she said liked the "hug" video we watched in class so much, she wanted to return the favor and send me something to make me smile (very sweet gesture!), so she sent me the link to this youtube video. it's short, but if you don't smile watching it, there is something VERY WRONG with the wiring in your brain, i'm not kidding.
super-ridiculously-cute baby laughing home video from sweden:
[= "could you be having more fun?"]
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
go hug someone!
last fall when i saw this dave matthews band video for the first time, i was so taken with it, i showed it to all my classes at the beginning of the term. for no particular reason, except that it makes you feel good inside-- kind of warm and glowy and smiley. and so that's what i told my students in my first two classes of the week yesterday: this really isn't related to class, but we're starting some speeches today and i want everyone to be relaxed and happy. i think i even said to my second class when i showed them the link to the video at our class website, and later explained about the whole Being A Good Audience smiling-nodding-encouraging it's-a-karma thing: "pass it forward, you know! be good to each other. go hug someone." they smiled and nodded. :)
DMB, "everyday" [i call it the "hug" video. some call it the "nicest video ever."]
DMB, "everyday" [i call it the "hug" video. some call it the "nicest video ever."]
Monday, January 28, 2008
finally ...
a funny mcsweeny's: "my pet peeves"
here's just a taste:
Those pretentious phonies who say "pasta" instead of paste or "Boca Raton" instead of rat's mouth.
When a can of cheap peas says "Pea Color and Size May Vary" and inside there's just one giant blue pea.
Halloween decorations in a hospice.
here's just a taste:
Those pretentious phonies who say "pasta" instead of paste or "Boca Raton" instead of rat's mouth.
When a can of cheap peas says "Pea Color and Size May Vary" and inside there's just one giant blue pea.
Halloween decorations in a hospice.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
my man IS BACK, hot damn!
no, heath ledger has not arisen from the dead --
OBAMA WON SOUTH CAROLINA, YIPEEEE!!!!!
(in case you care a super-lot, click here to go to CNN's link to SC's results. he totally kicked clinton's ass, 55% to 27% [edwards at a dismal, but still prodigious 18%; why hasn't he dropped out yet for christ's sake???]).
i've got my fingers crossed for super tuesday (not double-crossed, because that's bad luck, DUH). the anticipation is killing me!!
OBAMA WON SOUTH CAROLINA, YIPEEEE!!!!!
(in case you care a super-lot, click here to go to CNN's link to SC's results. he totally kicked clinton's ass, 55% to 27% [edwards at a dismal, but still prodigious 18%; why hasn't he dropped out yet for christ's sake???]).
i've got my fingers crossed for super tuesday (not double-crossed, because that's bad luck, DUH). the anticipation is killing me!!
time to go grocery shopping?
my cats are now eating DOG FOOD out of their cat dishes outside on the table on the deck (where they eat/drink/live these days for the most part).
to be fair, they did have regular cat food as recently as this morning, but then ate it all and still looked hungry, hanging out by their bowls and staring at me through the patio doors expectantly. since there was no more cat food, i thought "what the hell-- i think i saw one of them eating this stuff before, just on a whim," so, i put some sam's club brand ("high performance," because my dogs are NOTHING except high performing, well-oiled machines of grace and manners) chow into the bowls and then watched as pekka, my black cat, plowed through it. (the other one mysteriously had disappeared, perhaps knowing something was amiss in the universe).
what cracked me up though, was the sound of the cat eating dog food. it sounded much like a dog eating dog food (which shouldn't be surprising: when pekka eats potato chips, it sounds just like me eating potato chips, ha). her poor little cat teeth!
oh well. she can handle it for a couple hours. i'm off to the grocery store shortly. here's an old pic of pekka in (well, you can't tell here so much, but it's red, and was intended for an infant) her most lovely dress (yes, i'm sick, sick, sick):
to be fair, they did have regular cat food as recently as this morning, but then ate it all and still looked hungry, hanging out by their bowls and staring at me through the patio doors expectantly. since there was no more cat food, i thought "what the hell-- i think i saw one of them eating this stuff before, just on a whim," so, i put some sam's club brand ("high performance," because my dogs are NOTHING except high performing, well-oiled machines of grace and manners) chow into the bowls and then watched as pekka, my black cat, plowed through it. (the other one mysteriously had disappeared, perhaps knowing something was amiss in the universe).
what cracked me up though, was the sound of the cat eating dog food. it sounded much like a dog eating dog food (which shouldn't be surprising: when pekka eats potato chips, it sounds just like me eating potato chips, ha). her poor little cat teeth!
oh well. she can handle it for a couple hours. i'm off to the grocery store shortly. here's an old pic of pekka in (well, you can't tell here so much, but it's red, and was intended for an infant) her most lovely dress (yes, i'm sick, sick, sick):
i am becoming my step-mother, slowly [long!]
in the ol' nature vs. nurture debate (which always predictably ends in the tired "it's a combination of both!" answer), one fun thing is to see the ways i've become an adult woman like my step-mom, who was really my full-time mom growing up (and a wonderful one, too -- no fairy tale evilness to be found anywhere, except for perhaps a wicked sense of humor. more on that another day ...)
one of the ways I AM BECOMING HER, i've noticed lately (maybe because i'm over this 30 hump and have crossed over into a mystical I DON'T GIVE A CRAP ANYMORE state of being?) is my uncharacteristic lack of public embarrassment. this was a major issue growing up. my step-mom is a loud, vibrant, semi-obnoxious (in a good way) woman. she should've been born african-american and attended a call-and-response baptist church where people yell back at the preacher with their heart and soul, because this is what my mom does IN GENERAL.
she breaks out in song in the grocery store and dances a shuffle waiting in line at target. she laughs so loud at the movies that people turn to stare at her (and often tears stream down her face she's laughing so hard). when she sees a baby looking at her, she talks and coos to it loudly and sweetly, inevitably making the baby smile and laugh (this could be in an elevator or a cafe or a waiting room ...). if someone hits their kid in public, she makes a BIG SCENE, watch out. she is never afraid of anyone, never afraid to make a scene.
now, when i was a kid, this drove me INSANE. i was an attention-whore, to be sure, in my own self-centered way, i know, but i was all about propriety and manners and not embarrassing oneself in public. i had a bohemian heart, but not soul, and so often i wished for a soccer mom who shopped at l.l. bean instead of garage sales and didn't squat by the side of road to pee or pick wildflowers while clean (brand-new!) cars sped past.
however ... people change. you grow up. (could i be more trite? sorry.) my step-mom is now one of my heroes. little changes started happening in me a few years ago ... i noticed my braying donkey laugh embarrsed certain boyfriends at movie theaters, and instead of caring, i only thought, "eh, i'm LOVING this with my heart. go fuck yourself." and then too, for some time now (years, i think), i've been one of those people who talks obnoxiously to strangers' babies and kids, making silly faces and cooing and so on. (one exBF actually suggested i leave other people's kids alone and i told him that since i was making the babies smile, to basically go fuck himself [sigh.]).
and then yesterday:
yes, i was happy as can be to see MY MAN, my candidate, my HOPE for the future my CHANGE CANDIDATE, barack obama come speak here at my redneck sorority-fraternity-lovin' school on the eve of our state's democratic primary (yes, i AM A SUPER POLITICAL NERD: i was at the polls this morning at 8:30 a.m.: voter #9!).
and the point i'm about to make, connecting mom-story with obama-worship, is that from my woodchip-cluttered position outside the security fray at the obama rally (still surrounded by people, and a few friends), i was THE ONLY ONE CLAPPING AND CHEERING WILDLY. granted, i was with an older couple who are fairly staunch edwards fans, but was everyone else in my 30-ft radius?? no, can't be. so what was wrong with these people?
obama would say something inspiring, or funny, or smart, and the die-hard fans up by the amphitheater's stage would cheer and applaud, but around me it was like a goddamn graveyard. some guy in front of me kept glancing back at me every time i would whoop and yell and clap (well, i WAS the only person doing so nearby, and doing so LOUDLY), but for christ's sake, people, show some love! it's cold outside and we need HOPE and CHANGE and someone full of new ideas in washington, so quit looking at me like that, asshats, and put your hands together!! (i wished desperately that i could do one of those loud whistles with my mouth, index finger and thumb. but i can barely whistle with, uh, my own lips and mouth ...)
i kept thinking of my mom then. and how she wouldn't care if NO ONE was cheering. she would still yell. and clap. and tell him he's got the right ideas. she'd probably say something funny or smart-alecky to the dude i kept embarrassing, maybe get him into it somehow. and maybe she'd work her way down to the stage, and eventually get pulled away for trying to kiss obama's cheek. (or uh, his mouth. she remains to this day, much bolder than me).
but i'm working on it, slowly but surely. it's a nice thing to do, this letting go of insecurities ... some people cringe to think of becoming their mother or father, but i smile and hope with my heart i will.
one of the ways I AM BECOMING HER, i've noticed lately (maybe because i'm over this 30 hump and have crossed over into a mystical I DON'T GIVE A CRAP ANYMORE state of being?) is my uncharacteristic lack of public embarrassment. this was a major issue growing up. my step-mom is a loud, vibrant, semi-obnoxious (in a good way) woman. she should've been born african-american and attended a call-and-response baptist church where people yell back at the preacher with their heart and soul, because this is what my mom does IN GENERAL.
she breaks out in song in the grocery store and dances a shuffle waiting in line at target. she laughs so loud at the movies that people turn to stare at her (and often tears stream down her face she's laughing so hard). when she sees a baby looking at her, she talks and coos to it loudly and sweetly, inevitably making the baby smile and laugh (this could be in an elevator or a cafe or a waiting room ...). if someone hits their kid in public, she makes a BIG SCENE, watch out. she is never afraid of anyone, never afraid to make a scene.
