "a ludicrous and portentous solemnisation of sex." He suggests that we need instead "a roar of old-fashioned laughter" and that the best metaphor for the body is the ass because "no one in his senses can either revere or hate a donkey. It is a useful, sturdy, lazy, obstinate, patient, loveable, and infuriating beast." Indeed, as wonderful as romantic love can be, it can also attract us to someone who is quite unsuitable for us and cause a great deal of unhappiness. Hmm... I've been there.

Finally, he reminds us that "to love at all is to be vulnerable." If we are loved at all, it is through the charity of others because "there is something in each of us that cannot be naturally loved." How true!

sugar daddy

2005-06-16T11:38:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I am meeting an older gentleman for an innocent drink at the same place where we first met about a month ago and had an interesting conversation about war, health care, etc. I think my father is personally offened that I called this man "old." He assumes this man must just look "old." However, his ex-wife is 25 years his junior, and they were married for six years, so in fact he is probably at least the same age as my father. And while my father isn't old at all, a potential date for me of the same age is very old.

Women have prostituted themselves for many reasons. Some mistresses want a more comfortable place to live. Some want expensive jewelry and clothes. I would want to take at least one college course every semester of my life. I would work my way through all of the English literature courses, then maybe philosophy or social sciences. I would even take math classes! Anything but science. And I would do all the required work, not for completion of a degree, or for an advanced status in society, but simply because I love school. I love being a student. And that is one thing I might give up a small part of myself to have.

Of course, I really doubt I could actually bring myself to kiss a crusty old German man, even if I admire his intelligence or suave personality. I'll let you know.

hmm...

2005-06-14T22:33:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, I had a standoff with a hissing goose, or maybe it was a gander -- and it won! I'm not a very intimidating person, but I should be able to scare a quacker off the sidewalk.

Today, I saw a strip mall that provides the following right next door to each other: cakes, tinted windows, tattoos. How convenient!

Although only 14.5% of all men are six feet or taller, 58% of Fortune 500 CEO's are at least that tall.

I prefer pot liker and cornbread to gourmet bread and cheeses.

I didn't want to join a co-ed gym because I didn't want men looking at me while I worked out. Now a huge incentive for me to actually GO to the gym is the opportunity to ogle men and their muscles (is that wrong?).

My grandmother's hallucinations make my mother crazy.

My palms have been itching for two days, and no one has given me any money yet. The soles of my feet have also been itching for two days, and I'm not planning to travel anywhere. Maybe it's too much lycopene. Any other ideas?

"Love ceases to be a demon only when he ceases to be a god." M. Denis de Rougemont

back to school

2005-06-13T21:58:00.000-05:00

The problem with most English teachers, at all levels, is that they love to hear themselves talk, and I should know! I think talking too much is one of my worst flaws as a teacher (and maybe as person?). I suspect men are worse than women because they are more inclined toward giving answers and speaking as authorities, while women are more inclined to listen and to encourage. I recognize that I am generalizing quite broadly based on minimal evidence, and of course, Dr. Brightman is a huge exception to this stereotype.

However, both of my GSU professors this semester are talkers. The young one with the very direct one-page syllabus talks about Shakespeare with the same enthusiasm I've seen coaches talk about football or basketball. The old one is quite dry, and his single-spaced 10+ page syllabus contains this disclaimer: "I know that some classes can be boring, but I believe that well-prepared students bring and receive intellectual surprises in class." I can't wait for those surprises!

In the next seven weeks, I'm supposed to read Merchant of Venice, Taming of the Shrew, Midsummer Night's Dream, Henry IV, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, and many sonnets, as well as The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, Sanctuary, Light in August, Intruder in the Dust, and more than a dozen short stories. Of course, I'm quite familiar with Romeo and Juliet, and I've read As I Lay Dying before. Maybe some of the others will ring a bell. I'm mostly looking forward to expanding my knowledge base.

My inspiration is the image of that "exercise guru" on the Geico commercial, the one with the long curly blond ponytail hanging out of his baseball cap as he swings on the eliptical machine and yells, "You can do ET!" That makes me laugh out loud everytime.

And I'm using MARTA to make my commute downtown, and that's always an adventure for me. Today, I saw a radiant mother with a baby strapped to her chest, pushing a very large stroller full of four happily squealing toddlers. God bless her. More adventures to come...

blink

2005-06-10T14:04:00.000-05:00

Now I'm reading about "the power of thinking without thinking" by Malcolm Gladwell who is a staff writer for The New Yorker and used to be a science reporter for the Washington Post. It's absolutely fascinating.

The premise is this: our instincts often know more than our powers of analysis, and we should learn to respect our gut reactions. Further, and much more importantly, we can cultivate and control our "adaptive unconscious" so that it works more effectively to our advantage -- so that we can make snap judgements more accurately. For someone who has spent her entire life over-thinking almost everything on a daily basis, especially stupid things that don't even matter, this book offers some damn good news.

I've read only the intro and first chapter, but so far, the author has offered several studies as evidence. Subjects of one study who viewed just two-seconds of a teacher were able to predict his effectiveness with the same accuarcy as students who completed year-end evaluations.

In a second example, one psychologist has learned to predict with 90% accuracy whether a couple will stay together or divorce in the next fifteen years by observing just a 15-minute conversation between the couple. The key predictor: contempt. I've always thought that mutual respect and admiration were vital to a healthy relationship, and now there's evidence to back it up.

Another psychologist has shown that just by examining a dorm room for fifteen minutes, observers are able to rate the conscientiousness, emotional stability, and openness to new experiences of complete strangers better than long-term friends.

Other subjects rated four ten-second clips of interactions between doctors and patients using "content-filtered" audio to garble individual words but leave pitch and tone intact. Based on ratings of warmth or dominance, a psychologist was able to accurately predict whether or not the doctors would be sued for malpractice.

Anyway, we all make immediate judgements all the time -- but then we don't trust ourselves, or we allow ourselves to believe what we want to believe, or we get distracted by extraneous information. But it doesn't have to be that way...

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: A Novel

2005-06-08T09:31:00.000-05:00

Jonathan Safran Foer knows how to tell a story with multi-layered yet tightly interwoven plots, perspectives, and meanings. His latest novel focuses on Oskar, a nine-year old boy trying to cope with the death of his father, a victim of the 9/11 terrorist attack of the World Trade Center, and it includes letters from his grandparents who lost everything in the bombing of Dresden during WWII (a subtle and noncomparative reminder that our tragedy is not the only tragedy of the world). But really, the novel is about love and life: how necessary and impossible it is to communicate with those we love most and how "life is scarier than death."

Understanding truth in things we believe and don't believe, know and don't know. Learning to trust those closest to us. Asking for small forgivenesses that feel like the weight of the world lifting away. Dreaming of life in reverse.

Oskar's grandfather writes to the son he ran away from about Oskar's grandmother: "...she wants to know if I love her, that's all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there, like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet." Damn, that part about the knowledge of love is so true it makes my teeth hurt. That's "all" I want, really.

And then there are the all the things we try to tell each other about ourselves, the sense and the nonsense, the lies and the truth. How does anyone tell her story to anyone else so that it matters? How does anyone understand me or you or Manuel Escobar? Oskar's wise old neighbor sums the significant people of the world up in just one word, usually war or money, and he explains: "You could write a book about Manuel Escobar! And that would leave things out, too! You could write ten books! You could never stop writing!" Words seem so inadequate when we need them most, and yet they are all we have.

I also love this book because I identify with Oskar. He says his mind works they way beavers build dams -- not because they want to build dams but because if they stopped chopping wood their teeth would grow into their brains and kill them. Strangely, I understand that feeling.

And when he tell his mom he feels sick about everything, he can't stop listing things: "poor people who get fat because they eat junk food because it's cheaper... domesticated animals, how I have a domesticated animal, nightmares, Microsoft Windows, old people who sit around all day... secrets, dial phones... Grandma's coupons, storage facilities, people who don't know what the internet is, bad handwriting..."

Most of his inventions are ridiculous and naive, because he is only nine, but again, I've had similar thoughts myself. For example, he wishes there was some way to make your skin change according to your mood. "Everyone could know what everyone else felt, and we could be more careful with each other." Wouldn't that make life easier? I'm not sure about everyday, but I've always said I wish I would turn bright green when I've had too much to drink so people know it's my alter ego and not really me acting stupid. That's a damn good idea.

It's also a good idea for you to read this book for yourself.

I've been fired!

2005-06-06T20:26:00.000-05:00

Well, not exactly. I've just been informed that the summer school program will not need my services as enrollment is low. Damn. Luckily, I won't have to get up early tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after and after and after that. I can sleep late, leisurely enjoy breakfast, watch Magnum P. I. at noon, go to the gym, read, lounge by the pool. And of course, my classes at GSU start next week: Shakespeare's Early Years at 1:50 and Faulkner at 4:30, both on Mondays and Wednesdays.

So, I could just enjoy my summer off. After all, my bills are paid. OR I could be very dilligent and find some kind of useful employment for the next couple of months that will pay me more than I will make just sitting on my couch and start paying off my credit card debt now instead of later. Hmmm... and what kind of job would be willing to hire me for just two months without being absolute torture? Comments or suggestions, anyone?

