Things I Sometimes Forget

• Lying in sand so white it looks like snow, while the sun beats down in waves on my back, heart throbbing into the hollow just beneath my stomach, a grittly cool hole that cradles me. Smelling the coconuty tinge of someone else's oil. Feeling regret that it will not last forever as you look out at the water which is impossibly greenblue and just the warmness of cool bathwater and salty on your skin. Eyelashes wet with drops of water, framing the white crashing surf .
  
• A hammock in the shade, dappled green, and a small black cat wanting to lie on your stomach. Birds circling on wind-currents above-- endlessly looping in their quest. One green lizard breathing and bobbing on the dry wooden decking, tasting a white flower briefly before moving away so fast you doubt he was really there.
  
• The quiet humming of an air conditioner while you lie on the softest cream-colored sheets you've ever seen, in a small hotel room in London, while around you a city out of history swirls busily with tourists and workers and bustling cars. You and him alone, napping, and the feeling of endlessness that will end.
  
• The smell of a horse who loves being brushed, as the sun goes down-- earth and dirt and sweat and grass and musk.
  
• Standing at an airport to wait for a man I am in love with but not yet admitting to love, watching the crowd of blurry faces for him, not seeing him, not seeing him, then, suddenly, he is there but going in the wrong direction. Chasing quietly after him, not really wanting to yell out his name in case you're wrong, but giggling slightly at the silliness of desperately chasing someone who is looking for you.
  
• That winter, even one which someone else would think of as mild but still keeps my toes never quite warm or dry enough, will ever end.

Ew ew and horribly horribly ew!

I just read about the Swiss artist who uses real dead animals in her artwork--cats & bunnies and stuff--on one of the blogs I read. It's horribly disturbing. The pictures are not at all pretty, I don't think. The gallery on which the pictures appear says "Most people who see Nathalia's pictures for the first time are impressed by how beautiful they are." I don't think they are beautiful at all. It's bad, obscure, stupid art, in my opinion. I guess everyone has a right to their opinion, but still.

There's something that looks like a tear in the eye of the bunny that was on Mock Turtle. So I think about this.... is the problem I have with it that the animals she's used "so far" are domesticated pet-types? What is the difference between killing an animal for art and putting its head on a pedestal of some sort, and having a big, juicy hamburger? Is there a real difference, or is it only degrees of difference? What happens to cow heads that become McDonald's product?

I mean, I like meat. I really wish and have done so many times that I could make myself commit to becoming vegetarian... I understand it's my choice, and that it's totally selfish of me to not make it. But that doesn't mean I don't generally realize how horrible and hypocritical it is of me to claim to care that a bunny or cat is killed for art's sake but not mind because a less-cute animal dies for my lunch. It's a very problematic conundrum-- one I'm not sure how to settle. But I do have to say that there seems to be some degree of worse evil if the animal is merely being used to create art. It's a lot like the deer on a wall-hanger "art" that one finds in Texas a lot (hunters, you know). But at the very least, I can say that the meat was used and not just tossed away (most hunters consume their stuff.)

Anyway. I feel this entry spinning out into a place I didn't really want it to go. This is a disturbing kind of art. I get it that art is supposed to make us uncomfortable-- but I don't think it's supposed to have other helpless victims too. As Andrew very concisely put it, "it's the pointlessness of it that's disturbing." The woman could use digital manipulation to do what she does. That's part of the upsetting nature... it's like the "rabbit died" pregnancy tests of the past. As soon as they could do it otherwise, they did. So why keep killing innocent animals just to take pictures of them? Especially if your message is so obscure that the only political thing we get from it is the animal rights one?

Weather Pixie Just Doesn't Understand

The cute weather pixie on my blog is intriguing. It's currently 49degrees F in San Antonio, according to my "Weather bug" program. The program "weather pixie," designed by a person in, I think, England, has her wearing a crop tank top and low rider pants, standing outside. Really, in Texas, when the temp goes below 60ish F, Texans pull out heavy duty anoraks and parkas like they were starring in the Martin Scorsese version of To Build a Fire.

We don't handle cold well. She should be bundled up. Perhaps 49 degrees F is warmish, spring-like weather to folks above the Mason-Dixon line. But it's frickin' cold here. Put on a sweater, for god's sake.

Ms. Short Term Memory

Hey, remember that Saturday Night Live skit with Tom Hanks as Mr. Short Term Memory? It was on TV just now. Pretty funny, and sometimes you just feel that way. Hey, remember that Saturday Night Live skit with Tom Hanks as Mr. Short Term Memory? Yeah. Me too.

Wherein We Discover That Chocolatinis are Spawn of the Devil and Should Never Ever Be Consumed Again

I think I won the Trivial Pursuit game. I can't actually remember the final question, but we were tired of the unending-ness and boosted the end up. But still, I just think there should never be that much vodka in the house. One bonus is that for some strange reason, having a hangover reminded me that I still hadn't paid my tuition for Spring 04. So instead of lying in bed worrying about it, I just paid it. Now I'm going back to bed. With my credit card properly stowed and yet another semester of graduate school assured. Weeee.

Pie. Glorious Pie.

Playing Trivial Pursuit DVD edition. I have three pieces of pie, currently. And, I have consumed more chocolatinis than I can actually recall. So talk to me tomorrow about how much I like this game. It actually rocks more than the old Baby Boomer version. I kinda dig it. What Is "ValLEY GIRL" SpeAk for "BAg YOur" ?????? guesS? My frIeNd AArON is sCrEwing wiTH THE caPs KeY. he IS A dOoFUs. aNd smelly too.

