Decisions

I don't know if I should be telling anyone this. I'm pretty sure other people will not appreciate this as the fine form of decision making that it is because it is. Be patient. You will see.

I have used this technique to make two highly important decisions today. Yes, two in the same day, it is a miracle of science.

Well maybe not science.

So this afternoon, I had a big decision to make. And that decision was... what to have for dinner. On the one hand, I could stick to the tried and true, something that was already suited to my taste. On the other hand, I could go for something new and different and oh wow, what a difficult decision. I was torn. So...

I flipped a coin. The coin told me to be adventurous. So I was. It was an adequate decision.

Then! Tonight, I was again faced with a dilemma. I had just finished running (I am thinking about doing a 5k in a few months. Scary!) and I remembered that I had made a somewhat promise to go out this evening. But! It is cold! But then again! I had made a promise! So what did I do?

You got it. I flipped a coin. The coin said to stay in. Which I am doing, but with amendments, because I will leave later, after my hair dries. Well, kind of dries.

See, this is the greatness that is coin-flipping-decision-making. It kind of takes the pressure off of you, but if you decide to go against the coin, you can! What's going to happen? The coin isn't going to get mad. Plus, it maybe helps put things into perspective. See, if I had truly hated the decision that the coin handed me, I would have thought twice about it, and in the act of thinking twice about it, I would have realized that perhaps, deep down, I really wanted to do something else. Also, if I go along with what the coin directs and I hate it---I get to blame the coin! It's an instant scapegoat!

I was introduced to this concept by a friend in Seoul, and have been a faithful disciple ever since. Of course, it's not always a perfect solution. Sometimes, if you flip the coin, it might roll under something and then you would lose it, and then you would have to find another coin to flip and what if you found the original coin so that the two flips canceled each other out? Or what if you didn't have a coin? I feel like the chances of that are pretty slim, but I suppose it's possible. I guess what I'm trying to say is... restrictions do apply. Coin-flipping cannot answer anything.

I know for a fact that it's horrible at multiple choice questions.

And essays.


Also, it's probably not a good way to answer super important questions. Like, "Will you marry me?" I mean, even if the coin told you to say yes, it might be hard to explain to the proposer why you had to resort to it in the first place. Use the power of the coin wisely.

Piensa En Mi

I am so excited about this song--I heard it in the car while I was driving the other day and that shouldn't be surprising, since I'm the one that added it to the CD as I was burning it, but then I actually tried to listen to it and... wow. It's good. Enjoy.

6 am.

Yes, it is 6 am. Not 6 am because I woke up so early (on a Saturday! Pshaw) but 6 am because I haven't been to sleep yet.

It sounds much cooler than it really is.

Right now, I am at the place where I feel awake enough to maybe make it through most of the day. I realize that that's preposterous, but in my head it completely makes sense right now. I got home and took a shower and brushed my teeth and am debating the merits of trying to stay up.

Merits of Trying to Stay Up:
I won't ruin my sleep schedule.
I get to claim that I didn't go to sleep last night, making me look wacky and interesting?
I get to look wacky and interesting?
My hair gets time to dry because I do not own a blowdryer.

Merits of Going to Sleep:
Sleep.
Even if I ruin my sleep schedule, it's been ruined before and will get over it, probably by forcing it into a loveless union with exhaustion.
sleep.
I'm going to be useless for the rest of the day if I don't even attempt to sleep.
I'd rather not be useless for the rest of the day?
I appear responsible and adultlike.
Sleep.

I think the "Going to Sleep" side wins.

=]

If I don't get around to saying it later,

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Amazingness

So today in a fit of madness and/or inspiration and/or pique, I wrote a short story and it is freaking, I kid you not, genius. I was at the coffee shop, writing, like the little pretentious indie emo kid that I am, and was texting my friend to discuss some issues that we are both going through (yes, I am being particularly vague, not to try to catch anyone's interest, but rather because I'm not going to go into it here) and I just started writing. It was amazing. When I finished, I texted him, "Holy crap, ______, I am like a literary genius and I didn't even have to take any drugs."

Then I packed up my stuff and drove home and typed it all up and then I read it out loud to myself and was so impressed that I had to come on here to inform the world (also known as no one) of the miracle that I had created. I wonder if this is how Shakespeare* felt. Or man, not even Shakespeare, I wonder if this is how my creative writing professor at university felt because if that's the case, I understand, now. I totally understand.

Of course, it's probably trite and rubbish but it's kind of not because I say so. Or it kind of is because I say so?