Tango!

2005-06-04T17:51:00.000-05:00

Although it does indeed take two (and only two) to tango, I took lessons with a couple of friends last night at Callanwolde Fine Arts Center. The class, sponsored by Tango-Rio, advertised: "singles welcome, no partner necessary." Of course, there were mostly couples and a few extra girls, but we switched men every song, so I had the opportunity to dance with quite a variety of men -- and happily once or twice, I got to BE the man.

I'm amazed at the similarity between dating and dancing: you must respond to the energy between you and your partner, you must respect the tension because it is necessary for moving in the right direction, and you must maintain boundaries of "my space" and "your space." As a woman, you must trust your partner to look over your shoulder and pause for moment if you are about to collide with someone else, and I totally suck at trusting someone else! And unfortunately, so many men have trouble taking the lead and being forceful enough to guide themselves around the dance floor, much less two people.

I also learned why I should wear strappy heels the next time I go out for a tango -- they keep you on your toes, which helps tremendously if you are trying to move backwards at the same pace as someone with longer legs moving forward, and if you are moving quickly enough, the shoes should definitely be strapped to your feet. It's also a good idea to protect your toes. I made the poor decision to wear some comfortable flip-flops, thinking I might be dangerous enough without losing my balance in shoes with spikes on them.

The basics of the tango are pretty easy -- it's just a one-two step, almost like walking. But then there are the wonderful twists and turns and other moves that make it sexy, moves I'm sure I'll never quite get, especially without a talented partner. Anyway, I had a blast, and the lessons were totally worth $15 and an hour on Friday night. Learning something new is another great way to stay young...

Roger Federer

2005-06-03T16:13:00.000-05:00

Today at the gym while working out vigorously on the eliptical machine, I discovered my newest obsession -- he's absolutely HOTT and makes me want to drool, especially when he focused on his game. Tennis, that is. He was playing some Spanish kid in the French Open, and I think he lost, but who cares?

Despite the unfortunate name, Roger has won a spot on my top five list, right up there with Jude Law, Matthew McConahey, and Tom Selleck as Magnum P. I., not currently. It is a dream list, after all (and according to the doctors I've been reading, imagination keeps you young), so it is perfectly acceptable to go back in time and to fantasize about someone who is seven years younger than me, born on 8/8/81, a day before my dad's birthday, which makes him a Leo -- ROAR!

In fact, his favorite animal is the lion, as well as the tiger, and his favorite flowers are the rose and orchid, and his favorite mucisians are AC/DC and Lenny Kravitz. One of his favorite foods is gnocchi and gorgonzola, and he enjoys playing cards. He's 186 cm tall and weighs 84 kg (6'1" and 177 lbs). And his longtime girlfriend is Miroslava Vavirnec.

The only other thing I can say is WOW, and that he looks very much like someone I used to know, someone with dark brooding eyes and a disarming, oh-so charming smile who is also probably dating someone named Miroslava. If I lived in a dream world, we'd have a date tonight...

Check out Mr. Fabulous for yourself. http://www.roger-federer.org/roger_federer_hamburg_masters_series.html

Ricky Martin

2005-06-01T21:15:00.000-05:00

Last night, I smiled and said HELLO to Ricky Martin from across a table at Prime Meridian! I didn't shake his hand for fear I might not want to wash it, but I could have. There he was, just sitting across a table from the spot where I stood, nodding and waving -- I nodded and waved and said hello; he gave me a glance of acknowlegement and a smile. I swear he was checking me out, but Robert swears that he was checking him out. I guess he is gay, right? Robert says 100%.

The things that happen when you go out with Robert! He took me to see Lost Highway, a fabulous biopic about the original Hank Williams who died tragically at the age of 29 (one year younger than my current age). After the show on our way to the car, we met up with Robert's friend who is also CNN Espanol's Entertainment Correspondant. He was leaving a party at the Tabernacle to meet up with Ricky, and we followed along.

There were only four people at the table with Ricky, and when Robert's friend introduced me, one of Ricky's friends spoke to me in Spanish, and I must have looked absolutely horrified -- no one has ever expected me to understand, much less reply in Spanish. I must learn Spanish!

This afternoon, I went on a post-birthday shopping spree with coupons I have recently accumulated. I got $5 off a pair of shoes at DSW, $10 off a couple of t-shirts at Petite Sophisticate, a free $8 bottle of lotion from Bath and Bodyworks, and a free $12 pair of black underwear from Victoria's Secret. I only spent about $60 of own money -- and I received $35 worth for FREE. That's the way I like to shop. More stores should give me things for free!

Ways I celebrated the BIG 30

2005-05-31T15:08:00.000-05:00

#1. First and foremost, I ate dinner with my family -- our traditional steak, potato, salad, and cheesecake! After opening my presents, we all fell asleep in the den around 10:00 watching Law & Order together rather than separately in our own homes as usual: first my mom, then my sister, finally my dad and myself. The difference is that I was holding my precious nephew Sam, who was sleeping as soundly as the rest of us. We woke up at midnight and stumbled off to bed.

#2. I did not get married in Vegas. However, I thoroughly enjoyed my fabulous party at the Bills' house featuring Natalie's famous shortbread thumbprint cookies with cream cheese icing and a soon-to-be famous pistachio cake. Echia, who also helped as hostess, and John gave me an appropriate jar of prunes -- thanks. In addition to two of my favorite men, Brandon and Robert, several DHS teachers showed up to help me celebrate with a round of "For she's a jolly good fellow," as I loathe the Happy Birthday song. A good time was had by all, I think, especially my dog Bailey who got lots of loving.

#3. I hooked up with two interesting and charming men, not on the same night of course. Both encounters were totally unexpected, and both fellows are friends of friends who currently have girlfriends. But I'm just the cheatee, right? That's much better than being the cheater, and infinitely better than being the cheated. I actually might like dating one of the two, but hook-ups are rarely ever about dating...

#4. I cut my hair off. I finally convinced Michael that I will never be a glamous girl with long flowing hair. I am sassy and spunky, and short hair suits me.

#5. Possibly most significant, I joined LA Fitness and used my income tax refund to pay for 18 months in advance. I am determined to be healthy and fight old age in every way I can. I worked with a trainer on Saturday who kicked my ass, thighs, and legs in general. Just as I was about to pass out, he made me lie down and put my feet up for two minutes. Probably not a good idea to go in with a hangover. (By the way, if anyone ever offers you a shot of Sambucca, tequila, and tabasco, just say no even if it is free).

#6. I've been avidly reading the book Vivienne gave to me for my birthday, and I highly recommend it. It's an insiders guide to the body that will make you healthier and younger, written by two doctors Roizen and Oz -- You: The Owner's Manual. If you aren't interested in such a book, at least go to www.realage.com and find out how your calendar age compares with your actual body age. Here are some tips from the book.

You control more than 70% of how well and how long you live.

Eating a little fat at the start of every meal will make you feel fuller faster and longer so you won't eat as much -- they recommend a handful of nuts.

Too much exercise will actually make you older.

We have a 40% chance of dying from heart disease.

Daydreaming keeps your mind flexible.

Without strength training, you lose 5% muscle mass every ten years.

Plaque on your teeth contributes to plaque buildup in your arteries.

We all produce 1 to 3 pints of gas daily. Less than 1% smells.

Having sex makes you younger.

Happy New Year!

2005-01-02T21:16:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I took a multi-vitamin, drank four glasses of water, went for a brisk walk followed by enough sit-ups to make my stomach hurt, and flirted with two different groups of men at a smokey sports bar that is not one of my favorite hang-outs. I did not eat the traditional greens, black-eyed peas, and ham hock that are supposed to bring wealth, luck, and something else in the year ahead. I hope I'm not doomed; I'm feeling risky this year.

Today, I took a second multi-vitamin, drank two glasses of water, went for a fabulous walk around Piedmont Park, got kissed on the neck by a sexy (and possibly gay) Spanish man I've never met before, and cooked my own dinner for the first time in ages as I'm trying to limit my Chinese delivery orders to once a week.

So far, so good for 2005.

I tried to buy some water at the grocery store. I put a case of 24 bottles in my cart on my way in the store. Then after I checked out, as I was on my way to my car, I realized that the water had disappeared. It was not in my cart when I checked out. Where did it go? And when? How? I'm actually glad I didn't get the water because 1) it's a pain in the ass to put in the car and then haul in the house, and 2) on some fundamental level I loathe the idea of buying water.

I am concerned that there might have been other things I wanted left in the cart with the missing water, or maybe I actually ended up with items I didn't want in a cart I perhaps swiped from someone else. I certainly don't remember switching carts, and I came home with the things on my list, with the exception of the water, and no surprises. I am completely baffled by the vanishing water. Must be some kind of sign...

Back to school...

2004-12-29T14:59:00.000-05:00

My fabulous break is almost over, and I'm almost glad. In the past two days, I've colored eight pages in my new First Ladies coloring book -- Pat Nixon looks smashing in melon. Over the past week, I've watched many episodes of Magnum P.I., and too many episodes of Dawson's Creek. I'm starting to watch my Chia Shrek grow.