I have four pieces of pie. I rock.

Kim's Christmas Photo Essay

This Just IN!! My photos of the Florida trip, such as they are, are posted here. They replace the Halloween party pix. More Christmas shenanigans will probably follow, but these are fine for now. There is a bit of journalistic bias about my hair, and I don't know why I didn't take any of anyone other than Sara, Todd, Erin, and the two Wellses. Sue me.

Leaf Blowers Make Great Household Cleaners

Yes. That is a picture of my husband, cleaning the living room with a leaf blower. He's done it before-- I just never had the digital up and ready for him. See, we have hardwood floors & a black cat. And lots of black furry balls get in corners where the damn swiffer and/or broom takes FOREVER. So, when we're about to have some sort of party (as in Christmas eve festivities which I will NOT give you details about, cause it's just too damn icky; trust me on this you don't wanna know) he sometimes whips out the YARD TOOLS and blows the little catfur tumbleweeds right out into the back yard. I really don't mind. He believes I don't mind because the Spark.com thinks I'm a man... and that most women would freak out if they came home and found their own little version of Tim Taylor leaf blowing the living room. Hey. I think the corners look nice all shiny & clean and do not mind as long as he doesn't break anything. Is that so wrong?

Poor Velma?

Did you ever wonder if Velma got tired of being the smart girl, and just wanted to get lasik, or at least contact lenses? Or, if she really liked hiding behind her big, black, unattractive eyeglass frames while Daphne snagged all the cute guys? Because we all know what happens after the cute guys leave Daphne for some other girl and Daphne, Velma, Shaggy & Scooby have a long all-nighter with Haagen-Daz and brownies, talking about how they actually thought they might have seen Daphne's ex on America's Most Wanted. You know. To make her feel better about him dumping her for that waitress at Dairy Queen.

Maybe Velma secretly was a sexpot. I mean, you know what happens in the videos when the librarian in ugly glasses whips the glasses off, flops her hair around, Charlie's Angel's style, and goes after the cute young guy who's been in the library writing his Master's Thesis on, say, Slime Molds. Maybe Velma earned her way through college as a stripper at a tasteful "gentlemen's club". Or, perhaps she was a brainy college student by day, porn queen by night.

But, let me tell you. At night, after Velma took off her glasses, even after having to squint around desperately looking for those glasses after putting them down, cause she can't see to find the stupid things without them, and then settled down next to a good, thick book and a glass of Merlot, after a long day nabbing cleverly costumed criminals and having Fred take the credit for it all AGAIN, well. Let's just say Shaggy wasn't the only one who understood the value of a Peanut Butter and Jelly pizza topped with Scooby Snacks. But that still doesn't mean she wasn't a smoldering sexpot. Behind those dark frames may have lurked a woman who was undressing you with her eyes. I mean, how else did she know all those "ghosts" were really Mr. Jenkins from the real estate office? She knew, cause she had memorized every inch of his ruggedly handsome face and strong, gently calloused hands.

Today's Activities

Number One: Breakfast-- eat that yummy banana bread you made yesterday. Two: Start Cooking for Christmas Eve Family Event..... make Texas style beans, chili, tamales. Do not spend all day baking. HEB makes fine cookies. Especially that pecan tart with shortbread (wow) crust. Three: stress over nothing. Screw the holidays if they can't take a joke!

I've noticed in a couple of blogs a sense of frustration and anxiety over the holidays. I'm sure part of that comes from working in retail-- it's the absolute worst time of the year to have to earn your living in the mall or any other place where frantic, glazed-eyed zombies search for an elusive "perfect gift". Me, I just have to ignore students who didn't bother with their grade all semester but after it's totally too late to do anything about it, want to "meet with me." Yeah, man. I'll meet with you. I hear that there's a cold front moving into Hell right now. Just wait till it's there, and I'll arrange a quick little meeting for me to "justify" you lame-o grade to you. But heck, that is easy! I just have to happily delete emails I'm not required to answer and ignore any phone messages. I remember when the first George Bush was out of office, and some reporters were clamoring for some kind of comment on something, and he said "I don't have to answer you people anymore." That's how I feel.

So anyway, I got distracted. What I really wanted to discuss was Christmas. This year, I'm fairly okay with it. Yes, I felt cranky and scrooge-like when it started being "Christmas" at retail outlets shortly before frickin' Halloween. And I don't like yard decorations. And I have yet to try the gingerbread or eggnog lattes at Starbucks cause I don't want to be jonesin' for them the rest of the year when they're not available. But all in all, I'm sort of looking forward to various aspects of the holiday season. Andrew & I had a good time in Florida with the relatives there-- photos will be forthcoming eventually. Some cool beach time was spent. We traipsed around this very cool condo that's going up on the end of Pensacola beach pretending it was at all possible we were going to buy the million (yes, that's right) dollar penthouse condo. Yes, it did have a really fabulous view. It was cool! But altogether, the condo felt a little "retirement village"ish. Even if there was a snowball's chance we could afford a million dollar condo. (With three smallish bedrooms). Today, I'm hosting the Christmas eve traditional San Antonio tamale feast. And tomorrow, we'll drive out to the lake house to spend some time with extended family there. There are even (gasp) possibly board games in the future. If I could get everyone to wear the same sweater (preferably red, with a flashing reindeer nose on it) I might have to try. It's all part of my evil plan to be happy instead of miserable, and so far, it's actually working. The whole "no-gifts-for-anyone-other-than-people-you-actually-know-something-about-buying-gifts-for" plan has worked admirably thus far.

