Girls' Night

This weekend I went on my first official girls' night. It was a night full of cliches, and rather disappointing.

One of my oldest friends (known her since middle school) was in town visiting family, and we wanted to get together. She wanted to go to the city up north to party - 'cause everything's better after a forty-five minute drive on the interstate, apparently. Since I'm working on saying "yes" to new experiences, I agreed. I picked up my friend, then we picked up her sister-in-law, who's a total sweetheart, then we went north. Once in the other town, we went to the house of my friend's sorority sister and met up with a friend of sorority girl's, a tall, lovely gal.

So, here's the breakdown:
Me, my friend, the sis-in-law, sorority girl, and tall gal. Me and my friend were the old spinsters of the group, everyone else was 22 or 21. Herein lies one of the problems. My friend has been getting her undergrad. degree for seven years. This has created a kind of prolonged adolescence as she keeps hanging out with new undergrads - she gets older, but most of her friends are 19/20 year olds. Thus, she's all about partying, thus she's been at college for seven years and still hasn't graduated. I love her to death, but seriously, it's sad. But, I digress, back to Saturday night...

Going to sorority girl's house first was the most retarded plan of the night. We all sat on her couch for an hour while she took a shower, changed her outfit three times, and fussed over her hair. Then tall gal showed up, they did shots of Patron, and we went downtown. We took the Patron with us and they did more shots in the parked car. The sis-in-law was not amused. We were both in the back seat and she looked over at me, "I thought we were going out. I can sit in a car at home."

"Yeah," I said. "I'm too old for this shit."

Finally, we made it to a bar that sorority girl & tall gal scoffed at for being too empty. The bar had a DJ and a small crowd - it was about right for me, but didn't have enough men for the girls. Granted, they still managed to find plenty to dry hump, I mean, dance with.

That's also were we met drunk guy who was a friend of friend of my friend - i.e. two degrees removed from knowing us. He was also very, very drunk. He wanted to dance with the girls. My friend wanted to dance, and she's the type who tries to be nice, so she danced with him. After he tried to dive in for a kiss, which was after the fourth time he tried to grab her ass, even she had had enough and told him to leave her alone. But, as with all cliched annoying drunk guys, he kept circling around our table, diving in from time to time to grab one of the gals. Dude came about a hair short of getting kicked in the balls by the sis-in-law and only left her alone when she showed him her wedding ring.

Eventually, we left the bar I liked and went to one so crowded that we couldn't move. The sorority girl and tall gal were much more pleased with this bar, but I've got to say that standing around, smooshed in a crowd is pretty damn boring. That was a pretty typical note for me that night, boredom. I've never been one who's all that interested in "partying," and Saturday night reminded me why.

It was good to spend time with my friend. I got some interesting people-watching in, and I liked meeting the sis-in-law. However, the sorority gal was totally inane, and her whole objective of going out with friends just so she can ignore the people she went with in favor of paying attention to people she just met is not something I really understand. (I mean intellectually, I get it, but I just don't GET it.)

Well, the new experience has been tried. Next time, I go ahead and skip the party and find a nice, mellow bar with good conversation and maybe some live music. Yup, that's much more my speed.

Send Your Good Thoughts/Prayers

Since I recently got in touch with Cancer guy again, he's been at the front of my mind. Life is mysterious and full of synchronicity. Today I found something on Kendall's blog that I'm re-posting below. It looks like Brandy's guy may have multiple myeloma. I learned what multiple myeloma meant in Sept. 1999 when I found out that my friend had it. The prognosis for people with this type of bone cancer is grim. In 1999, the doctors told my friend he should start making arrangements. They measured the rest of his life in terms of weeks. Now it's over ten years later and he's still playing poker and loving life. It's been a hard road for him, but he's fighting to make the road a long one. I'm sending out my good thoughts that Brandy's guy will do the same.

Now, the re-post:

My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He’s a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He’s the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He’s the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He’s a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He’s made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He’s listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He’s recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He’s the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I’m overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren’t sure what’s happening. He’ll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what’s going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as ‘brandy’s hot awesome dude’). If you don’t pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven’t seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I’m throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn’t a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It’s just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven’t already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

Under a Neon Moon

This pic. comes from the "cabin" at my parents' property. Going camping wasn't my idea of a good time, but I like the way this photo turned out - neon lights are fun.

Social Butterfly Training

This past week I was hardly at home. I had extra shifts for the boring job and, on more than one night, went directly from my work shift to a Christmas party or whatnot. Good grief, talk about exhausting. It was a good, satisfying exhaustion, though. I met some new people and spent time with some folks I've known for a while.

Amanda was in town, and it was great to see her again. Though, I wouldn't have minded skipping the part where I met her and a friend of hers, a.k.a. ex-stripper gal, at a bar. Ex-stripper gal gets on my nerves. The two of them arrived first and when I joined them, this chick didn't so much as pause for breath, much less say "hello." She then spent the next fifteen minutes straight on a rant. She literally never slowed down enough for neither Amanda nor I to say, "uh huh," much less contribute to the conversation. In short, girlie is used to being the center of attention and has bad social skills.

Since she was so blatantly excluding me from the "conversation," (she wouldn't even look at me while she was monologuing), I took the opportunity to watch the room. There was a cute guy at a nearby table who I caught glancing at me, so I tried to practice making eye contact. It was a partial success - one small step for womankind, one giant leap for me. Then, since, Amanda is good at conversational judo, she gradually steered the night away from the one-woman show and toward actual interaction.

On another night, the gal who does my hair (got highlights this week!) invited me to see her boyfriend's band at none other than the bar where my crush works. Synchronicity, no? So, I saw Bartender Guy again and found out he's a smoker - no huge surprise there, he is a bartender after all - which is gross and dampens my crush. But, on the other hand, he wears button-up dress shirts, which is ever-so appealing, and who does that in my oh-so-casual city? So, even though the smoking is usually a deal-breaker for me, I'm staying open minded for now.

My crush on him is unusual and serendipitous, so I don't mind having it a while longer. It's interesting, if nothing else, because he's a blend of traits I'm attracted to - the dress shirts, being a bartender - and traits I'm not attracted to - the smoking, for instance, and I usually don't have strong physical attraction to skinny dudes. Also, there's the way he keeps popping up on my radar, even when I'm not stalking him ;) and how he's good friends with people I'm friends with, and it turns out he was even a senior at my high school when I was a freshman there. If anything, it's kind of strange we haven't bumped into each other before now.

On a side note, being formally introduced via hairdresser gal means he's now the 3rd bartender I know with the same name. That means, if my sampling is statistically valid, that approximately 25% of male bartenders in the world are named Dave.

Cancer Guy's Phillipina Love

When I was a teenager, I did volunteer work at a bird of prey rehabilitation center. One of the other volunteers was a dude who had a couple of daughters around my age and, over the years, he became kind of like an uncle-type to me. In '99 he got diagnosed with a really hardcore variety of cancer and the doctors said, "Um, six months, if you're lucky." Then he flipped cancer the bird and now it's ten years later.

In the process, he and his wife got divorced - the marriage couldn't handle the big C, and then he moved out to the east coast. I've talked with him sporadically since then, he got re-married to a gal from the Phillipines, and in May he told me the cancer had come back. A few days later, thinking that no news is bad news, etc. I sent him an e-mail. Turns out, he's not dead. Whew. (Yeah, I know that sounds callus, but it's callousness with love, I promise.)

He is now on facebook, though, and I got my first look at his Phillipina love. I'm disturbed a bit. Cancer guy was born in '62, his new wife was born in '87. That means I'm older than her. I'm a bit skeeved out, I must confess. But, they seem very happy with each other, and, let's be super realistic here, this is not exactly a normal marriage - the til death do us part aspect of it all is a little different when you marry a guy with terminal cancer. Still, whatever, it's weird.

Then again, my wonderful friend Constance is very happily married to a man who's 16 years older than her, and Amanda thinks my ideal guy is going to be about twelve years older than me. This age difference thing is complex. How far does it have to go to cross from "age is just a number" into creepy-land?