Good news: I got an A in both of my GSU classes last semester, and all of my freshmen passed their state "End of Course" exam (with a class average of 85!). Just today, in preparation for the upcoming return to DHS, I read their class evaluations. I asked them to tell me what should start, stop, and stay, as well as what they learned in my class. Here are a few priceless examples of their responses:

"What should stop is for you to control your temper when you lose it because I still remember when I got cursed... One thing that I learn was to stay in my seat and not get cursed by a teacher again."

"Start: You should start beating bad children... I now understand why some teacher beat there kids."

"Stop smiling when your angry." (I got this suggestion several times -- what to do? they amuse me).

"Wasn't exactly the funnest class I've had, but it wasn't hella boring either... [blah, blah, blah] Anyway, it wasn't a lame class, but I didn't have too much fun. But your not a horrible teacher. A little too happy, but not lame."

Thanks, kids.

The highlight of my vacation was playing with my cousins' children -- three are six, one is three, one is two, and the baby is one. All girls! The most precious, cherubic angel, the three-year-old who never speaks, crawled into my lap, looked up into my eyes with her giant blue ones, and said in a a sweet Southern baby voice, "I wish you were my mama. I want to go home with you." I almost stole her.

Damn. That's the one thing I really do need from a man.

Merry Christmas!

2004-12-25T13:56:00.000-05:00

I love my family. You don't mess with my mother or sister, and my father will never give up on me until I am finally married to a satisfactory WASP -- white, american, southern, protestant, preferably a lawyer or banker.

Yesterday at 5:00, my mother, sister, and I ran a Christmas Eve errand. We always like to save one little bit of shopping for the last minute. As we were crossing an aisle, this girl shoved in front of us with a haughty "excuse me," as if that allows for any sort of behavior. And my sister muttered loudly, "Ehuh!" The girl turned and stared and asked, "Are you talking about me?" We all gave her condenscending looks, and my sister said, "no." So the undaunted girl replied, "Are you talking to me?" and when my sister affirmed that her "Ehuh!" was directed at the girl, she defended herself, saying, "Well, I was being polite. I said excuse me."

Then my mother chimed in: "You were very rude to us, young lady, because of your tone." And I mocked the girl's, "EXcooose MEee!" with a nasty look on my face. Finally the girl said, I don't have to listen to you. You aren't my mother." To which my mother replied, "That's right. If you were my daughter you would not act like that." My sister couldn't believe we had been confronted by such white trash until I reminded her that we were shopping at the C-ville Goody's.

This morning, as a bonus Christmas present, my dad just had to give me some more advice on getting a man, because obviously, his previous lectures aren't working. He said that I should make sure I stay at Happy Hours or other outings with friends until the very end instead of flitting away halfway through and jumping from one party to the next. He's convinced I don't have a boyfriend because I won't stay in one place long enough. I should make myself more available.

I reminded him that I am very happy with my life, and that I don't need a man. I might want a man, but I don't need one. I have my very own condo, my own car, my precious dog, a job I love, and I'm working on an advanced degree. Yes, in some ways, a man might make my life better, but he would also make it more complicated and compromised. I told him that I am living the next five months of my life just for me, that I will do what I want, when I want, and I will worry about finding a man when I actually turn 30. He said that one day I'll get my priorities in order.

"The Scotty Who Knew Too Much"

2004-12-19T10:53:00.000-05:00

Once again, I have said quite innnocently something to my students that is slightly inappropriate. I enthusiastically read to them a fable that contains the phrase: "You are a pussycat and I'm going to lick you." When they burst into an uproar, I tried to maintain order by reading the line again, and then I myself burst into uncontrollable laughter. Merry Christmas, kiddos. Your teacher loves a good pun. And in my defense, it was printed in the textbook.

I finally turned in my BIG essay of only nine and half pages (rather than the suggested 10-15). I feel that my points are well-developed and damn good. So what if I turned it in 45 minutes late? I have my priorities, and having a Ladies Night martini (or two) and meeting a tall, dark, and hot young potential bachelor, who used to be a marine, on Monday afternoon was much more important than finishing that essay -- and consequently, I had to hurry scurry at work on Tuesday to finish the paper. But it is DONE. Thank God.

And now school is over, at least for a couple of weeks, and I'm not sure what to do with myself. Of course, I got a good start on Friday afternoon by saturating myself with a very brown marguarita and getting a little tipsy before 5:00. Then I woke up at 3:30 in the morning, on top of my bed, fully clothed -- boots, scarf, and all -- and remembered I didn't tip my generous server. When I went back yesterday to pay Raul, he said, "You sure were happy yesterday." Yes, I was.

Life is good. Now, about these essays I never graded -- not the ones from way back in September, but more recent essays. Technically, I have until Jan. 3 to finish grading, but really, the semester is over. As far as grades are concerned, those essays won't make even a slight difference in the grades the students have earned in the class. And since those students are no longer going to be in my class, I'm sure they don't give a damn about those essays. And yet, I also feel a strong responsibility to give them feedback -- that's the only way they will learn how to be better writers. What to do? Give a gift to myself and trash them, or give the gift of learning to students who probably don't care very much on the off chance that one or two will care? Hmmm...

Whoopie!

2004-12-09T23:05:00.000-05:00

I started my first class today by sitting on a whoopie cushion -- not accidentally. I saw it, and I said, "Let me sit on it!" Then I put it on my stool at the front of the room and sat on it with enthusiasm, and it was still funny. Why are fart noises so damn funny?

Today, I finally finished grading and returned the Antigone essays my sophomores wrote back in August. I know I should have just thrown them in the trash -- that' s where many of them belonged anyway. And despite my painstaking comments, that's where many of the students deposited them.

Tuesday, I took my first personal day off work since I started teaching four years ago. I planned to write The Essay that counts as 70% of my American Fiction class. Even though I never actually started the draft that we were supposed to work on in class that night, I showed up anyway. Big mistake.

We started class with a discussion of "Who's your favorite critic?" I'm so damn honest that I said, "I don't read criticism. Why should I spend time reading critics when there are so many great novels I haven't found time to read?" And then to make matters worse, the girl beside me said, "Yeah, we're just high school teachers." That is not what I meant at ALL! In truth, I'm envious of the Ph.D. students who spend their time immersed in the world of ideas when I spend much of my time saying "Sit down and shut up!" over and over again -- but I never think of myself as "just" a high school teacher.

And then I had to confess to my professor that I didn't have a draft yet. And then I just walked out. It was terribly awkward. At least I've lowered her expectation for my paper enough so that she just might be pleasantly surprised. Tonight, I finally started working on that paper. At least I've typed some of the quotes and main ideas I plan to build my thoughts around. It's all in my head. I think about it over and over again...

One more day until the weekend, and SIX days of school left this semester! Hooray! Only five more days to finish this paper. Ho. Hum.

Tree or no tree?

2004-12-05T19:39:00.000-05:00

This may be the first year of my singledom that I don't decorate for Christmas. When I was growing up, my favorite part of the season was decorating our tree and our house. We played Christmas music and drank hot chocolate. My dad put on the lights, my mom did the tinsel, and my sister and I put on the ornaments. We always had so much fun unwrapping them and remembering where we got them and rediscovering our favorites. And there was this silver ball that plugged into the wall and chirped like a bird, until over time it sounded more like a dying bird. And then one year it died.

We also had a green felt banner with 24 buttons tied on by red yarn, with a bell at the bottom and poem at the top: "From December 1 until Christmas is the longest time of the year. It seems as if Old Santa never will appear [there's more I can't remember]... Untie a ribbon every night when the sandman casts his spell and Christmas Eve will be here by the time you ring the bell." One day maybe I'll make a replica for my kids.

Even when my sister and I were in college, even after she got married, we still put up our family tree together. And then when I got an apartment of my own, we stopped. Decorating my sad, ugly Charlie Brown tree that year, all alone, by myself, was somewhat depressing -- and yet I felt proud that I had a tree, that I hauled it up the stairs by myself, that I wrestled with the stand and the lights by myself. And each year since then has gotten better. I've purchased larger, more attractive trees, and my personal collection of special ornaments has grown.

Then last year, I celebrated my first holiday season in my first official Home of my own. To make the season more merry, my beautiful and loving live-in boyfriend helped me decorate. We chose the tree together, and put on the lights together, and unwrapped the ornaments and drank hot chocolate, together.

Now the ornaments are packed up far away in the storage unit under Building 14, and there's no one to help me. Even if I go to all that trouble, maybe no one else will even see my tree, other than Bailey -- and of course, she will be afraid of it.

The bright side about being single at Christmas is that shopping has been much easier! I don't have to worry about family presents to and from a difficult-to-shop-for boyfriend. However, as much time as I have saved not shopping and maintaining dual lists, I'm still very busy with school and end-of-the-sememster work for my classes at GSU: I've got a huge paper due on Friday (which is exactly why I'm blogging right now). I won't even be at home much next weekend because of parties at other homes that I'm sure will have nice decorations to enjoy. There's always next year, right?