now, when i was a kid, this drove me INSANE. i was an attention-whore, to be sure, in my own self-centered way, i know, but i was all about propriety and manners and not embarrassing oneself in public. i had a bohemian heart, but not soul, and so often i wished for a soccer mom who shopped at l.l. bean instead of garage sales and didn't squat by the side of road to pee or pick wildflowers while clean (brand-new!) cars sped past.
however ... people change. you grow up. (could i be more trite? sorry.) my step-mom is now one of my heroes. little changes started happening in me a few years ago ... i noticed my braying donkey laugh embarrsed certain boyfriends at movie theaters, and instead of caring, i only thought, "eh, i'm LOVING this with my heart. go fuck yourself." and then too, for some time now (years, i think), i've been one of those people who talks obnoxiously to strangers' babies and kids, making silly faces and cooing and so on. (one exBF actually suggested i leave other people's kids alone and i told him that since i was making the babies smile, to basically go fuck himself [sigh.]).
and then yesterday:
yes, i was happy as can be to see MY MAN, my candidate, my HOPE for the future my CHANGE CANDIDATE, barack obama come speak here at my redneck sorority-fraternity-lovin' school on the eve of our state's democratic primary (yes, i AM A SUPER POLITICAL NERD: i was at the polls this morning at 8:30 a.m.: voter #9!).
and the point i'm about to make, connecting mom-story with obama-worship, is that from my woodchip-cluttered position outside the security fray at the obama rally (still surrounded by people, and a few friends), i was THE ONLY ONE CLAPPING AND CHEERING WILDLY. granted, i was with an older couple who are fairly staunch edwards fans, but was everyone else in my 30-ft radius?? no, can't be. so what was wrong with these people?
obama would say something inspiring, or funny, or smart, and the die-hard fans up by the amphitheater's stage would cheer and applaud, but around me it was like a goddamn graveyard. some guy in front of me kept glancing back at me every time i would whoop and yell and clap (well, i WAS the only person doing so nearby, and doing so LOUDLY), but for christ's sake, people, show some love! it's cold outside and we need HOPE and CHANGE and someone full of new ideas in washington, so quit looking at me like that, asshats, and put your hands together!! (i wished desperately that i could do one of those loud whistles with my mouth, index finger and thumb. but i can barely whistle with, uh, my own lips and mouth ...)
i kept thinking of my mom then. and how she wouldn't care if NO ONE was cheering. she would still yell. and clap. and tell him he's got the right ideas. she'd probably say something funny or smart-alecky to the dude i kept embarrassing, maybe get him into it somehow. and maybe she'd work her way down to the stage, and eventually get pulled away for trying to kiss obama's cheek. (or uh, his mouth. she remains to this day, much bolder than me).
but i'm working on it, slowly but surely. it's a nice thing to do, this letting go of insecurities ... some people cringe to think of becoming their mother or father, but i smile and hope with my heart i will.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
intimacy boosters - you're kidding, right?
my bio-mother warned me my sarcasm had reached new lows on christmas (i really don't recall being sarcastic at all that day, but sometimes she misinterprets the witty banter between my brother and i as sarcasm, i think; her sense of humor being ... uh, "different"), so i tried to keep it in check a bit over the holidays. but sometimes i can't help it. like when i read this yahoo article on "4 instant intimacy boosters," because they were all so trite and lame and booooohri [gghhhzzz ... !!! whoa. i fell asleep on the laptop there for a sec reading them again.]
they included "adding adventure" (such as a rock climbing class, or even a roller coaster ride, in a pinch), "cyber-flirting" (i.e., talking dirty to each other with your OWN instant-messenger accounts, CRAZY-VILLE HERE WE COME), "showing up on each other's turf" (you know, he comes to your yoga class, you watch him play frisbee golf or whatever. yawn.), and the SUPA-BALZ-OUT FINAL intimacy booster: "take a walk on the wild side" (e.g., have sex on a monday night).
oh wow. wow. wow. wow.
maybe i don't want to get married.
i mean, i always did. i do. (haha). but i've never had these problems. maybe because of kids? (rather, their dearth in my serious relationships?) maybe i've just been lucky with my men?? tell me friends, IS THIS THE SORT OF THING I HAVE TO LOOK FORWARD TO WHEN/IF I GET MARRIED??? where "monday night sex" is wild and smut talk on an IM account is taboo? a roller coaster ride gets me hot and bothered (because i'm a freaking mennonite??)? oh holy hell. i sort of want to cry now.
instead, i will propose my own four "intimacy boosters" for couples:
1. surf the web for porn together, discussing likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs. most people, whether they admit it or not, get very turned on by porn. [guaranteed to make you uncomfortable at first, but then that will wear off and you WILL WANT TO DO IT A.S.AP.]
2. lay in bed and discuss full-blown, top-secret, maybe-you-shouldn't-actually fantasies with each other. this could done on be a saturday afternoon, or a regular weeknight. preferably both, with different, new stories. (you know you have more in there, you're just keeping them tucked away for safe keeping -- why?) anyhoo, i'm not suggesting you ACT THESE OUT, fools. just talking about them is fun. (and no holding back, that's lame. i mean the REAL HARD-CORE GOODS here or it's boring).
3. consider having sex in a public place. just consider it. (your car only sort of counts, sorry. and it really DOESN'T COUNT if it's in your driveway).
4. this is an oldie but a goodie for both him AND her: write something totally pornographic. like, over-the-top, cheeseball-city, full of extremely wet, lurid details. it will turn you on to write it. it will turn them on to read it. and so on and so forth. erotica is vastly underestimated these days.
i have more probably ... but won't post them here for decency's sake. i was actually going to put more obnoxious suggestions up at first like, "#1: go to a donkey show together in tijuana on your next romantic getaway!" but then decided that sometimes my family reads this and that wouldn't be funny to them, just sad, and maybe it is ... but [cough!] i think i've already said too much here today. about this. sex. you know ...
they included "adding adventure" (such as a rock climbing class, or even a roller coaster ride, in a pinch), "cyber-flirting" (i.e., talking dirty to each other with your OWN instant-messenger accounts, CRAZY-VILLE HERE WE COME), "showing up on each other's turf" (you know, he comes to your yoga class, you watch him play frisbee golf or whatever. yawn.), and the SUPA-BALZ-OUT FINAL intimacy booster: "take a walk on the wild side" (e.g., have sex on a monday night).
oh wow. wow. wow. wow.
maybe i don't want to get married.
i mean, i always did. i do. (haha). but i've never had these problems. maybe because of kids? (rather, their dearth in my serious relationships?) maybe i've just been lucky with my men?? tell me friends, IS THIS THE SORT OF THING I HAVE TO LOOK FORWARD TO WHEN/IF I GET MARRIED??? where "monday night sex" is wild and smut talk on an IM account is taboo? a roller coaster ride gets me hot and bothered (because i'm a freaking mennonite??)? oh holy hell. i sort of want to cry now.
instead, i will propose my own four "intimacy boosters" for couples:
1. surf the web for porn together, discussing likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs. most people, whether they admit it or not, get very turned on by porn. [guaranteed to make you uncomfortable at first, but then that will wear off and you WILL WANT TO DO IT A.S.AP.]
2. lay in bed and discuss full-blown, top-secret, maybe-you-shouldn't-actually fantasies with each other. this could done on be a saturday afternoon, or a regular weeknight. preferably both, with different, new stories. (you know you have more in there, you're just keeping them tucked away for safe keeping -- why?) anyhoo, i'm not suggesting you ACT THESE OUT, fools. just talking about them is fun. (and no holding back, that's lame. i mean the REAL HARD-CORE GOODS here or it's boring).
3. consider having sex in a public place. just consider it. (your car only sort of counts, sorry. and it really DOESN'T COUNT if it's in your driveway).
4. this is an oldie but a goodie for both him AND her: write something totally pornographic. like, over-the-top, cheeseball-city, full of extremely wet, lurid details. it will turn you on to write it. it will turn them on to read it. and so on and so forth. erotica is vastly underestimated these days.
i have more probably ... but won't post them here for decency's sake. i was actually going to put more obnoxious suggestions up at first like, "#1: go to a donkey show together in tijuana on your next romantic getaway!" but then decided that sometimes my family reads this and that wouldn't be funny to them, just sad, and maybe it is ... but [cough!] i think i've already said too much here today. about this. sex. you know ...
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
"religion could be a key issue in SC primary"
really?
no, really?? the subheading of this ABC news video i just watched online was "in south carolina, there's no separating church and politics."
the spin on THIS piece was african-american churches and their support for obama, with a passing reference to something-like "it's not just conservative churches who tell people how to vote."
uhm, even though i love obama (though wish he and hillary would sort of shut up with their petulant squabbling and rhetorical barbs), i do awesomely LOATHE the lack of separation of church and state here in The South.
i know sometimes i make comparisons to The South and to third-world (sorry: "developing") nations, and maybe this is insulting. but honestly, The South had a little economic setback after 1865 ... and then with the jim crow laws they let sit around in existence, and the anti-union laws ... the result of which was the southern economy being largely agrarian with some textiles here and there, and its people being ill-educated. all this while a large proportion of the populace went on living in poverty while much of The South's wealth was concentrated in the hands of few ... this is not unlike a developing nation in many respects.
let's see ...
strom thurmond = augusto pinochet (except strom was in power WAY longer)
mardi gras = carnival in brazil
southern baptists/evangelicals/whatevers = vatican/mecca/whatever
+ small middle class
+ high(er) infant mortality
+ low(er) literacy rates
[i could and should do more, but now i'm tired and yes, also stupid, and just want to go to bed.]
whatever. i'm not angry. i'm glad people are voting (esp for obama!), are participating in the democratic process, you know the drill ... and there are MANY LOVELY things about The South, or i wouldn't be here, would i? i love so much about this place.
