Have you seen the movie Beautiful Girls? It's one of my favs and you should run and see it if you haven't already. The whole movie revolves around this group of friends' high school reunion. The night of the reunion Tommy 'the Birdman' informes his nincompoop friend, Pauly, that he is not going to the reunion because the entire series of Rich Man, Poor Man is on tv back-to-back-to-back. Pauly responds, "364 days I year I do dick. The one night I decide to go out." A fantastic dialogue ensues, but in the end Pauly goes and the Birdman stays.
I feel like Pauly. I have been waiting for almost a year for the new season of Dancing With The Stars to start its third season. It is the ONE tv show that I HAVE to watch. It is the only reality show I've been interested in. I get all involved, which includes cheering and jumping up and down, and last season both Martha and Kate came over to watch it with me because I refused to leave the house if it was on. Greg and I never do anything nowadays, except last night when we butchered a moose (see next entry). And I missed my show. I am horrified and have been trying to find it on the internet. YouTube and iTunes do not have it and I am at a loss. I mean, Joey "whooaa" Lawrence? Emmitt Smith? Jerry Springer? How did this happen!!
Wednesday, September 13
Get Ready For Some Convoluted Chit-Chat
I have several strains of thought to fly with here, none of which I think will be terribly interesting. Good luck wading through. I did provide little titles to each one for your viewing convenience.
Trying On Our Hunting Pants
Greg and I went out to his uncle's house in Wasilla for pizza, beer, and moose butchering. Ya heard me right. Moose butchering. My father-in-law is in town and they had to cut up the last moose they got before they head out for another. Greg, being the good person that he is, helped, although, poor thing, he is not a natural and was in charge of barking (cutting all the air exposed meat off the surface) and then downgraded to wrapping up the meat in the white butcher paper. I was completely turned off by the ball that is part of the hip joint and immediately started working on an imovie. When I finished that, I moved onto knitting (more on this later). It was stinky, bloody, and altogether gross, but I had a good time, mostly because I like my father-in-law and his brother - especially when they're together.
The Kitten Mitten
When Greg and I unpacked our bags when we got back from Portland, we found that one of my 4 year-old-niece's little purple mitten somehow got in our bag. It is soft and fuzzy and Limbe attacked it immediately and it is now her favorite item in the whole world. She sleeps with it, nuzzles it, carries it in her mouth, attacks it, rolls around with it, runs from Kribi with it...you get the picture. She also growls. If she is having an especially nice time with the mitten and Greg, Kribi, or I walk anywhere near her, she'll growl. Greg hates it because he thinks of her as this little baby kitten that likes to sleep on his neck; not a wild animal who will threaten attack if we get too close to her mitten. When she is not using it, Limbe keeps it in her food bowl so that the things she loves most in the world are in the same place.
I had cold pizza for breakfast this morning (left over from the moose extravaganza last night) and have the empty plate sitting on the floor next to me. The kitties came over to investigate and got all excited about the remnants of pizza smell. After sniffing around for a little while, Limbe tore into the kitchen, grabbed her mitten, and dropped it on the plate. I guess the smell of pizza overtook her love of Iams dry kitten food.
Knitting, Crochet, and Cross-stitch
I have been looking for things to do. Projects to have. I liked to cross-stitch when I was a kid - it's super easy and fun, but I hate the way it looks. So I found subversive cross-stitch patterns on line and started one. But even when they say something sassy, I still don't really like them.
A few years ago my mom taught me how to knit and I liked it quite a bit, but I started a hat and it never came in at the top, but instead looked like a top-hat. I was so frustrated I quit. I've wanted to start again, but I didn't know how to cast-on (getting the original line of yarn on the needle), so nothing ever came of it.
I've talked to Greg about wanting to take it back up, but he wants me to crochet because it is all the rage to have a crocheted hat over one's snowboarding helmet. He finally figured out that I was serious about not wanting to crochet, so he said he would learn.
The point: Greg and I went to a beginning knitting/crocheting class yesterday. I really love my husband. Isn't he the coolest?
iLife
Greg and I have been making movies. We run all over town, dance, jump up and down, and make fools of ourselves and then put it to music. It's totally fun. But here is the funny thing: when put to music, my life looks way more interesting than it really is. Everyday life = boring. Dancing with a stuffed bear to the Franz Ferdinand in downtown Anchorage = very exciting. If I keep making movies and then watch them every morning I just might be able to convince myself that life up here is pretty sweet...
Comments
You guys have been awesome about commenting and I love it! I started a blog so that I could stay in touch with my friends and build a little community and when y'all comment, I feel the love. So Thank You!
One Last Thing
Yesterday I grabbed my bag and walked out the door, but forgot something so I came back inside. As I leaned over I felt something inside my bag move and heard a high pitched and confused meow. I opened my bag and there was Kribi! He fell asleep in the bag and almost went with me to work at a coffee shop. He and I cuddled and laughed for a bit before I left again.
Trying On Our Hunting Pants
Greg and I went out to his uncle's house in Wasilla for pizza, beer, and moose butchering. Ya heard me right. Moose butchering. My father-in-law is in town and they had to cut up the last moose they got before they head out for another. Greg, being the good person that he is, helped, although, poor thing, he is not a natural and was in charge of barking (cutting all the air exposed meat off the surface) and then downgraded to wrapping up the meat in the white butcher paper. I was completely turned off by the ball that is part of the hip joint and immediately started working on an imovie. When I finished that, I moved onto knitting (more on this later). It was stinky, bloody, and altogether gross, but I had a good time, mostly because I like my father-in-law and his brother - especially when they're together.
