Did 5k today!

Self high five!

I really should've known.

It's summer! Yay!
Except it's hot. Boo.
But no work! Yay!
But nothing to do. Boo.
But I might go to Korea for a summer camp job! Yay!
But it's going to be monsoon season. Boo.
I'll get to see friends and family and people that I miss! Yay!
Except I'm still waiting to receive the documents for my visa application. Boo.
Well in the meantime, I can watch more episodes of netflix! Yay!
Except I finished all the seasons of RuPaul's Drag Race. Boo.
Oh well, my favorite drag queen is going to be in San Antonio in August! Yay!
Oh wait, she's going to be there on a Thursday night and I can't miss work. Boo.
Well in the meantime I'll draw and write and read books! Yay!
Ergh, I'm feeling uninspired. Boo.
So I'll go visit my parents! They like me. Yay!
Wait, they have cats and I'm allergic and that makes vising miserable. Boo.
Well, I'll relax and hang out and have fun in my hometown! Yay!
Oh heck, who am I kidding, I miss having excitement in my life. Boo.


I didn't realize that settling down would be so freaking boring, ya'll. I mean, I really should have thought about it. When I chose to come back to Texas to get my teaching certificate and start being an adult, I forgot about all that being an adult entails. Do you know what being an adult entails? Going to work so that you can pay your bills so that you have a place to sleep so that you're rested for work.
You know what I've been most excited about lately? Eyeliner. I just bought a bright pink eyeliner from Urban Decay the other day. And Pandora Boxx. Because she's just so darn cute. Not career, not money, not art, not hot boys, nope. Makeup and drag queens. Oh, and I live in Texas so I should be excited about summer rodeos and horses or whatever but nope. Makeup and drag queens. Oh, and my 90's music station on Pandora.

I mean, though, I'm not complaining because I've got it pretty good. I have a job, people. That's pretty difficult. I have a 97% passing rate on my state standardized tests with a 43% commended rate. I am in the process of adapting an Oscar Wilde book for the One Act competition. I am going to try to finish my novel this month, too. And sew. And do origami. And yoga. I want to run in a 5k in November. My interests are varied, people. But I was sitting with a group of people and listening to them talk the other day and I guess I was grumpy but I felt like the conversation was just... uninspiring. I need some inspiration. I need a muse. I will see if Daniel Henney will volunteer.

Drawing somethings.

I'm still doggedly playing draw something, even though I've given up on games with most of the people I'd been playing with before. I think it's better this way? Before, it was work. Now, it is art. Let me 'splain.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

I will draw a smiley face on anything.

I mean, anything.

Unless it needs a sad face. I shared a class with this guy in University.

Sometimes my English teacherness gets to be too much for me.

So much depends on a red wheelbarrow...

  

Tilting at windmills. 

I wanted to make a Gnomeo and Juliet reference, but I doubt the other person had seen the movie. I haven't seen the movie, either, to be quite honest.

Folded and unfolded and unfolding.

A poem to pass the time.

This is like
a song to tip the scales
But it's not.

Dispensing starlight.

We were discussing the Great Gatsby in class today.
My affair with Gatsby has been tumultuous, to say the least. In fact, when I first got this book, I hated it. I started reading it on a plane to Korea and halfway over the pacific ocean, I just stopped. I closed the book, I put it in my bag and didn't open it again for two years. This is not wholly uncommon. I did the same thing for Anna Karenina. Time passes, I remember that I started this book or that and out my mind towards finishing them. I usually dislike the books once I finish reading, but by golly, I finish reading them.

But then there's Gatsby. I've probably read this book five times in the past three years, each time not of my own volition. I read it it for class, usually, to get a reminder of what I'm going to be teaching the kids. And every time I read it, I'm struck by how much more I like the story this time compared to the last. It's growing on me. It's taking over my life. Well, maybe not that extreme, but close.

Today I had to defend the merits of the novel. A student, wholly unsolicited, blurted out that they really hate the book and it wasn't any good. Now, I let my students have their own opinion of the novel once they've finished it. But we had just finished chapter five. And to have a student finish the book and tell their classmates that it was horrible wasn't exactly going to encourage them to continue reading. So I explained that a more mature approach was needed to appreciate a book like Gatsby versus one like The Hunger Games.

Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed The Hunger Games. But if you're a student that likes story lines with lots of adventure, which this student admitted that they did, Gatsby may not be for you. For one thing, it takes place in such a short amount of time and everyone is so civil. Granted, they do act like animals, too, but in a genteel sort of way. And the language. This is not simple, easily accessible and quick to skim through. You can't read Gatsby cursorily. The poetic language, the foreshadowing, the imagery, the dialogue, all this contributes to a story that constantly surprises you so each successive reading. I continually find new things that Fitzgerald put in to make the story more than it appears. In fact, a different student points out a connection that I hadn't even thought of and it was fantastic. This story... Well, it's like an onion. It's got layers.

Plus, this is a love story, pure and simple. So many people dislike the novel on that account because, ugh, it's so unrealistic, Gatsby should have just moved on, Daisy wasn't that great anyway, she and Tom deserved each other, blah blah. Blah.