i just don't think church should tell you who to vote for. church should tell you to act with compassion to everyone you meet, everyone in your small community and your global community. then let your heart tell you who is the best person to greet the world with love, humility, and tolerance. (probably NOT chuck norris and his crazy baptist running-mate ...)
no, really?? the subheading of this ABC news video i just watched online was "in south carolina, there's no separating church and politics."
the spin on THIS piece was african-american churches and their support for obama, with a passing reference to something-like "it's not just conservative churches who tell people how to vote."
uhm, even though i love obama (though wish he and hillary would sort of shut up with their petulant squabbling and rhetorical barbs), i do awesomely LOATHE the lack of separation of church and state here in The South.
i know sometimes i make comparisons to The South and to third-world (sorry: "developing") nations, and maybe this is insulting. but honestly, The South had a little economic setback after 1865 ... and then with the jim crow laws they let sit around in existence, and the anti-union laws ... the result of which was the southern economy being largely agrarian with some textiles here and there, and its people being ill-educated. all this while a large proportion of the populace went on living in poverty while much of The South's wealth was concentrated in the hands of few ... this is not unlike a developing nation in many respects.
let's see ...
strom thurmond = augusto pinochet (except strom was in power WAY longer)
mardi gras = carnival in brazil
southern baptists/evangelicals/whatevers = vatican/mecca/whatever
+ small middle class
+ high(er) infant mortality
+ low(er) literacy rates
[i could and should do more, but now i'm tired and yes, also stupid, and just want to go to bed.]
whatever. i'm not angry. i'm glad people are voting (esp for obama!), are participating in the democratic process, you know the drill ... and there are MANY LOVELY things about The South, or i wouldn't be here, would i? i love so much about this place.
i just don't think church should tell you who to vote for. church should tell you to act with compassion to everyone you meet, everyone in your small community and your global community. then let your heart tell you who is the best person to greet the world with love, humility, and tolerance. (probably NOT chuck norris and his crazy baptist running-mate ...)
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
other very important things ...
[me? quick to divert attention from my asinine splinter post? why no ...] my, wall street looks anxious today, doesn't it? and look at those oscar nominations! (i KNEW juno would get a few nods. i just read diablo cody's book [this is the gal who wrote juno] candy girl: a year in the life of an unlikely stripper, and it was entertaining if not particularly revelatory).
but as for the crazy-worldwide-tumbling stock market (apparently amid fears an impending U.S. recession will have a global reach), i like the author's last word of this DIRECT QUOTE from a CNNmoney article (emphasis definitely MINE) from this morning:
Among stocks to watch, financial stocks are likely to take another hit after Bank of America and Wachovia both posted dismal results due to the mortgage and credit mess.
i like how this isn't then explained, because we should all (by now) know what the "mortgage and credit mess" is. hilarious. i wish there was a link to THAT, our current MESS.
but as for the crazy-worldwide-tumbling stock market (apparently amid fears an impending U.S. recession will have a global reach), i like the author's last word of this DIRECT QUOTE from a CNNmoney article (emphasis definitely MINE) from this morning:
Among stocks to watch, financial stocks are likely to take another hit after Bank of America and Wachovia both posted dismal results due to the mortgage and credit mess.
i like how this isn't then explained, because we should all (by now) know what the "mortgage and credit mess" is. hilarious. i wish there was a link to THAT, our current MESS.
Monday, January 21, 2008
slow weekend, sylvia?
welcome to the drama of my existence on this spinning orb. this is what it has come to. i'm posting on my blog about the splinter under my fingernail I WENT AND GOT REMOVED AT THE DOCTOR'S today.
good god.
[i also went to the southeastern world championship bull ride this weekend, but that was fairly low-key, albeit kind of fun in a wholesome sort of way. no gorings, just rodeo clowns, cold hot dogs (!), and my own bad timing -- i missed the two most successful rides of the night during bathroom stops for christ's sake. and yes, i remained steadfast in my lifetime commitment to NEVER RIDE A MECHANICAL BULL. EVER.]
as for the splinter, i would like to note that i only went to the doctor for this stupid splinter because my mother insisted. it was a depressing moment at 10:30 last night to realize that i had no close friends in the vicinity (my only one nearby was out of town, and it was too late to knock on my new neighbor's door with the bizarre request of "will you do me a teensy favor? can you pull this skin here on my middle finger back VERY HARD?") see, i think i maybe could've gotten it out with a third hand, but i didn't have one.
as it was, i tried and tried (see these online directions, I TRIED, OK??) to extract it myself in the bright lights over my bathroom sink with sharp tweezers and the scalpel-like edge of some old toenail clippers. i didn't have alcohol. i only managed to cut the nail down really far, and in the process, also cut down the splinter ... (btw, this was a FAT piece o' wood we're talking about here, not super-long, like a quarter-inch, tops, but as wide around as ... uh ...spaghetti? but more flat? does that make sense? don't ask how this piece of wood from my deck got under my fingernail on a sunday night. i don't really understand myself. i was just trying to get the dogs out, keep the cats from getting in ...) THE POINT IS, all i did to my splinter was make it bleed and throb profoundly. and auto-amateur surgery made me sweaty and light-headed for unknown reasons (when i told a friend this today, i assumed it was because i was a chicken-shit. he suggested it was more likely because i was holding my breath. what is it about tweezer operations that yes, requires the holding of breath??)
so. i waited for 1.5 hours at a crowded urgent care (quite happy reading this though, i must say) for my stupid splinter (and later paid $67 since it's january and of course i haven't met my deductible yet this year). i felt guilty for even being there. seeing people with runny eyes and obvious fevers and coughing up lungs i wanted to tell the lady at the desk that "really, i was only kidding. a splinter?? haha. it won't get infected! i HATE hypochondriacs! i've had ONE antibiotic in 18 years, one! i'll just go home now, ok?" but i was enjoying my book and honestly didn't want to deal with eventual over-the-phone-mother-wrath ("you SAID you were going to go to the doctor, why didn't you go? you WANTED to get an infection, is that it?"). so i stayed. the doctor took the ridiculous thing out in less than one second.
and i'm glad i stayed because guess what? i got a tetanus shot! i lied about this on my vaccination/immunization paperwork before grad school! i haven't had one since i was 11 when i ripped my knee on that rusty fence nail in alaska! (jesus, i am a clumsy excuse for a human being. it's a LONG list). so, i should've had my last tetanus shot nine years ago, i think.
this concludes the most boring blog post in the history of the universe. [my apologies to every single person reading this who has suffered from actual physical pain ...]
good god.
[i also went to the southeastern world championship bull ride this weekend, but that was fairly low-key, albeit kind of fun in a wholesome sort of way. no gorings, just rodeo clowns, cold hot dogs (!), and my own bad timing -- i missed the two most successful rides of the night during bathroom stops for christ's sake. and yes, i remained steadfast in my lifetime commitment to NEVER RIDE A MECHANICAL BULL. EVER.]
as for the splinter, i would like to note that i only went to the doctor for this stupid splinter because my mother insisted. it was a depressing moment at 10:30 last night to realize that i had no close friends in the vicinity (my only one nearby was out of town, and it was too late to knock on my new neighbor's door with the bizarre request of "will you do me a teensy favor? can you pull this skin here on my middle finger back VERY HARD?") see, i think i maybe could've gotten it out with a third hand, but i didn't have one.
as it was, i tried and tried (see these online directions, I TRIED, OK??) to extract it myself in the bright lights over my bathroom sink with sharp tweezers and the scalpel-like edge of some old toenail clippers. i didn't have alcohol. i only managed to cut the nail down really far, and in the process, also cut down the splinter ... (btw, this was a FAT piece o' wood we're talking about here, not super-long, like a quarter-inch, tops, but as wide around as ... uh ...spaghetti? but more flat? does that make sense? don't ask how this piece of wood from my deck got under my fingernail on a sunday night. i don't really understand myself. i was just trying to get the dogs out, keep the cats from getting in ...) THE POINT IS, all i did to my splinter was make it bleed and throb profoundly. and auto-amateur surgery made me sweaty and light-headed for unknown reasons (when i told a friend this today, i assumed it was because i was a chicken-shit. he suggested it was more likely because i was holding my breath. what is it about tweezer operations that yes, requires the holding of breath??)
so. i waited for 1.5 hours at a crowded urgent care (quite happy reading this though, i must say) for my stupid splinter (and later paid $67 since it's january and of course i haven't met my deductible yet this year). i felt guilty for even being there. seeing people with runny eyes and obvious fevers and coughing up lungs i wanted to tell the lady at the desk that "really, i was only kidding. a splinter?? haha. it won't get infected! i HATE hypochondriacs! i've had ONE antibiotic in 18 years, one! i'll just go home now, ok?" but i was enjoying my book and honestly didn't want to deal with eventual over-the-phone-mother-wrath ("you SAID you were going to go to the doctor, why didn't you go? you WANTED to get an infection, is that it?"). so i stayed. the doctor took the ridiculous thing out in less than one second.
and i'm glad i stayed because guess what? i got a tetanus shot! i lied about this on my vaccination/immunization paperwork before grad school! i haven't had one since i was 11 when i ripped my knee on that rusty fence nail in alaska! (jesus, i am a clumsy excuse for a human being. it's a LONG list). so, i should've had my last tetanus shot nine years ago, i think.
this concludes the most boring blog post in the history of the universe. [my apologies to every single person reading this who has suffered from actual physical pain ...]
Sunday, January 20, 2008
from last august: 14th annual emperor awards
got forwarded this link from my dad, a retired teacher. he forwards me MANY things (most of which come from other retired teachers), but this one actually cracked me up.
behold, the 14th annual emperor awards (from 22 august 2007).
it's a guest commentary on the "irascible professor's" website, and it lauds with various awards the groundbreaking research in education presented in 2007, as well as brilliant, novel approaches to teaching found both in the U.S. and around the world. here are a couple of the best snippets -- go to the web page to read the whole thing:
The Paris Hilton Activism Navel Ring celebrates undergraduates who "learned about the homeless experience the hard way." The "hard way" consisted of camping out on the college green for a night in an exercise similar to what was once known as camping out in the backyard for a night. Cardboard boxes were situated on and under tarps "to ward off raindrops," and in a sacrificial effort to replicate the "plight" of the homeless, students were permitted only sleeping bags and their pillows and forced to survive until dawn without "cell phones or other electronics."
and later ...
