How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Blog

6:26pm: I now have an Internet connection and some spoiled-brat/soon-to-be-destitute cable. The cable is making me feel a bit queasy for some reason, so it may not stay long. Sigh. I will miss it so when it's gone even though I have watched something on cable only once in the past few weeks. I've always been oddly comforted by TV. No matter what horrible things are going on in the world or in an individual life, there are always happy people hanging out inside the TV. I guess that's why I ordered the cable. I'm also oddly comforted by the hum of the refrigerator, and it has quite a hum, this one.

While I sat around waiting for the cable guys, I had a million thoughts zipping through my head. This moving thing is at once horrible and wonderful. I'm sad, and I'm going to miss Jason and Meiko and the place I've called home for years now. On the same token, though, I know that it's about time I did something on my own, and I'm really excited by the prospect of not keeling over in the process. I really like the apartment. It's cute and it's in a great location. I can skate right down to the lake and get real exercise. I can sit on my balcony and look out at a beautiful yard. I have surrogate doggies, one of whom enjoys climbing my stairs and sitting with me. I have a place to live and a sense of security that I created for myself.

At the same time, though, it occurs to me that I'm behind so many of my peers. I don't OWN my home. I don't even feel sure of my ability to keep my checkbook balanced and cover all the bills in an organized manner. I don't make much money for someone with one and a half degrees, and I have some really bad spending habits. I feel sort of weird about living behind someone's house. I feel like she'll probably think I'm nuts. I guess I am nuts, so it shouldn't really matter!

So there's that.

Anyway, I move in on Sunday. Feel free to bring me food and cook it;) The cable guy and the land lady already discussed the wild party that will be taking place that evening, so I guess I'll just have to prove them right. Also, I really don't want to eat any more of my Easy Mac Mystery concoctions. I had Easy Mac and lentil soup tonight. It wasn't good.

10:29pm: Thanks:)
I want to send a public thanks to all of my friends for being the most fantastic people ever created. Sarita, you really helped me out this weekend in ways beyond comprehension. Dee and Albert (even though Albert doesn't read LJ), thank you for letting us loaf in your hotel room and for taking us on a dolphin adventure. It was so peaceful and so lovely, and it was exactly what I needed. Valerie M., thank you for hanging out with us and making me laugh and feel less alone. Valerie Goggansmouth, thank you for caring and calling and being fantastic. Everyone else, thank you for leaving comments, talking, listening, and being generally awesome. Jason, thank you for being you and for not "being an ass."

I'm going through things that are huge and horrendously difficult for me, though they are minuscule in the grand scheme of things, and I couldn't deal with them if it weren't for all of you. I really would curl up in a ball and quiver. My head's barely above water, but it's there for now, and that's more than I could ask for.

11:43pm: Would you like an update from underneath my rock? Would you? That's a shame. Here it is.

I've created a lesson plan for sixth graders. They are supposed to learn their vocabulary by creating projects that embrace Gardner's theory of multiple intelligences. They will first take a quiz to determine their strengths, and they will then select a project based on the results. They must write a poem or song, create a word puzzle, create a skit, or make a poster or diagram to elaborate on the definitions of selected vocabulary words. They will present or perform their projects at the end of the week, and we will all celebrate our wonderful, creative learning experience. The only problem is that this unit must last a week, and that the children must actually learn their words. The next only problem is that I am not actually a teacher, and these kids are mere figments of my imagination (and they look an awful lot like my fellow students in eighth grade English, I've gotta say).

Does this sound vaguely coherent to anyone--particularly anyone with a background in education?

I have to write the truly scholarly portion of the paper tomorrow, and then I can throw cares to the wind for a day or two. Hoorah.

I'm almost proud of myself for being lame and doing school work all night on a Friday. I'm not sure why though, because I am often lame on Fridays. In two weeks, I have to work on a Saturday. Bah hum bug. I was really getting used to having real weekends.

