Girl Seeks Bliss

Ok, I'm reading (just started) this book: Girl Seeks Bliss. And I'm so excited that here's this book about practical Buddhism for trendy 30-something women. And I'm certainly no expert, but I think that at least some aspects of Buddhism really are compatible with Christianity. Recently, I've been struck by the fact that it's so helpful to simply accept what is, rather than being sad or angry or disappointed over what I think should be. And I don't see this as at all counter to Christianity.

My other big thing, at the moment, is Kimberly Wilson's Hip, Tranquil Chick: www.hiptranquilchick.blogspot.com. I just LOVE her podcasts. And she's totally what I aspire to be, in some ways. The hip, tranquil chick is someone who practices yoga, practices mindfulness off the yoga mat, and still appreciates cool clothes and fun lip gloss. Plus, Kimberly is all about pink. I totally feel like she could, in different circumstances, be my best friend or something. I just really like what she's all about. And, in fact, Girl Seeks Bliss, is a book she recommended in one of her podcasts.

So, I'm no expert about any of this. But I'm enjoying reading what I'm reading. And it's all making me realize that I want to be more committed to practicing both yoga and meditation, not that those two are clearly separable. And maybe I'll post more on this later, but I've also been reading about contemplative prayer as meditation, and that's fascinating too, although I'm not sure that I'm quite ready to incorporate it.

I don't know. I guess that I think it's good to think about being all Zen and accepting and in the moment. I certainly need more if it in my life right now.

Blog, Blogging, Blogged, Have Blogged

Sometimes, I can't believe that I actually use "blog" as a verb. And I know that I haven't posted anything ("haven't blogged") in a while. I think there's a lot that I haven't been keeping up with lately, the last week or so. And it strikes me as especially funny in that weird post-modern kind of way that to blog about not blogging is so "meta," if you know what I mean. But here I am. I'm waiting for my new super-sexy printer to initialize, and I'm using the time to blog about why I haven't been blogging. And seriously, I hope I can handle installing this new printer myself. I'm no techno-wiz; kinda wish I were. But if I were all techno-inclined, I wouldn't be me, right? Isn't it all part of my charm? Maybe not. I hope the printer works like it's supposed to. This sort of thing makes me anxious. But I'm here to say that despite the lapse in blogging, I'm alive. I'm well. Well, I'm getting by at any rate, and maybe that's the best we can hope for.

"Hellow Goose!"

Ok, so this one's mostly for Mom, because it's all rather an inside joke:

This morning on my way to work, I looked over my shoulder at the window in the back seat. And the sun and moisture were just right that I noticed that someone had written "Hellow Goose" with his or her finger on the window, obviously written from the inside.

I giggled and cried.

More On Pretending

Ok, so my method for coping is to pretend. I always think that if I pretend to work, then eventually, actual work will get done. And if I get up in the morning and pretend that everything's OK, then someday, everything will, indeed, be OK. So one of the weird / silly / neurotic ways that this pretending thing plays itself out is in my appearance on any given day. Often when I'm feeling upset or anticipating a difficult, stressful day at work, I try to somehow cheer myself up by dressing in a way that I think is extra cute or extra interesting, which in the eyes of the rest of the world, may just translate into "interesting" or just plain weird. Nevertheless, it's my method, and as Dolce Carina recently said to me, "You do what you have to do to get by, and that's OK." So I'm OK with all of it. Except this morning I think I got a little carried away with the eyeshadow. So I had this outfit all picked out that I thought was cool and hip and a little bit retro, and I had this cool, trendy skinny scarf, and it was all good. But I decided that blue and pink eyeshadow would be the way to go with it all, right? And the blue, which I applied in this kinda dramatic wash, mid lid to eyebrow, was really darker than I realized. And while my fashion sensibility allowed me to approve, it really wasn't terribly appropriate for work. But really, when is my appearance terribly appropriate for work? Seriously. And of course by the time I realized it, there wasn't time to wash it off and start over fresh. So I went to work, pretending as always, with a pink stripe of eyeshadow nearer my eye and irridescent blue all the way up to my eyebrow. And pink shimmer on my cheeks (not my "cheekies;" there's a difference). And I know that it wasn't terribly professional. And I wonder if my colleagues were like, "What's with her today?" or if, instead, they were like, "Hey, there's that 'interesting' Drennan again!" Either way, it made me feel better about my day, my self, about being in Vermont in the fall, in the rain.

I wanted to say that tonight is, like, my dream-night when it comes to TV. And I'm watching more TV than ever before in my life, and maybe I need to just be OK with it. But really, tonight at 8:00 is House and at 9:00 is Grey's Anatomy, which by the way I like less and less all the time. Then at 10:00 is Dog: The Family Speaks which is some special thing where the Chapman family weighs in on Dog's, Leland's, and Tim's recent arrests. Really, House and Dog--what could be finer. Good thing I have good ice cream in the freezer. This is how we know I'm getting older--TV, rather than going "out"--is super exciting.

Confession: I Heart Dog the Bounty Hunter

Ok, I'm just going to come out about this. And my family already knows. Seriously. I think that Dog the Bounty Hunter is Kick-Ass. Really. And for a while I was afraid to admit it, you know? It's like not wanting people to know that you read the Weekly World News (aka "The Paper"), but I've decided that I should be open about it and confess that I think that Duane "Dog" Chapman is a wonderful human being. Really. He's turned his life around, after doing time. But what I really love about Dog and his "posse" is how they are all tough when they go out on a bounty. They talk really big about how they are gonna kick ass and bring the guy to justice. But (unless the guy is beating on women), Dog and Tim and Leland and the rest turn out to be big softies. They get these addicts and sit them down and try to actually help them. Really, I believe that the Dog, despite appearances to the contrary is really this kind, caring guy. So here's a good Dogism: "This is the second chance business and we are good at it because we are second chance people." And that's what I love about Dog; he's really so about helping people. And I really believe that he connects with his clients because he's been there. Plus, I love it when he talks about being the vacuum salesman. I think he's super smart. And I'm protesting his recent arrest, because really, didn't he do us all a favor by chasing down the so-called Max Factor Heir? Isn't the world a better place because Dog's in it? When I first saw his TV program on A&E (and A&E itself is a rant I'll save for another time. Suffice it to say that A&E is no longer the A&E I knew and loved.) . . .oh yeah, when I first saw his show on A&E, I thought it had camp value, and I'm down with that. A little camp every now and then can be a good thing. But Dog's beyond camp. He's the real thing. And so, let us not forget that "This Dog bites, but only when he has to."

Frustration

So one thing that really annoys me, really frustrates me is when students make appointments and then just don't bother to show up. I realize that things come up at the last minute, that people get sick, whatever, but it seems to me that the least one could do would be to phone or even e-mail to say, "Sorry, I won't be able to make it after all."

Today, for example, my only class is 8:00-9:15, which is really quite a nice schedule. I have one advisee who's been saying for the last two weeks that he really needs to see me. So I made an appointment to see him at 10:30, just before his 11:00 class. Now, I know from past experience that he's kinda flakey, and all morning, I had a creeping suspiscion that he (we'll call him "A), that A wouldn't show up. And I was tired this morning. After class, all I really wanted to do was to go home and rest. I hadn't slept well the night before, and I knew I'd have to be back at work at 3:30 and would have to stay until into the evening for a long meeting. So I really just wanted to go home, get some breakfast, and rest. Of course, I didn't. I waited around for A. I didn't get much work done, but I was here. And guess what--A didn't show up. No phone call, no explanation, nothing. He just didn't show up.

This kind of thing really annoys and frustrates me. I'm just trying to do my job. And I just want to do a good job of everything I do. And I really care about my students, don't mind taking time for them. But I guess that I expect a level of maturity that they just haven't reached.

Note to self: in the future, be more realistic in your expectations.

Weighing In on House

OK, I'm at work, pretending to work, which I'm pretty good at, but not really getting much done. And I realized that what I really want to do is to weigh in on last week's season premier of House, M.D. And I know that I've already had this conversation with at least one person, but I feel like I need to get this on record or something.

So here's your warning: PLOT SPOILER. STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT LAST WEEK'S EPISODE.

First, I don't necessarily watch a lot of television, with the exception of Law and Order, which in its various incarnations seems to be on all the time. But I really, really love House, or I did until last week. In fact, tonight, I'm planning to go to a poetry reading at 7:00, but I'm really tempted to skip it so that I don't miss the new House, and this is unlike me--to plan my schedule, my social life around TV.

Second, Hugh Laurie is, in my estimation, absolutely brilliant. And I LOVED him in Jeeves and Wooster; I cannot recommend it highly enough. But his role in House, so utterly different from Bertie Wooster, proves that Laurie is this brilliant, wonderful actor.

