Are People Really This Ignorant and Hateful?

a bumper sticker on the aging truck in front of me today:

"kill 'em all... let god sort it out later."

he either believes this sentiment, or he thinks it's funny. i don't know which is worse.

Because Grover Asked...

i like white grape juice. i'd go so far to say that it's one of my favorite juices. it is, however, only about 30% of the reason why i bought mini-juice-boxes of apple & eve's white grape juice. the overwhelming majority of reason is the fact that grover is the spokesmodel (spokesmonster?) on the boxes. on the back panel, he encourages us to get up and get moving by creating a silly dance move and practicing it with our family and friends. (hey, that's waaaaay more my speed than running around or going to the gym.) as i drank down my 4.23 oz (125 ml) of juicy goodness, i noticed a posting on the side of the box. it reads as follows:

"I, your cute and loveable (sic) pal Grover, travel all over the world to learn new and amazing things from my friends. What did you learn from your friends today?"

well, grover, since you asked so nicely, i will overlook your spelling errors and think about what i learned today.

1. i learned that i can identify shaunathan from across the room, no matter what he might be wearing or (is supposed to be) acting like.

2. if you are holding a sleeping baby, people invariably smile at you and are more pleasant than if you are not doing so.

3. jen and i are big fat dorks when we're together - and i love it because we have so much fun.

4. rob and i both used the word "oubliette" today, completely separately. i used it while tutoring, and he then used it whist on the phone with me. how often does that happen with a word like oubliette? (and we weren't making labyrinth references at the time, either.)

5. i'm not the only one glad that one of our students is almost done with his hours...

6. my friends are awesome and endlessly supportive and i appreciate them very much.

thanks for the soul-searching idea, grover! it's a good thing i bought those juice boxes... i might have missed the great opportunity. and that, my friend, would have been not so cute and "loveable".

Things I Learned While Subbing For an Eighth Grade History Teacher

1. 8th graders make me alternatively giggle and want to throw things at their heads.

2. in primitive west africa, yams were so important to their livelihood that committing adultery in a yam field was considered a criminal offense to traditional Ibo law. Here's where i get slightly confused - notice the "was" in the previous sentence. from that, i assumed that we were still dealing with primitive west africa. however, the next sentence after that was, "adultery occurring elsewhere is a civil offense." does this mean these laws are still in effect? stay away from those yam fields on dates, people...

3. you know those those stuffed animal things that are made to look like a sleeping dog or whatever, and they have a motor in them so that their stomaches rise and fall like they're breathing? this teacher had one on her front podium. they are creepy; the end.

4. apparently the new fad amongst middle school boys is to buy glue sticks - preferably the purple kind - and pull off chunks and throw them at each other. really? chucking glue chunks at each other? how do they come up with these things? and how do they convince others that this is a good idea?

5. "sleep tight" came from using ropes pulled across a bedframe to support the mattress. you had to pull those ropes taut every couple of days or the bed would sag and you'd end up on the floor

6. the quote of the day came when four students (all boys, of course) had to borrow paper to do the assignment because they had none. when i asked how they expected to get through school without paper, one of the students claimed he was too poor for that. before i could reply, a girl on the other side of the room said, "you're too poor for paper, but you got fresh kicks every day? shoot. you're a liar, boy." well said, my friend, well said.

Normally I'm Not All About the "Cute Animal" Pictures...

... but you gotta appreciate good captioning. and the occasional classical allusion...

Expecting Death

i realize this sounds pretty morbid, but bear with me; just some thoughts and feelings i recently discovered and how they've changed my thinking. i have been diagnosed with fibromyalgia - unfortunately, i'm pretty sure fibromyalgia (literally "soft tissue pain") is just a fancy word for "there's something really seriously wrong with you, but since we're not sure what it is, we're going to lump you into this category and just try treating your symptoms." there are several symptoms - a few are recent additions - that don't fit into the fibro category, so once i have insurance again, i'm sure there'll be more testing in my future.

it wasn't until very recently - maybe the last few weeks or so - that i realized something: for a while there, i was completely resigned to having a terminal illness. all those months of pain and fatigue and fuzzy mindedness and sleepless nights and pain... it was clear that there was something very wrong with me. and if you were one of the few people who actually saw me during this time period, you probably agree that i looked seriously ill. and i don't mean "oh you must have a bad flu" kind of ill... i mean "at death's door" kind of bad. i hobbled around like an 87 year old woman (and that's not even an exaggeration. both my grandmothers, one of whom is in her 90's, move around better than i do at times), i often had crippling pain in my hands and fingers, and i went through some scary lack of mental abilities (for example, i wouldn't be able to recall my own address, which i've had for over 2 years). even now, though i am somewhat better, i have to apply makeup in the full-kabuki fashion in order to look normal - otherwise i make people uncomfortable. (true story: rob and i went to chili's a month or so ago, and since i hadn't planned on going out in public - i had only intended to hang out at his house - i had no makeup on and my hair was pulled back. our waiter, after one initial glance, would not meet my eyes the entire meal. he would ask if i needed anything and bring me water when i needed it, but his eyes would sort of glance off to the side instead of staying on me. he talked to rob normally, but not to me. and that's hardly an isolated incident; in my natural, non-cosmetic state, i apparently now strike a "there's something really wrong, like cancer wrong, with her" chord in people which, understandably, makes them uneasy.)