Why do I feel this nagging sensation that Christmas won't be Christmas unless I put up a tree? That my year won't be complete without a tree of my own? And that putting up a tree by myself, again, will be the most depressing part of my year...

Eastbound and down...

2004-11-07T20:45:00.000-05:00

loaded up and truckin' -- we gonna do what they say can't be done.

Now I remember why, when I was just a very little girl, I wanted to be a truck driver when I grew up. I was mesmerized by the glamour of Jerry Reid's lifestyle in Smokey and the Bandit. He has some great lines in that movie, and songs, too. And Sally Field is just too cute for words. I watched the toned-down for t.v. version this afternoon, and it's funny hearing them say nonsense words like, "crumb-bag."

Today was an absolutely beautiful and completely wasted day. Today, I was totally worthless (and I wasn't hungover or depressed -- simply worthless for the sake of worthlessness). I didn't even color or read a magazine while plastered to the sofa, flipping channels, and snacking. I was so exhausted from doing so much nothing, I had to order a pizza for dinner. Yummy.

Now I'm contemplating bedtime. I slept from 2ish last night until 11:00 this morning. Why not go back to bed at 9:00? Ten hours is quite enough time to function in the waking world, right?

Two weeks until Thanksgiving, and I am very thankful!

Old enough to know better...

2004-10-31T16:44:00.000-05:00

AND finally old enough to care?

Five years ago I would have continued to pursue the sleezy guy I met last night who slid his finger in my shoe and up my pants leg, even after I found out he also fondled Natalie's foot, too. I'm sure I could have rationalized it somehow. Maybe in a moment of desperation, I could have even rationalized hooking up with the guy a friend has a crush on. Not so today.

Ever since college, I've known that random hook-ups are a generally bad idea that lead nowhere except frustration or embarrasment or worse. That never stopped me when the opportunity presented itself. Now I have to be incredibly "inhibition-free," which thankfully, only happens a couple of times a year. Maybe I'm growing up.

Or maybe I've just been in love. I'm not willing to settle for anything less than fireworks. And of course, long after the fireworks ended, I had reached a very comfortable phase that at times was somewhat boring, but also damn reassuring. No matter what, I knew he loved me even when I slept in my make-up and woke up with black eyes, straggly hair, and icky morning mouth. Comfortable.

Of course, even though I was madly in love with him, at this point in my life I don't believe I have the time to continue dating an illegal alien who sees me as a mother figure and uses drugs behind my back. I'm also not willing to date a guy with a great job who treats me well if there is no chance in hell of igniting even a small spark. I want the whole package. Is that too much to ask?

I know no relationship is perfect. No guy is perfect. I am most certainly not perfect. However, most of the time, I can convince myself that being alone is better than "settling" for less than what I want or desperately looking for the perfect man every moment of my life. I am just fine by myself on Sunday morning through Friday afternoon and during the day on Saturday. But on Friday and Saturday night, I want a man.

What would be so terrible about picking someone out at a bar and saying, "Hey, I'm lonely. You look friendly. Want to keep me company tonight?" Thankfully, I'm old enough to know better.

Maybe I'm reaching a sort of crisis in my life where my expectations for a relationship have peaked. I used to settle for whomever was available at the moment. Now I want it all, but gradually, I will begin again to accept a wider range of possibilities. Or maybe I will eventually get over wanting a man. Or maybe the man for me will save me from these extremes!

Then again, Natalie has a great solution: if I turn 33 and I'm still single, I'm moving to Europe. I'm sure the same problems exist there, too, but the scenery and the food is better...

Sunday haiku

2004-10-17T06:43:00.000-05:00

As I grow older,
Weather turns quickly colder:
I miss you in bed.

My sober drive home:
No danger of fatal crash.
What relief to me!

Dim sum with my friends:
More fun than dark smokey bar.
I grow old and wise.

NASCAR is outrageous

2004-10-16T12:21:00.000-05:00

The fact that professional athletes make millions of dollars has always upset me a little. I understand that the American public is quite willing to provide their salaries in exchange for entertainment, and in a sense, their skills earn those salaries. It just seems a sad commentary on what "we" value.

After watching the NASCAR feature currently playing at IMAX, I am deeply disturbed that the auto racing industry spends over a billion dollars on tires alone for just ONE race -- tires that are burned to shreds in a matter of moments. I fully appreciate the feats of engineering that go into building these cars and adapting them for certain tracks and conditions, as well as the skill of a driver who can detect the most subtle changes in the performance of a car. I will admit that racing involves a great deal of scientific knowledge, complex strategies, and endurance.

Auto-racing is a multi-billion dollar industry with an extraordinary fan base to support the sport. The number of specatators at these races is staggering. True fans camp out for days, and whole families participate. In addition, this industry must supply thousands of jobs for all of the people who work behind the scenes to make races happen. Although drivers get most of the attention (and some of them are quite good-looking), there are countless other jobs created by this need for speed, and corporate sponsorships further indicate that racing is part of our American culture that will not disappear anytime soon.

In fact, the IMAX tribute to NASCAR begins with a statement that auto-racing began the day the second automobile was built. I am not at all surprised that the male ego is willing to risk life and limb in such a dangerous and fierce competition. Or that other men and women would enjoy watching this kind of spectacle. And yet I can't make sense of a world that indulges frivolity at the expense of other needs. It's just damn crazy.

We are becoming a lazy, illiterate, and terribly unhealthy society both physically and mentally. We are obese, allergic, anxious, attention-deficit disordered, ignorant, and obnoxious. Yet nearly the whole mid- to southeastern part of the country has a favorite NASCAR driver.

I myself like Ricky Rudd, and I highly recommend that you see this IMAX film. It is almost as good as the highly-acclaimed Everest.

Clitus?

2004-10-10T09:22:00.000-05:00

I know for sure some of my third period students learned something on Friday that they will always remember. We're reading the tragedy of Julius Caesar -- it's my first time. In Act V, out of nowhere, there appears a character named Clitus. I had already experienced a few chuckles concerning the character Titinus, and to avoid more problems, I told the class that I thought Clitus should be refered to as Cliff instead.

About 1/3 of the class smiled knowingly. Everyone else was confused. "How is Clitus a bad word?" I explained that it sounds very much like a part of the female anatomy, and while not a particularly bad word, it was one I prefered not to mention in class. Their curiosity dramatically increased. Whispers buzzed all over the room. Jasmine ran for a dictionary and group of girls huddled around her and read over her shoulder -- I'm not sure the definiton helped much. I'm sure they had no idea that they possessed a small erectile piece of flesh located on their vulvas. Luckily, I was saved by the lunch bell, at least temporarily.

Of course, by the time they came back, they had discussed the word thoroughly with all of their friends. And there was no chance of using the pseudonym Cliff. Faheed relished his reading of the line, "Oh, Clitus!" All readers emphasized the name with a newfound appreciation and excitement.

At least I'm giving them a love for Shakespeare and expanding their vocabulary, right?

looming deadline...

2004-10-09T15:27:00.000-05:00

I have not yet started writing the 8-10 page research paper due on Monday for my teaching of literature class -- instead, I have taken a nap this afternoon. And right now seems like the perfect opportunity to blog. I'm such a procrastinator and glutton for punishment.

Things I don't know about Tahn:
1) how to spell his name
2) his last name
3) what his parents do
4) how he feels about God

Things I do know:
1) he brought me saltwater taffy from his trip to Savannah
2) he enjoys eating out at nice restaurants -- me, too!
3) he doesn't sleep much -- uh-oh!
4) he prefers talk radio to music -- what?
5) he is a joker and makes me laugh
6) he is a handy-man fixer and builder -- like my dad
7) he seems willing to take good care of a girl...

The bottom line:
1) I like many things about him, especially that he seems to like me
2) I am not physically attracted to him, but I am also not repulsed by him

How much time should I give this relationship a chance to work out?

squandering time...

2004-10-03T20:54:00.000-05:00

Hmm. Life is screwy. I'm so confused, and delighted, and depressed.

Last weekend when I busted my tire, he put on the spare. Middle of the night on Moreland Ave. I gave him a Border's gift card as a token of my appreciation. My dad said I should have taken him out to dinner. I tried to explain that he's just gotten out of a relationship (I think). My brother-in-law suggested that if I gave him too much time to get over his last relationship, he would start dating someone else. My sister told them not to encourage me! Of course, my mom encouraged me.

I actually had a REAL date on Thursday. With flowers and everything. Good conversation, yummy Thai, and gellato for dessert. He's funny and talkative and intelligent, and he seems interested in me. But we don't know anything about each other. And getting to know people is always painful because I imagine them to be a certain way, and then I am disappointed when they turn out to be something else. There are always pleasant surprises, but also an equal number of let-downs in a relationship. By the time I figure out a guy's weaknesses, I'm already so attached to my idea of the person I want him to be that I can't accept, or even fully recognize, the person he is. And I'm not always exactly the way I seem to be at first. So what's the point?