The Kitten Mitten
When Greg and I unpacked our bags when we got back from Portland, we found that one of my 4 year-old-niece's little purple mitten somehow got in our bag. It is soft and fuzzy and Limbe attacked it immediately and it is now her favorite item in the whole world. She sleeps with it, nuzzles it, carries it in her mouth, attacks it, rolls around with it, runs from Kribi with it...you get the picture. She also growls. If she is having an especially nice time with the mitten and Greg, Kribi, or I walk anywhere near her, she'll growl. Greg hates it because he thinks of her as this little baby kitten that likes to sleep on his neck; not a wild animal who will threaten attack if we get too close to her mitten. When she is not using it, Limbe keeps it in her food bowl so that the things she loves most in the world are in the same place.
I had cold pizza for breakfast this morning (left over from the moose extravaganza last night) and have the empty plate sitting on the floor next to me. The kitties came over to investigate and got all excited about the remnants of pizza smell. After sniffing around for a little while, Limbe tore into the kitchen, grabbed her mitten, and dropped it on the plate. I guess the smell of pizza overtook her love of Iams dry kitten food.
Knitting, Crochet, and Cross-stitch
I have been looking for things to do. Projects to have. I liked to cross-stitch when I was a kid - it's super easy and fun, but I hate the way it looks. So I found subversive cross-stitch patterns on line and started one. But even when they say something sassy, I still don't really like them.
A few years ago my mom taught me how to knit and I liked it quite a bit, but I started a hat and it never came in at the top, but instead looked like a top-hat. I was so frustrated I quit. I've wanted to start again, but I didn't know how to cast-on (getting the original line of yarn on the needle), so nothing ever came of it.
I've talked to Greg about wanting to take it back up, but he wants me to crochet because it is all the rage to have a crocheted hat over one's snowboarding helmet. He finally figured out that I was serious about not wanting to crochet, so he said he would learn.
The point: Greg and I went to a beginning knitting/crocheting class yesterday. I really love my husband. Isn't he the coolest?
iLife
Greg and I have been making movies. We run all over town, dance, jump up and down, and make fools of ourselves and then put it to music. It's totally fun. But here is the funny thing: when put to music, my life looks way more interesting than it really is. Everyday life = boring. Dancing with a stuffed bear to the Franz Ferdinand in downtown Anchorage = very exciting. If I keep making movies and then watch them every morning I just might be able to convince myself that life up here is pretty sweet...
Comments
You guys have been awesome about commenting and I love it! I started a blog so that I could stay in touch with my friends and build a little community and when y'all comment, I feel the love. So Thank You!
One Last Thing
Yesterday I grabbed my bag and walked out the door, but forgot something so I came back inside. As I leaned over I felt something inside my bag move and heard a high pitched and confused meow. I opened my bag and there was Kribi! He fell asleep in the bag and almost went with me to work at a coffee shop. He and I cuddled and laughed for a bit before I left again.
Monday, September 11
What Do I Have To Contribute?
I wasn't going to post anything today. Anything I have to say would be trite in the shadow of The Anniversary. And I, who was far from NYC/DC/Pennsylvania, lost no one on September 11. What do I have to contribute aside from my own silent reflections? It seemed to me this morning as I listened to NPR, not much.
Then I was standing in line to get my tea. The older woman in front of me with a raspy smoker's voice said to the patient barista "I am sick of all this talk of September 11. Who cares! Get over it! Next they're going to make this a stupid holiday and we'll have to suffer through this every year."
My heart sank. Suffer through remembering? Suffer through honoring those who died and those who tried to save them? We are suffering? And who cares? I do. I should. We all should. I am overwhelmed with an immense sadness for the crass and uncaring response to such an event, even if it has been five years. Especially if it has been five years.
I still don't feel like I have something worthwhile to contribute, but I feel like I must. I have to balance that comment somehow. It reminds me of sitting in the commons while I was in college and a guy was making some racially charged comments about Natives, "but it was okay because he grew up in the bush and really knew them." When I objected, he told me "Christ, Mary, you don't have to be a fucking bleeding heart all the time." I was shocked. It was the first time I had ever been called a bleeding heart and the way he said it hurt my feelings. But I was indignant and told him that he didn't have to be a "racist fuckface all the time either." He rolled his eyes and continued his story. You see, I do have to be a "bleeding heart" if it means that I can sleep at night and that I stand up for what I believe in - and more importantly, who I believe in. I wasn't taking a noble stand in the commons and I am not taking one here. I am simply trying to even out the meanness and project a little compassion into my world.
The cliches run rampant on a day like today, and I have no wisdom to add. I am not eloquent or wise. But I can't sit still and let that woman's comments be the only ones I hear all day. I must put my heart, my words, and my compassion on display so that people know I care. Because I do. A lot.
Then I was standing in line to get my tea. The older woman in front of me with a raspy smoker's voice said to the patient barista "I am sick of all this talk of September 11. Who cares! Get over it! Next they're going to make this a stupid holiday and we'll have to suffer through this every year."