Outshining even that brilliant suggestion is the nationwide "Walk to School" campaign, in which twenty-first century students take a day to re-enact what twentieth century students used to do every day. Promising to boost academic achievement by enhancing physical fitness, promoters typically find time for walk-to-school activities by canceling academic classes, since naturally no one can be expected to walk to school before school on their own time. Instead, educators devise creative alternatives, like taking a short walk to nowhere on the street in front of the school. To these guardians of the student body, the Academy presents its Distinguished Priorities Cross.
behold, the 14th annual emperor awards (from 22 august 2007).
it's a guest commentary on the "irascible professor's" website, and it lauds with various awards the groundbreaking research in education presented in 2007, as well as brilliant, novel approaches to teaching found both in the U.S. and around the world. here are a couple of the best snippets -- go to the web page to read the whole thing:
The Paris Hilton Activism Navel Ring celebrates undergraduates who "learned about the homeless experience the hard way." The "hard way" consisted of camping out on the college green for a night in an exercise similar to what was once known as camping out in the backyard for a night. Cardboard boxes were situated on and under tarps "to ward off raindrops," and in a sacrificial effort to replicate the "plight" of the homeless, students were permitted only sleeping bags and their pillows and forced to survive until dawn without "cell phones or other electronics."
and later ...
Outshining even that brilliant suggestion is the nationwide "Walk to School" campaign, in which twenty-first century students take a day to re-enact what twentieth century students used to do every day. Promising to boost academic achievement by enhancing physical fitness, promoters typically find time for walk-to-school activities by canceling academic classes, since naturally no one can be expected to walk to school before school on their own time. Instead, educators devise creative alternatives, like taking a short walk to nowhere on the street in front of the school. To these guardians of the student body, the Academy presents its Distinguished Priorities Cross.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
for a lazy saturday afternoon ...
see below. right-click "open link in new tab" and enjoy. (won't let me embed the video ... maybe because you might take up the cello, and then watch how ol' rostropovich does it here and become WAY more famous than him. you never can be too careful. but then why is it ON YOUTUBE??)
[sigh.] i could listen to this piece over and over. [sometimes i do.]
turn up the volume and feast your ears:
rostropovich plays the prelude from bach's cello suite no. 1
[sigh.] i could listen to this piece over and over. [sometimes i do.]
turn up the volume and feast your ears:
rostropovich plays the prelude from bach's cello suite no. 1
Thursday, January 17, 2008
snow! here!
unsurprisingly, 140 closings/delays have been reported ... i'd like to say something snotty about how it's because people down here go crazy when it snows and suddenly can't drive and after an inch of snow there are cars littering the ditches (true!), but the truth is that the state just has no plows, no salt, no sand to help out the roads in these crises. and while cars that were driving 10 mph can litter ditches all they please, i think my heart would break if i saw a school bus in a ditch.
last night i went to wal-mart an hour or so after it started snowing, and it was really coming down, hypnotizing me on the road like a snow-kaleidoscope, swirling in big, wet fluffy clumps. such a beautiful sight. everyone at wal-mart was in a state of confusion and happy awe. people were underdressed. people were overdressed. when i was done shopping, the parking lot now seemed to be under an inch of snow, at least, and people were SNOW-DRUNK, in a good way. kids were throwing snowballs and yelling, old people were laughing, a wal-mart dude actually took my shopping cart back to the "cart corral" FOR ME (then giddily told me to "drive safe!"). the best was this little african-american baby, sitting in the shopping cart next to the family's minivan while his mom was loading the groceries into the car. he was just smiling with his little hands on the cart handle, smiling up at the snow in the dark with his tongue out, hoping to catch some of that magic there while it lasted.
[p.s. pic of augusta road (above) in greenville was a "reader-submitted" photo taken last night and submitted to GreenvilleOnline.]
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
omg! he did it!
my youngest brother, ross (19), JUST FREAKING JOINED THE NAVY!!i'm in shock and awe (sorry for that, couldn't be helped) and am really excited and happy for him! apparently he scored a 99% on his combined entrance tests so has his pick of jobs (he also passed the physical with "flying colors," which isn't a phrase i'd want used for my physical exam results, but whatever). he's probably going to try and be a nuclear technician on an aircraft carrier, which requires like, two years of school first and then you get paid pretty well and can make rank quickly if you work hard.
so, congratulations, ross! everybody's proud of you. we'll be even prouder if you survive boot camp -- but not too surprised. you might want to start running now. a lot. and lifting weights. and getting used to taking a crap in front of other men.
late christmas greeting from reagan:
[i forgot to post this before the holidays, oops. honestly though, why didn't anyone send ME a carton of cigarettes for christmas? reagan has passed away and i admit it's pretty tough to find the "christmas-card" carton of camel lights these days, but i can't drag up a single holiday memory of a close friend or relative sitting at a table surrounded by cartons of cigarettes, addressing them as the "merriest" of gifts. oh well, there's always next year ... (p.s. LOVE the horse-bookend, btw. why don't i have any bookends, i wonder? just stacks and piles and shelves overflowing ... that bookend screams "I'M SMART ENOUGH TO HAVE BOOKS REQUIRING BOOKENDS, yet i'm also an outdoorsman who likes horses" does it not? oh, reagan you goofy Great Manipulator!]
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
boomlet?
what kind of a word is "boomlet," CNN?
well, that's what they're using to refer to the upswing in U.S. babies being born. but they didn't need census data to tell them that, they could've just ASKED ME. (see my december post where based on my own empirical research, etc., i concluded EVERYONE IN THE UNIVERSE BESIDES ME was pregnant).
what's interesting is that the boomlet (the word is actually kind of growing on me now, like a good kind of tumor) is bucking the trend of other western nations toward fewer children, CNN reported. but instead of blaming the rising birthrate on women who were successful enough in life to find someone to reproduce with them (a positive thing!), apparently "experts" also cite "a mix of reasons: a decline in contraceptive use, a drop in access to abortion, poor education and poverty" (negative things!).
to be fair, the article goes on to say americans also just like children, and we like having a lot of them when we're doing well and prospering. [we're doing well? with oil at $100 a barrel, soaring debt, the war in iraq, all those foreclosures??? huh. somebody shoot me, i had no idea.]
argh. i. will. stop. writing. about. kids. babies. now.
[i'm applying for jobs in cali-for-ni-yay! the wine country! i'll keep you posted. i'm sure i'll be sending in my application packet for these positions along with 7,000 candidates, so while there's a good possibility i'll be blogging from my parents' garage next year at this time, let's hope not!]
p.s. oh. well, i guess CNN didn't invent the word "boomlet," some demographers did. those crazy demographers! first they invent the word "census" back in the 1800s or something, then "boom," and now "boomlet." maybe they should just go get jobs with webster's if they want to be so fancy with words.
well, that's what they're using to refer to the upswing in U.S. babies being born. but they didn't need census data to tell them that, they could've just ASKED ME. (see my december post where based on my own empirical research, etc., i concluded EVERYONE IN THE UNIVERSE BESIDES ME was pregnant).
what's interesting is that the boomlet (the word is actually kind of growing on me now, like a good kind of tumor) is bucking the trend of other western nations toward fewer children, CNN reported. but instead of blaming the rising birthrate on women who were successful enough in life to find someone to reproduce with them (a positive thing!), apparently "experts" also cite "a mix of reasons: a decline in contraceptive use, a drop in access to abortion, poor education and poverty" (negative things!).
to be fair, the article goes on to say americans also just like children, and we like having a lot of them when we're doing well and prospering. [we're doing well? with oil at $100 a barrel, soaring debt, the war in iraq, all those foreclosures??? huh. somebody shoot me, i had no idea.]
argh. i. will. stop. writing. about. kids. babies. now.
[i'm applying for jobs in cali-for-ni-yay! the wine country! i'll keep you posted. i'm sure i'll be sending in my application packet for these positions along with 7,000 candidates, so while there's a good possibility i'll be blogging from my parents' garage next year at this time, let's hope not!]
p.s. oh. well, i guess CNN didn't invent the word "boomlet," some demographers did. those crazy demographers! first they invent the word "census" back in the 1800s or something, then "boom," and now "boomlet." maybe they should just go get jobs with webster's if they want to be so fancy with words.
precious moments (NOT the figurines, puke ...)
i started teaching spring classes yesterday, which is always fun. i love the first week. and the second week. most all weeks, actually. i [gulp!] love my job.
there's always this precious moment of stillness the first day, when everyone is now seated, all is quiet, and ALL EYES ON ARE ON FRONT OF THE ROOM. i'm busying myself with, oh, writing my name on the board, and then also writing the list up there of what we'll be doing that day. i LOVE this moment, hate to break the solemn potential of a class before it has become a class. this moment is so sweet ("stay gold ponyboy, stay gold") because soon we'll get to know each other and there will be the equally-treasured familiarity and joviality, where no one ever shuts up when class starts until i clear my throat like, 15 times and fake a stroke and then they're all laughing and paying attention. [aside about the list of stuff on board: i've always done this, for myself, as well as for students. one student wrote under 'instructor weaknesses' on my evaluations from the fall term, "sometimes sylvia gets a little off track and likes to just talk with her students socially, but if she puts her list up on the board, everything goes well." lol. he or she is dead-on. and if this was the only weakness they he/she could come up with, things are OK.]