Just Call Me Chicken

I went out with M., lady of the unrequited love, last night. We went to the bar where Bartender Guy works, and when she started to hint that she'd rather go somewhere else, a la, "This band's okay, but not worth the cover charge," I confessed.

"I like the band okay, but my real reason for wanting to come is the guy who took our cash at the door."

"Really?" She turned to look. She nodded appreciatively. Then she said, "The part I don't get is why, if you came here for a crush, you're sitting with your back to him," she pointed to the opposite seat of the booth, "instead of where you can look at him."

"Um..."

"Not to mention why haven't you gone over and talked to him?"

I probably blushed at that point. Then she laughed hysterically and called me a chickenshit.

I sighed. "I'm bad at this, at boys."

The best I managed was a quick exchange with him on the way out along the lines of, "Going already?" on his part and, "Yeah, but the band is fun" on mine.

Yup, he'll fall in love with me for sure now.

My First Hug

Today while I stood in a store doing the boring job, one of my old students spotted me and made a beeline right to me. I had him for fall semester last year. He was a good student and he even brought me a Christmas card at the end of the semester (a card I still have). He said hello with a big smile on his face and then gave me a hug. It was totally sweet and it has officially made my day.

Another Batch of Ducklings

I've got a stack of grading I need to do before my English 101 final at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning. I'm pushing the clock with regards to how much time I have left to do it, but I'm still reluctant to get to work. End of the semester grading is the hardest. It's all so... final.

In the semesters that I've been teaching, I can trace a change in me in each. The more I do it, the more confident I get about the content, which means I pay more attention to the individual students. Side effect = I get more invested in them. Then the end of the semester comes along and, whoosh, they're gone. Sure, I'll spot a few next semester wandering around campus, or I may even have a couple of 101 kids again since I'm teaching a couple sections of 102, but most of them are going to vanish. It's bizarre and it makes me just a little bit sad.

Most of them will fall off my map and the little mysteries of each student - like the young man studying accounting who has a homemade tattoo on his hand that reads "la famiglia" - will remain mysteries. The writer in me makes up stories to go with the quirks of these students, but as the instructor, it's not my place to get personal.

So, I get to know them the best I can during the course of the semester, I try to help them the best I can, and then they move on and I never really know what happens to them after my class. My brother reminds me, "You'll have another batch next semester to get attached to," but I'm stalling on grading the last bits, because I get sentimental during this part of the semester.

It seems so cheesy, but there you have it. I actually like most of my students.

Amanda Does Not Approve

I sent Amanda my new & improved website profile and she was not impressed. She says it's cheesy and "I am afraid that this is going to attract the 'sensitive' guy--you know, the type also referred to as metro sexual because no one can tell if he is gay or straight--not even him."

So, fine, I'm editing it again. It's frustrating. I'm getting a Masters degree in English, I've written a novel, etc. etc. but writing one damn blurb that will get a guy's attention and make him want to get to know me is proving more than I can manage. I mean, for the love of George, it's only 400-ish words that I'm trying to write!

Back to the drawing board. Time to think harder about my intended audience. Gotta do what I keep telling my comp. students to do and write with my ideal reader in mind ;) Man, this is hard. At least the line about the zombie movies is Amanda-approved, so I can keep that much.

The New Profile

Today I decided it was time to re-write my profile for the dating site. The old one, which Amanda helped me with, was okay, but it felt kind of blah. And, in light of my new favorite song, I thought it was time to freshen things up a bit, be a bit more friendly, and be more personal. So, with no further ado, the new blurb:

I believe we tend to find something because we're looking for it, not because it finds us. That's why I work hard at optimism and seeing the good in all kinds of situations. So, here I am, on this site, looking for the right someone. I'm hoping to find a pleasant surprise - that guy I never saw coming who's going to be the perfect partner to have adventures with.

If you laugh easily, would rather encourage than discourage, and especially if you like zombie movies, then I would love to get to know you better.

What do you think? Is it garbage or worth keeping?

Who's Stalking Who?

A couple days ago I got a call from a number I didn't recognize so I let it go to voicemail. The caller didn't leave a message so I forgot about it.

Today, I got a text from that same number.
Them: Who is this?
Me: Jean.
Them: I think you have the wrong number.

Um, yeah. You're the one who called me, dude. Oh how I love misdials.

The Blue Picture of a Red-Tailed Hawk

This comes from a photo I originally wasn't too pleased with. But then I cropped and adjusted the color a bit, and now I quite like it. Sometimes a little bit of editing is magic.

Going Solo

I did my hair and went to the bar, arriving half way through the band's set. The friend who was maybe going to meet me didn't, but there were plenty other people there to talk to so I did plenty of, "hey how've you been" and catching up.

The cute bartender from the other night did show up, but just as a customer, so I didn't have an excuse to talk to him. Instead, I talked to everybody else I knew when I worked there and ended up sitting with one of my favorite couples in the world, they're super nice, really sweet to each other, and they met online, which is what I remind myself of every time I want to stop messing with the dating website. It was good to talk with them and everyone else and have an embarrassingly girly drink.

Now I have to get dressed and head off to my shift for the seasonal gig. I am so tired and all I want to do is go back to bed, but no rest for the weary, right? Despite the tiredness, I'm very glad I went out last night.

It's Like a Marathon or Something

It's been a long day. First class at eight a.m., after staying up late last night to finish grading, then it was off to the seasonal job until seven p.m. In a short while, I'm off to the bar to possibly meet up with a gal friend who probably won't show up. Part of me just wants to stay in tonight and watch TV 'cause I've got another long shift for the seasonal job tomorrow, then another Sunday, and I have a lot more grading to do over the weekend before my first Final at eight Monday morning. It's been a long week. I'm tired.

But.

But, my friend might make it to the bar. But, the cute bartender might be working. But, there might be a band. And the biggest "but" of all is that I really do need to spend more time around people other than students. So, I'm watching the Michael Buble music video again, then I'm taking a quick shower, doing my hair, and going to the bar to have a drink and maybe talk to people.

That Buble Song

In the car today, I heard this song. It seems very fitting with my last post. A reminder to be optimistic.

Couples, Couples, Couples

There's a theory about relevance. The theory is, you buy a red chevy and all of a sudden, all you see everywhere is red chevys. It's a radar theory - you're paying more attention to something and so you spot it often.

I'm having a reverse relevance experience. Every where I look, I see couples. Thanks to the seasonal job, for hours on end I stand in a store, watching people my age walk by hand-in-hand. I see gals my age pushing baby strollers around. I see a cute guy, then his girlfriend/wife rounds the corner right behind him.

I gotta tell you, it's extremely annoying. Where are the single guys? Have they all gone into hiding?

The Boring Job

The thing about the seasonal job is this - it is boring. It is, no joke, the most boring job I have ever had. For those of you who've been in the service industry, picture a slow night. It's that night that drags on and on and on with only the merest trickle of customers. That is this job. That is every shift of this job. I thought things would be more exciting on Black Friday since I was in the store then. Nope.

Six hour shifts of standing around, being bored out of my skull, and occasionally talking with customers. On Black Friday, during a six hour shift, I talked selling points with twelve customers. Each conversation lasted five minutes or less. The rest of the time I was standing in the store aisle, trying not to look at my watch again.

I've already begun counting down my shifts. It's terrible. The sad thing is, it's not all that bad of a job, except for the brain-numbing tedium. *Sigh* Can't win for losing.

Closing Down the Bar

Last night I met up with a couple of friends I know from when I worked at the bar. One of them had her birthday yesterday, so we went out drinking. I was *this* close to not going because we were meeting at 10:00 p.m. and I'm a big wuss these days with teaching at 8:00 a.m. and all. But I thought about what Amanda would tell me to do and I did my hair, put on some makeup, and went out. It was a lot of fun.

We met at a bar I'd never been to before and it was crammed full of a young crowd. There were some cute guys and I tried not to avert my gaze as soon as I saw one looking my way. Gotta practice that whole eye contact thing, right? Well, let's just say I need more practice.