Christmas doesn't have to be the commercial suck fest it often is. It can be a time to hang out and eat good food, and hang out with those family members you don't want to throttle after ten minutes in the room. But you do have to work at it.

I Hate To Ruin a Good Ending But

I think the Corey Hart entry would've been a good way to end the year. Really. But now I'm back in old San Antonio, after a trip to Florida and a photo essay to follow soonish, and I thought I might as well ruin a good ending by adding a few things. So. Tonight-- a bottle of Perrier Jouet champagne, yummy steaks & sweet potatoes, and a movie. Holes. Pretty good. I recommend it highly.

Corey Hart Rocks The House Old School

So the last pre-Christmas craziness is done (other than the cross-country trek to spend two days with family who may not all be there-- and by that I don't only mean "not all there crazy"). I finished my shopping and my "personal assistant to Andrew's dad" shopping. I got the tree up with a nice little "timer" to turn the lights on. I decorated the fireplace and the rest of the house. We are officially a Christmas-zone. Not a crazy Griswoldian zone though. Target wasn't even that bad. But just for those faithful readers out there to be up on this, I won't be blogging again till after Christmas, since tomorrow starts the eternal family quest round of visits. Off to Florida. Then back here the 23rd for family stuff, till just after the first of the year. Anyway. Doesn't leave much room for thoughts to share with total strangers about my private life. :) While I'm gone, amuse yourself with the Online Etch-a-sketch, courtesy of the movie Elf. (Which I haven't seen. Probably a video pick). So a good one to end your year with.

On the way to Target, I heard Corey Hart on the radio, singing "Sunglasses at Night." I thought, "whatever happened to good old Corey?" I had such a crush on him-- with his Elvis-like little crooked sneer-smile and his croony flipped hair and cute little fonzi-esque leather jacket. So dreamy. So now I've answered my own question by googling the man. http://www.coreyhart.com/. Apparently Corey is a dad; will have a new baby in, like, a month. Four kids. Figures such a cute boy would have lots of cute kids. You can listen to a new version of the song on this site, and the main page is sort of "bloggish." Funny.

I have to say I like the old version much, much more. There was something sort of "bad-boy who would break your heart and leave you with a collection of cheap silver jewelry, declaring his love for you while he dated your sister" creepy about that slow guitar riff in the background. The new one is a bit too DJ'd sounding, like something the tuxedo-clad DJ at Seville Quarter used to mix up for us back in the 90s. But boy, that song brought back memories of high school and crushes and cruising down pristine white-sand Florida beaches wearing your sister's coolest bikini, with a wine cooler in one hand and your best girlfriends next to you and a guy named Howard (who we called "the duck") scamming on you..... you know what I'm talking about. Awwwww yeah. Except for Howard, (who was old enough to be my, well, older uncle) it was allllll good.

where the @#$%**!! did I put the Christmas lights?

Okay. I think I threw them away during the re-packing stage last year. I remember they were hopelessly tangled and I decided that this year would be a good time to get new ones. So now I have to head off to Target. And maybe TJ Maxx. Cause GOD KNOWS I didn't spend enough money on three complete seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer yesterday on DVD. Hey. It's for my dissertation, dammit! There's no investment like an education! (The DVDs. Not the Christmas lights).

If you happen to see a woman laughing quietly but maniacally as she strolls around Target's Christmas decor section today, offer her a free latte at Starbuck's or something. Make it one of those peppermint ones. Cause she'll probably really really need one.

spellchecker is our friend. let's not forget that ever again.

Okay. I'm worried.

It occured to me as I was brushing my teeth that my hair looks an awful lot like it did when I was about 13. Back then, the "long straight unstyled" look was NOT cool. I mean, this was the era of lots o hairspray and big big curly stuff. Heather Locklear TJ Hooker hair.

Nowadays, it's cool to have long, sleek, unstyled hair (right?). (Although it's still not cool to say nowadays). But is it wrong to notice that you resemble yourself from, oh, more years than I care to relate?

Or am I just making a mountain out of a mole-hill again?

More news from the Christmas party....

I hate it when you get so drunk that people have to, for weeks, tell you the embarassing things you did at a party cause you just don't frickin' remember! Apparently, in between pestering the guy who looked like my dead college professor Omar, and the other guy who I told, apparently many many many times that he looked like "a cute Prince Charles" I did many other embarassing things. Including an incident which left one friend commenting that I have very strong thigh muscles.

Why, oh muse of alcohol, do you make me so silly? Why can't I be disturbingly poetic and write stunning verse that people, for generations, will say "Oh, yes. That was a writer." why?? Instead, I hug guys who look like former dead teachers and tell them they need more "bling bling." Must be the Irish genes.

What Kind of Villain Are You?

I am:



What Type of Villain are You?

mutedfaith.com.


It sort of figures. I'm fairly certain professional villain is just another word for graduate student.

Okay, I've got pizza, I've got strawberry & lime margaritas (swirly margs is the technical term). I've got the entire 2 seasons of Family Guy on DVD. And I've got: 0 out of 3 invited guests. Sad face.

On another note: when you accidentally spill water from the fridge water dispenser down your pants and it looks a little bit like you wet yourself, a good thing to do is go change pants before those late friends get here. I'm going to do so now. :)

And now for a "medical things about Kim you really didn't want to know" update: my achilles tendon area hurts. Oweee. Does this mean I'm vulnerable to arrow shot there?