All that said, I was kinda disappointed in last week's season premier episode. I have to say that last season's finale was kinda dumb. So House is shot by the crazed ex-patient guy, right? And he hallucinates. I found it all to be a let-down; it just wasn't what I'd come to expect. (Side note: don't get me started on the thin, beautiful women that work with House--so unrealistic. And has anyone noticed that Cuddy's necklines get lower and lower? Oh wait, House himself commented on that, didn't he?) So in the premier, House is back to work, thinks he's fully recovered. And, apparently, his leg is fine; he's running several miled each day. He's also off of the Vicodin. And of course, without the Vicodin, he's bored, not himself, engaging with the world in a new kind of way. There was just something wrong about it. And so, at the end of the episode, his leg starts bothering him again, and he writes himself a perscription (on Wilson's pad????) for Vicodin. I don't know. There's just something depressing about it all. I mean, as a viewer, I guess that I don't really want House to recover and be healthy and well-adjusted. That wouldn't be any fun. But to see a partial (and not very believable) recovery only to witness his spiral back into pain, cynicism, and Vicodin just isn't very satisfying either.

Tonight's episode promises to be about a boy who claims to have been abducted by aliens. This seems like a weird stretch. I'm expecting Fox Mulder to show up at any moment.

P.S. Love it when House rides a motorcycle.

Favorite Postmodern Moments

Since posting about Paul Anka this morning, I've been thinking about my favorite recent postmodern kind of moments. And I'll give you a list in a second. But does anyone remember that episode of The Simpsons where Moe redecorates his bar? So there are all these crazy things in the bar, like these weird rabbits running in those hamster wheel things attached to the ceiling. And there's a comment from one of the patrons (Moe's is suddenly really popular with the hip, young set) about it only being OK to watch football if one is being ironic. Anyway, Homer and Lenny and the other guy think it's kinda crazy, and they are like, "Moe, what's the deal?"

And Moe says, "It's Po Mo." Homer looks at Moe strangly, and Moe explains, "You know, postmodern." And when Homer still doesn't get it, Moe further explains, "Weird for the sake of weird."

So I really love that analysis. Anyway, here are some of my very favorite recent post modern developments:

1. Paul Anka singing Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit"

2. Audrey Hepburn dancing to "Back in Black" in the new Gap commercial

3. The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales (Ok, ok, that's not such a recent development, but it's too good to leave out)

4. Anything pertaining to "The Donald"

5. A book becoming a bestseller overnight, just because Oprah says it's worth reading

6. Oh, John Karr's being a big celebrity, all because he's obsessed with poor JonBenet; of course, we, the viewers, must be obsessed in our own way to have latched onto the story the way we have.

7. The mandate that requires Cookie Monster to cut back on the cookies and eat more fruits and veggies. This seems, to me, to be this weird, postmodern conflation of this pop icon with political correctness in a way that just makes no sense. Seriously. Does he now sing, "Celery, celery, celery starts with C"? This is beyond stupid in my book.

8. Having to refer to Prince as "The Artist, formerly known as Prince." Again, not such a recent development, but it's all so ridiculous that I think it's worth mentioning.

9. Does the development and coinage of the "prequel" count? Because isn't there something postmodern about the concept of a prequel, not something that comes before, but something that's constructed after the fact to be as though it came before. And really, not that this has any bearing on anything, but for the record, I kinda liked JarJar Binks.

10. Stephen Sondheim's Into the Woods. Ok, really, I think Into the Woods is really a brilliant show. And I'd say it represents the best of postmodernism, to my way of thinking. I really love the song that Little Red Ridinghood sings after her encounter with the Wolf, where she observes that "Nice is different than good" and that having all this new, adult knowledge is both wonderful "and a little bit not" so wonderful. I can't say enough about how smart I think Sondheim is in his analysis of the fairy tale. Any while the show is quite entertaining, I think it's powerful.

So, if all this stuff were in a novel by Thomas Pyncheon and hadn't actually happened, what would we say? Would we be like, "That's too crazy. That could never happen?"

What are your favorite postmodern moments?

9/11

I'm working very hard to ignore all this 9/11 rememberance stuff. I just don't want to get all emotionally caught up in it; I feel like I can't afford it right now. And besides, I remember. I remember that day, what I was doing, who I was with, how it felt, how I felt in the weeks following. And, I don't know, people die every day, often tragically, in accidents, murders, and they deserve as much rememberance, right? I don't know; although I'm quite studiously pretending it's just another day (and defiantly listening to The Proclaimers to emphasize it all), I feel terribly alone. Life is so short, and I want to live. And I don't want to spend the rest of it alone, I suppose, but each day, I'm more and more OK with the aloneness. And that's a good place to be, right?

Re Paul Anka and Guns N Roses

A couple of months ago, I heard an interview with Paul Anka on NPR. Apparently on his new album, he also does a cover of some Nirvana song (I think it was "Smells Like Teen Spirit," but I confess to being one of those geeks who thinks that all Nirvana songs sound alike. And I'm convinced that the only lyrics go like this: "Come as you are, as you are, however you are, just come like that. . .a mullato, an albino, a mosquito, my libido. . .come as you are, as you are. . ." and so on.)


So Saturday afternoon, we had this teriffic thunderstorm, and I spent nearly an hour listening to "November Rain" over and over and gazing out the window. And I know it's only September, but it all seemed appropriate somehow. And I spent way too much time creating a playlist in iTunes, a playlist titled "Sad, Broken Relationship Songs;" it's cheezy, I know. But it all felt like what I needed--cathartic somehow.

But maybe I do need the new Paul Anka, as someone suggests. And is it really true that Axl Rose is some crazy recluse who's spent, like, the last ten years working on the perfect album and that his old band mates won't work with him anymore because he's all obsessed with perfection and can't get along with any of them? Any information on Axl Rose would be appreciated.

Hair Bands

OK, I've been feeling nostalgic for the late 80s and especially the 90s. And that means that I'm listening, almost obsessively, to that kind of music. And while some of it (Guns N Roses) might be considered OK musically, I have to admit to enjoying really marginal pop music, notably Poision and Def Leppard. Bon Jovi is good too.

Singing A New Sgt. Pepper Song

And so last night, my favorite best friend called around 8:00, and since then, I'm singing a new song. She listened to all my worries and said all the right kinds of encouraging things. I think that you know you've found a really good friend when you tell her all the stupid decisions you've made, and she doesn't make you feel like you are so stupid after all. And so now, I keep thinking, "I get by with a little help from my friends."

I Love You, Billy Shears!

Ok, so I woke up with this crazy headache, which I was sure the perfect cup of coffee would cure. Incidentally, I've a new favorite coffee; it's Green Mountain Coffee Roaster's Harvard Blend. And I'm pretty sure it's only avaliable in New England. But it's this great blend of light and dark roasts, not too bitter. It, however, did not completely cure my headache. And the weird part about all of it is, I can't stop singing the Sgt. Pepper album to myself. You know it's like I'm walking down the hall, hearing "Woke up, fell outta bed, ran a comb across my head." And later: "We're Seargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, we hope you will enjoy the show." And still later: "And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong, I'm right, where I belong I'm right, where I belong. See the people standing there who disagree and never win and wonder why they don't get in my door."

And another thing. . .

I'm rather fed up with Sophocles. One can only read the Oedipus cycle so many times before losing interest. It's hard to teach as though one is excited about something that's become "old hat." Now, Hans Christian Andersen, on the other hand, is infinitely fascinating at the moment. And this morning, I made what I thought were interesting, maybe even brilliant (OK, so brilliant is probably over-stating it) observations about Andersen's "Little Mermaid" and "The Snowman." Oh yeah, so if you ever are assigned to read Andersen's "The Little Mermaid," don't think that you can skip the reading just because you've seen the Disney movie. WARNING PLOT SPOILER!!!! Andersen's story does not "end happily" with "Ariel" and the prince "getting married." Should you be asked to summarize the story, don't try to fake it by assuming that Andersen's story ends like the Disney movie. And, whatever you do, don't say to your instructor, "It really kinda pisses me off how Andersen messed with the Disney movie. I don't think he really has a right to take a good story and mess it up like that with a dumb ending." These are just helpful hints from my own observations and experiences.

And one more thing: if you are in a class in which Andersen is being discussed, please don't bring up all kinds of crazy urban myths surrounding the Disney movie. That's just not helpful to anyone.

A Quick Note on Susan Howatch

Recently, someone posted a comment regarding Susan Howatch, and I feel compelled to reply. I'm actually not sure who posted the comment, but I'm guessing it must have been L.C., because he's the only one I can think of that I know has read Howatch's novels. So I just wanted to throw out a couple of observations:

First, I agree that the Starbridge novels seemed to explore the masculine psyche, generally speaking. I would note that the one in which Venicia has the affair with the married guy (was he Argyle? I don't remember), seems to be an exception, in that Venicia's point of view is dealt with there, specifically her tendency to fall in love with an older, father figure type.