On another educational note, I think I really, truly do want to be a media specialist these days, and that is a good thing. I had my doubts, but the public is driving me away faster than they ever have before. Some guy cursed at me over his dollar fine yesterday and demanded that I look up a book for him. Another guy today breathed sulfuric waste all over me while he forced me to look for some horrid get-rich-quick book in the catalog and questioned the potential postage charge listed on the ILL slip upon realizing that the county isn't a huge fan of get-rich-quick schemes.

I love people; I really do. I just hate them an awful lot sometimes. I hope that my angry librarian does not read this because I'm sure it sounds inappropriate. I just want to help people who really need it and who don't act like I am an entirely uneducated laborer for them to poop on.

Finally, I am looking for interesting, informative blogs/ news sites/ whatever to fill my empty morning moments. Who has suggestions?

11:15pm: Sigh. I just realized that my next summer class starts on the 29th, which means I am getting launched right back in after I wake up from my current nightmare. I have to choke out twenty pages of lesson plan and rationalization by Saturday, and I just want to curl up in a little ball and quiver for a while (for that and so many other reasons). I realize that I select my own fate, but I wish I could feel alive enough to clean things and eat real food and watch the news and make doctor appointments in the meantime.


This ends my complaint hour. I saw cool old people today and gave them books. That was a ray of sunshine, I suppose.

2:10pm: Sigh. I forgot until last night that I intended to send my sister a first mother's day gift, and last night was obviously too late to send anything. I decided to stay up until 6 a.m., which led to not getting up til noon, and only then did I have the bright idea to send her flowers. So I picked this really pretty arrangement with purple and yellow roses and hibiscuses and a coffee mug and a teddy bear, but they can't send it until tomorrow because I ordered it too late. I called her to let her know that I hadn't forgotten entirely, and she told me that her baby sitter's husband's mom is seriously ill, so they are leaving town, and as a result, Laura is coming to Orlando because she has to study for the boards and she needs someone to watch Revan. Motherhood, the very reason that I was willing to invest sixty bucks in flowers and cheesy stuffed animals, has contrived an evil scheme to ensure that the flowers will be dead by the time she gets back to Fort Lauderdale. All she'll get is a photograph, which I could easily have stolen from the website, shown her, and said, "Happy Mothers' Day! Aren't they lovely?" Again, sigh. I suck as a sister AND as a money spender. I don't really like commercial excuses to spend bajillions of dollars on Walmart gift packages and greeting cards, but she certainly deserves something from someone to tell her to keep on keeping on with her crazy-stressful life.

We should really quit staying up until six. We're like overgrown college freshmen or something.

11:18am: Soooo. How was Orpheum? Did Valerie make out with strangers? Inquiring minds want to know.

My sleep was fantastic, though probably much less fun. I had a crazy dream this morning. The whole dream played out like a really long movie preview, but I don't think that announcer guy's voice was present. A young couple was in a pond at night, and they were all in love and telling each other how beautiful they were. Suddenly, a giant eyeball wearing a brightly colored satin cape (or perhaps a Wizard's hat-- I'm not sure) splashed into the water and floated over to the guy. It said something that sounded like "Who are you?" but it morphed into something in faux Latin. It was "Nevium something something." Anyhow, this really freaked out the guy, understandably. Suddenly, all these animals were around, and they were repeating what the eyeball said. A herd of elephants was there, and one was going to leap into the water with the guy, but he managed to scare it away. Somehow, without the announcer guy providing me with any information, I knew that the premise of the movie involved this eyeball implanting itself in the guy's dreams so that he couldn't tell reality from his creepy dreams. He was stuck in this weird, animal-filled night world indefinitely. It was sort of like when the Sandman curses this guy to eternal waking. His whole existence is encompassed in a never ending set of dreams where he thinks he's just woken from a nightmare and something hideous happens again.

Then, for good measure, some of that crazy black stuff from Spiderman 3 appeared and jumped into the pond. All I could think about throughout was why they would get into this murky pond that was probably full of alligators and snakes.