Oh, also, if you were reading the "boob watch" earlier, my cousin K pointed out that I hadn't mentioned it in a while. They're fine, thanks. It's my contraceptive method, I believe. Too many hormones. But I'll be fine with a little chocolate. And time. And a fair freaking universe where women don't have to turn into the incredible hulk every single month.

Important Note

Never, ever, put the word suck into google image search. Don't do it. Really. Don't get that "she's joking, so I need to try it" mood going. No. Stop it. Quit....no..... I warned you.

And before you ask me why I did it: It was a poetic experiment.

But I do say the word suck an awful lot in this blog. Hmmm. I probably should think about that some.

Margaritaville

Don't know the reason; I stayed here all season... but there's booze in the blender, and soon it'll render, that frozen concoction that helps me hang on....

The semester is officially O-V-E-R!! I turned in my grade sheets today with only a few minor feelings of guilt and glee over handing out mostly Bs and As and a couple of Cs. And a couple of Fs, but only people who never ever ever came to class. What in the world happens to some students who pay their money, then never come, but never drop either? Oh. I know. They show up two years later asking for me to change their grade (duh! happened this year. yup). There's a blog here about it somewhere.

It is both pizza and margarita night. Usually it's just the first, cause dude, it's like, Monday. But not today! Today is officiall FRI-Ha-Ha-HI-IIIIDAY!

Saddam

So we caught the bogeyman-- well, at least Saddam Hussein. I guess it will be a great day for politicos to either announce great victory or claim defeat (perhaps because it took so long) and/or point out that Ben Laden is still out there. I saw a photo that I guess was supposed to be him-- with a very shaggy beard, looking pathetic and a little freaked out (they were looking in his mouth-- I guess to check his dental records?) It's a fascinating turn of events. Does this mean some (at least) of the resistance we've encountered in Iraq will fade? Or get worse? Can the US declare great victory and pull out now, thus ending what is turning into a bit of a nightmare scenario but saving face? I know that there has never been a real link to Hussein and the 9/11 attack. But I do know that a man who had hundreds of children in prison for refusing to serve in the military deserved to be taken out of power. I just am not sure we should be the police of the world.

I read somewhere that the supposedly Chinese curse "May you live in interesting times" is not actually a Chinese curse, but originates somewhere else-- probably some PR person like the supposed Chief Seattle speech. But wherever the interesting times curse comes from, it certainly does work. I think non-interesting times are generally much better for a majority of people.

Sing it

But Do You Recall, the Most ::insert synonym for sad here:: Reindeer of All?

I have to admit that I don't really get into Christmas yard decorations. I put up my little Christmas tree, and a few decorations around the house. Not a whole lot, though. I do like the blinking lights of the tree, and I like the way it looks sort of "homey" when I drive up and can see the twinkling blue, red, green and white lights in the front room "garden window." But I live in a suburban neighborhood where, for years, I have watched an obsession grow.

This obsession, you ask? Yard reindeer.

Some houses have white wire sculpted reindeer with little white lights around the wire scupture. I've noticed a number of them this year with little twinkly blue lights in front of them, like they were grazing on little blue flowers. They look kinda cute at night, but in the day, against a backdrop of slightly green to brown dead grass & live oak trees, it just doesn't say "holly jolly Christmas" to me. Today I drove past a house that had two reindeer strung on its roof-- I think they were supposed to evoke Santa having just landed, but really, they looked like victims of an unfortunate incident, left behind because Santa has a schedule to keep, dammit!

Down the street is a house with plywood reindeer, very flat, with "insert slot a into tab b" stylings. They have a fairly large number of them-- but they are always getting blown over by the wind. So they are in various states of lying flat on their sides with little plywood white hooves flailing about in the air.

People. Please. Reindeer are majestic, beautiful creatures when found in knee deep snow. But in a slightly brown/yellow yard "deep in the heart of Texas," reduced to wire and plywood, and flopped over on their sides like a fish out of water? Well. It's just sad.

Grading Jail Again

Okay, so today I won't be blogging much. I MUST grade the last bits of student stuff. So blechity blech. Go read some other blogs. Start with the ones I link and then use their links to find more. You know you wanna.

New system

I'm checking to see if this new comment system works.

Okay, on this comment system-- it's new, and I JUST signed up for it a little bit ago, and it doesn't seem to be working quite perfectly yet. Give it a couple of days (at least one) before worrying too much about it. Hopefully it'll all be fine soon. I even paid for this system, and it seems to work FINE on other blogs I've visited. So we'll be patient and see.

My clothes are exponentially reproducing

and not in a good wayI know I said I was going to the gym. Just in a sec. I had to explain this in case when I pull open my sock drawer in a sec, I am buried under an avalanche of un-matched socks.

In all of my drawers, there is this huge pile of crap I never wear, don't remember buying, and that doesn't match. And honestly, it really really seems like there is more every day.

Are you guys losing clothes? Cause maybe there's a wormhole somewhere sucking all your stuff into my drawers.

huh. huh. I said drawers. and sucking.

Stuff

Does it take anyone else but me FOREVER for my blog to load? I am wondering if it's something in the template coding, but am not sure what to remove and/or edit to fix it. But maybe it's just my computer?

Okay. I took the style sheet/skin that was making the blog load SOOOOO SLOWWWWWLY out. But I did basically keep the style that the blog was in, cause I liked that look. It's not as cool, but I don't want the blog to take a year 1/2 to load! Maybe if I find another version of the style sheet that doesn't have whatever was wrong with that one, then it'll be otay. Also, comments do not seem to work. Comment This may be down right now, but I'll try to put them back. It's not like people were making very many of them-- not like the 100s you see on some other sites.