it went beyond what i looked and felt like, though... the worst part was the medical staff. all the doctors and specialists i saw all greeted me normally - and then they looked at my vital signs, my blood test, whatever it was in that chart in their hand. they would examine me, look back through the chart, and then a sort of change happened. it was something in their face, a slight gathering of tension, and their voice would become a little kinder. their eyes would take on a wary cast and they would have to take a deep breath before giving me the verdict. and the verdict was always the same: more tests to be run, more blood to be taken so that we would "know for sure." i'd ask what the next batch of tests was for and was given the same answer pretty much every time. they'd list all the extreme probabilities - lupus, cancer, brain or nervous system tumors, etc. - and tell me if that came out negative, we would do some more testing for more benign things. "it's just to rule them out," they'd invariably say, "just so you won't have to worry." but i could see it in their eyes (and, well, i am an empath... it was just there). they wanted to test for the worst case scenario because that's what they expected it to be. and they didn't want to waste time looking for the minor things when we could use that time to treat the illness, whatever it was.

slowly these reactions - without me ever consciously thinking about it - settled into my head and took root. it was a slow process... i couldn't even tell you when that idea became part of my everyday life. but it changed, just as slowly and unobtrusively, my outlook on a lot of things - and life in general. i can't be bothered about little stupid things anymore. pride rarely gets in the way of anything anymore. i know my body's limitations, and however much i may hate it, i have to be realistic. i have to ask for help. i have to back out of things i really want to do. i can't deal with other people's stress that has nothing to do with me. i have to be honest about it. i can no longer hold onto grudges or misunderstandings. i can't expect people to speak up first. i can't hold back or sugar-coat my thoughts and needs because i think someone might need that. i'm not even stressing overmuch about my current (precarious) job-and-rent situation. life is just too short not to enjoy it - and apparently i needed to assume i was dying to remember that.

When Did the Sloths Become Trained Ninjas?

if you have no idea what i mean by that, and if you don't know about the elephants currently standing on my left shoulder, let me explain...

several months ago i got fed up of talking about how miserable i felt all the time, and i can only guess people got tired of hearing it. friends and family, genuinely concerned with how i was doing, would ask how i felt, and "okay" or "meh" were not generally accepted as responses. however, logging everything that was wrong with me on a given day (because it could be many things at once, and those things could change day to day) became very tiresome and - let's face it - pretty depressing. so i developed a "shorthand": since my two biggest problems were pain and fatigue, i decide to break them down into expressions that were easy to share. and, because it's me, and i was over talking about "pain" and "fatigue", it needed to be something with a little humor.

hence the elephants and sloths.

elephants register the amount of pain i'm in, from 1-50; 10 elephants is low, everyday kind of pain (i feel like only 10 elephants have run over me), while something like 35-40 elephants means i'm in pretty severe pain. and those elephants are clever - apparently they've been taking lessons from circus trainers. some days (like today, for example) my body pain's only around 5 elephants, but there are at least 25 balancing precariously on my left shoulder. and at least one of those pachyderms needs to work on its balance, because it seems to be leaning on my neck for support.

sloths tally the amount of fatigue i'm feeling, and they run from 1 to 10. don't let that low number fool you, though: these sloths are serious about their, well, slothiness. and several of them clearly need to go on jenny craig, because when they decide to take a nap on me, i can barely move myself, even if i need to. they seem like such gentle creatures, but looks can be deceiving... i met one at the give kids village a couple of weeks ago while i was taking pictures; the people from discovery cove bring over various animals once a week for the kids to see and interact with. lucky the two-toed sloth was very sweet and docile. but when i asked politely that he tell his relatives to please lay off the junk food, he just blinked sleepily at me and pretended not to know what i was talking about. you'd think, because they generally move so slowly, that i'd have ample warning before they attack, but oh, no... apparently the sloths are also adeptly trained ninjas, masters of the sneak attack. i meant to be over at rob's nearly three hours ago, but they ambushed me and rendered me unconscious for two hours. they may seem sweet, but they fight dirty...

so should you ever hear me talking about my elephants or those damned sloths, now you understand... and be careful, they've been known to try to follow others home. we must all be very vigilant...

That's Right, I'm Classy

just an self-observation as i sit here eating my vanilla creme-centered cookies (think vanilla oreos) and a glass of 10 year tawny aged port wine...