At around 11:30 we moved on to another bar which was a bit mellower. We immediately ran into a couple of other people we knew, which reminded me just how small this city can be. It was nice to goof off, good to catch up on some gossip, and I realized that this is what it's like to actually hang out with friends. One of the guys we ran into at the second bar called me a sex goddess, which was a change from my usual. He's a bit... well, let's just say I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, but, you know, I don't mind a compliment.

On a side note, I have a new crush. I have a weakness for bartenders. It's the fault of two men in particular who I worked with at the bar - both, alas, married. Both guys are charming, good looking, and warm hearted and they left an impression. So, at the second bar last night when I spotted the good looking, late 20s bartender, I knew what was going to happen. Of course, he knew the birthday girl. Turns out, he also knows one of the other gals, J. - a gal who used to bartend at the bar I used to work at. She's a part owner of the place now, and the cute bartender walked over to us at one point to talk about his shift at their next week. Since I had just been talking to J. about how I ought to swing by the bar soon, this seems like perfect timing.

Then, for the first time since I was a waitress two years ago, I shut down a bar. That's the first time in a very, very long time that I've gotten home so late. I'm tired this morning, and just about ready to leave for a shift with the seasonal job, so I'm regretting the lack of sleep. It was worth it though. Very worth it. I guess I'm not ready to resign myself to old lady status quite yet.

Campfire

I'm not 100% happy with how this came out, but I'd say I'm about 90%

F*ing Thanksgiving Break

I'm waiting for my parents to pick me up to go camping. I'm regretting saying I'd go. Camping isn't my favorite thing to do, and especially not with my parents. I love them to death, but going camping with them is freakin' labor intensive. Mom always wants to cook elaborate meals over the damn campfire, we have to do dishes in a bucket, there's an open-air outhouse, and my parents like to drag me on long-ass hikes. Also, did I mention I just started my period? The only thing more fun than "rustic" facilities is having to use them while bleeding from the crotch.

I agreed to go because my brother's going and because I feel like I owe it to my parents (i.e. mom). I'm a dumbass. We're leaving tonight, getting back tomorrow and then I'm going over for Thanksgiving dinner Thursday. My seasonal gig sucked up my weekend, and I'm working next weekend, including Black Friday for the job too. So, here I was, all excited about Thanksgiving break and today I realized that my week-long break is actually one day, Wednesday. Otherwise, it's all taken up with family stuff and/or the temporary job. Did I mention I have a mountain of grading to catch up on? This break sucks balls.

The Truth About Students

I don't like to say much about students here, because that's just not cool. But, here's an exception. Often, as I float around the shared office at campus, I hear my colleagues talking about their students. Sadly, a lot of what's being said isn't complimentary. Our students, though college students, are still more teenagers than grown ups and it shows through in a variety of behaviors which are largely related to a "But what do you mean I fail the class if I don't do any of the work?" kind of way. It's the kind of thing that can wear on a person and there's often a lot of venting. I've had my own share of these students, too.

However, I try and avoid the bitch sessions because they don't solve anything and the more we dwell, well, the more we dwell. Now, I'm going to skip the long spiel about human behavior and the effect of said bitch sessions. Yes, we have students who, simply, don't belong in college. Yes, we have students who engage in all kinds of obnoxious behaviors. But, we have even more students who are non-issues and plenty who are pleasant surprises. Without further ado, here's my faith in humanity:

A while back, there was an incident in class where two students nearly got in fist fight. Fast forward to last week when they started a new project. I gave the class the option to work in groups and the two guys who almost fought each other teamed up as part of a group. Now, one of the two is having issues with the class. Issues like not showing up or doing the work. So, on the day of the group presentations, I wasn't exactly surprised when he was not in class. I was ready to give him a zero for the presentation grade, but because of the way I've structured my groups, it wasn't my decision, it was his group's. At the end of class, I talked to them and said they could choose between him getting a zero, half the group grade, or the full group grade and that I'd abide by their decision. After asking if this student could do something to replace the presentation, (no), they decided half credit.

Yesterday, the student was in class again. The guy he almost got in a fight with waved me over for a quiet word. "The reason he wasn't here was 'cause his mom was in the hospital. We decided we want to give him full credit." I looked to the other group member, who nodded. So, he'll get full credit for a presentation he wasn't present for, because that's what his group wants.

Sometimes, in the shared office, there's a lot of whinging about students. I rarely join in. Because, even though these students are still more teenagers than they are adults, most of them are people I'm glad to know.

First Fruits of My Labor

You want to know something that feel better about a rotten week? Getting a check in the mail from the new job.

F*ing Week/The Worst Few Days of This Year

Today at the gym I ran on the cross ramp twice as long, twice as many miles, as my usual. It was, by a good amount, the most cardio I've ever done in one go. I almost went farther, too.

This past week was, in short, hellish. It started out being busy, escalated to overwhelming, ramped up to miserable with an aftertaste of frustration.

I started the new job, with fairly skeletal training. The new job is a solo type gig, so I was all alone on my first real day, and will be alone for the duration. Little bits of panic and self doubt - am I doing it right? am I completely botching it?

The worst part was diving into my first weekend of work right after my thesis defense. The defense is supposed to be stressful. It's supposed to keep us on our toes. Fine.

The part I wasn't expecting was when a member of my committee, a person who I've got a few years of history with, a person I trusted, did their best to corner me with questions that missed the point of what I'd written, dismissed my answers to said questions, then, after seemingly reluctantly agreeing with the rest of my committee to "pass" my defense, told me right to my face, "I was disappointed." Disappointed with work which my committee, including this person, had said looked good. One of the points of contention was because of something I put in my thesis because another member of my committee told me to. But, whatever, it's all my fault and I'm a fuck up.

So, you know, what the fuck? After I got my "pass," everyone was waiting for me outside the room to congratulate me. They even thought I did a good job. My parents, who came to my defense to support me, gave me hugs. People asked, "Are you excited to be done?" Excited? Try traumatized. I smiled, didn't say much, and all but ran out of there. I was able to make it to my car before the tears started. I met my parents at their house and as soon as they hugged me inside, I broke down all the way.

These days there's not much that can totally wreck me like that, but being told I'm a disappointment by someone I've known since I was an undergrad, someone who I trusted to guide me, someone who did their best to nail me to the wall, not with the intention of holding me to a high standard, but with what I can only describe as a personal attack... Yeah, that'll do me.

In the past couple of months, there have been one or two things that have made me begin distance myself from this person (Amanda believes it has a lot to do with a third party's influence, "poisoning the well," she says, and though I agree with her - though that doesn't excuse it). With that, and especially with the events of my thesis defense, I've lost both trust and respect for this person. We used to have a relationship. I used to think well of this person. But I can't now. It was nothing short of a betrayal for political gain. I can't come back from that.

Next, for the sake of not appearing petty, and for the sake of being professional, I have to navigate writing a Thank You note to this person, to thank them for being part of my committee - even though I now fervently wish that had not been the case. Next comes a linguistic exercise in being genuine and diplomatic. For, as much as I might find satisfaction in writing something like, "Sorry for the inconvenience, I'll never ask your help on anything again," I can't.

So, today, after I finished my work for the new job which was an odd combination of stressful and boring, and which prevented me from having an actual weekend, (Friday/Saturday/Sunday schedule), I went to the gym and I ran on the machine longer and farther than I ever have before. For a little while, all the room in my brain was taken up by the movement of my body and Elton John on my mp3 player.

It felt really, really good.

A Handwriting Post/What Does the Smell of Oranges Remind You Of?

So, Becky's got this thing about a handwriting sample, so I'm playing along. I went to a writing workshop last night (life in the fast lane, to be sure) and the gal running it handed out sandwich bags with foods in them. I got oranges. The gal told us to free-write about whatever memory the smell prompted. My memory was I was tactful enough not to read it out loud when she asked who wanted to share.

I've also added a writing sample #2 with ugly, ugly cursive as well as some extra detritus.

I post it here for Becky, to show her that her handwriting is, in fact, quite lovely. Mine, by comparison, is like the scratch of an epileptic chicken. (Click on the pictures to make them big) This is what my long time friend & pen pal has to deal with.