Second, I've read Wonder Worker and the next in the Nicholas Darrow series--was it High Flyer? And I agree that both seem to explore the woman's experience in a way that the Starbridge novels (and I think I've read all of those) just don't. But what I find really interesting is that mysticism and the miraculous are explored more deeply in Wonder Worker and High Flyer. Although Darrow's father certainly has mystical experiences in the Starbridge series, it seems that the mystical element of Christianity, the mystical possibilities are dealt with more directly in this series that deals more directly with the female experience. And I don't know what to make of this. Naturally, because I'm me, I automatically think of Margery Kempe and especially Julian of Norwich, where mystical Christianity becomes so much feminized (We all remember the whole Jesus as Mother argument, right?) So is there some necessary connection between the female experience of Christianity, feminism, and mysticism?

Third, I want to publicly acknowledge that Howatch is not "high" literature in any sense of the word. In fact, I think she's a pulpy romance writer who turns to Anglican settings and characters. That said, her novels are good reads, provide an interesting way into different brands of Anglicanism, but are, in the end, rather soap opera like. Forgive me if I'm making too much of Howatch. I just suddenly felt interested and thought I should sound off.

This Morning

Trying not to cry. . .trying not to cry. . .trying not to cry

Can I still be a feminist if. . .

I decide to take up papercrafts?

I make a really kick-ass apple pie?

I think that crocheting is a lot more exciting than activism, marching for peace, or recycling?

I still think that stay-at-home moms are the biggest heroes in the world?

I love C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien?

I'm in love with Inspector Morse?

I wear glittery eye-shadow?

I actually WANT to live in traditional gender roles, at least some of them?

I have to call my dad every time I have a problem with my car or my yard?

I worry about my weight, about looking "interesting," about all my grey hair?

pink is my favourite colour?

I cry every time I watch You've Got Mail, mostly because I don't have any interesting "mail"?

although I say I want a career, I secretly envy all my friends with toddlers and houses in the suburbs?

I still believe that an intimate relationship with a man will necessarily make my life more fulfilling?

It's not quite 8:00 am, and I'm at work. And class starts at 8:00, and thank goodness I can teach this one with only a tiny sliver of brains, because most of my energy this morning is taken up by simply trying not to cry.

Father Brown and "Only Connect:" This One's For Dolce Carina

Ok, so I'm reading Chesterton's Father Brown stories. And I'm all super excited about it for any number of reasons. But what I'm noticing most right now is that everything I'm reading (Chesterton and everything else!) is reminding me of all kinds of other stuff I've already read. It's like it's all connected, and knowledge, books, reading, thinking, all of it seems to become this matrix in which to live and work and think and love, you know? And this is good, right, because we know that insanity is compartmentalizing our lives, trying to separate the professional from the personal, the work from the reward. And Father Brown, who so reminds me of C.S. Lewis, is both the work and the reward right now. And this makes me happy.

And C.S. Lewis read and liked and appreciated Chesterton's work. But Father Brown himself says things that Lewis's characters, maybe even Lewis himself, would have said: "Reason and justice grip the remotest and loneliest star. Look at those stars. Don't they look as the they were single diamonds and sapphires? Well, you can imagine any mad botany or geology you please. Think of forests of adamant with leaves of brilliants. Think the moon is a blue moon, a single elephantine sapphire. But don't fancy that all that frantic astronomy would make the smallest difference to the reason and justice of conduct. One plains of opal, under cliffs cut out of pears, you would still find a notice-board, 'Thou shalt not steal.'" This could totally be Lewis's Ransom; in fact, this very idea is maybe what Lewis's entire Space Trilogy is really about.

But Lewis, Tolkien, now Chesterton, even Inspector Morse (had a date with Morse last night), all these these writers, these characters, they seem to be doing the same kind of thing somehow, not just with morals and Christianity, but with cultural identity, what it means to be English, what it means to have a medieval cultural heritage. So here I am, right back at medievalism, right back at my dissertation. And it all makes sense. And suddenly the dissertation itself feels like more than just a hoop to jump through, more than just an exercise. It's become a foundation, a foundation to do and think other kinds of things. It's led to, or maybe it's created, this nexus, this matrix. And now I can say for sure that I'm a better person for having finished it.

So I hope that at least some of this made sense. It's what I needed to write just now. The important thing, at least for the moment, is that I'm reading Chesterton, and Chesterton means something to me. And Chesterton will connect back to Lewis, to Tolkien, and someday will connect to Dalgleish, to Morse.

Peeps!

Ok, so my friend A. just gave me the coolest, best gift ever. It's for the Labor Day holiday, and guess what it is. Go ahead. . . guess. So, you want me to just tell you? Ok. . .wait for it. . .wait for it. . .it's a make your own Peeps kit. It includes "colored sugar packets" and a "surprise mold inside." Isn't that the greatest thing ever?

Livin' on California Time

So yesterday morning, I was teaching, and I tend to glance and my watch often. Because, you know, once I start talking, it's hard to stop. So I have to keep glancing at my notes, which by the way are usually meticulous because I'm me, and in my notes, I have everything all timed out. So I'm teaching, watching the minute hand, realizing that there's only about 10 minutes left in class, and there's still so much more I want to say about early printed works for children, because that's the topic for the day. And I notice that my watch is still set for West Coast time, three hours earlier than what it really is. Maybe I hadn't worn this watch since I'd been back from California. I don't know. In class, when I realized that my watch was set for California time, I nearly cried then and there! And maybe it's fitting, because I think about California time all the time anyway. I'll look at the clock and think, "Hey it's 9:30 here; that means it's 6:30 in California. Dad is probably on his way to McFarland to check out the grapes." Or, "Hey it's 10:30, so I should go to bed, but in California, everyone's finishing dinner and settling in for the evening." You know, that kind of thing. It's like having this sense of some weird sort of dual consciousness.

Saving My Sanity

I want to publically acknowledge that writing here and reading speckedmavens and the fidfam blogs are saving my sanity. Or at least, these things are making significan contributions. I suppose I shouldn't discount yoga, reading Proverbs, or tea.

A Pirate's Life for Me!

Is it OK if I take up scrapbooking? I've avoided it on principle for so long, but lately, I've forgotten what the principle was. And hey, when you were a kid, did your mom tell you that you could remember the difference between "principle" and "principal" by remembering that the school principal is your pal? Did your mom say that too? Did she ever say, upon getting in the car in the evening, "Let's just try to have a quiet ride home"? Did yours say that too?

So here's a pic of me and Polly. And I like this one a lot. I just think she has the cutest, funniest little face that I'v ever seen. In the words of some, "She's just a little bit too goosie!"

Really Good Coffee Maker

I'm posting this, in part, because Dolce Carina requested a review of my new coffee maker.

I've been thinking about coffee quite a lot lately, and it seems to me that if one is going to bother with the time and expense and hassle of coffee, it ought to be a really good cup of coffee. I mean, I can't stand bad coffee. And for some reason, I get really annoyed with what I call Coffee Posers. OK, so really, that's not my coinage, but it works. So in the pursuit of really good coffee, I decided it was time to upgrade to a nicer coffee maker. And I bought this great Cuisinart coffee maker. And it's totally cool. The flavour is much nicer. And it doesn't have a carafe, but all the coffee is kept hot inside the thingy (there's a technical term, "thingy") so it doesn't get all burnt tasting or bitter or anything.

So, I was hoping I could write this really smart review that would let you all know exactly how in-love I am with this new coffee maker (Hey, aren't I always claiming to be "in love" with this or that? Let's see. . .there's the coffee maker, cream tea, Inspector Morse. I really sound unbalanced! Or maybe my priorities are just all crazy.) And it isn't a smart review at all. But I guess it does answer the question, you know? Maybe simply answering the question is good enough.

Why do these things happen to me?

So here's the long-version of the I-got-mooned-and-I'm-too-old-for-this story. All weekend, I was working at first-year orientation. And it was mostly anything but fun. So I'm teaching this First Year Seminar in which, in addition to the academic portion of the course, I meet with new students and talk with them and we do activities designed to help them successfully make the transition to college. For example, we'll have presentations about, say, study skills and time management. Anyway, on Saturday night, we had this presentation on "Equalogy," which already bugs me because it isn't even a real word. But the so-called Equalogy deal is this skit-type thingy designed to get students thinking about the evils of acquaintance rape. Now, I think this is an important topic to cover because acquaintance rape is such a wide-spread problem on campuses. I detest even calling it "acquaintance" rape, as though the fact that the victim knows the attacker makes it less horrible somehow. Or as though the attackers actions are somehow mitigated by knowing the victim. Anyway, the presentation was really bad, offensive on so many levels. Last year, I remember walking out about 1/3 of the way through the presentation, because I found it objectionable. It's this skit, right? And it opens with this scene with 4 college students at a party, drinking and telling all kinds of sexist jokes. The sexual innuendo abounds, and naturally, we, the audience, are enouraged to laugh. I mean, in something that's supposed to open our eyes to the sexist attitudes that lead to the perpetuation of rape and rape-myth, we are supposed to laugh at sexism. Nothing is done to problematize it. This goes on and on, with the students behaving increasingly disturbingly. And by "students," I mean our students, my students, not the actors on stage. They are laughing, asking off-color questions during the question time, and finally, cheering during the final rape scene. I was horrified, horrified, I tell you!