My heart sank. Suffer through remembering? Suffer through honoring those who died and those who tried to save them? We are suffering? And who cares? I do. I should. We all should. I am overwhelmed with an immense sadness for the crass and uncaring response to such an event, even if it has been five years. Especially if it has been five years.
I still don't feel like I have something worthwhile to contribute, but I feel like I must. I have to balance that comment somehow. It reminds me of sitting in the commons while I was in college and a guy was making some racially charged comments about Natives, "but it was okay because he grew up in the bush and really knew them." When I objected, he told me "Christ, Mary, you don't have to be a fucking bleeding heart all the time." I was shocked. It was the first time I had ever been called a bleeding heart and the way he said it hurt my feelings. But I was indignant and told him that he didn't have to be a "racist fuckface all the time either." He rolled his eyes and continued his story. You see, I do have to be a "bleeding heart" if it means that I can sleep at night and that I stand up for what I believe in - and more importantly, who I believe in. I wasn't taking a noble stand in the commons and I am not taking one here. I am simply trying to even out the meanness and project a little compassion into my world.
The cliches run rampant on a day like today, and I have no wisdom to add. I am not eloquent or wise. But I can't sit still and let that woman's comments be the only ones I hear all day. I must put my heart, my words, and my compassion on display so that people know I care. Because I do. A lot.
Saturday, September 9
I'll Miss You, Mitch.
I just completed the first disk of season five of Dawson's Creek (I really need to start blogging about some books or something and stop all this jabber about movies and tv). The gang graduated from high school last season and I was intrigued about how they would keep the series running for two more seasons with all the main characters in different colleges across the country. The first few episodes were kinda disappointing and it's a good thing I had my cross stitch to keep me occupied. But then, at the end of the third episode Dawson's dad up and gets killed in a car crash.
I wasn't prepared for this, boys and girls. I spent the next 45 minutes bawling watching the funeral episode. It wasn't pretty. Limbe crawled on my lap for a quality cuddle, just like she does every time I cry. His poor wife and brand new baby. And Dawson, while he's never been my favorite character (a title reserved in all eternity for Pacey), I felt for him. And so, I'd like to offer up a minute of silence for Mitch Leary.
(Not that anyone will do it because no one actually reads this site. Have you seen the lack of comments lately? It's enough to make this blogger feel a little lonelier...)
I wasn't prepared for this, boys and girls. I spent the next 45 minutes bawling watching the funeral episode. It wasn't pretty. Limbe crawled on my lap for a quality cuddle, just like she does every time I cry. His poor wife and brand new baby. And Dawson, while he's never been my favorite character (a title reserved in all eternity for Pacey), I felt for him. And so, I'd like to offer up a minute of silence for Mitch Leary.
(Not that anyone will do it because no one actually reads this site. Have you seen the lack of comments lately? It's enough to make this blogger feel a little lonelier...)
Friday, September 8
Internet Quizzes
I know. I know. This is silly, right? You don't care. At all. But I am having a good time with this and I want to share this ridiculousness with my favorite people. Besides, you can learn a few extra things about me.
Where did this upper midwestern come from?
And tell me what the relevance of this is:
Well this is nice, huh? I didn't say anything about being pretty or seductive, either. I think this is my favorite.
Yea Me!
I think this is enough, yes? I'm sorry to put you through this. I really am. I just got carried away.
Come back? Please?
| Your Linguistic Profile: |
| 60% General American English |
| 15% Upper Midwestern |
| 10% Dixie |
| 10% Yankee |
| 0% Midwestern |
Where did this upper midwestern come from?
And tell me what the relevance of this is:
| Your 1920's Name is: |
 |
What's Your 1920's Name?
The only Ione I ever heard of was Ione Skye, ex-wife of a Beastie Boy and star of one of the best movies of all time: Say Anything.
| You Should Get a PhD in Liberal Arts (like political science, literature, or philosophy) |
 You're a great thinker and a true philosopher. You'd make a talented professor or writer. |
What Advanced Degree Should You Get?
Thank goodness I am on the right track. I didn't really want to start all over.
| You Are a Rainbow |
 Breathtaking and rare You are totally enchanting and intriguing But you usually don't stick around long! You are best known for: your beauty Your dominant state: seducing |
| Your Inner European is Dutch! |
 Open minded and tolerant. You're up for just about anything. |
Yea Me!
I think this is enough, yes? I'm sorry to put you through this. I really am. I just got carried away.
Come back? Please?
Bad Hair Days
I came up with a theory a little while back asserting that whether or not I am having a good hair day is an indicator of whether I am having a good day in general. It’s not that I am (that) tied to how my hair looks, but that somehow my hair predetermines or predicts my day and mood. This may not be an altogether original thought, or even a good one. But it was a working theory.
It is blown out of the water today, let me tell you. My hair is horrific and atrocious. Limp and bland and ugly. It won’t do anything I want (in fact I think all my efforts make it worse). I am about to go stand in front of a classroom of people in a terribly cute outfit with hair that looks like it should be burned off the top of my head. I mean it’s baaaaaad. If I had my camera with me I’d take a self-portrait and post it for you.
So I would assume that I am having a bad day. But I’m having an okay day. Nothing great or grand, but just fine. I tutored for four hours, but no one showed up so I worked a little bit on class preparations, perused the internet, read some backlog of Crazy Aunt Purl's Blog, read a bit of my book, wrote in my journal, etc. I am a little bit cold, but this office is always cold and that's not a legitimate complaint given my location.