Linky Links

I'm slacking on blogging 'cause I'm up to my eyeballs in life stuff like preparing to defend my thesis Thursday. So busy, and all at once.

Read a couple interesting things on the web today, though, and thought I'd pass them on.

First off, a very thoughtful, if saddening, post by RR about race and online dating.

Second, a theory about the purpose of kissing that I hadn't heard before. It's almost like a germ theory of dating.

Tomorrow I do my face-to-face training at a coffee shop with some dude I've never met or talked to (my supervisor is out of town, so he's filling in for her). It feels almost like a blind date. Yeesh. At least I know what he'll be wearing - one of the logo Tshirts - and which part of the shop he'll be in. It should be easy to find him. *Fingers crossed*

Hand Held Door

Part of me really likes this picture. I love the details of the door - the handprints, the weathered wood, and the flag. Part of me, though, isn't sure about the photo as a whole. It feels like the composition is off, and I don't know how to fix it.

Pee Test

I got the web cam job, which is cool. Since the gal who hired me is two hours away, I'm doing all the new hire stuff remotely, which is less cool and more of a pain in the ass. One of the most fun things included in the process was the drug test, which I did today.

I arrived at the drug test place at 2:00. Since it was a pee test, I'd come ready to go. Then I signed in and waited. Then I waited some more. Then I started to shift in my seat uncomfortably. At that point, it was about 2:30. I tried to ignore the pressure in my bladder. I tried to focus on the book I brought with me. 2:45.

Finally, the gal who signed in right before me got called up. The gal came out of the room and I got ready for my turn. The nurse called up someone else, a gal who needed a blood test. I started to wonder how long it would take before my bladder exploded or I wet myself. Finally, at 3:00, it was my turn. I've never been so excited to be handed a sample cup.

Interviewing online

I had my web cam interview yesterday and, believe it or not, I didn't die. I think it went okay, in fact. The gal I talked to is making the decision quick, so I should know by tomorrow whether or not I got the job. Part of me wants the job, part of me wouldn't mind not getting it. Either way, it's out of my hands for now.

Today I have to write a "letter of interest" which is terrible because a letter of interest is never what it sounds like. Why can't they just call it what it is - an application letter? I've got to write it in the next hour 'cause it's due at 5:00 and I've been putting it off all day. I hate these. They suck monkey balls. *Sigh.* Well, I'd better get it done. The only thing worse than having to write the damn thing would be not getting it in on time.

Fear Response

This weekend I'm tense and panicked and feeling rather like I felt just before my first date with Army Guy. It's not quite abject terror, but it's kind of close.

In the past week or so I've been making moves to change things up. I put my name in to join a campus committee which could help me get a lecturer position if/when one opens up. The result of this is that I had to submit my CV to the current committee and I'll be having a formal interview on Thursday. Tomorrow is the CV deadline, but I had to do it today because I have other commitments tomorrow. As of a few minutes ago, the CV is off to committee Inboxes.

Also whizzing in cyberspace is a couple of e-mails I sent to friends/colleagues asking for letters of recommendation for this other academic program I'm applying for - a professional development shin dig that happens in the summer. My application for that is due November 13.

Last week, I put in an application for a couple of jobs. One, a seasonal gig, has set me up with a web cam interview later today.

Last week, I submitted a couple of short stories to a couple of magazines.

There it is: bam, bam, bam. I'm putting myself out there. I'm being judged. Of all of this, I've gotten one response so far, a magazine that rejected my story. Rejection sucks, and I've just lined myself up for a lot of it. All I can think of today is that I want to forget it all, pretend none of it exists.

Forefront in my mind is a conversation I had with Amanda a long time ago, about being in a rut, about needing a change. Change can be good. It can also be terrifying, especially when that change relies on someone else. Will any of them like me? Will all of them reject me? Why can't I just hide under my covers?

Downtown Lamp Post

F*ing Dog

This morning started at 6:00. I put the dog outside and staggered back to my bedroom to pick out what to wear for the day. Then I heard my dog barking like a maniac. What the hell?

I went to investigate and opened the back door to find
1. my dog standing by the fence, barking like a maniac
2. the neighborhood skunk just on the other side of the fence, looking pissed
3. a pungent aroma in the air.

This morning, by 6:02, while I was still half-asleep, I got wrestle my dog into the bathtub and frantically scrub her down. Oh, it was delightful. All the while, my dog was all bewildered and giving me those eyes like, "but mom, why are you being so mean to me?"

Good news: I was able to scrub my dog well enough that she smells almost entirely like shampoo and hardly like skunk at all.

Bad news: All that dog washing in my bathroom has made my bathroom, and, by extension, my house smell like skunk.

Worse news: This has made everything in my house smell like skunk, including the clothes I wore to campus today, which forced me to tell all of my students, "If something smells gross, it's me!"

Worst news: This morning started off cold and rainy. It has progressed to colder and snowy. There's no way I can air any of the skunk stink out.

So now I'm hiding out at home, too afraid to go anywhere 'cause I know I'm saturated with skunk smell. Delightful.

Big Love

I like the metaphor of Love being the biggest graffiti.

Fat Pants!

I got to spend some time with my brother on Sunday and catch up with how things have been going for him off in Florida land. During the conversation, he proudly announced the following:
Brother: I bought new pants today!
Me: Oh my, that's big news for you.
Brother: I had to. I've put on fifteen pounds since May.
(He had a big grin when he said it)
Me: I'm so... pleased for you?
Brother: It might have something to do with the fact that I have a whole mini-fridge devoted to beer.
Me: It just might.
Brother: Now I have fat pants!

I'm trying to think of any woman I've ever know who has been so entertained by weight gain. I'm drawing a blank. My brother, though, he thinks it's hilarious.

Ice Dancer

Between last night and this morning, we've been having fog and freezing rain. Summer is officially over. My flowers are dying beautiful deaths.

A WTF? Moment

Driving on campus today, I came to a stop sign and saw the car in the other lane had its hazard lights on. I looked over.

A woman in her late forties was standing next to a tree a few feet away from her parked car. Her six-year-old son/grandson stood beside her, facing the tree, with his pants pulled down. Yes, ladies and gentleman, he was taking a whiz on the campus lawn right next to the math building.

Clearly, the idea of going inside the building to use an actual toilet was just stupid.

Between the Boys: Part 2

*If you haven't read Part 1 yet, read it before you read this post.*

Later on, I tell the story of what happened to my parents. My mom says, "And you just got in between them like that?"

"Yeah. I had to."

Mom doesn't look thrilled. In fact, she looks worried. "That could have been dangerous. In the heat of the moment like that, who knows what could have happened." She reminds me that there was no way for me to know if one of them, for instance, had a knife.

Then I realize, during the whole thing, it never once crossed my mind that I could get hurt. The only thing I was thinking was that I had to step in. I had to take control of the situation.

I acted on my gut. There were some different factors involved in why I did what I did, but I realize that a lot of it came from growing up a tom boy. Back then, I had to stare down plenty of boys that had something to prove. I became an expert at it.

It's a paradox - send me on a first date, and I'm terrified. Throw me into a situation like this, and I have complete confidence. Though, after the situation was de-escalated, my hands were a bit wobbly from the adrenaline rush.

Between the Boys: Part 1

Today while my class is working on their current projects, a commotion breaks out. I go over to see what's going on and two of my male students are pissed at each other. One has a big mouth that hides the vulnerable kid beneath, and the other has just had a rough time of it this semester, (i.e.: both have something to prove).

They aren't really talking by the time I get there, but their body language is full of anger. I ask them what's going on, but neither answers me. The whole class is gawking, waiting for things to get interesting. One student is throwing his things together and he starts walking out the door. The other follows. All I can think of is once they hit the hallway, there's going to be violence, so I'm right behind them and then it's the three of us in the empty hall, with the classroom door shut behind us.

The two guys square off in the hall. One of them isn't incredibly tall, (maybe 5' 7" ish), and one of them is over six foot and a football player who's, well, built like one. I step right in between them and, knowing, because I know these students, that if something's going to start, it's the bigger student who's going to start it, I turn to him and look him in the eye.