Upon further reflection, this requires more thought.

*I am not comparing myself to Shakespeare, at all, I just used his name because everyone knows Shakespeare, and it's almost cliché but I don't care because I am a freaking artist and can bend the rules on a whim.

>=[

So I took a nap before going into play practice this evening and perfecting my British accent (it's really just that good, ya'll) and that was a mistake. Mistake. Because now I am not sleepy and just sitting here, with my laptop on my lap and my pandora station playing and my toes are cold because I'm being dumb and not actually turning on the heat in my apartment except for ten minutes in the morning because it's COLD, but not that cold.

Well, it's pretty cold. For me.

My classes this week have gone pretty well. I think the kids are heartened by the prospect of vacation, or they can see that I'm just as likely to go nuts on them and give them all extra homework and noodle whipping as not. I thought teaching Kindergarten was a trial to my patience, having all those 6 year olds trying to desperately to get my attention, and getting stabbed with a pencil, or having to listen to a kid tell a five minute story about how he has a puppy that runs in circles.

Actually, that was pretty cute.

But wow, I am learning to take advantage of the five minute passing period between classes as time for me to close my eyes and meditate briefly on life and my place in it and how everything will work out in the end and how I really should have worn shorter heels, but it's too late now and I am going to just have to deal with it and at least they make me taller. The days have started magically growing longer and longer until it's 8th period, and all I can do is prop my aching feet on my desk and listen to podcasts*. I realize that it's just me being tired, and going for so long without some time off, but it's disheartening all the same, to feel so negative about everything the past few weeks.

Of course, I should be used to it, being a negative person, and hating everything, and kicking puppies**, like I like to do. But I'm not. It's sad.

And horrible.

And.. um.. bad.

And other stuff.





*I learned about Jewish pirates today, it was interesting.

**Not really, puppies are adorable and I like them a lot, I just dislike (almost) everything else.

All I could do was to get drunk again

the suicide kid
I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed. but all I could do was to get drunk again. worse, the bar patrons even ended up liking me. there I was trying to get pushed over the dark edge and I ended up with free drinks while somewhere else some poor son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital bed, tubes sticking out all over him as he fought like hell to live. nobody would help me die as the drinks kept coming, as the next day waited for me with its steel clamps, its stinking anonymity, its incogitant attitude. death doesn't always come running when you call it, not even if you call it from a shining castle or from an ocean liner or from the best bar on earth (or the worst). such impertinence only makes the gods hesitate and delay. ask me: I'm 72.     Charles Bukowski* To say that I'm ridiculously into this guy at the moment would be an  understatement. And yes, by this guy, I mean a deceased German-American poet.

Counting the days.

So this is is my current radio obsession.
Well, it is as much as pandora.com can be a radio obsession. But it's what I've been listening to lately.  I wish I could listen in my car, since I really get tired of the same music after awhile, and can't stand the radio unless it's NPR, which is broadcasting from Stephenville, and I'm usually driving in a direction that's away from Stephenville, so the station gets fuzzy. It's very sad. Someday I daydream about getting a new car stereo, but it's honestly pretty low on my list of priorities, so I guess I'm stuck with the same old stuff in the car, and pandora at home.

I guess it's not a terrible arrangement.

So I really want a day off. It's almost ridiculous. But I have to hold out because Thanksgiving holiday starts on the 24th and it's going to be great(!!) having three days off from work. Well, five if you count the weekend, and I may as well count the weekend. I feel like the next week is going to be interminable. But(!) three weeks after Thanksgiving, I'll get my Christmas holiday, and that will be excellent. I'm planning on making gingerbread cookies.. because I really like gingerbread men. With little red-hot buttons. And a hat.
I used to really like Christmas. I guess I still do, but it's a significantly scaled back enjoyment. I guess it's sad? But maybe it's more sad to be almost thirty and ridiculously excited about Christmas? Maybe it's the most saddest (yes, I am an English teacher) to be almost thirty.

Yeah. It totally is.

Eulogy To A Hell Of A Dame

some dogs who sleep At night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh and best in that dark green dress and those high-heeled bright black shoes, you always cursed when you drank, your hair coming down you wanted to explode out of what was holding you: rotten memories of a rotten past, and you finally got out by dying, leaving me with the rotten present; you've been dead 28 years yet I remember you better than any of the rest; you were the only one who understood the futility of the arrangement of life; all the others were only displeased with trivial segments, carped nonsensically about nonsense; Jane, you were killed by knowing too much. here's a drink to your bones that this dog still dreams about.  Charles Bukowski

Knowledge is power.