The reason I share this with you is that it makes me nervous. Does this mean that I will fall all over myself in class? Will they ask me a question I don't know the answer to and then laugh me out of the room? Will I say something mortifying? I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and I wish it had before now. I can't have hair this bad and expect life to go on as if nothing was wrong.
It is blown out of the water today, let me tell you. My hair is horrific and atrocious. Limp and bland and ugly. It won’t do anything I want (in fact I think all my efforts make it worse). I am about to go stand in front of a classroom of people in a terribly cute outfit with hair that looks like it should be burned off the top of my head. I mean it’s baaaaaad. If I had my camera with me I’d take a self-portrait and post it for you.
So I would assume that I am having a bad day. But I’m having an okay day. Nothing great or grand, but just fine. I tutored for four hours, but no one showed up so I worked a little bit on class preparations, perused the internet, read some backlog of Crazy Aunt Purl's Blog, read a bit of my book, wrote in my journal, etc. I am a little bit cold, but this office is always cold and that's not a legitimate complaint given my location.
The reason I share this with you is that it makes me nervous. Does this mean that I will fall all over myself in class? Will they ask me a question I don't know the answer to and then laugh me out of the room? Will I say something mortifying? I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and I wish it had before now. I can't have hair this bad and expect life to go on as if nothing was wrong.
Wednesday, September 6
Leaves
Yesterday the leaves on the tree outside our house and my office were green. Today they are peppered with yellow. Just an update.
The Corrupt Bastards Club
The night before my written exams to get my master's degree I wasn't sure I'd make it. I had been studying my ass off for months and I was petrified in the what-the-hell-was-I-thinking-I-don't-know-anything-about-literature kinda way. My stomach hurt and I was concerned about whether or not I could sleep. To keep my mind off of my impending failure (or so it worked out in my head), Greg and I decided to go to a movie. It was a tricky decision becuase it had to be funny - I couldn't waste any of my critical thinking brain cells on an emotional dramatic movie - but it couldn't be a slapstick comedy becuase I needed something to think about when I was falling asleep. Otherwise I'd try to remember all of my main points and that would that would inevitably keep me up all night. If/when I finally fell asleep I would try to writes my exams in my sleep. This happened everytime I had a big paper looming. In my dreams, though, I never could seem to write a clear and intellegent sentence. So I'd slave away all night without ever being able get any real rest. It makes for a terrible nights sleep and, because I am really cranky when I am tired, my day, along with everyone else's day, would suck as a result.
We decided to go see Thank You For Smoking at the fancy-pants full-priced Fox Tower in downtown Portland. One of the funny things about the movie was that there the firearms, smoking, and alcohol lobbyists called themselves the MOD squad (Merchants of Death) (bookmark this in your pretty little head*). It was perfect. I laughed, I was engaged, and later that night I was able to think about how that guy spun his words to make smoking sound like such a good idea instead of worrying about the next morning's looming catastrophe.
I was reading the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner's website the other day (which is the one thing I miss about Fairbanks. It has the best letters to the editor of any paper in the whole wide world - I'd betcha $100). The headline read:FBI looks for ‘Corrupt Bastards Club’ hats in probe. It was a story questioning the financial relationship between VECO, a giant oil field sevices company and a heavy hitter in Alaska politics, and several members of the Alaska State Legistlature. After an initial story questioning the relationship hit the news, the legistlatures formed The Corrupt Bastards Club and made commemorative hats (or so it seems). At any rate, the FBI later raided several legislator's offices looking for the "seizure of documents 'concerning, reflecting or relating to any payment' to lawmakers by VECO executives... [and] documents about contracts, agreements or employment of legislators provided by VECO." Also authorized by the warrant were "any physical garments (including hats) bearing any of the following logos or phrases: ‘CBC,’ ‘Corrupt Bastards Club,’ ‘Corrupt Bastards Caucus,’ ‘VECO.’”
I can't decided what I love more: the fact that these guys made hats saying The Corrupt Bastards Club or that the Fairbanks paper put the words "Corrupt Bastards" on the front page in big, bold lettering. I do love me some Alaskan politics, but who knew I didn't have to watch Thank You For Smoking. All I had to do was wait a few months and read the News-Miner.
*I stole this tactic from Megan's blog.
We decided to go see Thank You For Smoking at the fancy-pants full-priced Fox Tower in downtown Portland. One of the funny things about the movie was that there the firearms, smoking, and alcohol lobbyists called themselves the MOD squad (Merchants of Death) (bookmark this in your pretty little head*). It was perfect. I laughed, I was engaged, and later that night I was able to think about how that guy spun his words to make smoking sound like such a good idea instead of worrying about the next morning's looming catastrophe.
I was reading the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner's website the other day (which is the one thing I miss about Fairbanks. It has the best letters to the editor of any paper in the whole wide world - I'd betcha $100). The headline read:FBI looks for ‘Corrupt Bastards Club’ hats in probe. It was a story questioning the financial relationship between VECO, a giant oil field sevices company and a heavy hitter in Alaska politics, and several members of the Alaska State Legistlature. After an initial story questioning the relationship hit the news, the legistlatures formed The Corrupt Bastards Club and made commemorative hats (or so it seems). At any rate, the FBI later raided several legislator's offices looking for the "seizure of documents 'concerning, reflecting or relating to any payment' to lawmakers by VECO executives... [and] documents about contracts, agreements or employment of legislators provided by VECO." Also authorized by the warrant were "any physical garments (including hats) bearing any of the following logos or phrases: ‘CBC,’ ‘Corrupt Bastards Club,’ ‘Corrupt Bastards Caucus,’ ‘VECO.’”