Heels and a hill = disaster

2004-09-27T21:00:00.000-05:00

Last week at our fire drill, I fell on my ass twice in front of our entire student population. I even fell and slid. Twice. My students thought it was the most hilarious thing ever. I told them it was alright for them to laugh at me as long as I wasn't seriously injured. And Brett said, with tears in his eyes, "Then I would laugh even harder!"

Jose in second period came to me this morning to tell me that he got beaten up by a couple of cops and spent the weekend in juvie. He said the food is nasty, as are the remains of the struggle on his forehead and eyebrow. He tried to keep up with us in class, but he said I made his head hurt everytime I talked, so I let him sit in the hall. I mean, how interesting can Julius Caesar be after a two nights in jail? I can't compete with that.

Jose in fourth period had a moment of much delayed enlightenment: "I bet the person who wrote this Odyssey is famous" (which I covered two weeks ago). So I said, "Yes, he is, and class who is he?" They all chanted: "HOMER!" I explained, again, that the amazing part is that he didn't even write it -- he memorized the whole thing. It was all in his head. He never even wrote it down. Someone else did that later. Jose was really amazed then. I love it when they learn something. Keeps me going back day after day after day after day...

the Statue of Liberty is in Jersey?

2004-09-02T19:15:00.000-05:00

Such a simple, innocent trap. I said, "Really?" And Jose who loves everything about his hometown in New Jersey said, "Come on, Miss, you didn't know that, and you've been around for what, thirty-something years?"

Then some kid said, "She can't be that old. Look at that zit on her chin."

Thanks. They really don't pay me enough for this shit.

But I love it. I'm a sucker for punishment armed with an ego of iron.

To my fourth period freshmen:

2004-08-20T16:00:00.000-05:00

Despite some of the things I said to you all on Friday, I really do like each one of you very much. I have claimed you as mine, and I am happy that you are in MY class. However, it doesn't matter whether I like you or not. More importantly, I want you to be successful. You may not realize how important school is right now, but I believe in it or else I wouldn't be here. I want you to pass my class, and I want you to graduate, and I want you to live productive lives.

Most importantly of all, I want you learn something during our time together. I want the chance to teach you something about learning, and thinking for yourself, and expressing your opinion appropriately -- something about living life. I am certainly not out to get you, but I can't do my job if you are working against me.

This is our class. You can't be your best unless I give you my best. Likewise, I can't give you my best as a teacher unless you give me your best as a student. I think this class has the potential to be excellent! We can learn from each other and have fun -- but you must cooperate. Please try.

Lit and Comp

2004-08-08T11:07:00.000-05:00

Ideas for my first day of school sermon:

This class is all about reading and writing. I've actually had students complain that "all we ever do in here is read and write!" Well, duh? That's what we're supposed to do.

We judge people all the time, every day. Often, we look at their clothes, car, or house and value them based on how much money they make. More than you realize, we listen to how they talk and what they have to say and value them based on how smart they seem to be. Like it or not, one day you will be judged according to the way you speak. Before you graduate, you will be judged according to how well you can write.

Of course, there is a time and place for all kinds of speech. Most of you don't talk to your parents or grandparents the same way you talk to your buddies -- I certainly don't. Language that is appropriate for a party might not be appropriate for the classroom. You wouldn't walk into a job interview and say, "s'up, shawty?" (I hope).

My goal this year is to help you get ahead by reading, writing, and speaking more effectively so you can be more successful in life -- and the best way I know how to do that is practice, practice, practice. So, I expect you to read every day in this class. I expect you to write every day in this class. And my main concern is your ability to THINK and express yourself. You have valuable ideas, and be the end of this semester, you will be able to communicate them more clearly and convincingly because you will be a better reader, writer, and thinker! Like it or not, it takes practice -- that is what this class is about -- and I am absolutely convinced and determined that we will succeed.

Grease is the word...

2004-08-02T14:59:00.000-05:00

is the word, is the word, is the word -- it's got groove, it's got fee-lin'.

This movie appeared in theaters when I was only three years old, but I'm sure I saw it then. I watched it again for the zillionth time on t.v. this afternoon and loved it as much as ever. For the first time, I realized how this movie may very well have influenced me in profound ways.

1) I love big hair! Sandra Dee is so blah and boring until the very end of the movie when Frenchie gives her a perm to impress Danny. At the carnival, she comes out in those red high heels, skin-tight black pants, and with a huge mass of crazy curly hair. THAT is the hair I've always wanted (and unfortunately, damn near had in high school). As far as I'm concerned, she is the epitome of sexiness -- a little bit sweet, a little bit naughty, with big hair and lots of lipstick. Not to mention a perfect body.

2) In high school, I harbored a secret fear that I would be cornered by the cool girls at some spend the night party and be forced to smoke, drink, and pierce my ears. And just like Sandra Dee, I knew I would end up puking in the bathroom. I, too, was a goody-goody misfit who unconciously demanded that others mock me behind my back: "Keep your filthy paws off my silky drawers!" Early on, I knew that the Rizzos of the world would be my nemesis, but maybe in time, we could become friends.

3) This movie encourages the idea that you can fall in love with a loser/jerk and in the end, he will "shape up" and become the man you need him to be. He will wear a sweater just for you, fall on the floor begging for you, and be a dreamy sweatheart. And cars fly, too. Right.

We go to-gether like sham-a-lama-lama di-ding-de-ding-de-dong...
To-gether for-ever like dip-di-dip-de-dip do wha a whaddy wha,
Chang chang changity chang di bop,
That's the way it should be-e: wha, wha, wha, whaaa!

I think it's time for me to go back to work.

Hopelessly devoted to you,

Little Pistol, a wanna-be Sandra Dee

What Not to Wear

2004-07-31T14:36:00.000-05:00

Please, somebody nominate me to be on this show! I want a $5,000 credit card with my name on it. I want Clinton and Stacy to make fun of my clothes and then help me find the perfect pair of pants for my body, the perfect skirt length for my legs, and the perfect colors for my skin. I want a whole new and improved wardrobe carefully selected by experts.

I want to start this school year with an entire collection of clothes that make me feel confident and current, and I want to get it in just two days. I want someone to tell me where to find these magical outfits, and most importantly, I want to spend someone else's money (because I certainly don't have any). Help.

I'm sure I could be terribly convincing. I have several items in my closet that would certainly alarm the fashion police...

Too much of a good thing?

2004-07-29T09:15:00.000-05:00

Once in college, I turned my tongue orange because I ate too many carrots. And I didn't even like them! I just thought they were good for me, so I had them at every meal until I went to the nurse and said, "What's wrong with me?" And she said, "Lay off the carrots."

Although I was hesitant to have mushrooms every morning for breakfast in Oxford, I ate them anyway because they were very tasty, even at breakfast. Every morning, and nothing happened.

So today I'm wondering what might happen to me now that I've consumed over a pound of cherries in the past two days. I guess nothing. They just seem to me too good to be true. So sweet, so soft. I even enjoy spitting out the pit.

However, it's definitely time to end the detox. I couldn't find short-grain brown rice, so I opted for the long-grain version. I ate it last night without salt or butter with plain, steamed broccoli and onion. Gross! I think I prefer having decayed matter in my intestine. That's what it's for, right?

At least I've discovered a new appreciation for supposedly "unhealthy" foods and ingredients. What is life without a little salt and butter?

jetlag / detox

2004-07-28T07:52:00.000-05:00

Two full days after my return, I actually feel like I'm finally home. I spent all but two or three hours on Monday in a sleep-induced coma. I've never slept so much in my life, and as many of you know, I'm a big sleeper. Yesterday, I woke up feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6:00 a.m., but it didn't last long, and I spent much of the day lounging on my sofa. Today, I'm ready to clean my house, a sure sign that I'm back to my old self.

During the plane ride home, I decided that I should take advantage of this last week before school to DETOX! I had several hours to read Bikini Fit, a four-week plan that came as a free gift with the Marie Claire I purchased in the airport lobby (interesting note: most UK fashion magazines come with an inticing gift attached: hat, bandeau top, bikini, flip-flops, etc.). According to Bikini Fit, we all have an estimated 6-9 lbs of "decayed material" in our intestines. Gross!

In addition to eliminating unwanted waste, a detox diet also promotes cell renewal. There are seven stages, each lasting one day. The first stage is liquids only, which worked quite well for me as I completely slept through day one. Day two includes fruit, which is great because I love fruit. I had an apple, two bananas, a peach, dozens of cherries, grapes, blueberries, strawberries, and half a large watermelon. Today I can add raw vegetables, which I don't like, so I think I'm going to move on to day four: cooked veggies and brown rice! Tomorrow, Natalie is cooking dinner for me, so there concludes my detox...

Last post from Oxford.

2004-07-24T18:09:00.000-05:00

No matter where I go, nor how much fun I'm having, I'm always ready to go home when the time comes. Most of all, I can't wait to see and pet my dog. I'm looking forward to driving to my condo in my car, listening to my music, sitting on my sofa, using my shower, and sleeping in my very own bed. Right away, I want to get my feet "done" (esp. since my polish chipped during the first week and I've walked about a 1,000 miles and there isn't a nail salon on every corner here). And of course, I can't wait to see my family and friends and get all of my 1,000 pictures developed.