Summer of Music

if you know me, you know that music is a constant in my life. i can't make it (well, i probably could, but i'll leave that to people who have actual talent there), but i can dance to it, sing along to it in the car, and just generally rock out to it. i do this as often as possible. and yes, i own hundreds of cds, and thousands of tracks, but my favorite way to listen to music is live and in person. i love it - i love the energy of the band, and the energy of the crowd, and how those energies flow back and forth. anyone can sound good on a studio recording after production wizards have done their stuff, but it takes true talent to create your own music and make it sound awesome on a stage in the middle of hundreds of people.

it has been an excellent summer for live music. well, for me anyway. i don't know what you've been doing, but i have been delighting in a smorgasbord of melodious pastiche. (okay, yes, that metaphor was completely ridiculous, but whatever.)

just after school let out - the day after, actually - john and i went out to tampa to see the cure. his sister denise joined us and we rocked out to a blissfully made-up robert smith and his current bandmates. rob and kristin joined me for some cowboy mouth shenanigans in july. (and, yes, i remembered the red spoons this time!) liberally sprinkled throughout the summer were shows by afterglow radio and junkierush. (incidentally, agr just released their first full-length cd, and you should definitely pick it up - awesome stuff!) but the best of the summer music extravaganza was at the (formerly star-lake) amphitheatre just outside of pittsburgh.

the police with elvis costello and the imposters.

i don't even think i have to mention how awesome this show was. i'm not sure i even have the words to describe its awesomeness, and i'm the girl who just used the phrase "delighting in a smorgasbord of melodious pastiche" earlier in this blog. it was my first time witnessing both these bands, and it was totally worth the ridiculous ticket price. (well worth the ticket i bought for dad as his birthday present, too) elvis costello is, of course, a musical

genius and he and the imposters are just plain fun on stage. the police, suffice it to say, were brilliant. it was so relaxed on stage - it was obvious they were having fun and enjoying themselves. i'm going to go out on a limb here and say it was probably better than the last tour they went on before they split. there were no egos, no tension... and since they've already stated that they have no plans to reform or recordany new music, there was no pressure of longevity. just three amazingly gifted musicians out there doing what they love. sting sounded better than ever - and the fact that i find a man old enough to be my father sexy is just a testament to his talent as a performer. he owns the stage and the audience. andy summers occasionally broke into mind-bending guitar solos, and steward copeland is simply amazing. he (with his nine-gazillion piece percussion kit) was as fun to watch as listen to.

so, yay, live music! may there be more on the horizon!

Going With the Flow

there are lots of things going not according to plan at this point in my life.  i can't say that's a bad thing, because it all seems like it's for the best (as long as i can pay my rent next month, anyway). i'm really working on trusting the universe at the moment, and hopefully it'll pay off.  i'm already glad i'm not back at chs, no matter how much i miss my kids and my department (well, some of them anyway).  i'm tutoring which is good - i get to be helpful without all the mountains of unnecessary paperwork and protocols.  it's only part-time, though, so i need something else to pay the bills, but hopefully that's just around the corner.  (and if you have any suggestions, by all means, suggest!) it's certainly less stressful and easier on my poor body.  now if i can just figure out how to get full benefits so i can go back to the doctor... 

Raccoon - 5, Parents - 1

i went home to visit the parentals at the end of july. they picked me up in pittsburgh and we headed back to the house. as i carried in my stuff, i noticed a long metal cage sitting on the deck. "what's that for?" i asked. "the raccoon," my mother answered. "we have a raccoon?" "not on purpose." apparently the raccoon had been tearing up the yard and eating the votive candles out of mom's terra cotta luminaries. "candles?" "yes, he very carefully pulls them up out of the holders and i guess he thinks they might be food. he munches around the outside, realizes he can't eat it, and moves on." all this, and he's not so much as tipped over the breakable holders. the yard, however, is looking pretty rough, so my parents decided to trap him and take him up to cooper's rock (a local state park) and let him go up there.

they had tried to catch him the night before i arrived using hamburger as bait, but to no avail. in the morning, the hamburger was gone, and the trap was still set - and almost caught the cat, who is clearly not as clever as the raccoon. according to my uncle (who lent them the trap - why he had a raccoon trap, i'm sure i don't know), the best bait is sardines. um, ok. so that night, dad set the trap. in the morning the cage held... nothing. the sardines were gone, and this time the trap was closed, as if the raccoon wanted to show us that either a) he knew how this trick worked, or b) he was the houdini of the nocturnal world. raccoon 2, parents 0.

they tried again, this time with dad fashioning a cup to hold the sardines, which would be affixed to the cage. theoretically, the raccoon would have to climb into the trap in order to get the food. this time, the cup was intact and unmoved, the trap was opened, and the sardines were gone. raccoon 3, parents 0.

on the fourth attempt - with more rigging and wiring of sardine holders - a raccoon was caught. unfortunately, it wasn't the one they were after. this was a baby raccoon, who was all kinds of scared to be stuck in the cage. he was too young to have learned the finesse of the older raccoon, who was still free. my parents, animal-lovers both even though they were tired of the raccoon shenanigans, tried to calm the poor baby before dad took him up to cooper's rock to find distant relatives. so technically, raccoon 4, parents 0; but since they did catch a raccoon (though it wasn't the raccoon), i'll give them raccoon 4, parents 1.

a few days after i returned to orlando, my mother called to tell me they had tried a new tactic. you guessed it: this time the cup and the sardines made it out of the cage, without the trap ever catching. raccoon 5, parents 1. and the battle continues...