He ignores me for a few seconds, looking over my shoulder at the other student and visibly shaking with anger, but I keep talking in a calm voice, saying things like "Look at me, not at him, at me. We need to take this down a notch," and he finally meets my gaze, takes a breath, and calms down enough to walk back in the room. The other student goes to follow, and I stop him to make sure he's calm enough to go back in.

Both guys are back in the room, with all the rest of my class staring on, bug-eyed and holding their breath to see what's going to happen. I say, "Okay, gentlemen, you both need to sit down, and you," I call one by name, "need to move back a few rows and work with your group."

Their body language makes it clear they're half a second away from starting a fight right there in the classroom, so I add, because our campus security is actually a sheriff's office, "Now, gentleman, if I need to, I will call the sheriff. Do I need to make that call?"

One shakes his head. The other mutters, "No ma'am." Then, thankfully, they both sit down. The other students watch for a little longer, and one raises her hand with a question. I look at both of the boys and gauge the situation, then I turn my back to them and walk over to help her, tensed, all the while, in case things started up again.

Behind me, it stayed quiet.

The Moth and the Mailbox

One day a while back I found this little guy behind my mailbox. I grabbed my camera and caught him. I'm not much of a black & white photo person, but I'm thinking this'd make a good one.

Highlights from the week

• Phone message from Amanda: "I want to let you know, because I think you'll enjoy this, that I'm sitting in a Chinese restaurant in my little town in Arkansas and they're playing country music on the stereo."

• Hearing M. do Karaoke for her Bday ('cause that's what she likes) and finding out that she's got a fantastic voice. Side note: Mr. B. also came and she's still got a mad crush and he's still not interested.
  

• Did a health assessment with my new personal trainer which included us going into a private room, me taking off my shirt, and her measuring body parts. This prompted...
  

• Me remarking to Amanda that, "In the past four months I've been groped twice, both times by middle aged women." (One was my doctor, the other my trainer.) She was quick to offer a pep talk, "That'd be great if you were a lesbian."
  

• More e-mails with Navy guy in which I realize that, on paper, he just might be a great guy for me. There's just that small problem of him being in Italy and me being in the US. Logistics are a bitch.
  

• Took myself on a date to see Zombieland yesterday. It was wonderful. I'm pretty sure I was the only female there who hadn't gotten dragged to the movie by their boyfriend/husband. Apparently Zombie movies aren't chick flicks. Who knew?
  

Should He Be Worried?

Ah, Facebook, you are often entertaining, and sometimes disturbing, and today I'm more that second one.

My brother's girlfriend is freaking me out a bit. My brother's back in town for a while to do a part of his pilot training, and lemme tell you, the GF is way excited about this. So excited, she kept putting up statuses that went like this, "I get to see him in three hours" then, "I get to see him in two hours!" and so on. Yeesh, girlie, chill out.

But, the topper today, was when her status popped up as the following:
GF WANTS BABIES!!!!! hahaha

Uh, yeah, about that...

I've got to say, I'm a bit concerned.

Coffee For Four: Epilogue

So, the coffee thing went well. I was much relieved. There was a bit of awkward at first, but my aunt, who's awful sweet, totally ignored that and just started talking with everybody like there had never been any drama at all. Kudos, aunt.

We hung out at the coffee shop for a good two hours, and I got all kinds of news from Ohio about what my aunt's been up to and about my cousins. Sadly, not all good news, one of my cousins has gotten into a relationship with a bad-news kind of guy. A guy, unfortunately, very like her father, a.k.a. my aunt's ex-husband. She made some comments about him in spots, and I got to understand more about that whole situation than I did before - she and the ex split while I was still too young to really understand things like domestic abuse.

At one point, while my uncle was in the restroom, she leaned in toward my mom and said something about that rough time, "I remember those three a.m. phone calls. Thank God you were on the other end." In that moment, I could really see how sad they were that the family issues had distanced them. These women used to be tight, and today was the first time they'd talked to each other in at least a year. Judging by how they were acting, it seemed like all my relatives missed each other.

Today it seemed like coffee could be first step in moving on from the past . I hope so.

Coffee For Four: Prologue

Tomorrow I'm going for coffee. I'm ambivalent about it, to say the least. There's a lot of potential for awkwardness, with possibilities of hostility and a side of unpleasantness. Ah, family drama, how I love thee. Lemme give you a quick bit of back story. My mom's side of the family had some issues after my grandpa died, regarding money he left to his kids, i.e. his sons got more (a LOT more) than his daughters, and the daughters were unhappy about this. My mom, recognizing that her father had problematic gender notions, did her best to shrug it off.

A couple years later, while I was old enough to chafe at living with my parents, but to broke to live on my own, my parents talked to my uncle (mom's brother) and I went to live with him. See, when I was little, he lived with my parents, rent-free, for a few years. So, to my parents, this was kind of a trade. After a couple months, my uncle said it wasn't working out and asked me to leave. My parents were pissed. Remember my grandpa's will? Remember how my uncle mooched off them? Yeah, pissed. Since then, we've not been close with this uncle. One of my aunts, however, has stayed close with my uncle, and drifted away from my mom.

So, that's the set-up. A few weeks ago, my aunt friended me on facebook. Then she said she's coming to town to visit my uncle and do I want to meet for coffee. Sure. Then she says, can my uncle come too? Um, okay. Then, my mom says, what about me? Fuck.

Dunno how it's going to go, but I'm kinda dreading it now. Too many people and too much damn baggage. Ugh.

Stray Dog #3

Here's an Isla Mujeres stray. The facial expression seems very mournful, or is it more a bored look? Mysterious dog.

Navy Guy

Last week the website kicked up another guy who showed some promise. He's 29, a Navy MP (Amanda says, "MPs are crazy, but you could do crazy"), and more confident/put together than Radio Guy or Comic Book Guy. However, after a couple e-mails, I learned he's currently stationed in Italy.

Navy Guy has mentioned that he's returning to my area "soon," so it might not be bad to just do some e-mails right now. But, then he's stationed overseas again for a year. So, in an absolutely best case scenario, where when he's back in the states and we meet in person and really hit it off, I'm looking at a long-distance thing.

I've got to say, it doesn't look like Navy Guy is going to work out. I'll keep going and see where it ends up, 'cause there's no harm in just trying on the shoes, but I'm not holding my breath. Come on, universe, would it really be that awful if I met a nice attractive gentleman who's actually within a 50 mile radius of where I live? Ugh.

Bye BB, Hello Gym Lady

BB came by my office again yesterday. He's growing a goatee kind of thing now which rather suits him, and he found another job at another gym. He gave me his new business card and I got a chance to ask him why he left the rec. center. He told me about it - they were paying him crap and he didn't really get along with his boss. I can understand why he left.

This morning I met with BB's old boss, aka my new trainer, aka Gym Lady/GL. Personality-wise, I think we'll get along fine. She's certainly different from BB in just about every way possible, but she's all right. The only thing I don't really like is she sometimes over-explains things, like I have no idea about anything, and while I can understand why she's doing it (she doesn't know what I know and what I don't, so she's covering all the bases) I don't like it. That's the annoying part about starting over with someone new, but it should go away soon once we get used to each other.

I do like the fact that her background is less about body-building and more about overall toning/conditioning. She switched around a lot of my resistance training. It'll take me a couple days to get used to the new stuff, but I think it'll end up working a little better for me.

F*ing Middle Aged Men at the Laundromat

Today I went to the laundromat to wash my comforter. I really hate going to the laundromat, but it had to be done. Why do I hate going? Well, because of schmucks like the one I encountered today. I start my washing and walk over to the wall to find a place to sit and work on grading some papers.

Middle aged, overweight dude looks over at me. "Smile already, it gets better."

Goddamn it, why do middle aged men always feel the need to tell me to f*ing smile? Since when is my facial expression any of their business? "Not 'til next week," I said as I grabbed my things and headed for another place to sit.

Behind me, I heard him say, "Huh?"

Exactly dude. You know absolutely nothing about me. Shut the f* up.