However, there are many things I will miss very much:
1) the subdued, soft-spoken accents of the British -- Americans are loud and obnoxious
2) three full meals prepared everyday, with fabulous desserts!
3) gorgeous weather, no humidity, beautiful flowers, green spaces
4) walking everywhere...
5) PUBS and fresh ales

I wish I had a chance to meet Newly Single. Even if I come back next year, I'll probably never go back to the changing of the guard, nor Stratford. Both are much too crowded with hordes of tourists! Overall, I have no regrets about this trip. I visited sixteen of sixty-something pubs. I heard over twenty lectures. I saw four Shakespeare plays and five museums. Tonight, I finally ate some Indian food. I made the most of everyday, and I had a splendid time. Can't wait to tell you all more about it in person.

My big bag is packed. We leave St. Hugh's on the bus to the airport in just five hours. Two hours later, we arrive at the airport, and our plane to Atlanta leaves five hours after that. We have a nine-hour flight, but we lose five hours traveling through the time zones. We get a chance to live them over again. It's going to be a long day.

"Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged"

2004-07-22T11:28:00.000-05:00

I knew my Shakespeare seminar included several performances; I did not know I would be performing! Much less as a wall that separates two lovers who try to kiss through my chink. At least I was a wicked, naughty wall. When one lover says, "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all," I turned my butt toward his face. My butt also represented moonshine. The students roared. Did I mention we had to embarrass ourselves in front of all the students?

My dilemma is resolved: I bought London bus tickets for fourteen students, another teacher, and myself this afternoon. We'll leave tomorrow morning for the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, then a tour of Westminster Abbey, a leisurely lunch, shopping at Harrod's, possibly ending with a Thames river cruise. I'll spend Saturday in Stratford before we depart for the airport at 5:30 a.m. on Sunday.

Last night, Amy and I went to the oldest pub in Oxford, The Bear, and we stopped by another on our way home. We also had a Pim's at The Goose this afternoon. If I can squeeze in just three more, my poster will seem worthwhile. Tonight we have a fancy dinner, the last one here, and one last lecture (on Infinity -- we were promised it wouldn't last that long) to conclude the official program. If only the vacation part would never end...

More pubs and another museum

2004-07-21T13:41:00.000-05:00

On Monday, I purchased my official Oxford Definitive Pub Crawl poster. It's white with black drawings of some 60 pubs that you colour or highlight as you go. Imagine my dismay that I'd only visited five of them! Yesterday, I added four more to the map, and I'm hoping to tackle two or three more tonight. So many pubs, so little time...

At the Head of the River, I met three very nice and attractive Italian men named Juliano, Roberto, and Francesco. I said, "You must be kidding me with those names." They didn't understand kidding. They guessed that I am indeed 29, and to add insult to injury, they were only interested in the wrong thing: "Oh, you are a teacher! We want to come party with you and meet your students tonight." Ha. What do teenage girls have that I don't? (Don't dare answer that, even in your silent thoughts). At the White Horse, I met some nice and attractive German men who work for BMW. We had a more pleasant, yet more brief conversation.

Today, we zoomed through the British Museum, and again, I am most absorbed by domestic artifacts including dishes, glasses, and jewelry. Sure, mummies are cool and Greek statues and all of that -- but plates and spoons excite me! I'm ashamed to say my favorite room was Europe & America: 20th Century, not The Acropolis & late 5th century BC as you might suppose it should be. The medieval clocks were also interesting.

We just returned from a fabulous production of Les Miserable at the Queen's Theater. They had dynamic sets and an excellent cast. And again, it's dinner time.

dilemma

2004-07-19T07:41:00.000-05:00

What would you do on your last day of vacation? I have two basic options (maybe): A. Stay here in Oxford, see a few attractions I haven't yet seen such as the oldest college and St. Mary's tower, then shop around town on my own; or B. Go to London as a chaperone for seven students, see Westminster Abbey, the changing of the guard, etc. and shop at the great Harrod's.

Obviously, the great advantage of staying here is not chaperoning and not wasting time traveling to London and back. Of course, the reason I'm here is to chaperone and make the most of my time. Wouldn't it be crazy to get this close and not see Westminster Abbey?

Comments encouraged! (on this matter or anything else...)

morning meadow stroll and afternoon tea

2004-07-18T14:45:00.000-05:00

On our Saturday excursion to Gloucester, I found a Royal Crown Derby squirrel for my parents and a surprise gift for my sister in this super warehouse on the docks with five stories of antiques. I could have spent all day there. Unfortunately, I had only twenty minutes to tear through the first floor and make purchases before meeting back at the bus.

First, we wasted an hour or so at the National Waterways Museum which is only slightly more stimulating than the National Bus Museum. Then we toured Gloucester Cathedral, including the underground crypts where the bones of monks were stored in medieval times. We also saw the marble tomb of Edward II who failed as king, but suceeded in attracting pilgrims to Gloucester. The cathedral boasts of two other claims to fame: an awe-inspiring, tennis court size stained glass window and its use as the setting for the Harry Potter films. After Gloucester, we drove into Wales to see the ruins of Tintern Abbey, which impressed me more than any of the other actual buildings we've seen.

This morning, I wandered past horses and cows, carefully stepping over their abundant waste, through the meadow that has been in continuous use longer than any other in England. My guide book states that it is some 400 acres, but I would describe it as thousands of football fields. I finally made my way across to the Trout Inn on the Thames River because I wanted to see the "numerous peacocks" described in the guide book. No peacocks, but a beautiful walk all the same. After trekking cross country for two hours, at least I can cool down by climbing the three flights of stairs to my room.

This afternoon, I enjoyed a lovely traditional English tea at the Old Parson's House Inn with my Shakespeare seminar group and teacher. We ate delicious scones served with clotted cream (real butter) and stawberry jam, and we drank their own blend of tea along with a little milk and a cube of brown sugar. I went back to Wesley Memorial for the evening service to hear and say hello to Rev. Cooper, who visited my church in Atlanta several summers ago. Randy: he said a special hello to you!

Only six days left...

Two plays, a palace, and punting!

2004-07-16T12:03:00.000-05:00

The past two nights have ruined my personal pub tour. Instead of trying new ales, I saw different Shakespeare plays on different college lawns, which makes for nice comparison. I most enjoyed the Oxford atmosphere and outdoor setting of both plays, as well as their costumes: one modern and one Elizabethan. The professional actors in Love's Labors Lost interacted very naturally with each other and with the audience (as we were quite close to each other). The more amateur actors in Merchant of Venice disappointed me, with the exception of Shylock and Portia, who were decent.

Today, we visited Blenheim Palace, birthplace of Churchill. It's just your typical palace, you know. Meandering paths surrounding a big lake full of swans, cascading waterfalls, a lovely rose garden and sunken Italian gardens. Of course, we didn't see inside, and I missed the secret garden and the butterfly house because I ran out of time.

We didn't have enough palace time due to our previous stop at the bus museum, which is most bizarre! Imagine: a warehouse full of old refurbished city buses from the past thirty years. The weird part: Chariots of Fire theme song in the background, accompanied by the chirping of crickets. And scattered throughout the museum, scary rejected mannequins that are older than the buses. For sale in the front parking lot: the bus used in the Spice Girls movie. In the back barn, they did have a few interesting old Morris cars, and we did get to ride antique double deckers to and from St. Hugh's.

We also stopped to view Churchill's grave, which looks just like every other grave on earth and didn't interest me at all. I guess if you are in the vicinity of a famous person's rotting bones, you should look at the ground they are buried in. Right? I want to be creamated; that way, you can send my ashes on tour.

One of my favorite experiences so far: punting on the nearby Cherwell River with a group of 20 people on four boats (more like large canoes). A slow, relaxing, pleasant ride: unless you are the one steering and propelling the boat with the long, heavy metal pole that serves as a kind of rutter and pushes against the bottom of the river. Everyone should do it once.

Now: Master's Class with an English professor! More to come...

Time traveling...

2004-07-14T10:45:00.000-05:00

Stonehenge: weird. Old Sarum: old. Salisbury Cathedral: HUGE.

I'm glad to say I've seen Stonehenge, and I appreciate the mystery surrounding how and why it was established. They are huge rocks in the middle of nowhere, and I'm sure I took too many pictures of them. Old Sarum offers a picturesque view of typical English countryside as I've imagined it for years -- only ancient ruins remain, but that spot was inhabited as early as 3000 BCE (as many spots might have been). The Salisbury Cathedral was impossible to fit in the viewfinder of my camera, but I tried anyway from every possible angle. It's amazing. They even have an original copy of the Magna Carta.

Last night, I finally got a hot pasta dish for £8 (and a cosmopolitan for £6) at a fancy restaurant called Branco. Seven of us had dinner together, then met five other teachers for trivia at the Bird and Baby. I tried my first Pimm's beverage -- very English, very tasty. A sample question: name a single word that combines with the words end, go, point, and Timothy?