So afterwards, we're supposed to have a sort of talk back session with our groups. Each faculty member teaching a FYS, has 18 first-year students. So only about 2/3 of my group shows up for this mandatory activity. You can imagine that my mood is getting increasinly bad, irritable. I'm angry at having to sit through such an offensive presentation, angry that my students had to sit through it, disturbed that some students clapped and cheered during the rape, yadda, yadda, yadda. My mood, however, begins to improve as I discuss matters with my students. Many of them display remarkable maturity and insight. And many, without prompting, express concern that some in the audience reacted the way they did. So this is going on, in the classroom, and two students are outside the window--we have these large picture windows, and the room is at ground level. So the guys outside walk by, real obvious like. They walk by again. Then a third time. I'm certain they are simply wanting attention, so I studiously ignore them. Until they pull their pants down and press their backsides against the window.

Seriously, should I have to deal with this? Is this what my life has come to? Is this why I got my PhD, only to be "mooned" by a pair of unruly 18-year-olds, when I'm supposed to be discussing acquaintance rape? Seriously, how does this kind of thing happen?

And I Got my PhD for This. . .

So last night, while I was having a follow-up discussion with my students about acquaintance rape, our class was mooned. Seriously. Is this why I'm teaching college instead of high school? I'll post the full story later.

I'm not sure what it is I need to say just now, only that I need to write something. Have you ever felt like you don't know who you are anymore, that lost feeling? Like you used to be someone definite (or have at least a definite sense of self, or maybe just a persona to project to the world), only that person got lost somewhere along the way? I know I'm not articulating this very well, but recently, I hear myself saying things, even thinking things, and I think, "Is this me? I don't remember being this sort of person, someone who says this sort of thing. When did this happen?"

Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, and for a few moments, I think I'm in Riverside, living where I live there and that I'm still with J. And for those few moments, I'm happy, and I think I know who I am and where my life is headed. But, of course, it all comes crashing down, when I realize that I'm the new me, the post-J me, doubtlessly a sadder-but-wiser-me, a less hopeful me. I can't quite decide if I like this new me. I liked the person I was at 19, the young woman who could see hope, who wanted a future. Now, most of the time, I just try to make it through the day without crying too much.

Oh, and One More Thing

Can I just give a yip of joy that, at long last, leggings are again fashionable? Seriously, this open a whole new vista of interesting fashion possibilities that I would never have thought possible. My current favorite being the fashion possibility of wearing a cute micro-mini over leggings. I mean, I get the fun of a mini without the potential immodesty, not to mention embarrassment, that could result from such a fashion decision. And yes, I love the whole dress-over-leggings-or-jeans-look. It seems fun, interesting, yet totally wearable. So hooray for leggings.

P.S. Bought the cutest knee-highs at Old Navy today. I'll have to take a picture soon. I think that I need to get back on the Sock Project Bandwagon.

Susan Cooper's King of Shadows

Last weekend, I read Cooper's King of Shadows. I think her Dark is Rising sequence is just great, so I was excited about this title. It wasn't as wonderful as I was hoping, but it wasn't bad either. So it's the story of a boy, he's maybe 12, who's playing Puck in a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream in 1999. But one day he wakes up, and it's 1599, but he's still playing Puck. He meets Shakespeare and what-have-you. What I did think was interesting about the book was the way in which Cooper depicts Elizabethan society, specifically the politics surrounding Shakespeare's theatre. Shakespeare and Richard Burbage are shown having to walk a fine line between appearing to support Essex and still really supporting Elizabeth. It just seems to me that this and so many other cultural elements are forgotten in our misguided attempt to present Shakespeare as high culture. Shakespeare was pop culture, and it seems to me so important to think of him that way. He wrote to make money, writing what he believed the people wanted to see, would pay money to see. None of this art for art's sake business. OK, so enough rant. I make no claim to being a Renaissance scholar. Still, Cooper is saying, especially to young people, something important that it seems that we so often forget about Shakespeare.

I know that I've not been blogging much lately. Isn't it silly that I feel like I need to create a specific post to apologize for not posting? Really, I don't know why I've not been posting much. I think actually that it's something that, for the sake of my mental health, I should do more of. I think I've just been distracted by one thing and another. Not that any of it's all that interesting, mind you. I've had plenty going on, but none of it is that exciting to tell about. Mostly, I've been reading a lot. By that, I mean that I've been reading more fun stuff (as opposed to stuff that I see as necessary for work) than I might normally read. Maybe it's that it's the summer. Anyway, I used to try to do at least a quick post on every book that I read. But I haven't been for the last couple of months, and I rather miss it. I think that posting something, anything helps me think through whatever it is that I need to say about whatever I'm reading. So it's certainly something that I want to do more of, especially as the new school year is starting (my fall semester starts on Monday!)

The other thing I haven't been posting about is my ongoing affair with Inspector Morse and 20th century British mystery generally. So I think that maybe, possibly this is my new academic, research interest. If I were all paranoid, I wouldn't let my ideas get out, for fear that someone would steal them. Seriously, I'm suddenly obsessed with 20th century British detective fiction. Specifically, I'm interested in the ways in which Christian and specifically Protestant understandings of human nature allow the detective characters to be effective. I see that, at least for some of the detective characters, especially P.D. James' Adam Dalgleish, their Protestant understanding of man and of the universe generally allows them the insight that they need to somehow crack the case. Dalgleish is my new favorite, BTW. Wanting to work on this as a research project has given me the conveninet excuse to read all this stuff. So I'm thinking this tradition starts not with Holmes but with Chesterton's Father Brown. This is all rather vague right now, but it's an idea that I'm suddenly excited about. Really, I wonder if the 20th century British detective is this modern (and I mean modern, not post-modern) reincarnation of King Arthur and the Grail Knight and all that.

And I do realize that I've posted far too many pictures of John Thaw as Morse already on this blog. I guess that my only response would be that it's my blog and I can do what I want. But that's rather juvenile, isn't it? Clearly, in the absence of a "real" (don't you love the phrase "in a very real sense. . ."???) oh yeah, in the absence of a "real" relationship, I'm compsentating in silly ways. And, you know, I'm OK with that. If anyone was wondering my last "date" with Morse was Sunday night when I watched the "Infernal Serpent" episode.

I just realized, as I signed on, that I haven't posted anything in over two weeks! In case anyone's worried, don't; I'm just fine. I was out of town for a while, and I guess I have just been busy and distracted with one thing and another. I wish I could say that interesting (or at least funny!) developments in my personal life had been sucking up all my time. But alas, no such luck. I guess that puppy dogs and planning for the fall semester is sucking up my time, or maybe it's just a way to pass the time.

Wow, so I wish I had something really interesting to relate, but I don't. Is that sad? Or is it just OK? I don't know. I'm doing well, I think. I've been enjoying and making the most of time off school: staying up late watching movies, sleeping in, soaking in the hot tub. It's nearly enough to make me not want to go back to work. I say that now, but truthfully, time off seems to have the specific effect of making me appreciate having a job to go to, having structure to my day, having something productive to do each day. I thrive on that sort of thing.

I wish I could think of something more exciting to tell you, but I guess I'm just boring these days. Maybe boring isn't so bad, however; at least I'm happy. Well happy-ish.

Why Do Things Have to Be So Complicated?

Why do things have to be so complicated? Why can't iPods work the way I want them to? Why do other people have to be difficult and then hurt my feelings on top of it? Why can't Hugh Laurie really be Dr. House? Why can't I get to sleep at a reasonable hour? Why do I have to feel guilty about setting traps and plotting to kill the rodents that seem to be living in my garage? Why can't I have normal dogs? Why does it sometimes have to be 95 with humidity? Why dosen't anyone understand? Why can't I just be "average" instead of neurotic?

I know these are all kinda silly questions, and I know that what's really going on is that I'm feeling sorry for myself. And I know that so often life doesn't work the way that we think it's supposed to. I don't know. So often, all I want to do is cry, and believe me, I do cry plenty often. I guess the worst part is that I sometimes feel so completely alone.

I'm nearly at the end of my rope, to use an overused metaphor. Or was that a simile? Just kidding, I do know the difference. Really. My boiler needs to be replaced, which means 1) for the time being, I have a very limited hot water supply 2) the boiler has leaked and I may have some water damage in my flooring and 3) I'm going to have to spend lots of money. And I've been dealing with that all day, which is bad enough. But then earlier, I went into the garage, to check the leak from said boiler and, lo and behold, there's this mouse on the other side of the garage peeking his head over a shelf and looking at me. I suspected I had mousy visitors in my garage, but I didn't really want to have to see any of them. I guess I was in denial, which, apparently, isn't just a river in South America. There are about 10-thousand other things that could push me over that line, but I suppose that here isn't the place to go into them. The worst part of it is that all of this makes me wish I were still in California, where boilers aren't an issue. Last night, on Rachael Ray's Tasty Travels, Rachael visited the CA central coast, and when she's in Morro Bay, I'm like, "Hey, I've eaten there." And when she's in San Luis, I'm like, "Hey, I love that place!" And today's my brother's birthday, and I'm sitting here knowing that I'm in Vermont, while the rest of them are going out to dinner. And all I really want is to go home.