What happens next week, you ask? Nothing special, it was just the first stupid thing that came into my mind. More than almost anything else in the world, I hate being ordered to smile by complete f*ing strangers. It's rude and implies that if I'm not completely ecstatic to be doing my laundry, there's something wrong with me. I mean, what the hell?

Of course, I have a friend whose mouth is naturally turned up a the corners, begging strangers to randomly ask her "What are you smiling about?" Can't win for losing.

Since when is somebody's facial expression the business of strangers? Leave it alone, man. And, if you really, really want somebody to smile, commanding them to do so is damn sure not the way to do it. There's a much easier way, in fact. You smile at them. The vast majority of people will smile back.

Thank Harold I get to do all the rest of my laundry at home.

Damn Shoes

Once upon a time, I owned approximately five pairs of shoes:
1. Sandals
2. Work shoes
3. Back-up work shoes
4. Tennis shoes
5. Boots

Then, during the course of this whole girly thing, my shoe collection kind of exploded. I got a new pair of sandals, and since they were a by-one-get-2nd-cheaper thing, I got a second pair at the same time. Then another, then some boots, then...

Current shoe tally:
7 pairs of sandals
2 pairs of business casual shoes
1 pair old work shoes
3 pairs of boots
2 pairs of tennis shoes
and, as of a couple of days ago - 1 pair of boots with a stiletto heel

It's insane. It's like I've become possessed or something. I need to stop with the shoes, I really do.

Wore the new boots today. They make me tall.

Doomed Eyebrow

Me: Hello?
Amanda: Hey.
Me: What's up?
Amanda: You can't laugh.
Me: Okay.
Amanda: I mean it. You have to promise not to laugh.
Me: All right, already. I promise.
Amanda: *Sigh* My left eyebrow is gone.
Me: How?
Amanda: I don't want to talk about it.
...
Me: Well, on the bright side, it's a good incentive to get bangs like you've been wanting.
Amanda: I hate you.

Speckled Moth

There was a moth behind my mailbox. I lucked out with the black and white on black and white.

It's Hard Being Good

Thus spake the boy on Facebook: am I too good for a great girl, or not good enough? What am I doin wrong?

*Sigh*

I could tell him how complaining is bad marketing, or how there's no such thing as being "too good" for a great girl, but I think I'm going to leave it alone. Last thing I feel like doing is engaging in something so set up for a cliche.

Dude, get over yourself. That's what you're doing wrong.

BB & A Skirt, Or, An Irritating Friday

When I got to my office this morning at about 7:40, I saw the message button blinking on my phone. It was a message from BB canceling our appointment for today because he's no longer working at the rec. center. I still have no idea what the circumstances are, but my first thought is that it's a personality clash, which makes me irritated with him 'cause now I have to get used to some new person. Ugh.

I've been e-mailing back and forth with BB's boss to arrange a time to meet with her so she can take over my training. From when I met her briefly back in May, I got a good first impression from her, but who knows how that's going to translate. I have a hunch that she and BB might have pretty different training styles, and it makes me a little nervous about whether or not I'm going to like her approach.

In other news, I wore a pencil skirt to campus today. I got lots of comments and compliments from colleagues. On one hand, it was nice. On the other, it really made me feel self conscious. I'm also not a fan of how it restricts movement. I spent the whole time I was on campus being painfully aware of part of my legs being bare and being unable to pick something up from the floor without planning my movement. Once I got home, it took all of about two seconds for me to take it off.

"Single Life"

These days I'm having fun watching Def Jam Poetry on youtube. I just watched this one and thought I'd pass it on to any of the single ladies passing through:

Physical

I had my annual doctor's appointment today. I've had this doctor for about three years and I quite like her. I'm not so big a fan, however, of the exam part where I'm all naked and getting poked and prodded and... penetrated.

In other news, there goes one more year where my doctor is the only person other than myself to see me naked.

Mrs.

For some reason, this semester all of my students seem to think I'm married. It's weird. You know MLA? Well, if you don't, the header for your papers is supposed to look like this:

Student's name
Instructor's name
Class
Date

This semester, unlike all the previous semesters, I have a ton of students who, in the spot where they put my name, add a Mrs. to it. Color me baffled. I wear no wedding ring, 'cause it's silly for someone who isn't married to do so. I sure as hell haven't mentioned anything about having a husband, again, 'cause I don't have one. Yet, there it is, on paper after paper: Mrs.

What, exactly, is it about me that screams married? Or, what is it about this semester's crop of student that makes them think anyone who teaches them is, by default, married? It's damn strange, that's all I know.

Between that and a few other things, like the male student who walked me from one class to the next (no, dude, your "masculine charms" will not make me give you a better grade) and a cheating issue (I mean, come on, it's the very first week!), the first week of school promises lots of interesting things for the rest of the semester.

After the Storm

I'm not usually a huge fan of centered photos, but I like this one. This was right after a mild storm, and I liked the look of the dark bird and shelter against the blue-gray sky. A limited color palette can be fun sometimes, and here it feels like it's just half a step away from being black and white.

A BB Problem

On Wednesday, I was going through my workout with BB. Someone was on the calf raise, so BB thought for a moment and said, "Let's try something." He took me over to the barbell set up and had me hold the barbell behind my head, rested on my shoulders, then stand up on my tip toes. That sort of things takes a bit of balance, let me tell ya.

While I wobbled and tried not to fall over, BB stood behind me as my spotter. "Don't worry, I got you."

I don't like people standing that close to me, especially not if they're male. It gives me an uncomfortableness. But, there he was, an inch behind me, and I was okay with it. I've hit the point where I trust him. That's why I got a tad concerned when he talked about having a meeting with his boss, and about being nervous about the meeting.

Me: Well, did she say what it's about?
BB: She said she wants to make some changes with the protocols and things.
Me: That doesn't sound too bad. Maybe not much fun, but nothing to worry about.
BB: We'll see. I guess I'll know Friday if I still have a job or not.

Today, during my office hours, I saw a shape in the doorway. I glanced up. It was BB. Took me by surprise. Him being there means he had to have looked up my office and my office hours. He stopped by to tell me he'd gone to the meeting. Turns out he got a raise and his boss told him about some changes.

BB: I don't know if it's going to work out, but I'll give it a try.

Then I had to dash off to class, so I didn't get a chance to learn more. I don't like it, though. I have no idea what the changes are, or why he doesn't like them, but I want BB to stay. I'll have to find out the rest during my next appointment Friday. It sucks that I have to wait a week. I hate waiting on information.

Undergrads and Undergrads

The first day of the semester went well. Not perfect, but well. The good parts were meeting my students and having all of my numerous handouts copied a couple days early. The not so good part was a series of technology issues in the computer labs where my classes are held. The phone lines for the IT department were very busy yesterday, let me tell you.

Thanks to my fast and dirty schedule - three classes in four hours, with an hour break for my office hours - I was done at noon. As far as the students themselves go, I'm trying a different approach with them this semester. I'm working on being more personable. I don't want to be their friend, but I do want them to feel like they can approach me if they need help. We'll see how it goes.

I hung out in the office to eat some lunch, then went to the gym and had a pretty intense work out. While I was on the cardio machine, BB was going through a workout with an undergrad. boy. The seated calf raise machine is right in front of where I was, so I got a little thrill of satisfaction when I was the undergrad was only doing 25 lbs. I'm up to 45.

In light of that accomplishment, when I got home I picked up my tape measure from the cabinet top it's been sitting on for the past month. My stomach is an inch smaller since I measured last. So is my waist. I've gotten some compliments lately about my workouts paying off, but now I have empirical evidence of the effects. That makes me happy.

I feel like I got a lot done yesterday, which is exciting.

First-Day-Back Eve

Fall semester starts tomorrow. I've got three classes this semester, like last, and I've got a bajillion documents to pass out. Sometimes I wish I was still a student instead of the instructor, 'cause the only thing students need to do on the first day is show up. I have to have a plan, copies, and rosters.

I'm a tad nervous, as per usual, but kind of excited at the same time. I am so ready for summer to be over so I can have something structured in my life again. Having all that time off is not good for me, even if it had its fun parts.

Stairwells and Shadows

Here's another Florida picture. The bachelor's quarters on Whiting base have a cool cinderblock thing going on in the stairwells. I dug it a lot.

