A Bi-Polar Day

Today has been a weird day. A bi-polar day if you will.

And to start off today, I must start off with last night. A good friend delievered a healthy baby last night and I was able to meet this incredible person. She's exquisite, tiny, and beautiful and as I held her, a magnificent peace came to me. I watched her with her mother and father and sister and the quite in the room made a surreal memory that is imprinted forever. I want my own little people someday - not today - but someday. Seeing a brand new person and smelling that baby smell made me appreciate life much deeper than I have recently as I soaked in the bath last night - reading, reflecting, and listening to Buster (the Prodigal iPod returned last night!).

This bliss was ephemeral, as bliss often, not always, but often is. As I'm embarking into the wonderful world of student teaching next semester, I was hoping, and let's be honest, praying, that I would be assigned to a teacher that would be a catalyst for the proverbial spark. Today I learned that next semester will be a rigorous course in what not to do - I was disappointed by this knowledge and after I vented my frustrations in present and participle tenses of a certain four letter word, I felt mildly better.

Then I watched "Motherboy XXX." This episode of Arrested Development can be found in Season 2, on Disk 3. A highly recommended activity - after all, medical research supports laughing.

Then I got a retainer to complete my braces. And no, I don't like it when people call me "Brace Face," "Metal Mouth," or "Train Tracks." It wasn't funny in middle school when I had braces and just because I'm older doesn't make it funny now.

Then I went to Advanced Theory where we talked about feminism and Beloved - and yes, I am geeky enought to consider this an upswing in my day.

Then I went to work, where life wasn't so bad, but it is my nightly custom to expect that no one will drop by or disturb me after I return home from said employment. Not the case tonight. There were no less than three sets of visitors this evening - a statistical anamoly to be sure. One of the visits promted me to write the poem below.

Then I decided I knew what would utilmately make me feel better. But alas, there is no money for a coke slurpee right now, the usual kick to my endorphins. I located the following on youtube.com. I hope that it makes you feel better if you're having a bad day. And if you're having a good day, enjoy the bliss, for sometimes it truly is ephemeral.

This is Halloween

I knew that you’d be here tonight.
There is no rhyme or reason to knowing this -
I just knew.
Knew that there would be a
Knock Knock.
You’d come sit casually on the couch.
Both of us would ignore the weight of the past.

Funny how I knew we’d talk about Halloween.
About costumes
About frivolous details
About caramel apples and cheap movies
I knew you’d still want to wear the same costume as last year.

Note To Self:
I have to remember to tell you there shouldn’t be repeat costumes.

I knew that after you left
I’d wonder if you still think of us.
I still do,
even though I don’t want to.
I knew I wouldn’t want to think
about last year and the unconvincing costumes we wore,
the caramel from the apples that wet stale around Thanksgiving,
the day the costumes finally wore out at Christmas.

I knew that I wouldn’t want any of it,
none of the memories,
none of us.
None of the details or the holidays or the costumes.

Knock Knock.
It's almost Halloween.

Brace Face

One time I turned 22. Four days later I got braces.


I am one spectacle adjustment and "Ha-yuck" away from utter nerd-dom.

A Click on the Notch in Time

I turned 22 this weekend. It's such a weird number to me - 22. There are no bells or whistles that can be attached to this number in my mind - but then, after one turns 21 there doesn't seem to be any exciting age coming up for about, oh, the next 19 years. But I digress; the real reason behind the post is to highlight the events of my birthday - a colorful vacation from a recently pale existence.

This birthday was the first one that I've never been home for - a sad fact in the timeline of my story. We celebrated my blessed day of arrival a week earlier, which, much to my chagrin, left me no opportunity to actually unwrap a present on my day this year. That's okay though - my mom told me on Saturday that she got me a Barnes & Noble Membership, so really, it's the gift that keeps on giving. Also, I received "Pink," my favorite perfume, Season 2 of Arrested Development, a wicked-sweet color illustrated edition of Animal Farm, and a new book signed by the author - plus some dinero care of my Papa, which is always a good choice in my opinion.