Went to the zoo last weekend. Saw a lemur? Yes, it is definitely a lemur. I know because I looked it up.

That was all I had intended to say, but then I changed my mind because it's still a good half hour before I'm going to go to sleep (yes, I plan on going to sleep at 9:30, provided my hair is dry by then) so I may as well kill some time.

I really like to read. I mean. Really. Like. To. Read. But I've been paring down my personal library, which has been pretty easy, considering the town I'm currently living has nothing resembling a book store unless you count the section labeled "Books" at Target. The nearest bookstore isn't that far away, but... I'm using it as encouragement to not buy anything that won't potentially fit into a handful of boxes in 6 months. Also, I'm planning on jumping on the e-reader bandwagon at some point in the not too distant future, so. Anyway.

In lieu of reading books... well, in addition to reading the increasingly well-worn copies of the books I own and have decided to bring up here with me, I've started the search for interesting reading material on the internet. There are some webcomics that I always read, a few blogs, my email over and over (I really like checking my email, it's like a trip to the mailbox minus the walking and the disappointment when nothing's there), but I wanted more! And I've found more! Well. A little!

One of the blogs I have recently begun to read has been TheBloggess.com, and I was struck by an entry in which Jenny wrote about being furiously happy in response to some way un-fun and bad things that had been happening. I like this concept a lot. It's like a way of spiting life, but only when life is being really crappy and mean and points and laughs at you about it. So I tried it today. Not because my day was particularly bad, but it was particularly long, and fairly un-fun and at one point one of my students actually walked past me, paused and asked, "Are you alright?"
Which I was. It's just striking that a 16 year old boy (probably not a section of humanity known for being particularly perceptive) picked up that it seemed like I wasn't. (Nothing against 16 year old boys. Or 16 year olds in general.)

So I guess we can call these baby steps. I am going to try to force myself to be happy now, when days are not so bad, or okay, or even pretty normal. So that when that fateful day comes, and everything is TERRIBLE, I will be prepared to toss my hair scornfully at life and make rude gestures at it behind its back. I am practicing.

It was going pretty well 'til I decided to watch last night's episode of Glee, and then I cried. Ohhhh, I cried. To be fair, it doesn't take a lot to make me cry, I can tear up at just about anything except for Titanic and anything involving Nicholas Sparks. But I'm almost consistently a sucker about watching sadness. It makes me feel sad, and then my life is sucked into a whirling vortex of sadness and I forget entirely about being happy, furiously or not. Not for long, fortunately, but for long enough to make me write this kind of blog entry about it.

I know this is all terrible fascinating, and may come up on Jeopardy someday, so I'm glad I got to impart this information to anyone who happens to read this at some undetermined point in the future.

This just in.

Whyyyyyy am I so weird and awkward? I don't really understand, and it's kind of awesome but then kind of not fun to have my sense of humor, and laugh at inappropriate times, and think that the fact that this morning, I tripped over my own pajama pants and found it hilarious enough to have to mention over my facebook status. I've done other mentionable things. Things that deserve some sort of recognition via a social networking sight. But do I mention any of those, thus cementing the illusion that I am an interesting person into a sort of fact? No! Instead, I want to tell people of another occasion in which I fell down.


It happens a lot.


In other news, I am in dire need of a vacation.

Paranoia?

As I was saying in an email earlier....

I was super productive today. Just not in ways that really matter.

Work's been going well, for the most part. The end of the second grading period is drawing to a close, so I've been frantically trying to.. well.. grade things. I'm at the point now where I just draw a check and a happy face. Yes, I teach 11th graders. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?

Tomorrow I get to not teach and go to Graham for a theater program meeting. That will be fun, if only for the not teaching part. And then Thanksgiving is in less than three weeks, so I think I can tough it out and make it 'til then without, you know, stabbing myself in the eye.

Funny story, today I stabbed myself in the eye. With my eyeliner. I wasn't wearing my contacts, which shouldn't really make much of a difference, but somehow it did? So I ended up dragging the eyeliner brush across my eyeball. It took a few seconds for the pain to hit me, so I had enough time to gently lower the brush to the cabinet and then I staggered away from the mirror, propped myself up against the doorjamb and just breathed. It was absolute agony and I had inflicted it on myself. On my eyeball.

Then my treadmill fell on me. Again.

I might be cursed.