well, two first-classes over with, four more to go. four more unique moments to treasure. but these moments, fleeting as they are, give way to what is also THE MOST IMPORTANT CLASS of the semester. numero uno. you know how they say in a job interview, the, uh, "hirer" decides in the first 30 seconds if you're going to get the job or not? i feel like in the first 60 minutes of a class decide the students are going to love it or hate it. and try as i might to be more ... professorial ... i think "if the students love it, they will want to come to class. if they love the class, they will trust me and the advice i have to offer. if they trust me and listen to my advice, they will become (hopefully!) better at the subject ..." and on ad infinitum.
cicero and quintilian had lots of advice on teaching students about speaking, quintilian in particular about teaching students in general. he did some wonderful writing about the importance of character, how to be a good speaker, you needed first to BE A GOOD PERSON. which, cheesy as it sounds, is true. (i don't tell my students this. maybe i should). so how to teach this? i guess i don't think you do "teach" this. you model it.
so, for those of you doubters out there, those of you who think i'm teaching the easiest classes in the world (maybe a little true), there's a method to my madness. it revolves around liking my students (loving them?), and being accessible and funny and wishing in my heart (while i'm teaching) that i could hug them all and smile and tell them: "you're doing JUST FINE. you've made it this far, so you're in good shape. you're going to be WONDERFUL, just wait."
but most of them already are.
there's always this precious moment of stillness the first day, when everyone is now seated, all is quiet, and ALL EYES ON ARE ON FRONT OF THE ROOM. i'm busying myself with, oh, writing my name on the board, and then also writing the list up there of what we'll be doing that day. i LOVE this moment, hate to break the solemn potential of a class before it has become a class. this moment is so sweet ("stay gold ponyboy, stay gold") because soon we'll get to know each other and there will be the equally-treasured familiarity and joviality, where no one ever shuts up when class starts until i clear my throat like, 15 times and fake a stroke and then they're all laughing and paying attention. [aside about the list of stuff on board: i've always done this, for myself, as well as for students. one student wrote under 'instructor weaknesses' on my evaluations from the fall term, "sometimes sylvia gets a little off track and likes to just talk with her students socially, but if she puts her list up on the board, everything goes well." lol. he or she is dead-on. and if this was the only weakness they he/she could come up with, things are OK.]
well, two first-classes over with, four more to go. four more unique moments to treasure. but these moments, fleeting as they are, give way to what is also THE MOST IMPORTANT CLASS of the semester. numero uno. you know how they say in a job interview, the, uh, "hirer" decides in the first 30 seconds if you're going to get the job or not? i feel like in the first 60 minutes of a class decide the students are going to love it or hate it. and try as i might to be more ... professorial ... i think "if the students love it, they will want to come to class. if they love the class, they will trust me and the advice i have to offer. if they trust me and listen to my advice, they will become (hopefully!) better at the subject ..." and on ad infinitum.
cicero and quintilian had lots of advice on teaching students about speaking, quintilian in particular about teaching students in general. he did some wonderful writing about the importance of character, how to be a good speaker, you needed first to BE A GOOD PERSON. which, cheesy as it sounds, is true. (i don't tell my students this. maybe i should). so how to teach this? i guess i don't think you do "teach" this. you model it.
so, for those of you doubters out there, those of you who think i'm teaching the easiest classes in the world (maybe a little true), there's a method to my madness. it revolves around liking my students (loving them?), and being accessible and funny and wishing in my heart (while i'm teaching) that i could hug them all and smile and tell them: "you're doing JUST FINE. you've made it this far, so you're in good shape. you're going to be WONDERFUL, just wait."
but most of them already are.
Monday, January 14, 2008
birth stuff (boys, go read maxim or something)
uhm. some of my readers know that before i wanted to be anything, i wanted to be a surgeon (as a kid), then in early adolescence, an OB-GYN. but by mid-late high school i was too scared of medical school science classes and had fallen in love with stories of rural midwives in latin america and wanted to just be a nurse-midwife. (i had idealistic visions of learning midwifery once in an MS program, and then again in the developing world "field" ... [and look what i'm doing with my life now. SIGH. the story of how i ended up majoring in english is a boring one, evidencing only my own laziness.]
anyhoodle, i wanted to do these jobs because i was so obsessively fascinated by pregnancy, childbirth, babies, and the women behind all of this magical madness. i loved women. i still do love women, duh. even if it ends up i can't have my own children (for whatever fucking reason), i still might someday come back to this alternate career as a midwife/doula. (you know how on seinfeld, george always wanted to be an architect, so he kind of almost ... thinks he's an architect ... but mostly he just likes saying "i always wanted to be an architect, you know." it's like that with me and midwifery, seriously pathetic as it sounds).
where am i going with this again??
oh yeah: slate just did a review of ricki lake's documentary "the business of being born," which slate calls her "valentine to the home-birth movement," lol. i think it's a good review (and i haven't even seen the film, so my opinion really matters here, i know) mainly because while it acknowledges lake has some good points to make about home deliveries, the review points out that the filmmakers' agenda is to suggest home-birth is A GOOD IDEA FOR EVERY MOTHER. which is crazy-preachy. i'm crazy-preachy myself too much of the time, so i immediately detect it in others. (like my other worst qualities, i detest them in others because i really hate them in myself).
but i wonder: would i attempt a home-birth, ever? i have no idea. i guess it all depends on a million other factors. (such as: is there a hospital in close driving-distance? has it been a healthy pregnancy? is babykins positioned correctly at the right time? is my midwife a wizened sage or a 15-year-old neighbor girl? etc. the list goes on).
well, it's fun to think about as i sit here drinking very strong coffee, smoking, blogging ... birth is often on my mind, ridiculous as it seems ...
SUPER CHEESY ALERT: yes, in a moment of weakness a few years ago i (gulp!) read five people you meet in heaven by mitch albom. [again, i'm not proud of this, but i had heard good things ...] everyone, the main character finds out, has their own kind of heaven. heaven is different for everyone, based on the life they lived (more or less). well anyway, one thing stuck with me (was the part that made me cry in the book): the character that was the old man's wife, having died years before he did, has a very sweet kind of personal heaven: she goes from one wedding to the next all over the world, all the time. to her, this is the most beautiful moment in a lifetime -- when a couple is happiest and most optimistic and full of love and promise and everything else. that's HER heaven, seeing all these deliriously happy people start the adventures of their lives together.
of course, it was more poetic than i could put here. but even reading that then, i felt like if i had my own heaven, it would be seeing babies be born, all the time. it's hard to see a baby be born and not have tears spring from your eyes. hard not to be awed, cowed by the power and energy of the universe and sweat and blood (literally) of the mother. just thinking about it, visualizing it, i get goosebumps.
i am not a religious person. i never will be. but i believe in the SOMETHING.
the power that runs through all living things. and every birth, to me, is evidence of something holy, miraculous, sublime -- maybe it's just the complete physical manifestation of LOVE.
anyhoodle, i wanted to do these jobs because i was so obsessively fascinated by pregnancy, childbirth, babies, and the women behind all of this magical madness. i loved women. i still do love women, duh. even if it ends up i can't have my own children (for whatever fucking reason), i still might someday come back to this alternate career as a midwife/doula. (you know how on seinfeld, george always wanted to be an architect, so he kind of almost ... thinks he's an architect ... but mostly he just likes saying "i always wanted to be an architect, you know." it's like that with me and midwifery, seriously pathetic as it sounds).
where am i going with this again??
oh yeah: slate just did a review of ricki lake's documentary "the business of being born," which slate calls her "valentine to the home-birth movement," lol. i think it's a good review (and i haven't even seen the film, so my opinion really matters here, i know) mainly because while it acknowledges lake has some good points to make about home deliveries, the review points out that the filmmakers' agenda is to suggest home-birth is A GOOD IDEA FOR EVERY MOTHER. which is crazy-preachy. i'm crazy-preachy myself too much of the time, so i immediately detect it in others. (like my other worst qualities, i detest them in others because i really hate them in myself).
but i wonder: would i attempt a home-birth, ever? i have no idea. i guess it all depends on a million other factors. (such as: is there a hospital in close driving-distance? has it been a healthy pregnancy? is babykins positioned correctly at the right time? is my midwife a wizened sage or a 15-year-old neighbor girl? etc. the list goes on).
well, it's fun to think about as i sit here drinking very strong coffee, smoking, blogging ... birth is often on my mind, ridiculous as it seems ...
SUPER CHEESY ALERT: yes, in a moment of weakness a few years ago i (gulp!) read five people you meet in heaven by mitch albom. [again, i'm not proud of this, but i had heard good things ...] everyone, the main character finds out, has their own kind of heaven. heaven is different for everyone, based on the life they lived (more or less). well anyway, one thing stuck with me (was the part that made me cry in the book): the character that was the old man's wife, having died years before he did, has a very sweet kind of personal heaven: she goes from one wedding to the next all over the world, all the time. to her, this is the most beautiful moment in a lifetime -- when a couple is happiest and most optimistic and full of love and promise and everything else. that's HER heaven, seeing all these deliriously happy people start the adventures of their lives together.
of course, it was more poetic than i could put here. but even reading that then, i felt like if i had my own heaven, it would be seeing babies be born, all the time. it's hard to see a baby be born and not have tears spring from your eyes. hard not to be awed, cowed by the power and energy of the universe and sweat and blood (literally) of the mother. just thinking about it, visualizing it, i get goosebumps.
i am not a religious person. i never will be. but i believe in the SOMETHING.
the power that runs through all living things. and every birth, to me, is evidence of something holy, miraculous, sublime -- maybe it's just the complete physical manifestation of LOVE.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
belated rant post (long, sorry!)
ok, disclaimer: i have been known to talk in movies. [insert snorting from friends.] that said, since I HATE TALKING IN MOVIES, i do in nearly inaudible whispers, leaning in SO ONLY THE PERSON I'M TALKING TO can hear me. this makes sense, right? no one else needs to hear my editorializing.