My 1st Photo Contest

Last night was Photo Club night. Each month they have a photo contest and I entered for the first time. The theme of the month was Macro/Insects. I got an honorable mention :)

A Very Good Friend

Last night I did the IM thing with my old friend Cassie. I always love being able to catch her 'cause we don't talk too often these days - both of us are busy as all get-out and we live four hours away from each other. We've known each other since middle school and for all that our personalities are very different - she's the people person, outgoing and friendly - I'm the studious one. But, our circumstnaces are very similar, both of us have been single for a while and both of us are hanging out in limbo land in an academic/professional sense. It's nice, amidst me seeing everybody and their dog meet the perfect guy/gal and land the perfect job, to still have a friend who is still figuring things out. Thank Randolph I'm not the only one.

The other part that helps is that my friend Cassie is all kinds of wonderful and I know that things will work out for her. She's working away at these things and the fact that they haven't worked out quite yet just means it's a timing issue. And, if that's true for her, then maybe it's true for me. It makes me feel less frustrated. Also, being the lovely person that she is, last night she gave me some encouraging words and said I was one groovy chic and that she has faith in me.

It reminds me that, no matter what else, every now and again everybody needs a cheerleader. Keep on keeping on, Cassie, 'cause you are awesome.

Vignette

Whilst walking the Shermanator this morning, we came upon a young couple (I'd peg 'em at about 19) on the path. The guy was crouched down, scraping a rock against the sidewalk. The girl stood above him, looking bored. He scraped, and scraped, and I kept trying to figure out what the heck he was doing.

As the dog and I approached, he finished up and he and the bored girl walked away. Finally, I got close enough to see. There, written in rock-scrapings, was a message: "I love you Lexi."

Geometry On Geometry

I love shadows.

Another One Down

Me: So, I went on that date last night...
Amanda: And?
Me: It's not going to work with Radio Guy.
Amanda: *Sigh.*
Me: No, no. It's not like that.
Amanda: How is it like, then?
Me: He's got no confidence at all. I mean, think about Comic Book Guy, okay? Compared to Radio Guy, Comic Book Guy is outright ballsy.
Amanda: Oh. Well, don't worry, there'll be more guys for you to reject.
Me: Oh boy, I can't wait.

A Decided Lack of Enthusiasm

I have a date with Radio Guy tonight. I'm meeting him at a pizza place (my pick) in about half an hour. At this point, I'd kind of rather stay home. I just finished the second of two 8-hour days of pre-semester Composition department workshops, and I'm a bit worn out. Also, Radio Guy has proven to be kind of... boring. My goal tonight is to try and be more interesting myself, and do more interesting things, in order to give him, by extension, a chance to be more interesting. Maybe loosen him up a bit, and such. Maybe it'll help.

Worst case, the two-day workshop marathon gives me a prime excuse for calling it a night early.

I'm Going to Be Polite, Instead

When you really want to say something, but don't, we call it biting your tongue. So, what's it called when you really want to type something, but don't? Holding your fingers?

Cute guy I went to high school with, but never really knew well/talked to, just changed his Facebook status to say that he "isn't looking forward to the sleepless night." Doesn't that just seem to beg for an off-color response?

Hi-larious

Here's a nugget of goodness I'm passing on to you from the delightful Passive Aggressive Notes blog. It's really that last txt that takes the cake.

Odd Girl Out

I hung out with a group of writer friends last night. We met at a coffee shop/bookstore and, as always, had a lot of fun telling stories, talking about books and TV, and just generally enjoying each others' company.

Mid-way through, one of the new members of our group mentioned something about his girlfriend and I did a little head count. Of the four gals in attendance, two are married, and one is... well, she hasn't quite taken a vow of celibacy, but she's got some stuff in her past and there is no way any guy is getting near her that way any time in the foreseeable future, so she's unique in the headcount. Then there are the two guys, the afore-mentioned with a long-term girlfriend and the other one who's dating a gal with the same name as me. So, six people. Among them, I'm the only one who's single.

Yet another of those things where it looks like it's so easy, finding somebody. After all, everybody else I know has. Ah, perspective. I think I need more single friends.

Back Porch of the Florida House

Confession time: I'm jealous of the house my brother & Mike found. It's nice, it's spacious, and an amazing find for anybody's very first place. Hell, I'm living in my fourth place and it's way nicer than mine :( Being in the military does have its perks, like a housing allowance.

Here's one of the house pictures I took. Look at that wonderful screened-in porch and back yard. I wouldn't have minded spending some more time on that lovely porch.

Home Again, Home Again, Hippity Hop

I flew back home Wednesday and my connecting flight was delightfully delayed by 2.5 hours. Whoo-hoo! I called my mom to let her know and she suggested I talk to the airline to see if they'd trade me a free ticket for letting myself get bumped. She and my dad used to do this all the time, and free tickets are certainly cool. However, at that point, the desire to sleep in my own bed that night far outweighed my desire for free stuff. Do I regret my decision? Absolutely not. Getting home, even if it was after 11:00 p.m. that night, was bliss.

No idiot boys. No brother's girlfriend. No small hotel suite. No any of that. Just me, my dog, and an empty house. Ahhhhh...

The past two days I've mostly been a slacker, bumming around the house and soaking up the solitude. I did venture out for a grocery run Thursday morning, 'cause I'd cleared out my fridge pre-trip and had no grub. Yesterday I got bolder and went to the gym (I ended up blowing off my "on the road" workout, shame on me) and picked up the latest draft of my thesis intro with comments from one of my committee memembers. "Almost there," she wrote, which really means "Not ready yet," and made me sad. But, driving to campus in my own car counterbalanced it - even though my car is a boring 2002 Chevy, it totally beats my brother's "cooler" 1972 El Camino because it has such amazing features as air conditioning and the ability to start on the first time you turn the key.

More Batteries, Please

Amanda: What are you up to?
Me: I'm waiting for the boys to finish up with the realtor. It's ridiculous. Boys are useless.
Amanda: You say that like you think it gets better when they're older.
Me: It has to. At least a little bit.
Amanda: Ha! Remember how I said me and my husband are looking for a house right now? He's thirty-six and still useless when it comes to finding a place to live. Useless. Guys are terrible at these things.
Me: With the experience of the past week or so, I've got to say that I'm really liking this whole being single thing.
Amanda: Come on now, don't give up. Everybody needs sex.
Me: I don't know, I've been doing just fine lately.
Amanda: Just make sure you hide your vibrators before your parents come over.

Last Night in Florida

The boys met with the realtor this afternoon and traded cash for a key. We got all their stuff moved in, though not all unpacked, and I helped break the new place in by cooking dinner. I also made some extra food for the boys to eat over the next couple days. The extra cooking is my housewarming gift to them, and they are very appreciative of it.

My brother and I were back to good terms today, but I'm still looking forward to being on my own again. Watching the boys struggle to navigate such complex problems as shopping or communicating with civilians has its entertainment value, for sure, but the novelty's worn off. Though, I have to say, I wouldn't mind staying in Florida a bit longer now that I'd be able to stay in the house vs. the "cozy" hotel suite. Oh well, maybe I'll have to come back for a visit.

F*ing Told You So

This afternoon I hit the point of being sick of my brother. This morning got off to a rough start which I'll sum up me making appointments for the boys to look at two more houses, even though, DUH, they'd already found the "perfect" one. My point was that they hadn't really looked at many places, and only saw one other that was really comparable, so it'd be good to look a little more to make sure the "perfect" house really was, you know? i.e. I wanted to do a bit more comparison shopping, and, since these things never go as smoothly as one would want, it never hurts to have a back up. My brother, as you might guess, got irritated with me. He had it all figured out, and I should just shut the F* up and leave him alone. But, when I said I'd make the calls, he said he'd let me.

This morning I called about four houses he & Mike had seen the outside, but not inside of, and found out that two weren't ready to look at. The other two, I made appointments to look at. First house, first thing in the morning, and it wasn't as wonderful. My brother didn't say anything out loud, but his attitude was very much, "I told you so."