Tonight: Love's Labors Lost, Wadham College Gardens
Tomorrow night: Merchant of Venice, Exeter College Gardens

Neville, education, and chicken

2004-07-12T11:22:00.000-05:00

Neville and Beryl Sheppard were the scripture readers at Wesley Methodist on Sunday. Neville wore a jade green shirt, a bright green tie, and an embroidered paisley vest. Beryl wore a floral skirt. I felt surrounded by genuine English-ness and warmly welcomed.

New thought: comedy is one of the rewards of age, and comedy is wasted on the young who take life much too seriously and haven't learned to laugh at themselves. How true! Our Shakespeare seminar discussion centered on this idea, among others. I also led a small group discussion of many ideas shared by the seven bright girls on my floor. They have just now realized the difference between "education" as we know it in our secondary school system (tests, tests, tests) and actual learning (intelligent discussion and thought). It's inspiring to watch.

We finally had chicken last night instead of beef, lamb, pork: with potatoes of course! I finally started reading Catcher in the Rye. I finally washed a load of laundry.

Tonight: "Master's Class" dinner with Dr. Van der Hart, philosopher.
Tomorrow: Stone Henge! Hooray!

Handel, Renoir, and ME

2004-07-10T13:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, we had two very interesting lectures. I learned that WWI was about attrition rather than acquistion and that government is about redistribution. On my tour of the Ashmolean Museum here in Oxford, I saw everything from Egyptian antiquities to Dutch paintings, but what I loved most was the domestic treasure: English delftware, several rooms full of porcelain, and almost 400 very old rings -- Mother and Dawn, I thought of you especially. Last night, we heard an excellent performance of Handel's Samson oratorio in the Sheldonian theater, a strikingly beautiful but terribly uncomfortable space. The woman who sang Dalila's part won their version of American Idol (or something like that).

Today, we rode on the big bus to Trafalgar Square in London and toured the National Gallery and National Portrait Gallery. I saw portraits of Elizabeth I at various ages, George Washington as he appears on our dollar bill, the Royal Family, and my very own Jenny Lind. The colors of Van Gogh's famous sunflowers surprised me because they are a much more shocking shade of neon yellow than they often appear to be. I almost skipped the collection of art from 1250-1500 because I was tired and because I assumed it might be washed out and boring -- was I wrong! Oddly enough, the oldest collection had the most vibrant, vivid colors of all. I was amazed.

Now it's time for dinner, again. Rack of lamb and more potatoes...

odd bits

2004-07-08T10:53:00.000-05:00

Guess what? I actually have a KEY to the gate I crawled through the other night. When we first arrived, our leader mentioned that he wouldn't tell us how to use our extra key until we were on the bus back to the airport. He said it was much more fun to see who figures it out. Last night at the Rose and Crown, another older and wiser teacher asked us if we figured it out yet -- then she told us she immediately knew it was for the gate. And it is.

Have I mentioned that my room is on the fourth floor? I'm getting lots of exercise. And I'm still sleepy, especially in the mornings. I've missed two lectures because I've gone back to my room for a quick "15 minute nap" during our break, and then I can't wake up until lunch. No one has missed me yet, but I really want to adjust to Oxford time! I can't help thinking during breakfast, "My body knows this is really the middle of the night."

Speaking of night time, I'm having crazy dreams. Last night, a large white pet bear led on a leash by Michael Jackson attacked me and tried to eat my shorts. The previous night, I was married to Ray Romano and had to take him to the hospital for a shot. Crazy.

The food is good, except that I'm very tired of potatoes because we have them at every meal! I can handle beans at breakfast, and I even tried the duck and fig terrine. Now I want some pasta or rice.

Calories here are measured in units of "energy" -- isn't that a positive expression? And most interesting: they describe Coke as a "soft drink with vegetable extracts." It's on the label! I'm just wondering, what kind of vegetable would that be?

Also, no one here knows anyone with my last name. They've never heard of it! It sounds SO English to me. Damn -- must be German.

Happy birtday, Brandon.

Frevd, Globe, Blackwell's

2004-07-07T12:20:00.000-05:00

For the past two nights, Amy and I have gone to Frevd, a "pub" of sorts in an old church complete with stained glass windows, a vaulted ceiling and disco ball, tables with some pews as benches, and of course, a bar. They have no beers on tap, but they do serve Budvar -- a Czech Budweiser (I have the label as proof)! Monday night, we chatted with the Argentinian piano player and few young locals. We returned to St. Hugh's shortly after midnight to find the gate closed, so we had to limbo through one of the openings in the design. Last night, we took three other teachers and returned before the gates were locked.

The bus ride into London is over two hours, and since we have to be back here for the evening meal, we won't have much time during our visits. Yesterday, we started with the Tate Modern art museum -- and I actually liked Warhol's Marilyn Monroe, Jacki O, and Elvis most of all. There were several other pieces that caught my attention, but I especially loved our experience at the Globe where we saw Much Ado About Nothing with an entirely female cast. In my opinion, they should have cut about a third of it (it was three hours long), but the actors were great, and the theater is fabulous. It seems very true to the original and is a great environment for a play.

We started today day with a lecture answering the question, "Where is the University?" And the answer is no where, everywhere, and it doesn't matter where -- your choice. This afternoon I walked to the city center and took a very quick look at the inside of some old buildings, then I visited Blackwells, the greatest bookstore on Earth. It's huge, and it has quality books on every possible subject. I'll definitely go back. They even have a separate store for music and art. A terrible wind all day has finally blown in the rain, and our Master's class for tonight has been cancelled. Other than that, everything is great. Time for dinner...

I'm ready to move...

2004-07-05T10:41:00.000-05:00

I've spent the past four sunny hours exploring Oxford, taking pictures, and earning the heavenly dessert that is the best part of every meal. My main destination was Corpus Christi College, the model for my alma mater, OU. Of course, I meandered and wanted to photograph everything! It's all so picturesque. Dawn: you would LOVE the covered market.

I've finally stopped gasping at apparently driver-less cars.

Yesterday, I slept between my breakfast of eggs, sausage, and beans(?) and lunch, then we had a large group discussion based on the quote, "a question, then, is education." I also participated in my first Shakespeare seminar with eight other teachers and one amazing expert who talked to us about the influence of the Elizabethan theater, or lack thereof, on Shakespeare's plays. In the evening, we enjoyed a champagne reception (juice for students), followed by a "formal" sit-down dinner.

The other five young Atlanta teachers and myself slipped away after the day's final lecture (about the Oxford experience) to the Eagle and Child, aka Bird and Baby -- this is the pub Tolkein and C.S. Lewis frequented. I completely insulted and angered the Irish bartender by suggesting that Guinness is in any way English: OOPS! He pointed to the door and said, "Leave. Get out now." Fortunately, he not only allowed me to stay, but also served me a very Irish Guinness -- and I'll never make that mistake again.

We have two bell towers nearby: one chimes the hour and the other chimes five past the hour. As I tried to fall asleep last night, I heard both of them strike at midnight, and one, and two before I finally fell asleep. More lectures this morning. More food.

Tonight, the master's class for teachers. Tomorrow: LONDON.

The Broads' First Day Abroad...

2004-07-03T15:12:00.000-05:00

We don't have much computer time, but here are the highlights: Oxford is beautiful! Absolutely dreamy spires and old stone and cool British cars. My dorm room is small, with a great view from the small balcony (which also serves as the room's air-conditioning). The bathroom is cruise-ship style, but it's my own space. Dawn: thanks so much for the candle; it's the perfect touch of home. After we ate lunch and settled in, we took a walking tour of the city in small groups, then split up individually. Bill Burton: good advice to look both ways!

I didn't want my first purchase to be a hairdryer, so my new friend Amy and I stopped by a pub called the Cock and Camel -- I had my first pint of English Guinness. Then we went to this store called Argos for our hairdryers. It's a small store with a huge underground warehouse. You find what you want in one of several catalogues on a central counter, punch in the item number on a small keypad to see if it's in stock, then pay for it at another counter. Finally, you receive your item at a third counter. Very efficient shopping.

After dinner tonight (the highlight of which was a fabulous apple tart), we viewed a slide show of the area featuring the different colleges and architectural novelties as presented by a published photographer who was quite witty. I bought a copy of his Oxford tour book.

And now I'm ready for bed. I actually got a couple of hours of sleep after our pasta dinner on the plane. Then I woke up around midnight and couldn't get back to sleep so I took a benadryl and went back to sleep. Two hours later, we arrived at the airport at 7:30 local time and had to wait about an hour in a very long security line -- and I was very sleepy. I got a quick nap after lunch, but I'm ready for bed. I'm so glad to be here...

Pre-departure Update

2004-07-01T22:10:00.000-05:00

This evening as I exited Salon 2000 with my smashing new bob, I saw a brilliant rainbow reaching across the sky, symbolizing hope for my future...

This morning, I decided to give Michael a chance to redeem himself, which he did. I love my 'do. It's so me. Oxford, here I come!

I packed my bags last night and feel very confident about the ratio of cool to hot weather clothing I have chosen. I also tried everything on to make sure it all still fits. I'm taking a big risk by only packing four pairs of shoes, but I think I can manage (or buy more shoes...). As soon as Bailey saw the suitcase, she got her inquisitive / worried look on her face, but I explained that she's going to visit cousins Buffy and Bitsy. She's excited. I'm excited.