And once again, I want to say, "Sucks to your ass-mar."

A New Identity

Hey, so maybe what I need is this new cool, Kung-Fu, on-the-down-low, secret identity, an identity where I'm much cooler than I am in real life. Like wouldn't it be cool if, instead of being a potentially stodgy old-maid English teacher, I were a private eye? That would be kick-ass! And I could follow people around, I don't know, Santa Barbara or wherever, posing as a crocheting whatever, because that's what I do too. And I pick Santa Barbara because that's where Sue Grafton's Kenzie what's-her-name lives.

Or maybe I could be, I don't know, a performance artist of some sort. Becuase I have all these ideas for what I think would make for interesting performance art, and most of them involve inactments of the Grimm's fairy tales, with the intention of removing the pink-Disney-sugar coating of what we call fairy tales. That would be like a cool, underground, alternate life to have.

I found out recently that T., a friend and co-worker of mine, happened to interview at the same small, liberal arts college in Virginia that I interviewed at a couple of years ago. I believe that there's this weird, alternate universe where T. and I are friends but both work at the college in Virginia. Only we're much less happy than we are now at C.

And then, there's this really weird alternate reality, Bizarro World, really, where I used to be married to Huell Howser. But that would be weird enough to warrant its own post.

Writer's Block, Blogging, and Going Sane

Ok, so I've been working through Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, not for the first time. And I know that lots of you out there are probably familiar with Cameron's work, but I totally recommend this book, more of a program really, to those of us who write or who are feeling the urge to pursue creative kinds of things.

Last night, I read this, and it seems worth repeating. Cameron explains that "A related thing creatives do to avoid being creative is to involve themselves with crazymakers" (44) Crazymakers, she argues, are those people who suck up all our time, emotions, energy and resources so that we remain blocked. I'm convinced that, whether we call them "crazymakers" or not, we've all been involved with these kinds of people somewhere along the way. If we are lucky, we weren't foolish enough to marry them. But Cameron asks why we tend to involve ourselves with these kinds of people: "If crazymakers are that destructive, what are we doing involved with them? The answer, to be brief but brutal, is that we're that crazy ourselves and we are that self-destructive. . . As frightening and abusive as life with a crazymaker is, we find if far less threatening than the challenge of a creative life of our own" (49). And it seems to me that Cameron is so right, and her ideas certainly apply to many of us, not just would-be-creatives.

And so here I sit, blogging again. And I can't remember if the blogging is merely a warm up for my "real" work or if the blogging is part of my "real" work (note the use of real in apostrophes!) or if blogging is the reward. And I like being in the place where the work and the reward get mixed up because it means that the work has become the reward itself and we don't need more. But I'm blogging, in part for the same reasons that I'm reading Cameron; I want a voice and I want to go sane. Cameron says that at first, "going sane feels just like going crazy" (41). But I'm here because I'm trying my hardest to go sane, as difficult as it feels, and I'm working at cutting out the crazymakers and all the other things I sometimes use as excuses for not doing the work that I believe I'm called to be doing. I don't want to have this weird, neurotic sense of identity. I don't want to succumb to being the brooding, lonely, sacrificial-for-her-work type. I want sanity in my life, sanity, order, trust, relaxation.

Last Night's Grey's Anatomy, the Desert Island Game, and Behaving Questionably in College

Ok, so last night, they (here, "they" means ABC, I guess) reran the episode from season one where George gets all bent outta shape because Meredith and Izzy keep walking in on him in the shower. And I really have to take George's side on this one. Seriously, I'm not an overly modest person by nature, but there are limits. But the really cool thing is that Izzy is walking around in Hello Kitty underwear. So here's my confession: I sometimes wear Hello Kitty underwear. I know, I know, this may be a case of TMI; I rather tend towards sharing more than people really want to know. But seriously, this is great, because I can almost pretend that I'm nearly as cool as the chracters on Grey's Anatomy. Now, if only I'd meet my own personal Dr. McDreamy, I'd be set.

And I know this isn't the first time I've mentioned Patrick Dempsey in a post. But I love that he demonstrates that geeky guys (think: Can't Buy Me Love) can grow up to be kinda sexy but still rather geeky guys.

But then, I'm all conflicted about liking Grey's Anatomy. I mean, like Meredith, weren't we all in love with Dr. McDreamy? (Ok, Ok, I know that I throw around the phrase "in love" rather too often. I'm in love with a character on TV; I'm in love with teaposts; I'm in love with pasta with gorgonzola cream sauce; I'm in love with the perfect cuppa.) But then, like Meredith, we find out that he's married. And I hate this, when this happens on TV or in a movie, when they set it up so that you want married character to get together with someone who isn't his or her spouse. In real life, I'd be so not OK with this, but when it's Meredith and McDreamy, I want to see her with him. You don't have to be a psychoanalyst to note that I'm identifying with Meredith here. At the same time, I'm rather shocked and bothered by how promiscuious M's become, especially in season 2. In real life, I'd be pretty not OK with that, but I keep watching the show. I dunno.

"Paging Dr. McDreamy, Paging Dr. McDreamy." If I page long enough, will he show up?

Yes, deciding I'm all gaga over TV characters is all kinda dumdum of me. I know this.

Ok, so who would I rather be stuck on a desert island with: McDreamy, Inspector Morse, or Albert Campion?

When I was in college, my roomate Cort and I used to lie in bed at night giggling as we played what we called The Desert Island game. Our favorite delimma was this: Eric Karros or Mike Piazza? That's a real toss up. So, now I'm all nostalgic for C. and staying up late at night and giggling. Hey C, if you are reading this, do you remember these: "What? Frazer owns Disneyland?" "What? he has legs like Darryl Strawberry?" There were more inside jokes, but I can't remember them any more. Oh, how about this one, "You have all the qualities I'm looking for in a wife"? My mom even still remembers that one. Remember when we were accused of cheating in either OT or NT survey? Remember when we got kicked out of registration by leg-warmer lady because our skirts were deemed to be too short? Remember skipping chapel to meet the gang at Cambridge Coffee House? Oh, here's a good one: do you remember drinking Aftershock, of all the vile things, and "Thanks for coming, guys!" Do you remember when throwing pennies at Stimerman's window seemed like a good idea? Best of all, do you remember when I "went for the triangle" and split someone's lip, which of course grew out of midnight Uno games and "rubine" and, "Hey, you, placenta head!" Remember when Joybug decided that we should call Stinky by his real name because doing so would encourage more mature behavior from him? The weird part was that everytime anyone called him anything besides "Stinky," wouldn't know who was being referred to. Oh, and what about the Big D, the "momager." Wow! life seemed so much simpler back then. Seirously, I'm all teary-eyed now.

This has been a very self-indulgent post; I realize that. But it's made me laugh and cry and realize that I love Cort and Joybug and all the rest.

I'm "Outing" Myself

This announcement is worthy of my super-special-favourite (let's use the "u" in honor of Virginia W. today) pinkish font. I've done it. Per Dr. Phil's and my mother's advice, support, and urging, I've signed up at match.com. Yes, I am officially trolling the internet for prospective whatevers. I feel slightly weird about it, which I shouldn't. So I thought it best to just let the world know that this is who I am right now, today.

Teaposts

Ok, so here's a really great idea, only it's really Dolce Carina's idea, owing to a typo, but I think it's an idea worth exploring: teaposts.

Teaposts are these little roadside (or maybe even in the food court at the mall) tea shops. Maybe they are kinda like Starbuck's sans the Seattle vibe and plus a hip, British vibe. So you go into the teapost, maybe it's like a reststop along the interstate, maybe it's just in your local shopping center. And, obviously, you order a cup of tea. And they bring you this proper cup of tea, with lemon and cream. And it's not that fannings-shit-tea in a stupid tea bag, but it's looseleaf in this great strainer. And they serve it up to you in like a pretty Royal Daulton cup, and you get like your currant scone, or your ginger scone or whatever, and it's like this cool mini-break to break up the drive down the interstate, like the one from LA to San Fran when you are stuck out there in the desert with nothing but the Harris Ranch beef farm to look forward to. Or maybe, because your significant other is in this big hurry (like he can't give up 10 minutes for you to drink your tea--maybe he just doesn't get the significance of tea), you get it to go. And your to go tea still comes with all the fun condiments and what-have-you, and it's served in some pretty to go cup, something non-styrofoam.