Holy Hand Grenade Batman! I just realized how long I've been working on this issue! I need to get ready soon and go to the gym and other stuff. And the cat is yelling at me too.

Why Ex-Cute Guys Become Creepy

This morning I was thinking about, for some reason, guys I once dated. (I won't call them boyfriends cause they don't really deserve that title). Not in a "miss them" sort of way, but in a "wow I'm glad that is an EX" sort of way. Partly in relation to a good friend who keeps dating the same evil woman (not really, it just turns out they are all part of the same pod-group-collective of evil women). Because the last one he dated thought the nice things he was doing for her were truly sinister-- that he was manipulating her by being kind and caring. (Wow. She needs therapy.) And I told him, yes, that sometimes something you might do that feels really really romantic if you're "the one," if done by the "wrong guy" can end up being really creepy.

For example (you knew one was coming, right?): I dated this guy that looked a little bit like Dave Navarro from Jane's Addiction for a very short couple of weeks. He seemed pretty fun at first, and exactly like the kind of "won't take anything too seriously" guy I needed at the moment. You know, the one you can date a few times and move on to another guy without really breaking anyone's heart cause he wouldn't get too hooked on you right away cause he's a party guy? After a few dates, I found out that the "casual" drugs he said when we first met that he had used (not used then, but told me about then) were anything BUT the minor ones I had no problem with. He actually had a really serious problem that resulted in jail time. So as I was trying to carefully ease my way out of a relationship (carefully cause he creeped me out so much I thought that if it wasn't careful, he might go crazy & do really really crazy things) with said crazyguy who I worked with, taking his jacket I had borrowed back to his house, he painted "I heart Kim" on his wall with a spraycan of red paint. The creepy part? The heart was pierced with a needle. I kid you not.

So the painting on the wall might be sort of romantic, given a cool wonderful guy who I wasn't at that very moment dumping because of a drug problem. But the needle thing just pushed it so over the "I will talk about this in therapy someday" edge. Don'tchathink?

And right this second, I am freaking out cause my mom will read this blog and go-- "I knew I didn't like that guy."

Well me neither. That's why I married the other one. The non-creepy one.

65 MILLION Girls Denied Education

Can you believe these findings by the UN? Basically, the story says that part of the problem is fees-- when a poor family has to pay to send children to school, they are more likely to pay for the sons to go and not the daughters. Sometimes, here in the US in academic circles where everyone is privileged enough to be able to go to school, I think we forget that there really are still people out there who are systematically discriminated against. It's not a case of a perceived unfairness; it is truly a systemic ban on women learning.

And then the funny(?) part: when I first posted this entry, I forgot to run spell-check and had spelled two easy words wrong. I really suck.!

Silly

I got this in an email today, and I think it's neat. But as an English teacher, I do have to warn: don't do this in a formal assignment!

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Fcuknig amzanig huh?

Off to give the final exams to one class. Oh, and work out if I can get my act together in time!

Two groups of people that make me go "hmmmm."

Group One: Okay, so today, I was roaming about like a Christmas zombie, trying to think of what to buy not only for the people on my list but for my father-in-law who always ropes me into doing his Christmas shopping for him. I went to lunch with said father-in-law at Luby's, a cafeteria style place we have here in Texas. It's not bad food-- not fabulous, but not bad. They've gone recently to an "all you can eat buffet" concept-- sort of-- it's still where you go through the cafeteria style line and the servers give you your plate of stuff, but you can get anything and everything you want. I got a little ground sirloin patty, some corn and some squash. I was totally full on my three tiny little things. Most people, though, got three or four "meat" items, PLUS three or four veggie items (including fattening things like mac & cheese and mashed potatoes loaded with gravy). Those trays places like that have, large ones, were totally full. It was really disgusting. I guess I didn't notice it as much before I went on my fitness kick, but it AMAZES me how much food people think is appropriate to eat in one sitting. The amount of food people were having FOR LUNCH on a regular workday is enough to feed me at least for say, three meals. Maybe more. And I'm not saying this in a "see how conservative I am at eating" but in a "see here, folks, is why you can't lose that weight" and why Atkins diet is so frickin' popular. Never eat more than you can carry yourself!

Group Two: At the mall, I passed by one of those knife stores. I peeked in, and there were some very elaborate, fancy daggers (what do people use those for? You don't cut your steak with them... but theoretically, there's not much call for stabbing and throat slitting in modern society). There were about ten people milling about in the store, including: a person who looked like the stereotypical teen computer nerd-- complete with a few bright spots of acne. A young-ish couple-- he "typical redneck guy" and her "bleached blond" still-carrying-around-the-baby-weight. And an older hippy type who looked a bit like Jerry Garcia. In other words-- your basic, normal, typical folks. I don't get it. Is there really much call in today's society for a ceremonial 12 inch jewel encrusted dagger? Maybe they need knives like that to fight off the competition for all that food at the buffet.

Just a couple of observations. I don't have any firm pronouncements on either group-- I just don't know what it is about them that makes me feel like commenting. What do these small microcosms have to say about the world in which we live?

Later

Finally. A Political Party I can get behind. Later.

Grrrrrrr.

Grrr. Here's an annoying thing from student slacker (who had an annoying habit of surfing the Internet while I was lecturing-- and probably thinks I was too stupid to notice). On his last document, he got a grade based partly on the fact that his last project wasn't quite the way I asked it to be from class discussion-- something I talked about in class lecture, and gave multiple samples of, dozens of times, and virtually every other student did properly.