Did you know that Oxford is named for a "point where locals and their livestock could wade across the Thames (literally an oxen ford)" -- interesting, huh? And a Saxon community was there as early as the 8th century. Another fact: Oxford University actually "consists of over 30 colleges, each a community in its own right, situated within an area of less than one square mile." Hmmm. I've been studying my St. Hughes Programme Notebook.

Since I'm leaving home tomorrow and won't be back for THREE weeks, I feel that I should say some kind of farewell, except that I'll be writing to you again as soon as I get near a computer. In the meantime, ponder this from the Programme Notebook: the Greeks said that wonder is the mother of thought, and James Burke said, "We are what we know." What do you think?

I got stood up!

2004-06-30T17:43:00.000-05:00

Michael Jett has no idea how absolutely disappointed I was today when I walked into Salon 2000 for my long-awaited and much anticipated appointment, and the transvestite receptionist (who will never look like a convincing woman) said, "I tried to call you at home but you didn't answer. We need to reschedule."

WHAT? I scheduled this appointment at the end of my last visit four weeks ago. I have had numerous conversations with friends, and countless imaginary ones with Michael, about my new low maintainence 'do for England, where I am afraid I will not have a hair dryer -- the style is what he calls a bitch bob, and I even had with me some alternative pictures to discuss.

Maybe this is a sign that I shouldn't do anything drastic with my hair right now. And I'm sure Michael would rather have been with me at the salon than stuck at the DMV; I know from recent experience that's no fun.

Issue #1: What to do with my hair now?
1) Call Michael first thing in the morning and demand that he fit me into his schedule?
2) Forget Michael and try to get in with my previous stylist, who never really pleased me, but could do in a pinch -- then try to explain why I haven't been in this year?
3) Forget the haircut, tough it out with the current 'do, spend the money I saved on a European hair dryer -- then find a new stylist when I return?

Issue #2: Should I take a benadryl to help me sleep on the flight over? I've got a mask to wear that will block out light, as suggested by a friend. I used to pride myself on falling asleep anywhere under any circumstances, but I'm worried I'll be too excited about the trip -- and I don't want to arrive without having slept at all the previous night. But what if something awful happens on the plane, and I'm stuck in a drug-induced coma?

Issue #3: Will four ounces of saline solution be enough to last three weeks?

Help. Please...

Rainy Day Confession

2004-06-29T12:24:00.000-05:00

It's not actually raining today (for the first time all summer), but I thought of this entry a couple of days ago and haven't had time to post it; I've been grandmother-sitting and corresponding with / eliminating men on eHarmony...

I love to color. I have a box of 96 crayons, a JUMBO coloring and activity book featuring fish wearing party hats and rabbits on roller skates, as well as a First Ladies Gowns book I bought a couple of years ago in D.C.: it's only for special occasions when I am serious about coloring. Each gown has a description of the actual colors, so you can make it look like the original or be original.

I also like 1,000 piece puzzles, but I typically become obsessed with finishing them, so I only attempt about one a year because they may take a few days, and I realize the folly of spending days upon days sitting at my table, alone, puzzling. And of course, then I tear it up and put the pieces back in the box; coloring is more temporary in terms of time spent and more permanent in terms of staying in one piece.

The truth is that I'm not very good at just watching t.v. -- I fall asleep unless I have an activity to keep me busy. Of course, during the school year, I have countless papers to grade or plans to make.

When I was younger, I absolutely loved shelling peas. That's a great activity to keep fingers busy without involving any thought. It wouldn't even distract me from reading foreign film subtitles the way coloring does. Unfortunately, I don't really enjoy cooking or eating peas very much.

1 day until low maintainence haircut
3 days until departure for England
4 days as a member of eHarmony.com
7 men on my discontinued matches list (two rejected me)
8 men still corresponding with me...

"When you are ready to find the love of your life..."

2004-06-26T15:26:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure you should be as confused as I am right now.

I paid the $50 to eHarmony.com and have now "gone all the way" with Matt and Stephen: meaning we've exchanged a plethora of introductory information, five multiple choice questions and answers, a list of ten must haves and ten can't stands, then three open-ended questions and answers -- now I'm supposed to send them a personal, "get-to-know you" kind of message. I am waiting for open-ended answers from Marion, Matthew, and Mitchell. I haven't received any response from Brian or Jason, but they haven't dropped me yet either.

How I am supposed to sort through all these details and decide if I want to actually meet any of these fellows? Aren't you supposed to lock eyes with a beautiful man across a crowded bar and instantly know you have to meet him and touch his soul before he slips away? That's exactly how I met my last boyfriend, and we dated for two years -- but then again, we're not dating anymore (which is why I'm exploring other options). Ultimately we didn't work out, and if I'd met him on eHarmony.com, I'm sure I would have quickly rejected him. Then again, our personalities wouldn't have matched up anyway.

The concept behind eHarmony.com is that finding the love of your life should be based on rational decisions. And I'm such a rational girl. But does love really work that way? I guess I've learned from so many people I know that love works in countless ways -- there is no magic formula, and everyone has their own story. Do I want my story to start with "First, I paid the $50..."

eHarmony?

2004-06-24T09:37:00.000-05:00

Eights days until departure for England. In preparation, I have been reading Dubliners, which is an interesting follow-up to the last book I read, Kissing in Manhattan. Both are collections of shorts stories that chronicle the everday lives of people coping in their respecitive cities. I really appreciate Joyce's power of visual detail: he compared the color of a man's face to wet cheese. Damn, that's good (and particularly powerful for me as I've been eating cheese that has been somewhat damp -- but that's another story).

In addition to starting a blog, which I said I would never do, I have also signed up on eHarmony.com, which I said I would not do until I turned 30 and felt desperate. Their personal profiles are quite impressive!

Not so surprising results about me:
1) One of my great strengths is my ability to communicate and talk readily, and sometimes I may talk too much -- me?

2) Others will generally know how I am feeling, whether good or bad, because I let them know my moods easily.

3) I need a partner who understands a defiant nature and knows it is not malicious, who expects some resistence if I don't get my way, and who speaks at a rapid pace and gets to the bottom of a problem immediately. Hmm...

4) I am good at motivating others toward positive goals (unless they are hopelessly unmotivated and not interested in my badgering).

Right on. Now, do I pay the $50 so I can talk to Jason, 29, 6'4, project manager for a general contractor who is very goal-oriented and loves restaurants with patios?

Weird things about my dog

2004-06-23T11:05:00.000-05:00

1) She barks viciously every time she hears a doorbell -- and we've never actually had a doorbell! I have no idea how she learned about doorbells, but that "ding-dong: get the door; it's Domino's" makes her crazy every time, even if she's asleep under the bed or if we're in the car.

2) Sometimes, she's afraid of her food bowl, and I have to put her pellets on a napkin. She hears the dog tag on her collar clink against the side of the bowl (and it's such a small friendly bowl), then she starts barking at her food. I've tried to demonstrate how the tag makes the clinking noise, but she doesn't get it.

3) She's very afraid of some non-carpeted floors -- she's never once been in my kitchen. When I take her to Natalie's, she clings to the middle of the rug and won't even venture near the edges, much less walk onto the hardwood.

4) She barks at me when I dance, especially when I "Hammertime" (OK, maybe that's not so weird of her).

Other info about the most precious Pomeranian on Earth: she is all black except for a permanent milk mustache and her cute pink tounge. Last year on her birthday, we were both 28. This year, on October 12, she'll be 35. She weighs about 10 lbs. She loves adults, but hates children. She knows the following words: sit, treat, walk, ride, get busy.

This entry is very much off topic -- it's not about aging, traveling, or keeping in touch with friends. I just figure, it's day two: I've got to talk about my dog.

something old, something new

2004-06-22T14:33:00.000-05:00

Dammit. I can't believe I'm starting a blog. Yet, I'm intrigued by the idea of publishing to the masses, even if no one ever reads my ramblings. Writing is cleansing, even if I delete more than half of what I write, which I've already done twice.

Today I had lunch at Phuket, a favorite OLD spot, with four favorite OLD friends (meaning long-time, not advanced in years) -- Bill, Brandon, Natalie, and Robert. Aside: we even bumped into my favorite OLD not-friend Lee D. And during lunch I was reminded of how much I miss my other OLD friends who are now scattered all over the world, quite literally, and I realized that this blog business is really about keeping in touch.

At lunch, we also discussed my upcoming visit to England -- that's one something NEW in my life. I'll be traveling abroad for the first time. Hence, another reason to blog.

So, this is the first of many entries to come that will probably halt abrubtly with the rest of my life on August 3. We'll see. Maybe I can add blogging to my current list of resolutions for the NEW year, based on the ever-important school calendar: 1) drink more water, 2) get more sleep, 3) take a multi-vitamin and calcium supplement as recommended by my gyno for the prevention of a humped back and other ailments that come with age.

I'm determined to "get better" in every way with each passing year; maybe a blog can be nourishment for my soul?