I can't decided what I love more: the fact that these guys made hats saying The Corrupt Bastards Club or that the Fairbanks paper put the words "Corrupt Bastards" on the front page in big, bold lettering. I do love me some Alaskan politics, but who knew I didn't have to watch Thank You For Smoking. All I had to do was wait a few months and read the News-Miner.
*I stole this tactic from Megan's blog.
Sunday, September 3
Art Films
Let me start by saying one of my favorite places in town is Bear's Tooth Theatre and Pub. They have second-run $3 movies, great locally-brewed beer, and some mighty fine pizza. Greg and I go there a lot and have seen some great movies there (including an awesome Auzzie flick called Look Both Ways). Bear's Tooth hosts Art House Monday every (duh) Monday that Greg and I probably hit about one a month (but always plan on more).
Also, I think that Office Space is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen. How many times have I said
"You've been missing a lot of work"
"I wouldn't say I've been missing it, Bob."
"That guy is management material."
in the middle of a conversation? Too many to count, I'd say. My roommate in college and I kept a copy in our dorm room and would watch it when we needed a pick me up.
Office Space is playing on Art House Monday this week. I appreciate it's cult classic-ness and am excited to see it in the theatre (because I only saw in on DVD and I am sure anyone else sitting in the theatre love it as much or more than I do) but an art film? Really?
This reminds me of last summer when I went to the independent film section of Anchorage's Blockbuster and saw that it was one rack and filled with movies like Carmen Electra's Stripper Workout - there were several different versions available. Have I mentioned we subscribe to Netflix?
I'm going to see Office Space tomorrow night at The Bear's Tooth, if anyone wants to join me.
Also, I think that Office Space is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen. How many times have I said
"You've been missing a lot of work"
"I wouldn't say I've been missing it, Bob."
"That guy is management material."
in the middle of a conversation? Too many to count, I'd say. My roommate in college and I kept a copy in our dorm room and would watch it when we needed a pick me up.
Office Space is playing on Art House Monday this week. I appreciate it's cult classic-ness and am excited to see it in the theatre (because I only saw in on DVD and I am sure anyone else sitting in the theatre love it as much or more than I do) but an art film? Really?
This reminds me of last summer when I went to the independent film section of Anchorage's Blockbuster and saw that it was one rack and filled with movies like Carmen Electra's Stripper Workout - there were several different versions available. Have I mentioned we subscribe to Netflix?
I'm going to see Office Space tomorrow night at The Bear's Tooth, if anyone wants to join me.
Saturday, September 2
Breath
I forgot to tell you that I saw my breath when I was leaving work the other day. It was 7pm and it didn't look that cold before I walked outside. It is the beginning of the end, my friend.
I have to admit that I am a little scared about the winter. I know it won't be as bad as Fairbanks, so I'll survive, but I don't really like being cold because I swear I stub my toes more when it is cold outside and we all know it hurts more when you're cold. The thing I am most worried about, though, is the darkness. When I was an undergrad, the darkness didn't really bother me, but I am pretty sure that's because I was sleeping in until about 10 or so and therefore got to see the sunrise every morning. But I've been trying to be an adult lately, and being an adult means getting up at a reasonable hour.
I have to admit that I am a little scared about the winter. I know it won't be as bad as Fairbanks, so I'll survive, but I don't really like being cold because I swear I stub my toes more when it is cold outside and we all know it hurts more when you're cold. The thing I am most worried about, though, is the darkness. When I was an undergrad, the darkness didn't really bother me, but I am pretty sure that's because I was sleeping in until about 10 or so and therefore got to see the sunrise every morning. But I've been trying to be an adult lately, and being an adult means getting up at a reasonable hour.
Friday, September 1
Let Me Tell You Something
I like teaching.
It's fun and the students in my classes are fascinating and wonderful and charming. I am smitten with them all. I have been wrapped up in trying so hard to get a job and then putting up with the bureaucratic mess that is being an adjunct that I forgot everything I was going through was because I really like teaching college kids. They have spunk, maturity (most of the time), and are branching out and trying new things which makes them open, interesting, and interested. I like learning about these great people and seeing what they have to offer me, the class, and the world. It's fun to share what I know and assist them in finding out how to go from where they are to where they want to be.
Last night, for the first time since I moved here, I felt giddy. As my students filed out of the room I felt like hugging each one of them for giving me the opportunity to be happy and have a little fun. Plus, it is a required course so I have tons of students clamoring to get it, which I know is nothing personal, but dammit, they all wanted to hang out with me three hours a week!
So Rah Rah Me! Rah Rah the U for giving me a job! [very fancy cartwheel inserted here] And Rah Rah you for sharing this moment! [high kick]
*if any of my previous students were to read this blog entry they'd never believe it was me because I tell them that using an exclamation point is like jumping up and down with spirit fingers (which I always demonstrate). But in this case, I am jumping up and down with spirit fingers!