We totally need teaposts. And when we are tired of all the things we think we should be doing, we can all meet up at the teapost, naturally with our PTs (personal transcriptionists) in tow, because in case we say anything brilliant at the teapost, we need someone to copy it down.

Wow! Thanks DC for such a brilliant idea.

Toads

Suddenly, my back yard is over run with these tiny, tiny toads. Here's a rather blurry pic of one sitting on my thumb, just to show the scale.

But really, there are toads EVERYWHERE. They are kinda interesting and pretty cute because they are so little. At the same time, it makes me rather nervous, because I worry about stepping on them, or what will happen when the lawn-guy mows, or what it will be like when they become big toads.

My guess is that they are migrating and will only be temporary visitors to my yard, rather than permanent guests.

I'm a Happy Hooker!

I realize that it may seem silly to devote a blog entry to my recent crochet projects, but they just really make me happy right now. I recently purchased the latest in the uber hip knitster Stitch N Bitch series, titled Stitch N Bitch Crochet: The Happy Hooker. While some may find the title in questionable taste, it's a great little book that gives both the basics of crochet and some super cool patterns. I just finished this great little scarf that's a bunch of crocheted flowers crocheted together! Ladies (and this is a serious offer), I love making scarves, and I really don't have need of more, so if you'd like one, let me know. Dolce Carina can tell you that I can crochet a mean (or at least a fashionable) winter time scarf. I keep thinking that I wish I could figure out how to make and SELL scarves. I mean, there has to be some chic little botique out there where hand-made scarves would sell. Or maybe I could have a web site. A friend I work with makes and sells tote bags and other assorted items on web site.

See www.zeebagsvt.com

I mean, I could do this, right? I know I wouldn't get rich, but at least I could spend those long, winter in Vermont evenings creating something that could be of use to others.

Seriously, if anyone wants a scarf, e-mail me. I'm thrilled to make them for friends!

Yummy, Yummy Pasta!

Oh, this is worth reporting! So yesterday, I made this great pasta, and it was so totally easy, thank you Rachael Ray! While the spaghetti (or whatever you want is boiling), you melt some unsalted butter in a pan with a little pepper and some olive oil. Before draining the pasta, you reserve some of the cooking water, then toss the drained pasta in the butter and oil mixture, adding as much of the cooking water as is needed to mositen everything. Finally, you add a handful or two of grated Peccorino-Romano cheese. As Rachael Ray would say, "Yummo!"

I know that some of you out there love me in spite of the fact that I'm a big fan of Rachael Ray, but this recipie was really, really yummy. It was just like really good comfort food, like Mac N Cheese for adults, all buttery and cheesy and yummy. And there was something just really satsifying about eating it, you know?

Summer School

Ok, so maybe I'm just being a big baby here--wouldn't be the first time--but I'm so thankful that this is the last week of summer school. For some reason, I had the misguided idea that teaching summer school would somehow be less stress than teaching during the regular term. I've taught summer school many times before. In fact, last summer was the first summer since I started teaching that I didn't teach at all over the summer. And in the past, it's been a positive experience. The crop of students and the workload has just been different than during the regular academic year. But this summer, the bottom dropped out, I suppose. It's not that summer school has been an inordinate amount of work, because the actual number of hours I spend working seems quite managable, certainly no more than during the regular year. The stress, however, has been nearly overwhelming. Seriously, there were several times last week and the week before when I was concerned that I'd have a panic attack and not be able to teach. Of course, I didn't have a panic attact, not at all, but the anxiety has really been bad. My neck and shoulders have been all tight and uncomfortable for the last ten days. Anyway, all of this to say one thing: I am so thankful that this is the last week. Then, in just a couple more weeks, California, here I come!!!

Virginia Woolf's The Years

Ok, this kind of thing drives me crazy, well, crazier than usual anyway. I'm working on reorganizing my books (and I'm entering them into librarything.com, just because I'm neurotic, I think), and I cannot find my copy of Woolf's The Years. I know I purchased a copy in December or January. And I know that I read it. In fact, I distinctly remember sitting at the coffee shop downtown reading and then calling Dolce Carina and goin on and on about how wonderful it was. I know I own this book! But I can't find it anywhere. And sure, I could buy another copy or whatever. Rationally, I know this isn't that big of a deal, but it's got to be somewhere, right? This kind of thing really bothers me. I wish I could just calm down and be normal, you know?

Student: I don't know why you keep giving me Cs on my essays. You keep saying bring up pacific examples, and I do bring up pacific examples. I don't know how more pacific I can be. Every time you write "be more pacific," and I do be more pacific, but you keep giving me Cs anyway.

Instructor: Would you like to make an appointment so that we can talk about this in more detail and work on improving your work?

Student: I don't know what the point would be. It seems pointless. No matter what I do, and I do be pacific, you keep giving me Cs. It's pointless.

Instructor: So are you saying you don't want to work with me outside of class?

Student: I don't know what the point would be. You give me Cs.

Instructor: The point would be that we'd sit down together, look at all your work, and talk about strategies for improving it.

Student: I brought you my rough draft that one time, and you told me what to do, and I did it. And even the rough draft you said was passing quality, and then you gave me a C anyway.

Instructor: Yes, passing quality. That's what a C means--passing.

Student: I didn't take this class to get a C.

Instructor (to herself): Well, you certainly didn't taken this class in order to learn anything.

A Survey

Ok, I have a question for the group: Do all of you know the difference between the words "specific" and "Pacific"? Because apparently some of my students think they can be used interchangeably. Am I merely expecting too much? I could scream!

Reminder to self: The work is its own reward!

I just ate the most wonderful dinner. I had this great open faced turkey burger with sauteed onion and mushrooms and gorgonzola. It was just really, really wonderful. I get excited about things like really good food.

My other project of the moment is that I'm cataloging all my books on Library Thing, which is this really fun (or maybe it's just fun for compulsive types) web site. As soon as I get things entered, I'll post a link so that you can view my virtual library or whatever. The compulsive part inside me has always wanted to type up little tags with Library of Congress call numbers so that I can organize my books accordingly. I suppose that would be going a bit far, but I just keep thinking of the deep feeling of fulfillment I'd get from such an accomplishment.

What Do I Do?

Sometimes, I wonder and wonder what I do with my time. Today, for instance, I find myself lying on the bed drinking tea, cuddling with my dogs, thinking about Dolce Carina and A.H. who sent me the most encouraging e-mail earlier in the week, and reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Brid, hoping Lamott will inspire me to get off my backside and start writing. When what I know I'm really doing is NOT writing and NOT doing the cleaning that needs to be done and NOT organizing the mess in what I'm calling my office. Only the term "office" implies that work or creativity or something is going on in that space, but it isn't. And I wonder, "What do I do with myself each day?" and, "Why aren't I doing the things that would make me happy and healthy?" and, "Why am I drinking pink sparkling wine with nachos for lunch?" And at that moment, I am afraid I'll fall apart. I think it was the recognition that I'd eaten nothing BUT nachos and cookies for the last 36 hours and there I was eating nachos again, but this time with tepid tea and sparking wine thrown into the mix. So here I am, at least writing something, no matter how innane. But I hope that someone will understand, will understand the picture of me lying on the bed and, oh I forgot to mention that while I'm doing all this other crap the Sci-Fi Channel's Twilight Zone marathon is running rather softly in the background. SIDE NOTE: One thing I LOVE about the Fourth of July holiday is the TV marathons. Currently, I'm trying to decide: Do I do productive things on the Fourth, or do I watch USA's Monk marathon all day long? Sad, isn't it, that I watch so much TV. I didn't used to be this way. But there it is.

It seemed like this rant was in order. If nothing else, I'm being honest about the state I'm in, and that's a good thing. Sometimes this state of things seems pointless, but then I realize, that I'm more relaxed in the last six weeks, since moving really, than I have been in years, quite literally. I suspect that's worth a lot in terms of my overall health and attitude and productivity. So maybe it's OK to spend Sunday afternoon listening to the Twilight Zone and reading and promising myself that tomorrow I will organize my so-called office. Maybe learning to relax is the most valuable thing I could learn just right now.

The Power of Pretend

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the power and the results, really, that seem to come from pretending. Last year, as I was writing my dissertation, a real pain in the backside, my strategy was to go into my office each day, all summer long and pretend to work on my diss for the eight-hour work day. My idea was that if I went in and sat there and pretended for long enough, eventually I'd get so bored that I'd get down to work. And it totally worked! I'd pretend for a while and eventually I'd notice that I'd be getting work done. Since then, I've applied the pretend principle to a number of areas of my life. I'd go to my office and pretend to work on other things, and work would almost magically happen. I have often struggled with insomnia. When I'm tired, I tell myself that I'll get in bed and pretend to sleep. Pretend is good enough. That got rid of some of the pressure to get to sleep. I think only people who have experienced it will understand. But the thing is that eventually sleep just happens.