Then they called the real estate office about the house they picked and found out it wouldn't be ready to move into for a week. They don't have a week. My brother said, "I guess we'll keep looking." At 1:30, we went to the 2nd appointment I arranged. Guess what? It's got all the things they liked in the other house, like a 2-car garage and screened-in back porch, but it's nicer, and they can move in as soon as their background checks clear, i.e. tomorrow.

In short, I was right and my brother was wrong, and that made him pissy. What do you think he does? Any word of thanks? Any, "I guess you were right?" Of course not. So, he's irritated that he was wrong, and I'm irritated that he's being a pissy little girl. From there, we kept getting on each other's nerves and by about five o'clock I was sick of him.

I went out for a walk around the base to get away from my sibling for a while, and when I got back, Mike was gone to take a shower and I asked if, instead of him and Mike hanging out in our room tonight, they could hang out in Mike's. He said sure. Mike came back, they sat in the front room for a while, they eventually made dinner, and then my brother said something to Mike and Mike left. My brother stayed. Damnit. They were both supposed to go the hell away for a little while, both. My brother is the one getting on my nerves, not Mike. It's my brother who I want to go away for a while. *sigh* At least they're going to the realtor's tomorrow, and the realtor's in a neighboring town, so they'll be gone without me for a little while. Thank you Jesus.

I'm just going to focus on the part where they're picking my house, and forget about the part where my brother is a 22 year old who thinks he knows everything and I know nothing. (If nothing else, this experience is giving me gobs and gobs of understanding of some of what my parents have gone through. Mom and dad, I'm so sorry I was ever a teenager. Thanks for not murdering me.)

Lost Boys

My brother's future roommate arrived today and the two of them teamed up to look for a place to live. Talk about the blind leading the blind. I mean, seriously. These guys are not quite ready for the real world, even if they are lieutenants now. Scary thought, these two being in charge. Thank goodness they're here for pilot training and don't actually have any real authority yet.

They may have found a place, by sheer luck, I swear. But still, it's a good sized house for the two of them, and I think it'll work. Hallelujah!

Tonight, the boys are cooking dinner. I'm hiding in the hotel suite's bedroom because I'm too scared to watch.

Just think, in a few dayswhen I head home, these two lads will be entirely on their own. Oh my. All I can think of is this recent XKCD comic. It sums things up beautifully.

Close Quarters

I'm currently on my sixth night in close quarters with someone. This is probably the first time I've spent so much consecutive time without a space totally my own in... three years, at least. I'm holding up pretty well, but I've got to say I'm already looking forward to getting back to my own house with my dog, my space, and no other people.

Friday night-Monday morning = My brother's girlfriend crashing at my house in order to spend as much time with him as possible between his return from Europe and departure for Florida. I invited her to stay with me Friday night because I was feeling sympathetic to the whole young love thing, and because some uncomfortableness has developed between her and my parents. Short version - she's young (read: clingy) and my parents think she should give my brother more space. Come on, she's 20 and my brother is her first all the way grown up relationship, of course she's going to act a little silly. So, yeah, I invited her to stay with me Friday night and that snowballed into the whole weekend of having a 20-year shadow. She's a nice girl, but, that's a lot of time to spend entertaining her.

Monday morning - now = Driving with my brother to his new home in Florida. Gotta love my brother, but he's 22 and has never lived on his own before, and tends to let other people do planning for him. As the "responsible adult" during this trip, I've quickly developed a new appreciation for my parents' perspective. I've been remind myself many times that my job is to help drive, his job is to plan, and if he can't plan, then having that lack bite him in the ass is a better lesson than me being a nag. Though, I had a brief conversation with him tonight along the lines of "We get there tomorrow, and getting there is the easy part. Finding a place to live, etc. is where it gets hard. I suggest you start thinking ahead, or you'll regret it." Then I said I wouldn't bring it up again and I dropped the topic. It was enough of a nudge, though, it seems. He did some online research and made a few calls shortly thereafter.

You'd think that being 25 isn't much different from being 22, or 20, but I'm realizing how much difference just a couple of years of fending for oneself can make. Meahwhile, I'm taking time to appreciate what my experiences have taught me, and the wonderfulness of having a bathroom all to myself.

By the old carriage house

Here's another picture from downtown. I like the angles of it.

First Impressions of Radio Guy

I sat at the coffee shop with my laptop, one eye glancing out the glass door for a sign of Radio Guy. I recognized him as soon as I saw him walk through the far door. He walked up to the front counter, and I started turning my head toward him to say hello, but he re-traced his steps to behind a bookshelf. I think he was gathering his courage, maybe. A few moments later he came back around and walked over.

We had talked on the phone the night before and pretty much picked up the conversation where we'd left it. The inquisitiveness I mentioned in an earlier post was still going full force, and we talked about me more than him, which was still a little strange to me, but I fell into the rhythm of it. (Amanda thinks it's hilarious that so many ladies love being asked about themselves a ton, and I'm kind of disconcerted by the barrage of questions.)

I called it a night two hours later and called my friend Deb (aka my safety-backup for the date) to let her know I'd met him and he wasn't a raving psychotic. When I hung up, I had a new text message from, you guessed it, Radio Guy, about how he was stopped at a red light and wanted to let me know he'd really enjoyed meeting me.

So, first impressions of Radio Guy:
Definitely not Mr. Studly, but not bad looking
I make him nervous
I don't think he talks to girls much
A little clingy already
Not super confident, he kind of fakes it, but I can tell he's faking
He's smart
He's very curious about a lot of different things
He might be able to listen to me talk about myself more than I can
I pick up a bit of a passive-aggressive vibe, maybe

Overall, I drove home thinking I could like him. Then, there was a bit more clingy-ness (I left my phone in my car most of yesterday and when I checked it, there were 4 texts from him. I mean, seriously?) which is making me more skeptical. I lean toward benefit of the doubt, but the whole dynamic makes me feel like I'm the guy here, and he's the girl. It's weird.

Core

I wasn't looking forward to going to the gym today 'cause BB said we were going to go through my core workout. I wasn't thrilled, because I figured I knew what that meant. Of my workouts, my core is my least favorite :( The last thing I wanted was to make it harder.

We get through my first circuit (of three). I've been doing my core workout in a circuit, 'cause even though it's tougher that way, it's faster. In case you're wondering, this is my core workout:
15 back extensions
12-15 knee raises
12 incline sit ups
20 oblique crunches - 10 right, 10 left

I finish my oblique crunches and wait. I brace myself for him to say something that starts with "Now, on your next set I want you to..." and ends with some way of making my life more difficult. He doesn't say it. I do my second circuit. I wait, thinking of how I'm about to be adding weight to my back extensions, right? Nothing. I do my third circuit. Still nothing. Then I'm picking up my stuff and we're parting ways, and he still hasn't told me how he's going to make my workout harder. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

My core workout, for now, is staying exactly the same, and I find myself strangely disappointed. Humans are perverse creatures.

I Would Walk 500 Miles...

or, would I?

The website has coughed up another guy. So far, Museum Guy seems smart, maybe a bit nerdy, but he's a history nerd who volunteers at museums, which makes him all the more interesting. The potential problem is that he lives about 100 miles away. Now, I've heard the stories, just like you have, of people wooing each other from much greater distances than that, and, after that adrenaline-filled first meeting, carrying on and getting married. Enter the "happily ever after."

But, that's not the norm. It can't be. The pure logistics of long-distance dating are troublesome. Then again, we're talking 100 miles. It's a bit of a drive, sure, but it isn't the moon. Besides, there are two cities between here and there which would work for meet-in-the-middle type scenarios. I'm not saying it can't be done. Still, a two-ish hour drive isn't all that convenient. We like to think that love conquers all, but sometimes logistics wins the day.

At this point, the question is more a hypothetical one. Two e-mails does not true love make. I just can't help but wonder if there's a real chance that, assuming all else goes well, dating from 100 miles away is really feasible? We already know that my brother is about to answer this question when he moves to Florida and his girlfriend stays in Colorado. How much difference does it make whether the relationship started off long-distance or became that way? Hrm... Any thoughts?