10:14pm: I'm going to keep making whiny, short posts until the cows come home, or until you comment and tell me nice things that I want to hear.

Whine.

Did you know that NOBODY PAYS FOR ANYTHING in the public library? That was a patron's argument today for why I should let him download a peer to peer music program onto the computer. I was like, "Well, actually. . ." Wouldn't it be awesome if we just had free internet and a free fancy new-fangled building? And free electricity? And free BOOKS? Oh, indeed.

My eyes are falling out.

9:37pm: If I am less than social or amusing over the next three-six weeks, it's because overly-short classes are eating the few remaining vestiges of my soul. How's that for melodrama?

I bought my snazzy dresser. It kicks some serious dresser ass. My underwears have never been so at home.

11:13pm: Someone should have told me to postpone my summer classes until June in the interest of taking a break. I'm pretty sure that my motivation level is not high enough right now to wax scholarly about child development four days a week. It's too late, though. They've already got my fake money, and there's nothing I can do. This guy wants assignments every day of the week, it seems. Grumble. Who will iron my clothes? I'll give you pudding. It's Oreo flavored.

6:07pm: Votes, please.
Should I buy this dresser? It's not the best ever piece of mid-century modern furniture, but it sort of meets my criteria, it's cheap, and it's in Lakeland. I think it may be a worthy investment. Ehhh?

.

11:12pm: I wish the world were full of easy answers and orange couches. I'm pretty sure that heaven is a giant group hug floating beyond a black hole somewhere, and I wish I could find my way in.

10:42pm: In other news
I received a family tree today from the guy who called my mom a few months ago and led us to believe he wanted to steal our identities in the night. I was excited to know that my great grandfather's name on my mom's side was Pinchas. There's a Pincus somewhere on my dad's side, too. Now I have an excuse to name a child Pincus someday. Can you imagine the hatred I'd inspire in my future son? I kinda like it, though. Hmmmmmmmmmmm.

My great-great-great grandparents were Chaya Raisel and Meir Blitzer. Yeah, I have the coolest-named Jewish ancestors on the block.

6:39pm: Argh
I think I have scurvy. It's getting pretty emotional in here, if you know what I mean. If your name is Sarah, you do. If not, more power to you.

At my city orientation today, I was the class brown noser. This really cool woman was discussing customer service, and she asked us for examples to illustrate something she said. No one spoke or moved for a good five minutes, so I finally took action. I was afraid that I'd be kicked by the steel-toed boot of an orange-clad man, but they still just sat there quietly and stared. At least there were doughnuts. During the sexual harassment portion of the orientation, the guy who gave the presentation said, "Now ladies [looking right at my two coworkers and I, as we were the only ladies in the room] you shouldn't bring to work any of those catalogs that you like to look at. You know-- Frederick's of Hollywood or Victoria's Secret." He also looked at us askance and mentioned how inappropriate it would be to discuss Carrie's adventures on Sex and the City. I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud at both remarks. I felt mildly sexually harassed by his assumption that I want to browse for leopard print thongs in between patrons. It was good times.

5:35pm: Well I feel like a piece of sad, run-over poo. Do you have a poem for that?

2:49pm: Terrible storms never came last night OR today. I swear the radio told me they were coming. Anyway, don't throw rocks at me. I had fun last night. I was dance-assaulted by a faux Matt Pinfield, apologized to for being bumped into, and greatly amused by a crazy homeless man with eyeball glasses and a cow skull. If ever I find myself without a roof over my head, I think I'm going to go that route. He was like a demented Hamlet. It was awesome.

Now I feel utterly unproductive, but there are poems to compile and papers to write, and if I were really a good friend-- Sarah's house to move things into. I fear I may be a bad friend today.