It's fun and the students in my classes are fascinating and wonderful and charming. I am smitten with them all. I have been wrapped up in trying so hard to get a job and then putting up with the bureaucratic mess that is being an adjunct that I forgot everything I was going through was because I really like teaching college kids. They have spunk, maturity (most of the time), and are branching out and trying new things which makes them open, interesting, and interested. I like learning about these great people and seeing what they have to offer me, the class, and the world. It's fun to share what I know and assist them in finding out how to go from where they are to where they want to be.
Last night, for the first time since I moved here, I felt giddy. As my students filed out of the room I felt like hugging each one of them for giving me the opportunity to be happy and have a little fun. Plus, it is a required course so I have tons of students clamoring to get it, which I know is nothing personal, but dammit, they all wanted to hang out with me three hours a week!
So Rah Rah Me! Rah Rah the U for giving me a job! [very fancy cartwheel inserted here] And Rah Rah you for sharing this moment! [high kick]
*if any of my previous students were to read this blog entry they'd never believe it was me because I tell them that using an exclamation point is like jumping up and down with spirit fingers (which I always demonstrate). But in this case, I am jumping up and down with spirit fingers!
Tuesday, August 29
The Mountains and the Parking Lots
This is a picture of the mountains from my favorite strip mall. See how much I've grown? I have a favorite strip mall. Somewhere I go on purpose. A strip mall I frequent. Do I wish the stores were against the street and not hiding in a parking lot? Absa-fuckin-lutely. But the point here is my growth. Can you see it? This strip mall has: Title Wave Books (hands down the best bookstore in town. It's independent, too.), Kaladi Bros. Coffee Shop (which sells great tea in a real coffee shop setting), REI, Middleway Cafe, and some other less interesting stuff.
The Real Reason I wanted to show you this picture, though, was because the mountains are great and clouds are magnificent. But it feels like I can't even see them because I am blinded by the sea of cars and lightpoles. And that McDonald's sign. Can you see it? Greg once told me it was the highest grossing McDonald's in the country. It has two drive thrus and everything. It's quite impressive, really. But this is what Anchorage has to offer. Stunning scenery that I can't concentrate on.
I was trying here. I really was. I had a great time browsing the bookstore and working in the coffee shop. And then I walk outside and sigh. I wish, I wish, I wish.
Alaska's Favorite Mall
There are several questions/issues I have with this sign.1) Was it only Anchorage's favorite mall, but it recently overtook the title of Alaska's favorite mall?
2) How do they determine whether the Dimond Center is Anchorage's favorite mall, let alone Alaska's. Is it based on sales, a poll, or is this all a fancy advertising gimmick?
3) You'll note that Dimond is spelled wrong. It's spelled wrong everywhere. Dimond Blvd, Dimond High School, etc. I can only hope this was someone's last name and that it wasn't supposed to be diamond. This has bothered me since the first time I was in Anchorage, although clearly not enough to do any historical research.
On a side note, if I had to pick a mall (and in Anchorage you kinda do have to) I would definitely pick 5th Avenue Mall. I am a downtown kinda gal, I guess.
Sunday, August 27
The Hawthorne Bridge
I have a friend who is writing this book about how her identity is wrapped up in her city. She has chapters on volcanos, strip clubs, and several other things that makes Portland tick. I have always loved this idea, but I didn't fully understand what she was getting at until this last trip to Portland.
I was walking from my mom's condo in downtown to brunch at a friend's house in Southeast. I was sublimely content for I was walking to see my friends, it was a beautiful day, and I was stealing some time to myself. As I stepped onto the Hawthorne Bridge I stopped and looked around me - at the bridge I was standing on, the bridges down the river, the skyline of downtown and SE - and I felt the warmth of the morning summer sun and realized for the first time that this city is a reflection of me. It is not just that I like it, or that it is my home, but that this city encompasses the girl I used to be and the woman I will become.
If someone were to ask me to explain who I am at the core, all I really need to say is "go stand halfway across the Hawthorne bridge and look, listen, and feel what is around you. That is who I am. What I feel and think." Timing makes no difference - sun, rain, day, or night are only reflections of my emotions and personality. Each gust of wind that meets the bridge meets me as well.
They (who's they? In this case, I'm not sure) say that when you get married your partner is a reflection of who you are. And while I don't believe you have to married to have this be the case, I do think it is true. The best parts of me are reflected in Greg and he makes me a better person. But there is something else too, something about that spot on the bridge that urges me to be a better person and to explore my life and world. I feel free there in the same way that loving Greg makes me feel. Like the support of the love I give and recieve will carry me to be the person I strive to be. This city in this tiny part of the world allows me to be who I am and continually pushes me to develop.
Can I be the best version of myself somewhere else, even Anchorage? I have to believe I can. But it is a struggle, just like it was a struggle to be away from Greg for all those months. As I walked across the bridge there was no struggle, only a gentle breeze pushing me toward fulfillment.
I was walking from my mom's condo in downtown to brunch at a friend's house in Southeast. I was sublimely content for I was walking to see my friends, it was a beautiful day, and I was stealing some time to myself. As I stepped onto the Hawthorne Bridge I stopped and looked around me - at the bridge I was standing on, the bridges down the river, the skyline of downtown and SE - and I felt the warmth of the morning summer sun and realized for the first time that this city is a reflection of me. It is not just that I like it, or that it is my home, but that this city encompasses the girl I used to be and the woman I will become.