Insert "adventuretime" now. On Saturday, my real birthday, some friends and I headed to Vegas, not to see strippers, gamble, club, drink, or any of the like, but to play at an Aquarium and on top of the Stratosphere. We crammed into Cammi the Camry and after Brian Regan was done, we were there man! Just so you know, In & Out was real good. We then, after some geographical dilemma-time, we were off to Shark Reef to play with the fishes - or just watch them. There were many good times to be had at the Reef. Although the entrance fee is somewhat cost-prohibitive, I would highly recommend Shark Reef. The Jellyfish were my favorite sight and I enjoyed touching the Stingrays - where only "One-Touch" touching was allowed (NO TOUCHING! would have been better) - but my absolute favorite was when we were in the area where the fish could swim over and one could see their undersides. A small boy, perhaps five or six, blatantly and ever so adeptly pointed out that he did, in fact, see a "girl" shark. There were also many good times to be had in the Shark Reef Gift Shop as well...maybe too many good times. Others would have to be the judge of that, but here is the proof of the aforementioned good times.

Then we were off to the Bellagio to watch the Fountains and because a member of the group wanted to go to Tiffany's. I must pause at this juncture and be forced to digress - I agree with Chelsea Lane. I never want anything from Tiffany's - and this is why. A.) I felt out of place. No matter how hard I fight it, I will always be a country girl at my roots. B.) It's ostentatious. C.) As we were waiting for said member to get done shopping, I over heard a conversation that went like this - "Oh, that one's nice." Insert nicely dressed - with obvious implications to money - woman. "Yeah, and it's only 19." Insert nicely dressed with - obvious short leash - man. 19. That's 19 thousand dollars. That's my graduate school sitting on her dainty hand. I cannot support an organization that would allow such obscenities to be commonplace (and no, I don't need a listing of organizations that I do support - I'm making a point here). D.) It's ostentatious. E.) There are too many security guards for anyone - even St. Paul - to feel comfortable. Point taken? Mmmm-k. Digression will cease now!

We saw and did many things fun and exciting things at the Bellagio too. There were the gardens, the chocolate fountain, and the water fountain, where ironically enough we watched a show to "Singin' in the Rain" which is the musical that we saw on my 19th birthday. Ooo, Ooo! I also forgot to say that I valeted my car for the first time in my life. And although the car did not come back within the acceptable five minute wait period, I would recommend valeting one's car on his or her birthday - it's just neat. I also gambled for the first time in my life. I put in a dollar, lost once, then won, and cashed out at $1.50. I am now on a 100% winning streak - I never have to gamble again.

Now, this is the part of the evening that I'd been waiting for. I've always wanted to go on the rides at the Stratosphere and we were going! Although ominous clouds brewed the entire night, my friends and I went on every single ride available, took embarrassing pictures, and basically laughed until we almost peed and/or vomited. I would also recommend this to anyone! - the riding not the peeing and/or vomiting.

Although there were sporadic eye-brow raising events, I will now insert the pictures and conclusions can be drawn and the chips can fall, or be cast, where they may.









The night ended at the Cheesecake Factory. It was good. We were tired and we went home.

When I got home, my roommates had thrown me a surprise party because one of them could not go with us. It was great! It's the first surprise party I've ever really been surprised about. Oh, and on a sidenote - if you ever take someone away for a surprise party, make sure she is wearing a bra; it's much less awkward for everyone involved.

Now that this has taken me entirely too long, caused me to skip class, and is entirely different than what I normally blog about, I'm going to work. Peace out yo!

Al got a Nobel...Really?

As I was searching msn.com today for the latest in "Undressed!", my eyes almost exited my cranium at an impressive rate of speed as I saw today's headlines. Was it Britney's most recent fashion/child/life faux pas that caught my deserving attention? Or perhaps J.Lo's booty finally broke the camel's back in pant apparel? Did Paris once again flash her cooter to the teaming paparazzi? I answer resolutely - Nay!