now: as some of you know, i LOVED the movie juno and saw it twice, the second time last weekend here in The South. i was partial to this movie for 100 reasons, one of them being that the main character and her friend reminded me all-too-well of how my friends and i were in high school (except juno and her BFF were startlingly wittier and cooler than we were -- those two chicks were pretty much what my h.s. friends aspired to be in mpls: we were into freaky shit. we were wildly profane. we listened to "alternative" music (when it WAS). we skipped classes and did weird, artsy things. we wore thrift store clothes and vans and chuck taylors. we had weird families. we made stupid movies and one of us (not me!) got pregnant and kept the baby ...)
so, i was getting a little annoyed during my second, dixie-screening of juno when the row of freaky-goody-goodies behind us wouldn't FUCKING SHUT UP. mostly it annoyed me because they giggled and whispered during the most serious scenes, the ones that made me cry. the ones where the audience was supposed to be in a collective hush, awed by the cinema's ability to make our hearts be still, our breathing stop momentarily ... and then a snort/chortle/loud-whisper from my peanut gallery. aaaaarrrrgghhhh.
at first i ignored them, as is my (usual) non-confrontational way.
then, i got TOO PISSY! i actually turned around sharply once (or TWICE!) to glare. this shut them up momentarily.
however, during the end of the movie, and during what are admittedly the film's most evocative, most powerful scenes (thereby marking the permanent shift [it had been gradual until then] from lighthearted comedy to serious drama), where i was bawling, i heard the whispering and snickering A-FUCKING-GAIN.
couldn't believe it. obviously, they were young, immature, couldn't handle the emotional impact of the film, blah blah blah. whatever. i debated pouring my diet coke on them i was so ticked.
instead, without even looking at them, i just gave them the finger. i held it there a bit, to make sure they all saw it. they did. they got quiet. they stayed quiet until the movie was over. if one of them talked, a girl somewhere nearby shushed them. it was SO NICE. :) like a movie should be.
CRAZY PART I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE WENT ON TO HAPPEN:
leaving the theater, there was a young (h.s.? college?) girl standing alone, looking around. i thought, "uh oh, it was one of them. she's going to apologize for the talking during the movie. now i feel bad i flipped them off. i'm such an asshole. i never do stuff like that -- what came over me??"
uhm ... no. not really at all.
girl to me: "excuse me, can i talk to you?" [but imagine with a heavy southern twang. every day i live here i get more and more prejudiced against the south, it's so funny. before i lived here i really loved it.]
me: "yes?"
girl: "i just wanted to let you know that i thought what you did there in the theater was totally inappropriate."
me: [shock and disbelief. what has the fucking world come to? why is she SAYING THIS TO ME? SHE AND HER FRIENDS WERE THE RUDE ONES.] "are you kidding? you guys were being so obnoxious, talking during the whole movie."
girl: "well, it wasn't me so much as my friends, but still, you had no right to do that, to do that obscene gesture. it was very rude."
me: [what the hell did she think of juno then? they said "fuck" all the time in that movie. what is wrong with these young people??? i wanted to say "go fuck yourself, i had every right to flip you off you ignorant bitch," i really did. instead:] "giving someone the finger is WAY LESS RUDE than talking during an entire movie, i'm sorry. you're being ridiculous." [and instead of being charmingly patronizing or something, i was actually VERY angry.]
girl: [flustered, i think she could tell I WAS SO PISSED I MIGHT TAKE MY MIDDLE FINGERS AND BREAK HER LITTLE 80 LB BODY IN HALF] "well, uh, i'm sorry ... but it was uncalled for..."
[here was where i was already walking away, out the door, ignoring her.] my friend, g, was trying valiantly to contain his laughter, i learned. apparently, he thought i merely held up a "please be quiet" sort of hand during the movie. he didn't know i gave them the finger until the end of this exchange, and thought that was HILARIOUS.
mrah. it is funny in retrospect. bastard righteous kids. i have no respect for adolescents who didn't make some attempt to ... fight the system in h.s. ... churchy kids, boring kids who followed the rules, who didn't do anything wild or dangerous or didn't read freaky books and didn't feel tortured by The Man, whatever -- they got on my nerves, and they still do, apparently. i guess we all have our High Horses we ride about some things. being weird is one of mine (even though i learned over the years, it's much, much more fun to disguise it most of the time).
now: as some of you know, i LOVED the movie juno and saw it twice, the second time last weekend here in The South. i was partial to this movie for 100 reasons, one of them being that the main character and her friend reminded me all-too-well of how my friends and i were in high school (except juno and her BFF were startlingly wittier and cooler than we were -- those two chicks were pretty much what my h.s. friends aspired to be in mpls: we were into freaky shit. we were wildly profane. we listened to "alternative" music (when it WAS). we skipped classes and did weird, artsy things. we wore thrift store clothes and vans and chuck taylors. we had weird families. we made stupid movies and one of us (not me!) got pregnant and kept the baby ...)
so, i was getting a little annoyed during my second, dixie-screening of juno when the row of freaky-goody-goodies behind us wouldn't FUCKING SHUT UP. mostly it annoyed me because they giggled and whispered during the most serious scenes, the ones that made me cry. the ones where the audience was supposed to be in a collective hush, awed by the cinema's ability to make our hearts be still, our breathing stop momentarily ... and then a snort/chortle/loud-whisper from my peanut gallery. aaaaarrrrgghhhh.
at first i ignored them, as is my (usual) non-confrontational way.
then, i got TOO PISSY! i actually turned around sharply once (or TWICE!) to glare. this shut them up momentarily.
however, during the end of the movie, and during what are admittedly the film's most evocative, most powerful scenes (thereby marking the permanent shift [it had been gradual until then] from lighthearted comedy to serious drama), where i was bawling, i heard the whispering and snickering A-FUCKING-GAIN.
couldn't believe it. obviously, they were young, immature, couldn't handle the emotional impact of the film, blah blah blah. whatever. i debated pouring my diet coke on them i was so ticked.
instead, without even looking at them, i just gave them the finger. i held it there a bit, to make sure they all saw it. they did. they got quiet. they stayed quiet until the movie was over. if one of them talked, a girl somewhere nearby shushed them. it was SO NICE. :) like a movie should be.
CRAZY PART I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE WENT ON TO HAPPEN:
leaving the theater, there was a young (h.s.? college?) girl standing alone, looking around. i thought, "uh oh, it was one of them. she's going to apologize for the talking during the movie. now i feel bad i flipped them off. i'm such an asshole. i never do stuff like that -- what came over me??"
uhm ... no. not really at all.
girl to me: "excuse me, can i talk to you?" [but imagine with a heavy southern twang. every day i live here i get more and more prejudiced against the south, it's so funny. before i lived here i really loved it.]
me: "yes?"
girl: "i just wanted to let you know that i thought what you did there in the theater was totally inappropriate."
me: [shock and disbelief. what has the fucking world come to? why is she SAYING THIS TO ME? SHE AND HER FRIENDS WERE THE RUDE ONES.] "are you kidding? you guys were being so obnoxious, talking during the whole movie."
girl: "well, it wasn't me so much as my friends, but still, you had no right to do that, to do that obscene gesture. it was very rude."
me: [what the hell did she think of juno then? they said "fuck" all the time in that movie. what is wrong with these young people??? i wanted to say "go fuck yourself, i had every right to flip you off you ignorant bitch," i really did. instead:] "giving someone the finger is WAY LESS RUDE than talking during an entire movie, i'm sorry. you're being ridiculous." [and instead of being charmingly patronizing or something, i was actually VERY angry.]
girl: [flustered, i think she could tell I WAS SO PISSED I MIGHT TAKE MY MIDDLE FINGERS AND BREAK HER LITTLE 80 LB BODY IN HALF] "well, uh, i'm sorry ... but it was uncalled for..."
[here was where i was already walking away, out the door, ignoring her.] my friend, g, was trying valiantly to contain his laughter, i learned. apparently, he thought i merely held up a "please be quiet" sort of hand during the movie. he didn't know i gave them the finger until the end of this exchange, and thought that was HILARIOUS.
mrah. it is funny in retrospect. bastard righteous kids. i have no respect for adolescents who didn't make some attempt to ... fight the system in h.s. ... churchy kids, boring kids who followed the rules, who didn't do anything wild or dangerous or didn't read freaky books and didn't feel tortured by The Man, whatever -- they got on my nerves, and they still do, apparently. i guess we all have our High Horses we ride about some things. being weird is one of mine (even though i learned over the years, it's much, much more fun to disguise it most of the time).
olan mills hilarity
i got an email forward last night (gracias! you know who you are!) containing some hilarious "olan mills" portraits with snarky captions, and instead of putting them all here, i'll just do a few and instead point you to another blog containing all the pics.
to be fair, some of the photo studios featured are NOT olan mills portraits, but that doesn't matter. because many actually are, and they all smack of the "olan mills" studio experience. [aside: "picture day" at school every fall was a horror for me. every single year i took a terrifically ugly photo, and then would BEG my mother to let me get re-takes. (which she only did like, once, when i had my eyes closed or something. never one to indulge my vanity, she would tread that shallow pool of trying to explain gently that i really did look like that, and/or "it isn't THAT bad, sylvia, honestly." i wish i had some of my own to put here; there were some gems, let me tell you).]
so here's a sampling of the hilarity (click on link above to see complete selection, and although i wish i could take credit for the zinger captions, alas, they're some mysterious other person's ...):
Just a typical day on the plantation. In a business suit. Y'know, for a budget meeting with the slaves.