If someone were to ask me to explain who I am at the core, all I really need to say is "go stand halfway across the Hawthorne bridge and look, listen, and feel what is around you. That is who I am. What I feel and think." Timing makes no difference - sun, rain, day, or night are only reflections of my emotions and personality. Each gust of wind that meets the bridge meets me as well.
They (who's they? In this case, I'm not sure) say that when you get married your partner is a reflection of who you are. And while I don't believe you have to married to have this be the case, I do think it is true. The best parts of me are reflected in Greg and he makes me a better person. But there is something else too, something about that spot on the bridge that urges me to be a better person and to explore my life and world. I feel free there in the same way that loving Greg makes me feel. Like the support of the love I give and recieve will carry me to be the person I strive to be. This city in this tiny part of the world allows me to be who I am and continually pushes me to develop.
Can I be the best version of myself somewhere else, even Anchorage? I have to believe I can. But it is a struggle, just like it was a struggle to be away from Greg for all those months. As I walked across the bridge there was no struggle, only a gentle breeze pushing me toward fulfillment.
Friday, August 25
Some Good 'Ol Alaskan Politics
Well, the big news up here regards the primary elections in the gubernatorial race. There are several things of note I thought I'd share with you.
First, Tony Knowles won the democratic seat, which is no big surprise as he was the two term governor before the current administration.
Second, Sarah Palin kicked Frank Murkowski's ass in the republican race. This is a HUGE deal because Frank was a US Senator for 27 years before he breezed into the Governor's chair. But then he made some mistakes, like appointing his daughter to his senate seat and being an all-around arrogant poo-poo head (read Beth Brag's commentary to get a better understanding of Frank and what this all means ).
Finally, on election day one of Frank's campaign volunteers got shot. Seriously.
Ok, that is not exactly a fair statement. The good citizen got caught in the cross fire between two cousins fighting over their baby's mama. Check it out.
This last story is so good I can't come up with any witty remarks - so have at it in the comments.
First, Tony Knowles won the democratic seat, which is no big surprise as he was the two term governor before the current administration.
Second, Sarah Palin kicked Frank Murkowski's ass in the republican race. This is a HUGE deal because Frank was a US Senator for 27 years before he breezed into the Governor's chair. But then he made some mistakes, like appointing his daughter to his senate seat and being an all-around arrogant poo-poo head (read Beth Brag's commentary to get a better understanding of Frank and what this all means ).
Finally, on election day one of Frank's campaign volunteers got shot. Seriously.
Ok, that is not exactly a fair statement. The good citizen got caught in the cross fire between two cousins fighting over their baby's mama. Check it out.
This last story is so good I can't come up with any witty remarks - so have at it in the comments.
Thursday, August 24
Random Thoughts on a Rainy Day
- I am back in Anchorage and it is really pouring. Alaskan rain - not Portland rain
- I really love my friends in Portland. Where I fall a little short, they bring me up. (For example, Elizabeth helps me be cool while at the same time being geeky together, Taya reminds me what it means to be lovely and non-judgmental, Kate allows me to wear my heart on my sleeves and know I'll always be safe with her, Lisa shows me ambition, Todd and Jen blend the line between family and friends so there is no line, Jamey proves that friend's boyfriend really just means friend, Scott makes sophistication casual and accessible. I could go on and on and talk about Dan and Steve and Martha and others.)
- This is the first time I have had an hour to sit by myself and think in over two weeks. I like it. I like the Blues that are playing in the background with the sound of rain trinkling through during slow sections. I like the way the light is hitting the caramel colored walls of my living room. I like my two sweet angels (also called kittens) sleeping beside me. I like my fancy-pants MacBook I just bought. I like that Greg is coming home in 45 minutes. I like that today I think it will all be okay.
- I am very appreciative of my sister-in-law, Megan, because she has really stepped up to the plate to help me keep from feeling too discouraged. For example, I have a list of tangible things I can do to help me each day. A lot of them are going to help me in career development, which an added bonus.
- My kittens seemed a bit indifferent to me the first night back home, but they are now all over me again. And the love of my kitties makes me Very Happy.
- I have yet to get things in order for my classes, which start in less than a week. Tomorrow morning. For sure.
- I really love my friends in Portland. Where I fall a little short, they bring me up. (For example, Elizabeth helps me be cool while at the same time being geeky together, Taya reminds me what it means to be lovely and non-judgmental, Kate allows me to wear my heart on my sleeves and know I'll always be safe with her, Lisa shows me ambition, Todd and Jen blend the line between family and friends so there is no line, Jamey proves that friend's boyfriend really just means friend, Scott makes sophistication casual and accessible. I could go on and on and talk about Dan and Steve and Martha and others.)
- This is the first time I have had an hour to sit by myself and think in over two weeks. I like it. I like the Blues that are playing in the background with the sound of rain trinkling through during slow sections. I like the way the light is hitting the caramel colored walls of my living room. I like my two sweet angels (also called kittens) sleeping beside me. I like my fancy-pants MacBook I just bought. I like that Greg is coming home in 45 minutes. I like that today I think it will all be okay.
- I am very appreciative of my sister-in-law, Megan, because she has really stepped up to the plate to help me keep from feeling too discouraged. For example, I have a list of tangible things I can do to help me each day. A lot of them are going to help me in career development, which an added bonus.