He comes up to me and says "his sister was a tech writing major" and she was the one who took out all the personal stuff-- which is why he got a B. Well too frickin' bad dude. Just because your sister did fine in tech writing, doesn't mean that she has any idea what I was looking for! She would understand the concept of audience-- and me as audience told you to do it one way. You're the one who was in my class, and should have heard my discussions of what to include. I don't care that she is a tech writer for company XYZ. This is not, exactly, a tech writing course. It's technical communication, and the grade standards are BY ME. If you have a problem with your grade, take it up with your sister, dude, not me. She gave you bad advice. And then, as I'm explaining this, he gets all huffy and says "I was just talking to you about it, asking for more explanation" like I'm being mean to him. And said "I'm not challenging the grade or anything." Yes you are man. Bringing up the "my sister is a tech writer" says "she's more of an expert than you are." Tough toenails. Tough toenails. Tough toenails. (Repetition deliberately added for emphasis).

Here is a tip from me to you, if you're a student. Don't get all up in your teacher's face about grades. Consider exactly what you want to say before you do ask questions. If you think your teacher is really unfair, then that is one thing, but if you just have some lame-ass excuse for why you didn't work very hard, and somehow think the teacher is too stupid to see what kind of work you put into a document, (and therefore deserved the grade it got) then suck it up. You know what you really really deserved. Never ever ever ask your teacher to justify your grade to you. This is directly confrontational, and a way of you trying to weenie your way out of the grade you deserve. If you want to point out an error in the numerical grading, or point out a thing the teacher missed, or ask a question like "how could I have made this better," then that is fine. But standing there with your paper in your hand and saying essentially "I think your grading sucks and you're wrong about what I deserved" doesn't get you anything. I know people will think I'm being a jerk about it. But the deal is this. There are certain things that a teacher does to come by your grade. If you have a certain grade, chances are really good that there are many reasons for it. Especially in a writing course where there's not a 1::1 correalation between points deducted and your score. It's not completely quantitative; sometimes it's a quality judgement. Maybe that seems unfair, but again, DUDE, who ever told you life was fair?

Morning has broken.... la ti da da ti da daaaaaaaa....

On the ""Which Finding Nemo character are you" " quiz, it says I'm Dory, the blue fish played by Ellen. Hmm. I tend to agree. It would be funny to repeat myself several times here to re-emphasize my similarity with the little fishy blue, but I'll save you from that.

I am very sleepy, and my head still hurts. Who knew dancing was so dangerous? I think it's slightly possible I might have even given myself a mild concussion from that dancing escapade. I wonder what Jeffrey's face looks like. I know he bonked his face on the bar too. At the time it was funny. Now it really really is not.

Today's the last day other than final exams that students will be bargaining and negotiating for better grades. (I hope. I may not answer my cell phone for a while). I feel kind and elf-like about the ones whose grade dipped unreasonably because of stupid mistakes and not really malicous naughty student behavior and they may get extra kindness on the final grading. They're lucky I'm not in "Buffy Vamp Face" mode.

Boy does my head hurt.

Last night was Nissa & Aaron's big Christmas party, and at some point, Jeffrey & I were being silly & dancing. He "dipped" me, and banged my head on A&N's bar. It was funny at the time, but right now, I have a giant sore goose egg on the back of my skull. Can you say "stupid dancing stupid stupid?" Cause I would, but it would hurt my head too much.

I watched Down With Love tonight. Eh. It was so-so. I remember when it first came out there was all this talk about it, and it sounded sort of cute. I think it was kind of over-rated. I've been fairly disappointed with my movie watching choices lately. The other night I watched Charlie's Angel's 2, which I don't recommend at all to anyone. Anyone. It was really bad. I remember around the time IT came out there was all this complaining about how Demi Moore spoiled things because right around the time the movie came out the public heard about her & Ashton Kutcher (I'm not sure that's spelled right, but I really don't care.... it's close enough). I am pretty certain now that were it not for Demi's boy-toy action with a man young enough to be her son, far fewer people would have gone to the movie. Piffle.

Hell Freezes Over: Kim Becomes Exercise Freak

This just in from our Hell office, record low temperatures have been noticed in the outer rings of Hell because Kim has signed up to become an aerobics instructor. She will take several workshops in early 2004 which will allow her to instruct people on how to aerobicize. Spokespeople from Kim's office said that it will not be her only profession; just a sideline that keeps her busy while she also finishes her doctoral work. Those who remember Kim saying at times in the past how much she hated working out were stunned at the news. "She used to always say the only reason we would ever see her running was if someone was chasing her or if the ice cream truck was in the neighborhood" said one interviewee.

Yes, it's true. I have officially signed up on the afaa website to become a certified aerobics instructor. The classes are in January and early February. I'm waiting for my "study guides" to come in the mail. I'm fairly sure I can handle the content. (insert sarcastic look here). But it's cool. I was telling Andrew that I can handle two things from the 1. fitness 2. dissertation 3. teaching thing at once. So since I'm not teaching, I can handle the other two. This semester has seen me fall off a bit from the aerobics thing, as well, and I think it's more important at this point to keep healthy and write than teach students how to write a thesis statement (something others can do for me while I'm busy.) You just wait till I'm all buff. (Buff-er). (Buff-est).