Bobbi isn't the first waitress to fall for her manager, but she and Dale both got fired from Shoney's.
to be fair, some of the photo studios featured are NOT olan mills portraits, but that doesn't matter. because many actually are, and they all smack of the "olan mills" studio experience. [aside: "picture day" at school every fall was a horror for me. every single year i took a terrifically ugly photo, and then would BEG my mother to let me get re-takes. (which she only did like, once, when i had my eyes closed or something. never one to indulge my vanity, she would tread that shallow pool of trying to explain gently that i really did look like that, and/or "it isn't THAT bad, sylvia, honestly." i wish i had some of my own to put here; there were some gems, let me tell you).]
so here's a sampling of the hilarity (click on link above to see complete selection, and although i wish i could take credit for the zinger captions, alas, they're some mysterious other person's ...):
Just a typical day on the plantation. In a business suit. Y'know, for a budget meeting with the slaves.
Bobbi isn't the first waitress to fall for her manager, but she and Dale both got fired from Shoney's.
Friday, January 11, 2008
happy birthday, g.
many of you have probably seen this already, most likely including my birthday boy-friend (secret code name "g" for our purposes here), but if not: ENJOY. it's wonderful and hysterical both. why in god's name can't we put our american prison inmates to productive use doing coordinated dance routines?? for crying out loud, it's not like we need that many more license plates, and I KNOW it would be a great way to keep spirits up as well as build camaraderie. [warning: the ending is a little freaky, hinting at prison gang rape, maybe? poor "girl" punk, sigh ...]
1,500 inmates from the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center, Phillippines performing "Thriller" in exercise yard:
1,500 inmates from the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center, Phillippines performing "Thriller" in exercise yard:
Thursday, January 10, 2008
my new favorite song!
and the video is super-cute, too (see bottom of post for song/video). unfortunately, regina spektor's other songs are good, but i haven't found one as awesome as this one. i'm suffering lately from massive girl-singer crushes, whoa. i might have to consider becoming a lesbian for these ladies, i'm so in love with them, esp their INCREDIBLY SEXY VOICES. first it was the chick from feist, who i found irresistible in both style, songs, dance moves ... [wistful sigh. see awesome videos for "1, 2, 3, 4" and "my moon, my man."]
then it was rachael yamagata [click for her new album teaser, here for a great song.] since she plays piano like regina spektor and looks a lot like feist lady, i'm starting to see a trend ... and it involves HEAVY BANGS.
then there's lily allen. oh, lily. [sorry for that.] you also have fantastic bangs. i love the london accent, christ i love it. you're pregnant now, so i sort of hate you for that. (especially because you're like, 12). but your "LDN" song makes me smile like a crazy person and speed WAY TOO FAST when i listen to it in the car.
and you might recall my Ode to the Juno Soundtrack post from december, with its appropriate shout-out to kimya dawson. no need to say the same thing twice. (except i will add that i've now seen juno TWICE and it was hands-down my favorite movie of the year. i laughed. i cried. and then did both of those again. diablo cody better win the oscar for best original screenplay, or somebody from the AMPAS will ... feel my seething anger from across the continent. or something).
as usual, i got a little off-track. fabulous, eerily-similarly-looking hot girl musicians i adore. (norah jones, you were, of course, the first -- but that was years ago. do you have bangs now? i'd like to include you here, but am not sure. so sorry about your break-up. i heard. they SUCK ASS.)
without further ado, "fidelity" by regina spektor:
then it was rachael yamagata [click for her new album teaser, here for a great song.] since she plays piano like regina spektor and looks a lot like feist lady, i'm starting to see a trend ... and it involves HEAVY BANGS.
then there's lily allen. oh, lily. [sorry for that.] you also have fantastic bangs. i love the london accent, christ i love it. you're pregnant now, so i sort of hate you for that. (especially because you're like, 12). but your "LDN" song makes me smile like a crazy person and speed WAY TOO FAST when i listen to it in the car.
and you might recall my Ode to the Juno Soundtrack post from december, with its appropriate shout-out to kimya dawson. no need to say the same thing twice. (except i will add that i've now seen juno TWICE and it was hands-down my favorite movie of the year. i laughed. i cried. and then did both of those again. diablo cody better win the oscar for best original screenplay, or somebody from the AMPAS will ... feel my seething anger from across the continent. or something).
as usual, i got a little off-track. fabulous, eerily-similarly-looking hot girl musicians i adore. (norah jones, you were, of course, the first -- but that was years ago. do you have bangs now? i'd like to include you here, but am not sure. so sorry about your break-up. i heard. they SUCK ASS.)
without further ado, "fidelity" by regina spektor:
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
flowers for algernon disclaimer ...
... before it's too late, i need to mention this other side effect to my new medication. in my excitement over finding a pill that strips me both of migraines and extra pounds, i neglected to mention this other, potentially less-awesome side effect.i need to articulate this other side effect before i lose that very capacity ... you see, the neurologists did suggest that in my "line of work" (i.e., teaching public speaking to college students), it might be a little awkward when I LOSE THE ABILITY TO RECALL WORDS.
ahem. yes, apparently this is a commonplace occurrence for people taking topamax, and what happens is that you'll just be talking (or writing? or blogging???) and then the most everyday language will escape you and as one user wrote on a topamax message board, you suffer an "attack of the stupids." since this happens to me a lot anyway, i bet most people won't even notice. i'm often fumbling for the simplest of words, and when students helpfully "fill in the blank" for me, it becomes A LEARNING EXPERIENCE. (hi people, ever heard of teaching??)
my dad made me read flowers for algernon when i was a kid. and then, no shit, (i don't think he was being ironic on purpose, really) he forgot a couple years later and made me read it again. for those of you whose parents didn't force literature down your throats growing up, it's a sad/weird story of a mentally-challenged janitor (at a bakery, wikipedia reminds me. which also reminds me how even as a child, i thought that if i had to be a janitor anywhere, i'd want to be one at a bakery. christ. the fresh donut smell ...) who starts in this experiment where scientists make him smarter. soon, he's brilliant. then, (awakenings very much? [but that was a true one, ugh.]), crushingly, the treatment wanes and stops working altogether, and charlie (the guy) reverts back to being mentally-challenged.
the tough part (see, i didn't major in english all those years ago FOR NOTHING) i suppose, is that charlie knows he's going to get less smart again before it happens to him. he knows it's going to happen, can see it happening at first, and then pretty soon he's back to spelling his name 'charly' again, as evidenced by the movie poster on the '70s book cover i recall best from my youth. (except with a backwards 'R,' which i can't figure out how to do. OMG? is it starting for me already???)
so, there was my disclaimer. hopefully this won't be too debilitating, as i'm also currently job hunting at the moment, and it would be a real shame to be in an interview and have them ask me about my teaching philosophy and i say something like, "a teaching idea ... yes, i have one. of. these ... but mine is about ... goodness. uh, you know ..." (maybe i should make myself flash cards with words like "social constructionism" and "bel hooks" and "service learning component" and "portfolio-based assessment" on them in case i get an attack of the "stupids" at a critical moment).
and now. that's the end of me talking about the new pills! honestly. i'm sorry i went on with the migraines and stuff as long as i did these last two posts, damn. i've always been slightly irritated by people who wear their ailments/issue like badges of pride, boasting about their depression, their ADD, their dyslexia. while certainly no one should be embarrassed by these things, ever, (period), it makes a person seem weirdly vain when they go on and on about a condition of theirs.
but, probably most of you think this about me already, so no harm done here. (if i can get them to give me my own photo of my brain MRI at the hospital this morning, you'll get to see it here tomorrow!)
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
new migraine relief?
yesterday morning i made my first-ever trip to the neurologist, referred by my GP because i get these chronic headaches and migraines. neat right? kind of. there were a series of tests where they do stuff with the little light, tap your head, test your reflexes, push (or have you push) your muscles. (no shit, there was even this whole "pull my fingers" routine, which i did with a totally STRAIGHT FACE). one of the funniest parts was when another neurologist came in and did this gentle head-tapping thing while listening to my skull with the upside-down side of the stethoscope. i wanted to tell him, "no, no, you need to turn that thing around-- where did you get your neurology certificate, tijuana?" alas, none of the doctors i met had ANY sense of humor, sigh.the good news: i got THREE new prescriptions for combating the headaches, THREE! here's the super-amazing-i'm-bursting-
with-joy news: one of them (topamax) is a daily migraine preventative pill, with the major side effect being WEIGHT LOSS. hello god? a pill that prevents me from getting migraines AND makes me thinner?? i've died and gone to heaven.
when the doc told me this, i chuckled and said, "i've heard botox is being shown to help reduce migraines, too-- once insurance covers that, i'll be ALL SET, haha." [a side note here: the doc chuckled uncomfortably, looked perplexed and said he had never heard of this ... uh, i heard of it a couple of YEARS AGO, and i'm not the goddamn neurologist. click here for info.] anyhoo, he went on to say that he lost 40 LBS IN SIX WEEKS when he went on topamax.