On another note, I think that someone is investigating my library records! One of you posted a fantastic poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, and I just realized that she edited one of the poetry anthologies I have checked out to create my YA anthology for class. That's kinda spooooky. I hope you won't alert the library that my books are woefully overdue. What a bad example on the part of a library employee. I'm going to have to overcome this procrastinator streak. It costs serious money in fines.

7:19am: It's Friday the 13th, and I am working at the computer desk alone today! Please send reinforcements.

9:54pm: Also
So Jason is watching this Planet Earth show, and I hear, "female ass are strange creatures. They come and go as they please, and much of their behavior seems unfathomable." Oh, amen Discovery Channel.

7:30pm: Siiiiiiiiiigh.

I've reached the part of the week where I have to feel stupid and inept. It happened today. I was working the reference desk for the second time ever (I was really supposed to be observing-- but people were walking away and letting me give it a try, I guess), and I found myself lacking in helping abilities. I answered many more questions than I didn't, but I just felt silly overall. Mainly, I felt like the weird girl no one knows who doesn't know how to be anything other than quiet and mousy around new people. It's so odd how the real you can hide away and refuse to present itself when you most need its help. Damn you, personality. Anyway, I think it was mostly perceived and probably the result of being sleepy and overloaded with new information this week. I really have loved being at the library most of the time, regardless of what I was doing. I could use a real at-work friend, though!

Among my fun discoveries this week are the online exhibits offered by special collections. One of my favorites so far is this one. Lakeland was much more awesome back in the day, it seems. Swing at the Crystal Lake Pavilion sounds like good times. I am jealous.

10:12pm: melancholy and the infinite cross posting
Today was an emotional adventure of sorts.

My granddad died this morning. I haven't talked to him or seen him in years.

My phone rang on the way to work, but before I could see who was calling, the battery died. I had a feeling that it might be something about my dad, so I called my voicemail when I got to work, and there my dad was, telling me that his own father had passed away. I proceeded to cry at work, which only added to the emotion after Shirley cried when she gave me a going away present.

I know that he's existing in a more pleasant realm now, whatever that realm may look like. He was in his eighties, he was missing a leg, and he was going blind. I don't think he's missing his life. I'm worried about my dad though. For years I have worried about what will happen when my grandparents aren't around anymore. He told me that my Aunt Sheryl had granddad all excited about a chihuahua puppy she planned to give him in a few weeks. Giving a high maintenance dog to an elderly couple really isn't a stellar plan, but I can't help feeling sad that he never got to meet his puppy.

Visiting my dad's house tonight reinforced a few things like it always does. I come from a true broken home-- physically and emotionally, the place and its inhabitants have been cracking and crumbling for a long time. The family that once lived there has been falling apart more and more every year. But in reality, everyone in the world is broken. That's what it's like to be human. I need to stop letting the cracks get in the way of communicating with the people who anchor my existence. I'm sad that the person whose death I'm mourning isn't someone I've known in my adult life. The person I'm mourning is a figment of my childhood. He called me his Tigger. He scared me with his false teeth. He took care of me when my mom was in the hospital trying to regain her sanity and her sobriety, when my dad was at work or trying to save his marriage, and when my stomach was mysteriously queasy every morning so I couldn't go to school. I should have known him as an adult, and he should have known me as an adult, but it just didn't happen that way.

I've been worrying a lot about my dad recently. He has a pace maker. He's old. I don't talk to him enough. I know that clocks never stop ticking and that he won't last nearly as long as his father did. I know that I want to be a loving, demonstrative daughter. I always slide back into my shell, though. I suppose it's time to let the shell break, too.

Leaving MidFlorida is making me feel a bit like death, as well. I certainly do want to move on with my life, but there really are some great people there. I hate having to say good bye.

11:36pm: I've found a new pastime in reading "Missed Connections" ads on Craigslist. They're really sort of tragic. The London ads all sound a bit like Hugh Grant, though, which is pretty awesome. It's good for at least a half hour of amusement.