Temporarily Single Girl's Guide to Dining Out Alone

Here's a tip on what to do if you decide, cause you're a liberated woman dammit, and can go out to a nice restaurant alone if you want, to treat yourself, and you find yourself seated next to a self-centered young woman and her remarkably tolerant male companion. As she chatters incessantly about her relationships with men other than her companion (who must be a masochist of some sort, and who, amazingly, still pays for the entire meal without even an offer from her to chip in), thirty minutes of "so then I'm like... and he's like... and then she goes.... whatever"-- you, who still must insist on enjoying your glass of Chianti, and Italian herbal soup and blue cheese salad with walnuts, you must not appear to eavesdrop on their inane and tedious and largely one-sided conversation as fodder to place later in your blog. Do not appear in the least bit interested. Heaven forbid your ears turn slightly towards the table as you write down the horrible conversation on your paper tablecloth. You must not let on that you want, desperately, and at a loss for the blog entry and future writing of evil dining-conversations you once heard, for said couple to either leave or spontaneously-self-combust. That, my gentle reader, would be unsociable, spinster-aunt-like thinking.

Instead, order that cappucino (which will come with a lovely froth and two entire biscottis just for you). Revel in the taped Sinatra-singing "whiskers on kittens" after they leave, yes. But do not throw your leftover crusty bread surreptiously at them in order to encourage said leaving any earlier. Also, don't watch the obviously gay but terrifyingly unfashionable couple in the booth across from you. They are cute, yes, and having a much more interesting conversation, but you mustn't stare at either couple. They will notice you, a single (but not at all lonely) diner, if you do.

And remember to leave a fabulously generous tip. You did just make the day of the tired waitress who commented to a fellow waiter that she hadn't eaten since breakfast at 6 am (dear reader, it's now 3:00, poor waitress) by boosting the hell out of her add-on sales at the end of the day. But your over 20% tip will make her day's end even better and you can then go home and grade student papers with a good feeling in your heart, like the Grinch when he finally understood.

You. Rock. On. My. Friend.

Follow your intuition?

One more thing before I go off and pretend to actually have a life today...

Does anyone but me find it supremely satisfyingly irritating that Jewel, who pretends to be being all ironic in her video for "Intuition" by commenting on how celebrities "sell themselves" but that if they just "follow their heart" they'll be all okay and stuff, but then, there's the little intuition razor, which uses Jewel's song, and seems to have come out with the little intuitionsong campaign before Jewel released her song? (Boy that is a long sentence. Just read it twice). It seems like maybe she wrote this song about selling out (making fun of it) while she was, in turn, selling out? I mean, I get it. You were homeless in your quest to become a big famous rock (not really) star. And you're a deep poet. Yeah. Sure. Why do I like the honest celebrities who don't apologize for selling out much better? Or don't try to pretend that being a sell out is not their actual JOB. (That's the point, entertainers-- selling stuff. Didn't you read the contract old Beelzebub asked you to sign?)

Okay. Now I feel better.

Break

I woke up this morning with the cat poking me in the face to realize that I actually have almost no obligations as far as anyone but me today. Yay! I plan to grade the manuals tomorrow, and the other papers I will get early next week. But for today, I can go work on things of MINE without feeling guilty that I really ought to be doing something else. This is nice. Now if I can just figure out what I want to say about the witch books, exactly.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Yes! As of now, all I have left to do for the semester is grade essays/final exams and turn in grades! WOOOOO! It's been a long stretch these last few weeks. I like a lot of my students a lot, but the semester itself has sucked! Now I can
1. clean this messy house
2. get started on thinkin' about and writin' about my witches more
3. relax & work out on a regular schedule
4 eat chocolate

Okay. I could have done (and have done) step four already. But I thought it made the list seem better. More important. Chocolatey.

Tangent Time

On the way home from work, I was behind this pickup truck that must park under a tree. In its truck bed were lots of leaves. They would randomly fly out and pelt my wind-shield. Now, after the first pelting of the foliage menace, you would think it wouldn't freak me out again. But no. Every. single. time. the leaves flew out, it startled the heck out of me. Woke my inner reptilian brain which said "run scream danger danger". And when that reptilian brain o' mine gets going, I get a reptilian brain-ache. Right there at the base of my skull, where that little lizardbrain resides. Like a brainfreeze, only worse, cause you also get this unpleasant adrenaline rush, which makes your skin hurt after it's gone. Curse your leafy-danger truck! Normally, leaves scurrying about on the ground is a pleasant thing in my life, seeing as how autumn is officially my FAVORITE season. But no. These were dangerous leaves. Leaves that cause panic.

Complex

I may be getting a complex. No one ever ever replies when I email them or comment in their blogs. If anyone ever commented on mine, and when people write to me about womenwriters, I always write back (unless they're asking for something really really annoying-- like me to do major amounts of research for them cause they're too lazy to go to the library). But nice notes, yeah, I always write back, almost immediately!

So, me feels very sad. Like the last kid picked for the blogger team.

"Uh, yeah, you take the kid who can't type cause she's got no thumbs to hit the space bar with, and, darn, that leaves Kim. Yeah. Allright. We'll take her. ::heavy sigh:: but we get to pick first next time!"

Also, women writers is DOWN right now. Pisses me off, that. They better friggin fix it soon. Man. I. Mean. It. GRR!

But on the good news side-- this last day of classes is HALF OVER!!! Party party! I'm thinking about margaritas. :)

Zap

I'm a nervous wreck.

I hate winter. (Such as it is here in Texas, where it's something like 70ish today--except in buildings where they still have the air conditioner on, and there it's in the low 50s).

Yes I do. I keep getting tiny little electric shocks when I touch things. Does this happen to other people, or am I just extra specially electrically charged? The worst thing is that it's mostly random. Sometimes I don't get a shock, so those times when I'm touching something, I'm never sure if it will happen or not. Isn't that the definition of torture?