Not even the wonderful and joyous world of celebrity blunders could cause me to nearly asphyxiate on my Halloween sucker - "Al Gore receives Nobel Peace Prize for his work in global warming." I could scarcely believe what I saw or bring myself to click the link - but alas, I'm curious by nature. My eyes furiously and surreptitiously read line after line. The article "carefully" outlined the former Vice-President's work and efforts in the names of all things greenhouse, global, and environmental. (This is the part where I state that I vehemently agree that precautions need to be taken to ensure the safety and well-being of the environment and that I agree that people, myself included, are not doing our part to protect the Earth.) But does Al really get a Nobel Peace Prize? Really? The man made a f***ing movie - and not even a good one at that. I believe that at the halfway mark of the film I was in the midst of pinching my eyelids with my thumb and fore-finger to see how many times I could snap said eyelid back onto my eyeball. In utterance of The Bluth Family, "Come on!"

I cringe at the fact that for all time Albert Gore will have the title of Oscar Winning placed in front of his name, but to have Nobel laureate as well? To know that his name will be placed among names as Elie Wiesel, Nelson Mandela, and Doctor's Without Borders makes me cringe all the more. Now, do I realize that the group sponsoring Al Gore also received the prize? Yes. But will they get the press and receive just recognition? No. What about the producers of "An Inconvenient Truth"? What about the director? What about the scientists and experts that Al got the information from in the first place?

I'm sorry - actually, no I'm not - but I find this concept as laughable as I would if President Bush was to receive the prize for his efforts to exponentially further knowledge and awareness of how to correctly pronounce words in the English language, or if Bill Clinton received the prize for his work on a book called "Fidelity 101: Reasons to Not Cheat on Your Wife and Why Marriage is Sacred."

I know that I seem like I'm on a high-horse here - it's the plight of an English Major - but I find the fact that Al Gore lives in a 10,000 square foot mansion, which had to be built of wood and has to be somehow powered, and has a posse of vehicles, which are certainly not environment-friendly, suspect. I'm pausing to search for the right words here - oh yes, here they are - Al and Tipper (do parents think before they name?) were found to have power bills in excess of $1,200 a month - a month! Despite the fact that this amount is more than I make in a month, I believe my power bill was $38 this month and there are three somewhat moderate to moderate maintenance women living in my house - Come on!!!

I don't know why this irritates me so, but it does. Al Gore - Nobel Prize Winner. Bravo Norway.

A Death in the Family

"Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness." - Maya Angelou

Buster died this morning.

Buster is my iPod. My 80 Gig iPod that only had 4 Gigs left.

Perhaps it is because I anthropomorphize so many things in my life, but I feel like I've lost a friend. No, I don't have strange and salacious feelings for inanimate objects; I just think I'm lonely in general and not having Buster to keep me company on my walks to class or to listen to in the car reminds me that I am, in fact, lonely and alone.

This semester hasn't been anti-climactic or anything. There was nothing climactic about about returning to Cedar, about taking more undergraduate classes, about feeling like I'm stuck. People that I love have moved away and are doing different things - and I'm here. "X" moved. "Y" left. Our Dear Girl is off having adventures. My family isn't here. The few that are left I rarely get to see, or we go through the motions of a facade, for the sake of a pretense of a relationship.

I'm disappointed about so many things too. I had a crappy weekend preceded by a frustrating and sleepless week. I'm disappointed that I haven't connected with another person, or even God, in a long time. I'm disappointed in myself that I can't find balance and that for all my ranting about not needing a man that I still very much want one - and I'm disappointed that opportunity let me down too. I feel like I'm drowning in my classes. Every time I walk into the English building, no less than two people immediately ask me for something or where something is.

If I said that I was mourning for Buster, I'd be lying - Buster is the simulacrum of my loneliness and at the same time, a shield from it.

I'm tired. I want a good cry, but I'm blogging at work and they already think I'm weird. I want someone to crawl in bed with me and hug me til I fall asleep, because sometimes waking up by one's self is a lonely feeling, but I'll go home and sleep by myself tonight - Buster-less.

Today, perhaps, is just a bad day spawned by a bad week.

This weekend will be better. I'll turn 22. And even though I don't like even numbers, I know that it'll still be a good day. I know that I'll keep on until I too can cast off the chains I feel by being here, but still, today is a bad day.