(earlier, in the fall, i did a post about how i was happily [mysteriously] losing weight. well, mystery solved: i was just smoking like a chimney, not eating as much, slightly depressed, and was losing ALL my muscle tone. the holidays rolled around and my body said, "oh sylvia, you dumbass, did you think you were going to lose weight so easily?? mrah-hahaha!! have another holiday snickers bar, why don't you??" and then i gained [cough] a little back.) SO, while i would have to be hospitalized if i lost 40 lbs (putting me somewhere slightly BELOW nicole ritchie in her scariest days), losing a good 10-15-20 lbs would make me excited to put a swimsuit on again.
the other two drugs are for treating headaches: one is specific for migraines (zomig), and the other is for tension headaches (bupap). according to the first neurologist, i had an incredible amount of tension in my back-neck-head area (medical term for this location, anyone?), and when i suggested this might be because i JUST DROVE 20 HOURS STRAIGHT [didn't mention i had two dogs in the backseat] ON SATURDAY, he just sort of absently nodded and said it was a good drug.
although the doctors yesterday were very nice older gentlemen, i was a little perturbed i didn't have an opportunity to ask a lot of the questions i had brought with me in a notebook. there just wasn't a good window. and they gave me a list of migraine triggers that I'D SEEN 100 FUCKING TIMES, the only surprise was aspartame (damn! good-bye normal diet coke, equal in my daily coffee ...) i wanted to say, "yes, yes, OK, you're the neurologists, really, and i'm NOT A DOCTOR, to be sure, but i've read a million things about migraines, including the oliver sacks book titled, appropriately, migraine, and so i have some specific questions now ..." but [sigh] there wasn't a chance and i didn't have the energy (i actually HAD A BAD HEADACHE yesterday, go figure) to tackle them as they were leaving the room.
tomorrow i go to the hospital for a brain MRI, which i assume judging from the way they mentioned it so off-handedly, is just a lawsuit-precautionary measure. (usually, my migraines change sides each time -- one month pounding behind/in/around one eye, the next month in the the other. i guess the MRI will rule out the possibility i have TWO similarly-shaped tumors on both sides of my my brain, or something like that).
speaking of the pain, i can remember it the way you can remember a smell ... hazy at first, then sharply clear. i might explain someday how during my migraines over the years, my fantasies of REMOVING THE PAIN WITH A DEVICE have evolved ... first i remember, when i was young, wishing plainly for a vice, to stick my head in a vice and crank it tighter and tighter. then later, the notion of a drill came to me: drill a hole in the offending temple, and the pain would (magically) flow out. in recent years, all i can imagine over and over when i have the pain, is a melon-baller: scoop scoop! into my eye socket and around in the temple, and i could scoop it all out. i wanted to ask the doctor if anyone else had mentioned taking a melon-baller to their eyeball/head ... i actually had it written down to ask about.
i'll keep you posted, faithful four readers. :) maybe my migraines will soon be a thing of the past! maybe if you get them, you should see your doctor, too! and maybe if you're desperate to lose weight, you should go see your doctor and explain about your chronic debilitating migraines, that you'd kept secret for so long ...
Monday, January 7, 2008
"where all the women are strong ...
... the men are good-looking, and all the children are above-average."
this is the tagline for Lake Wobegon, from garrison keillor's "Prairie Home Companion," a minnesota radio show. lake wobegon is a fictional town based on keillor's childhood in our lovely, northern-midwestern state. i always liked this tagline because (duh) i think it's true about minnesota, but i suppose most people are over-proud of their home states. certainly, there are ugly men in minnesota. and i've known some decidedly average kids, too.
but i digress.
coming home, to your old home, the one where you grew up and made all of those irreversible childhood and adolescent decisions, where you climbed trees and swam and skated and trick-or-treated, where you smoked pot for the first time and later sneaked out of your house, where you had your first kiss (etc) and where you yelled back at your parents and watched your siblings go from babies to kids to teenagers to young adults ... this is always tough and relaxing at the same time.
at home, with your family, you are always YOU, the one you are, the one you think (HOPE) you've grown away from. people love reminding you of when you ______ (e.g., ran away to hide, crying/sulking, when everyone else was taking a family picture that one trip to michigan). but the trauma of remembering everything you did wrong to yourself, to those who love you more than anyone in the world, is tempered by the relaxation that comes from just being yourself. i guess most people are "themselves" all the time, sure (me? i'm never sure). but your family KNOWS YOU, like hoover's FBI knew civil rights leaders, but more so. i wear less make-up around my family, i get happy when they're happy, angry when they're angry. i don't care if i look fat in something, and i tell my family EVERYTHING.
here's something about my family (mom, dad, step-mom, siblings): they're VERY political. like, borderline crazy-political. conspiracy theories? "they're not conspiracies when they're true, sylvia." my family is anti-establishment, anti-republican, anti-war, anti-hate, anti-chain-store, anti-SUV, anti-HMO, anti-religion (with exceptions for quakers and buddhists), and above all: ANTI-NORMAL.
they're also a very creative bunch, from painting to writing to cool crafts to very unusual takes on home decorating and gardening. (e.g., my step-mom has collected animal skulls for years, and tried to make a mailbox where you opened the deer jaw/mouth to open the box. when this proved logistically impossible, she just attached the whole skull to the top of the mailbox, where it remained for years before breaking off somehow. now she does these fabulous oil paintings almost compulsively, and they're breathtaking).
i'm a little embarrassed that while home i didn't attend the peace rallies with my dad and sister. after a week of running all over the twin cities and having a fabulous time seeing MN sights with a friend visiting from canada, i didn't want to stand outside in the cold (with said tourist friend) waving a peace flag and demanding the end to the war in iraq. i wish i had gone. i wish i wasn't lazy and was more proactive, was more involved in changing the world. maybe i will try harder this year (well, i'm rooting for obama and will do campaign work for him once he gets the nomination -- but this isn't enough).
the gifts from my family this year were the same gifts i get every time i go home: i am humbled. i am moved often, and shaken to tears by this exchange or that sad/beautiful piece of news. i am inspired. i am encouraged. i am loved (and then wish to be more loving in return). so, here's to my family -- all of them, those in minneapolis and duluth and texas and michigan and france and japan and everywhere else: THANK YOU with all my heart and soul and viscera and bones and cells. thank you for being such a dear, unique, wonderful bunch.
this is the tagline for Lake Wobegon, from garrison keillor's "Prairie Home Companion," a minnesota radio show. lake wobegon is a fictional town based on keillor's childhood in our lovely, northern-midwestern state. i always liked this tagline because (duh) i think it's true about minnesota, but i suppose most people are over-proud of their home states. certainly, there are ugly men in minnesota. and i've known some decidedly average kids, too.
but i digress.
coming home, to your old home, the one where you grew up and made all of those irreversible childhood and adolescent decisions, where you climbed trees and swam and skated and trick-or-treated, where you smoked pot for the first time and later sneaked out of your house, where you had your first kiss (etc) and where you yelled back at your parents and watched your siblings go from babies to kids to teenagers to young adults ... this is always tough and relaxing at the same time.
at home, with your family, you are always YOU, the one you are, the one you think (HOPE) you've grown away from. people love reminding you of when you ______ (e.g., ran away to hide, crying/sulking, when everyone else was taking a family picture that one trip to michigan). but the trauma of remembering everything you did wrong to yourself, to those who love you more than anyone in the world, is tempered by the relaxation that comes from just being yourself. i guess most people are "themselves" all the time, sure (me? i'm never sure). but your family KNOWS YOU, like hoover's FBI knew civil rights leaders, but more so. i wear less make-up around my family, i get happy when they're happy, angry when they're angry. i don't care if i look fat in something, and i tell my family EVERYTHING.
here's something about my family (mom, dad, step-mom, siblings): they're VERY political. like, borderline crazy-political. conspiracy theories? "they're not conspiracies when they're true, sylvia." my family is anti-establishment, anti-republican, anti-war, anti-hate, anti-chain-store, anti-SUV, anti-HMO, anti-religion (with exceptions for quakers and buddhists), and above all: ANTI-NORMAL.
they're also a very creative bunch, from painting to writing to cool crafts to very unusual takes on home decorating and gardening. (e.g., my step-mom has collected animal skulls for years, and tried to make a mailbox where you opened the deer jaw/mouth to open the box. when this proved logistically impossible, she just attached the whole skull to the top of the mailbox, where it remained for years before breaking off somehow. now she does these fabulous oil paintings almost compulsively, and they're breathtaking).
i'm a little embarrassed that while home i didn't attend the peace rallies with my dad and sister. after a week of running all over the twin cities and having a fabulous time seeing MN sights with a friend visiting from canada, i didn't want to stand outside in the cold (with said tourist friend) waving a peace flag and demanding the end to the war in iraq. i wish i had gone. i wish i wasn't lazy and was more proactive, was more involved in changing the world. maybe i will try harder this year (well, i'm rooting for obama and will do campaign work for him once he gets the nomination -- but this isn't enough).
the gifts from my family this year were the same gifts i get every time i go home: i am humbled. i am moved often, and shaken to tears by this exchange or that sad/beautiful piece of news. i am inspired. i am encouraged. i am loved (and then wish to be more loving in return). so, here's to my family -- all of them, those in minneapolis and duluth and texas and michigan and france and japan and everywhere else: THANK YOU with all my heart and soul and viscera and bones and cells. thank you for being such a dear, unique, wonderful bunch.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
back south, ahh ...
like many northerners who move south, our blood does indeed thin. after two weeks in minnesota, i was completely exhausted by the snow and cold (and the gray/brown slush of all the roads). most of the time, even indoors, i felt cold. constant coldness, other than when i went to sleep in the room at my parents house with one of those space heaters in it (which i kept at its highest heat level ALL THE TIME, which made me wake up sweating in the night. but i was so glad to be warm i didn't dare turn it down).
here in SC, i have my doors open and it's sunny and warm and absolutely lovely, mmm ...
more on the trip soon, because i know my four dear readers are SO curious what the two weeks in the tundra involved, besides shivering and overeating. mostly i had so much fun relaxing with my dear friends and family ... as well as contemplating my life (a little; it's hard to focus when your blood is regularly cycling through freeze-defrost-freeze-defrost).
and who knew? my dogs love snow! and they grew immune to the cold, playing in my folks' yard longer and rowdier than the two minnesota dogs they were rooming with. go figure.
here in SC, i have my doors open and it's sunny and warm and absolutely lovely, mmm ...
more on the trip soon, because i know my four dear readers are SO curious what the two weeks in the tundra involved, besides shivering and overeating. mostly i had so much fun relaxing with my dear friends and family ... as well as contemplating my life (a little; it's hard to focus when your blood is regularly cycling through freeze-defrost-freeze-defrost).
and who knew? my dogs love snow! and they grew immune to the cold, playing in my folks' yard longer and rowdier than the two minnesota dogs they were rooming with. go figure.
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