11:20pm: Walmart is over milk and Dickies.
They're marketing much more lofty items these days:



It's a pretty good price!

7:01pm: A nice old lady named Nancy made friends with me by the lake today. I was sitting on a bench, reading some class stuff, and she rolled up with a bright red walker, wearing bright red clothes embroidered with sail boats. She asked if she could have half the bench and told me she sits there every day. She sat there quietly and let me finish my book, and then we both decided to break the silence at once. She told me she lives in Florida during the winter and lives in Minnesota the rest of the year where her husband owns a farm. She told me about all ten or eleven of her grandchildren who are vaguely my age. She pointed out birds to me, and she told me she owns quite a few birdwatching books, but has never been able to read them all because she worked most of her life. She must have read a few, though, because she knew most of the names. Apparently, the cool little black ones with white beaks are "coots." Eventually, I discovered that she is Audra Rose's great aunt. She seemed appropriate for such a position. Then she went on her way to take a walk and get her mail, and I started on the next book.

This was a lovely afternoon aside from the horrible sunburn now plastered to the back of my neck and the resulting worst headache in the history of time. I should befriend old women more often.

10:43pm: Right now. That's what freaks me. I dip my fountain pen into a pot of ink, and a Wessex helicopter crashes into a glacier on South Georgia. I line up my protractor on an angle in my Maths book and a Sidewinder missile locks onto a Mirage III. I draw a circle with my compass and a Welsh Guard stands up in a patch of burning gorse and gets a bullet through his eye.

How can the world just go on as if none of this is happening?

-- Jason, the thirteen year old narrator of my current Y.A. lit selection, Black Swan Green

Right now is quite a conundrum. Fictional characters living in 1982 know it. We might know it. Thousands of people at a time live and die wondering how the world can just go on, but it always does. I can't figure out if that's absurd and somewhat horrible or if it's absurd and just right. And what about the people we feel so upset about when we ponder their suffering? Would we help them if they asked us on an empty street at night? Would we smile at them and treat them with respect if we found ourselves serving them at work? Would we get along with them if we knew them as peers?

It bothers me. It also bothers me when I think about random people like Britney Spears and wonder what their right nows are like. I guess I mostly wonder if they waste time the way I do.

12:30am: Notification
Another week, and I've nothing new to tell you.

In case you're hiding in the shadows, reading my rambling without committing to the world of LJ, you won't be seeing much of it anymore. I am going to be posting mostly friends-only from now on. With that in mind, make an LJ! Be my friend! Otherwise, farewell and good night to you. I know that nothing I post here is of any substance, but I recently realized that my communication skills are just lacking enough to confuse people who read at random. And I always thought that I could only communicate through writing. Oh well.

I'll leave you with these thoughts:

Pretending to dance to to weird synth-pop is good times.

Sophia is fond of pistachio shells.

I'm a bad bamboo mother.

It's late, but not nearly as late as it should be.

9:01pm: I'm pretty sure you should buy me this shirt. I'd like a medium, please.

Today was supposed to be full of homework and laundry, but instead, I went to Orlando with two lovely ladies and ate a box of malt balls. Whoops. Maybe if you do buy me the shirt I will feel inspired to put my nose to the grindstone (errr, the Y.A. Lit book) and accomplish something. Mmhmm.

I realize that my LJ has become a place where I make half-hearted pleas for products and services from my gaggle of hens (friends) and others who might read. Honestly, I'm okay with it. I'm still hoping that my efforts will pay off with a bounty of free gifts and social activities one of these days.

In case you haven't heard, I nearly ran over a suicidal cow on Saturday morning. She had broken free of her pasture and she was wavering toward the road as I drove by at a slightly illegal speed. I was glad I did not hit her, but I'm pretty sure she hasn't got long to live anyhow. I think that this guy in a truck actually let her out of her pasture because he was just sitting there on the side of the road, and her cow pals were trailing behind her. Sometimes I forget how very Boony-liscious it is where I live.