So recently, I read that if one is in a bad mood or feeling depressed or whatever, the thing to do is to pretend, to act like one is feeling A-OK about life. And it works! When I think I'm in a bad mood, I try to get out of the house and behave as though I'm loving life. Eventually, I forget about the discouragement, and I am loving life. Just today, I had this weird, horrible, awful conflict with a student. During the confrontation, I felt not just irritated and frustrated, as often happens, but actually threatened by this large male specimen yelling at me. I left work feeling oh-so-frustrated. But I came home and decided to pretend. I pretended that I was celebrating. I made myself a fun, light supper. I opened a bottle of this great pink champagne. And I pretended that I was celebrating life and all my successes. And the pretend paid off. Suddenly (and I don't think it was just the alcohol), I felt like I actually had much to celebrate.

More and more, I believe in the power of pretend. I believe that if I behave as though I'm excited and positive about life, I will feel it. And if I pretend that everything will be Ok someday, maybe it will be.

Things (From the Mundane to the Miraculous) for Which I Feel Thankful Today

1. That Ruby was born healthy

2. That the sun is shining

3. My iPod (Still so in love!)

4. Really good dinners

5. Having a job that I enjoy (well, I enjoy it most of the time!)

6. Living in such a wonderful, perfect house

7. Living in such a wonderful, perfect house on such a beautiful piece of property

8. Emma and Lauren

9. Jake, Cheri, and John

10. Mexican food

11. That my parents are actually still married to one another--seems like so many in my generation are the children of divorced parents!

12. Guinnie and Polly

13. Really mindless television

14. Really intelligent television

15. Hugh Laurie

16. Cara, Cortney, Joy, and everyone else I love

17. My physical health

18. Emotional healing

19. The ability to read and write

AND

20. The Beatles

A Newfound Resolve to Blog

Ok, I know that I've not been blogging with any kind of regularity lately. There are, I think, any number of reasons for that, but they really don't matter all that much, so I'll spare you the details. I have, however, resolved to blog more frequently starting now. I rather regret letting it slide the past few weeks, I have to say, in part because I've read such interesting things, and it would be useful to have a record of what I've read and what I've been thinking about it. And maybe I'll come back to it. Let me say this: Anne Lamott is like meeting a new friend. Also, Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking was emotionally difficult to read (it's about the year after her husband of 40 some years dies unexpectedly) but is beautifully written. This just confirms my sense that Didion is a brilliant writer. Also, simply not reading fiction all the time is different for me.

But here I am with my renewed resolve to blog. My goal, as before, is to write at least one entry each day, even if it's a short, mundane entry. The important think, for me, is that I simply keep writing. It's like treading water, in some ways. It doesn't seem to always get me where I want to go, but it at least keeps my head above water until I figure out something better. My secondary goal is to write at least something, even two sentences, about each book-length thing I read. Incidentally, I just started Lamott's Bird by Bird. It seems encouraging. But maybe it's just that I like Lamott's voice as a writer.

I'm also reading Camille Paglia. Paglia, for those of you who don't know her work (and I'm not suggesting that you should) is this crazy, outspoken anti-feminist feminist. And she's got this almost frenetic energy that seems to drive her work. Although I don't necessarily agree with her, I always find her writing insightful. By that, I mean that I feel like I'm learning something or at least having to think. One thing I enjoy about Paglia is that she draws her examples from this wide array of Western culture, citing classical myth, art history, and contemporary pop culture to make one point. She's so sweeping in her range and also in her assertions, and she allows few objections. I'm fascinated by her rhetorical approach as well as her knowledge. I do have to say this, however: I am reading feminist stuff again. I seem to turn to this at uncomfortable, unsettled points in my personal life, although I'm not feeling especially unsettled at the moment. So I don't know what's going on. As far as I'm aware, I'm relatively content. I do start to wonder what's going on when feminism is appealing to me.

And so there it is, the update on what's really important in my life.

Just a Couple More Pics

I really LOVE my deck, but these pictures don't do it justice.

Planters on the Deck

Ok, these aren't the greatest pics, but I'm posting them mostly for the benefit of my mom. These show the planters and the new furniture on my deck. I wish I could take a pic that showed the whole thing, but I can't get it all to fit in a single picture.

I'm having rather a rough time emotionally lately, and the worst part of it is that I feel like it's all my fault yet I'm not fixing it. I am so frustrated, mostly with myself. And my anxiety is pretty bad. I don't know what to do. I'm just so irritated. Relaxing is really hard lately.

I guess the thing is that I don't do all the things each day that I think I'm supposed to do: yoga, pray, meditate, write. And I'm annoyed with myself. Yet I don't seem to do anything about it.

I know, also, that I've fallen behind on correspondence and such. If any of you bother to read this blog anymore, I apologize for not being a better friend. I'm not sure what's going on with me, other than I can't seem to get anything done. But I can't relax either.

I don't know what to do anymore.

Anne Lammot

Just wanted to say real quick that I'm reading Anne Lammot, and she's pretty amazing.

I really promise to blog more often; I need it!

D

"Sucks to your ass-mar"

So I've just been diagnosed with a "reactive airway," which according to my doctor is what "we used to call asthma." Apparently, "asthma" is a relatively broad term, and the medical establishment is trying to be more precise. It's really not all that big of a deal, for the most part. I have this cough that won't go away, but that's about it. And I can use an inhaler to open my air ways. The thing is that the inhaler makes me feel all amped, you know? Like I've had about three too many lattes. So I try not to use it at night.

Sometimes, I lie in bed and cough and can't stop. And all I can think is, "Sucks to your ass-mar." And that just makes me giggle which, in turn, makes me cough even more.

Green Beans

I just ate the yummiest green beans. My digestive system seems all "off" lately, and I've been feeling kinda icky. I attribute it to eating too much fried stuff and carbs. Since moving, all I want is bread, pasta, pizza, and fried sea food--not a very healthy diet. So for the next couple of days, I am only eating fruits, veggies, yogurt, and soy milk. Using EVOO and spices is fine, you know, to season and dress things. But I feel like I just need to eat really natural, cleansing kinds of stuff for a while to get back on track.

So earlier, I just quickly boiled some frozen green beans, just until they were tender, not soft and gushy. I should add that I particularly like green beans prepared just about any way. I felt like Rachel Ray or something though when I tossed them in a little sesame oil, rice vineggar, soy sauce, a tiny bit of onion and garlic powders, and a tiny dash of hot sauce. It was just like yummy, healthy, Asian green beans. Seriously, I've been watching way too much Rachel Ray. But it was divinely good!

House Pics--Interior

These shots aren't very good and don't really do justice to the interior, but here you go anyway. What they don't reflect at all are the cathedral-style ceilings in the living area. The kitchen / dining / living rooms are really one open, kind of great room.

This is the living room. What you can see here is the great window, which has a lovely view. You can also see (just a little) my new furniture.









This is a shot of the kitchen, which is still rather a mess. It's not a huge kitchen, although much bigger than what I had at my last apartment. But it's a great lay out in that the space is all totally usable. The window looks out to a gorgeous back yard.












This is the dining area, which is separated from the kitchen just by a bar. It has a great sliding glass door, as you can see, that opens onto the deck and provides this great view of the back yard. The sliding glass door is nice, as it allows Guinnie and Polly to bask in the sun.












Finally, this pic shows the view from the glass door in the dining area.

House pics--Exterior

Some of these aren't the greatest, as things are still rather disorganized around the place. But this will give you a sense of what it's like and of the projects I've been working on. I think the layout of the pics on this page may end up being kinda wacky--I have trouble with getting them just right!

Here's the front yard and the front side of the house. I just installed the solar lights along the walk way.















This is a shot of the back yard, which is quite spacious. What you can't see here is that there's a great little brook running just behind the trees. I can hear it gurgguling along when I sit in my HOT TUB!








Here's the back yard from another angle. You should note my two tier deck with a large HOT TUB! It's beautiful in the evenings to sit on the deck and listen to the birds and the brook--no city noises really. I've been working on water-sealing the deck the past couple of days

Steven Winwood, Yoga, and Emotional Eating

Here's a confession: once in a while, I enjoy Steve Winwood. There's something about Steven Winwood and George Michael that takes me back to about 8th grade. And I get nostalgic for a world that seemed simpler. However, I'm pretty sure that I'm a better person now. At the very least, I'm more comfortable with myself now, and that counts for a lot.

In addition to writing more, I need to get back on the Yoga wagon. Let me rephrase (in keeping with my work in 10 Days to Self-Esteem. You can say what you like about the concept of "self-esteem," but the book was really helpful): It would be beneficial for me to get back on the Yoga wagon. I want to feel more centered, you know? More in the moment, less of my mind in the elsewhere and "elsewhen." So I'm just articulating this in hopes that if I say it publicly I'll be more likely to follow though. Also, I say it in hopes that I'll have some sort of accountability in the sense that one or two of you will care enough to say, "Hey, D. how's your Yoga practice going?"