And now, happy people, because of that EVIL EVIL class next door, I have the song "Greased Lightning" fully stuck in my head.

Greased Lighting

Okay. Now they are playing "Greased Lightning." And there is the slight noise of tap-dancing-type feet. Maybe it's a drama class? I really, really, really hope so. Instead of, say, physics.

Computer Lab

I am in the computer lab, and all semester, the class that meets next door has been odd. Today, they are yelling/grunting very loudly. I wonder what content that course is covering? I mean, some courses get a little loud & excited sometimes, but this is a little weird. Is it wrestling? Or what? Okay, just now there was a very very loud bang. Like, um, a loud inappropriate banging noise. Not "explosives" like, but still a bit creepy. Whatthahell?

On another note: yay! Today is the last day of "real" class! Monday is just a "turn in your final exam" day. It was going to be evals day, but I am not passing them out this semester. I haven't decided yet if I feel up to baking cookies for four classes of students for Monday. I'll think about it. I did promise them, and all, but man, I am out of steam!

Also, I just had a student from 2001, who stopped coming but never dropped the class, come by and ask me to change his grade from an "F" to a "W." Hmm. I feel all suspicious, but then I also just don't care. ::insert apathy here:: I'll ask department Secretary "K" how that works. (Cool. That sort of makes her sound like a Men in Black character.) If it's allowed and all. He said he had spoken to her about it, but I dunno. I never heard it before.

Here's something you'll undoubtedly find friggin fascinating

Every last blog I have read (and believe me, man, I've been DOING SOME RESEARCH in my insane attempts to avoid being a responsible adult) that talks about their Thanksgiving experience basically had a negative one. Of some sort. Granted, no one killed anyone else (that they've admitted) other than a few poor turkeys. Turduckens. (I like that word). No one stuffed a ::insert name of cool toy of the year here:: into another frantic mother's throat at a crazed Malwart shopping frenzy. But Thanksgiving seems, upon completely unreliable and anecdotal samples of the dozens of people who wrote blogs about it, to be the worst holiday ever.

Mine, actually, was sort of nice. Does that make me a freak?

Productivity

Okay, so I was productive today. Worked for a while on the proposal-- I think it is ALMOST perfect. I'll send it off to Dr. R tomorrow. I also worked a bit on the Practical Magic chapter, although I'm still having a hard time thinking of what I want to say about it, actually. Deep thoughts are not yet forthcoming.

My cold sore is throbbing. Why oh why did I have to get these evil things? I am pretty sure it came from a kiss on New Years' 2000. Bleah bleah bleah.

Back to the Gaiman board.

Plans

Today I plan to go to Starbuck's and do some work on the dissertation proposal, and maybe do something with Practical Magic. I need to write the paper for the conference, although I'm still not exactly sure what I want to say. But the magic of coffee will, I have no doubt, help. I think the dissertation fairies really like coffee shops-- they hang out there and sprinkle little tiny bits of help on my head when I order a latte.

But first, I AM going to the gym. (fanfare).

Every time I look at my new "blogskin" I am happy. It's really spiffy. Yay May! (the designer). She rocks! I think some of what the style sheet does I could eventually figure out on my own, but I don't mind letting someone else use their cleverness to make me look good. :)

Drat

Comments all lost. Sigh. Weep. Gnashing of Teeth.

If you made comments back when the old template was on the site, they're sadly all gone. But life will go on, I am sure.

Skin

I've just found this cool "Skin" for my blog. I like it! I'm updating it a tiny bit so the chick looks like a red head (that isn't quite right, the hair-- I'm going to make it look less blotchy later). And my favorite color garnet red is in there too. But it's very spiffy, done by a young woman who does this for fun (?) I guess? I also need to add links to the link area, and other stuff. But hey, it's much more creative & original looking than the one I had before. So it's staying. I like the pin up thing and the martini thing. As anyone who knows me will realize. Fun fun fun!

I will put the comment thing back in. Oh. I guess I probably lost all my comments with the code.... ah well. Most of them were from me anyway. Self-commenting. Pfffhtt!

I am going out. Out out. OUt. OuT. Silly typo.

Grumps

I am less grumpy now. I think part of why I've been that way lately around teaching time is I get hungry during the morning, and if I haven't eaten a proper breakfast, man, just stay the hell away from me!

I'm going shopping! La la la!

I'm looking for something to wear to Nissa's Christmas bash. At the outlet mall. Fun and excitement in a convenient single-serving disposable package.

Student Gripes

okay, so. I have this student-- the one who wrote the "porn" essay earlier this semester. Every time there is something that he could remotely "challenge" me on, he does, and very aggressively. Maybe it's because of the porn thing, maybe it's no longer easy for me to be completely objective because that particular incident made me very uncomfortable with him. But man, I think he doesn't like it that I am a female in charge of his success. I think he has major issues with authority figures that are women. I mean, he could have issues with all authority, but somehow, I doubt that he's writing challenging email to his male professors. So I get one today, and I am a bit mad. I've tried to be nice about this attitude he has before, and in person, he's pretty nice. I think it's possible he just doesn't realize how badly he comes off in email. So I told him. It's important to know this, don't you think-- that you come across as a totally agressive jerk in email? I mean, I've been told that before and thus modified my behavior when appropriate.

Did I mention that I am going to be really, really glad when this semester is over?

a link

go here later:
blogskins

Morning Poem

Bleah.

I don't like Mornings, no I don't
I would not wish them
on a goat.
(or even a stoat).
I would not like them
in a zoo
nor with a mink
or with a pooh. (as in winnie).
Mornings suck.
oh yes they do.