- My kittens seemed a bit indifferent to me the first night back home, but they are now all over me again. And the love of my kitties makes me Very Happy.
- I have yet to get things in order for my classes, which start in less than a week. Tomorrow morning. For sure.
Sunday, August 13
Portland
I am in Portland.
I love it. I love it. I love it. I love it. I really, really love it.
Here are some things about Portland that I found in Willamette Week's new Finder that may contribute to why I like it so very much:
Number of bridges in Portland: 10
Multnomah County's rank among US counties for percentage of same-sex couples: 13
Number of books on Powell's downtown bookshelves: 750,000
Portland's rank among cities for number of coffee shops: 3
Percentage of TriMet riders who choose public transportation over driving: 77
Rank of Portland as breast-feeding friendly city: 1
Based on poll of Starbucks outlets in Portland the estimated percentage of local Starbucks baristas with a bachelor degree or higher: 23
Gallons of beer that the 45 brewer-members of the Oregon Brewers Guild produced in 2005: 20.77 million
Portland is one of the most solidly liberal places in the country: 70% voted for John Kerry. WW projects that the sharpest divisions lie between mainstream Subaru liberals and the hard-core eco-anarchists.
the Urban Growth boundary
The Urban Iditarod where 5 dressed-up humans pull a shopping carts full of booze making stops at bars and restaurants.
Bicycle magazine named Portland the #1 overall biking city in the country
Southeast = the eclectic side of town (i.e. wacky, hippy-and-hipster infused).
There is plenty more to come...
I love it. I love it. I love it. I love it. I really, really love it.
Here are some things about Portland that I found in Willamette Week's new Finder that may contribute to why I like it so very much:
Number of bridges in Portland: 10
Multnomah County's rank among US counties for percentage of same-sex couples: 13
Number of books on Powell's downtown bookshelves: 750,000
Portland's rank among cities for number of coffee shops: 3
Percentage of TriMet riders who choose public transportation over driving: 77
Rank of Portland as breast-feeding friendly city: 1
Based on poll of Starbucks outlets in Portland the estimated percentage of local Starbucks baristas with a bachelor degree or higher: 23
Gallons of beer that the 45 brewer-members of the Oregon Brewers Guild produced in 2005: 20.77 million
Portland is one of the most solidly liberal places in the country: 70% voted for John Kerry. WW projects that the sharpest divisions lie between mainstream Subaru liberals and the hard-core eco-anarchists.
the Urban Growth boundary
The Urban Iditarod where 5 dressed-up humans pull a shopping carts full of booze making stops at bars and restaurants.
Bicycle magazine named Portland the #1 overall biking city in the country
Southeast = the eclectic side of town (i.e. wacky, hippy-and-hipster infused).
There is plenty more to come...
Tuesday, August 8
George Made a Friend
My husband, George*, has always been very popular. He's the kind of guy that makes friends everywhere he goes and has a million "best friends." I think this is because he appreciates people for who they are without expectations and is an all-around good time guy.
I, meanwhile, get little crushes on people and will come home to George and in Swinger-esque fashion say, "[insert name here] is soooo cool. She is way too cool for me. She'd never be friends with me. Do you think I'm cool enough to be her friend? Wow. I hope she calls me soon. Should I call? No, I'll wait. Should I wait?"
George was at work today and someone who may or may not be his supervisor said, "you know, I only really have three friends here." (I interrupted George while he was telling me this story and asked him how long this bloke has lived here. George said "19 years." !!!) The man who may or may not be George's supervisor then said, "all of my three friends are out of town this weekend, so I think I might call you. Do you play tennis?" George beamed at me and said "I think [insert name here] asked to be my friend! I think I'll say yes."
Isn't that cute? I wonder if the man who may or may not be George's supervisor talked to his wife last night and asked her whether or not he was cool enough to be George's friend.
* name has been changed to comply with request to not embarrass those in the story
I, meanwhile, get little crushes on people and will come home to George and in Swinger-esque fashion say, "[insert name here] is soooo cool. She is way too cool for me. She'd never be friends with me. Do you think I'm cool enough to be her friend? Wow. I hope she calls me soon. Should I call? No, I'll wait. Should I wait?"
George was at work today and someone who may or may not be his supervisor said, "you know, I only really have three friends here." (I interrupted George while he was telling me this story and asked him how long this bloke has lived here. George said "19 years." !!!) The man who may or may not be George's supervisor then said, "all of my three friends are out of town this weekend, so I think I might call you. Do you play tennis?" George beamed at me and said "I think [insert name here] asked to be my friend! I think I'll say yes."
Isn't that cute? I wonder if the man who may or may not be George's supervisor talked to his wife last night and asked her whether or not he was cool enough to be George's friend.
* name has been changed to comply with request to not embarrass those in the story
Monday, August 7
No Gary No!
There are few things I love more than male cheerleaders, an exotic accent, and an anti-smoking campaign. Check it out: http://www.darlugo.com/?id=546&hp=1
Sunday, August 6
Anchored Down in Anchorage
My friend Elizabeth's very cool friend Aaron sent me the song "Anchorage" by Michelle Shocked. I really like it and you can preview it here: http://www.mp3.com/albums/14462/summary.html or e-mail me and I can send you somethin'.
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