The other thing at the moment is emotional eating. I realize that people who have mega-metabolisms and who are not prone to emotional eating just don't get the whole thing. But I do have a tendency to eat for emotional reasons. Lately, I think it's a nesting instinct, since moving. This nesting instinct is not in itself bad. However, eating food I don't need could be destructive. I guess what I mean is that I just want to be more aware of why I'm eating when I am. And really, there are times when other activities would be more healthy than eating, activities like writing, drinking a cup of tea, relaxing, that sort of thing.

All random, I suppose.

Update on the Sock Project

I just realized that since I got busy with end of the semester and moving, not only did I let my writing go, but I also let the Sock Project slide. And it's really too bad, because I think it's one of the best ideas I've had in a long time, certainly better than the time I decided that when my roller-ball pen quit writing I should suck on the end to get the ink flowing.

Well, here's an update. A couple of weeks ago, we had graduation, and naturally we had to wear gowns and the whole regalia thing. Well, I feel pretty silly in all that, and in the past, I'd just pretended I was a student at Hogwarts as a coping mechanism. However, this time, I decided I'd wear pink, stripy knee-highs peeking out under my gown, just to add interest and to set me apart from the rest of the group. A week or so before graduation, I announced this intention to some colleagues, and T. also wore bright red socks for graduation. The effect, however, was somewhat lessened for T., as they were hid beneath his pants and shoes. But I thought I was pretty kick-ass to wear pink socks for graduation. Now I wish I'd taken pictures!

I was quite proud and thought I was certainly the most interesting faculty member that day. That is, I thought I was the most interesting until the next day when I heard that C.P. vomited (yep, hurled, blew chunks, barfed, yawned in technicolor) during the ceremony. That's way more interesting than my socks. Well, easy come, easy go, I guess.

I haven't been writing lately, I know. And there's something inside me that makes me feel like I need to be writing. So I'm renewing my committment to blogging. I figure if I say it publically, then I'm more likely to follow through.

I need to be writing and here, blogging is just the least of it, a warm up, really. I'm afraid I'll loose my sense of self if I let go of writing. I know that this sounds neurotic to those of you who aren't writers, but those of you who know what writing can mean will understand.

Well, more tomorrow, the first day of the rest of my life.

I'll write every day, starting now.

Update

Although I'm still unpacking, I'm all moved! My parents have been here all week, and between moving and visiting with them, I simply haven't had time to post anything. The move went fairly well, thanks mostly to friends and my parents. I'll post more soon. I'll e-mail you my new address soon.

Velouria

Drennan (singing): My Velouria, my Velouria / Even I'll adore you / My Velouria

*sigh* some days life is so perfectly beautiful

I'm just so tired, almost all the time. It's like any little thing tires me out, and the worst part is that it's really difficult to get much of anything done. Here I am with all this grading and packing to do, but all I really can do is sleep. Just taking the dogs out seems to require all the energy I can find, and then I feel like I need to rest for a while. And I'm pretty sure I'm not just lazy, but it's all really frustrating. And I saw the doctor again today; he wants to run more tests of one sort and another. I'm frustrated with not feeling well and frustrated with having to spend time getting all these medical things done. I don't know what to do anymore.

I know that I haven't been posting much lately. I feel absolutely overwhelmed with moving and end of the semester stuff. Really, I feel like if one more thing comes up that I have to do, I could explode (or implode, which is really much more interesting and probably less messy.) Earlier today, I was out doing errands of one sort and other. I went to the bank to make sure that I had the correct amount of money in my checking and savings accounts so that I'm all ready for the big home purchase later this week, and afterwards I planned to go to the grocery store. As I left the bank, I started to feel panicky, and I wasn't sure that I'd be able to make it to the store. I really thought I'd have a panic attack in the grocery store parking lot. But the good thing is that I was able to take a deep breath and talk myself through it all. I'm getting better and better at that. So although it was highly unpleasant, I was able to do it. I have to tell myself things like, "Ok, all I have to do is park the car. That's all I have to do," and once the car's parked, I say, "Ok, now all I have to do is lock the car and walk into the store." I know it sounds crazy, but breaking it into tiny pieces is the only way I can manage when I get panicky.

After the store I came home and made myself a calzone, which was really good, and had a beer, which was even better. FYI, my new favourite is this local organic micro-brew called Wolaver's, and I LOVE their brown ale. It's so tasty! And, really, don't we all need a fav beer? I know that some would say that 2:00 is rather early to start drinking, but I say, "It's 5:00 somewhere!"

Interesting Links:

Ok, TS sent me the following, and I think it's super-cool in that not-quite-goth kind of way:

www.michaelpaulus.com/gallery/character-Skeletons

It's totally worth checking out, in case you ever wondered what, say, Pig Pen looks like below the surface.

Here's another good one from JS:

www.houseoffame.blogspot.com

It's a blog purportedly by Geoffrey Chaucer. And really, what could be more fun than that?

Finally, no one wants to miss out on uber-geek Wil Wheaton of Stand by Me and ST Next Generation fame:

www.wilwheaton.net

If you are really in love with Wil, you can subscribe to his podcasts, apparently. That's going a bit further than I really want to go.

Maybe it's nerdy that I like all this stuff, and I'm fine with that.

Not Quite Myself. . .

I don't really like this phraseology, nor am I sure how accurate it is, but I cannot think of a better way to say it. I just feel not quite like myself lately. I'm not unhappy. I don't feel sick (like I did for a while) or sad or even discontent. I told my mom yesterday that I felt out of sorts, but that doesn't really cover it either. I just feel different, somehow. She said that it seemed to her that I was doing well lately, and I suppose I am in a lot of ways. She suggested that maybe whatever's happened in my life in the past two year or so has in some important way changed who I am, that the important things that happen to us do affect who we are. I agree with that, in theory. I don't know yet if it's applicable to me or not.

A couple of days ago, I told A. that I felt "cut adrift but still floating." Although using U2 lyrics to describe one's emotional state may be cheezy (although you all know that I have the whole thing about thinking all would be well if only there were the perfect song for each moment, the perfect soundtrack for each day), that line, as much as anything, describes what I feel. (I should attribute, I suppose: that line is from "So Cruel," which is not one of U2's better known songs. I'm pretty sure it's on Achtung, Baby.) But I am still floating; I get up each morning and breathe in and out and go to work and do what needs to be done. Inside, I feel unmoored or something. Does that make sense?

The other part of it is (maybe this is just being overly introspective and insecure on my part) that I feel like I used to be this interesting person who did interesting things and read interesting books and had interesting things to say to those who would take the time to listen. Now I feel like maybe I'm just going through the motions and am not nearly as interesting as I used to be. I have no idea why being "interesting" is even so important to me. Is this simply the manifestation of some other insecurity that I'm not acknowledging? I hope not. I have worked and continue to work on becoming a stronger, better, emotionally healthier person. I don't want to be stuck in insecurity any more.

I guess I'm just trying to sort things out. I am allowing for the possibility that maybe I'm just tired and overworked and that once the semester is over and I move this will all take care of itself. I'm also allowing for the possibility that this is simply a symptom of the larger loneliness I feel.

Reflection on Blogging. . .

I just decided that instead of posting silly, obligatory posts, I will only blog when I have something to say, like, "Hey, isn't that Wil Wheaton swell?" or, "Does anyone know a good recipe for strawberry sorbet?" No really, I'm only going to post when there's something I want to say or I'm having that need to write, the psychological, emotional one that makes me feel like I better write NOW or I might implode (which is much more interesting than exploding). I figure I'll just spare myself and all of you having to read some banal thing about how I'm writing because I think I have to and blah, blah, blah.

But the more I think about it and the more I do it, blogging has come to serve this important function in my life. And there are things besides blogging that can do it too; I mean, I write in my journal or e-mail Dolce Carina for some of the same reasons. So I guess that I don't exactly need to blog. Still, it's good for me, like the whole pressure valve thing, if you know what I mean.

Incidentally, with each passing day, I am increasingly confused (or maybe just increasingly honest) about what it is I want from an intimate relationship. Still, I am convinced that I'll know it when I see it. But the weird part about it is that I am OK with being confused; I'm mostly comfortable with it. And that's unlike me. I guess maybe it represents emotional growth that I can be accepting of myself in this way. Still seems weird though. Oops, this whole paragraph is not clearly within the stated focus of this post. I think I'll leave it anyway. It seems important somehow.

The great thing, the empowering thing about blogging is that I'm honest and then all that honesty is just out there. I mean, it's empowering in that I'm, maybe for the first time in my life, saying exactly what I'm thinking and feeling and not worrying about what other people will think, you know? I just say it, and it's there for the world to see. I guess it feels like I'm being totally honest about what I believe and what I'm feeling, and for once, I don't feel the need to apologize for it. I like this. This is reason enough to blog.

So I know this was all pretty random and that most of you aren't too interested, and that's OK too. To me the important thing is not who reads it but simply that I write it.