But this story resonates with anyone who's ever loved foolishly, without reason and past the boundaries of common sense. Someone who's loved someone who may have been undeserving, careless or selfish. But someone who cares so much that even when something terrible happens, their only thought is for that other person. Because who hasn't loved and come to some sort of grief because of it? 

This story is for anyone who's ever wanted to be loved as much as Daisy was, by a man who will "dispense starlight to casual moths--so that he [can] "come over" some afternoon to a stranger's garden" in order to meet again the woman he loves. Or by a man who will look at her "in a way that every young girl wants to be looked at sometime".

This is a story for us romantics, and yes, I count myself among them.

The Saga of the Mouse, Part 3: Revenge

That's not necessarily true. I haven't seen a sign of a mouse since the tragic demise of the last one. Tragic on my part, I was pretty much scarred for life.

I really like how my life has become one giant blog entry about a mouse. I mean, it's not, it just looks that way.

The Philosopher

And what are you that, wanting you,
I should be kept awake
as many nights as there are days
with weeping for your sake?

And what are you that, missing you,
as many days as crawl
I should be listening to the wind
and looking at the wall?

I know a man that's a braver man
and twenty men as kind,
and what are you, that you should be
the one man in my mind?

Yet women's ways are witless ways,
as any sage will tell,—
and what am I, that I should love
so wisely and so well?

Edna St. Vincent Millay 

This song is for the painter  who lost both of her hands,
and this song is for the wanderer who never came home again.

For all those with broken hearts, I know what you're going through.
I had a true love once  but now they've gone and left me blue.

So now I'd like to swim to the bottom of the ocean,
Then I'll  s c r e a m  as loud as I can where there's no one I can frighten.

So I'd do anything to cry. I'd do anything to cry.
Let this pain fall from my eyes and let time heal my insides.

I shout out to my grandparents, "Hope you find each other in heaven".

And to all of my friends, Sorry I left you behind.
And if I ever come back home, will you pour me a glass of wine?

And I'd do anything to cry. I'd do anything to cry.

Let this pain fall from my eyes and let time heal my insides.

This song is for the painter who lost both of her hands,
and if I ever find my heart, darling, I promise to come home again.

Like a broken record plays.

The Saga of the Mouse, part 2: Die Hard

Goodbye, evil vole.
Your presence was beginning to pall.
You had the guts to off yourself
with one dramatic fall.
You crawled out of the woodwork
and you'd crawl, yeah you would creep,
you ate out of the trashcan,
and you made me lose sleep.

And it seems to me you lived your life
as a torment to my own.
Never knowing when you'd come out
always made me frown.
And I am sorry that I knew you
For reals, I do not kid.
Gravity took you out long before
the rat poison ever did...

Thyroid? More like SIGHroid. (Get it?)

Methimazole tastes NASTY. I'm usually okay with taking medicine and I don't always need water when I'm swallowing pills (I almost never need water to be honest) so I figured that I would be okay doing the same with this anti-thyroid medicine.

It's the most amazing thing. This tiny little pill seems to expand to the exact size of your throat so that you can't get it down. At the same time, it fills your mouth with this horribly bitter flavor. And it's chalky. Also gross. It took me half a bottle of water to exorcise the taste.

I'm supposed to see the doctor again in four weeks to see how my thyroid hormone levels are. I'm also supposed to see the doctor immediately if I wake up feeling feverish and have a sore throat because it potentially means that all the white blood cells have left my body. Cool, huh?

On a side note, THERE IS STILL A MOUSE IN MY APARTMENT. I'm probably going to name him Harold.

The Saga of the Mouse, part 1: Here There Be Rodents

GUYS I HAVE A MOUSE IN MY APARTMENT. I saw it on Saturday night and my first reaction was to freak out, tell everyone I knew and then panic because the housing office isn't open on Sunday. It was a little sucker, running out from next to the refrigerator, staring at me malevolently for what seemed like hours, then scampering back. I immediately threw out every open food container in my cabinets... and fridge. I realized it may not have been the most rational reaction ever after my second trip to the dumpster.

On the way up to my apartment on the last trip, I saw my next door neighbor sitting on the stairs. Now, I was suspicious before this because it's a 20 year old boy who lives by himself... if it's a contest between myself, my right hand neighbor who I believe is gay and this guy, the natural inclination is to believe that he's the culprit that invited this demonic creature in the first place. I was right. I tentatively asked him, "Have you seen mice in your apartment?"
"Oh, yeah, don't worry about that," he said. "Someone let it get loose when they were feeding their snake.
"......"
"Was it a little one, hangs out in front of the refrigerator?"
" D= "
"Yeah, I've been trying to catch it. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but he woke me up one night running over my comforter. But don't worry about it, he won't hurt you."

Well, I did worry about it. I worried about it all day and called the office promptly on Monday. They sent someone over the same day and all I can tell the guy did was leave out a note that said "Please wait an appropriate amount of time to see if the pest control treatment worked." Well, what is the right amount of time? Because it's Wednesday AND I JUST SAW THE LITTLE SUCKER AGAIN.

But wait, let me tell you about Monday night. I was lying in bed, about to go to sleep, when I heard a strange noise. I was listening to some music at the time so I stopped the song and waited. Nothing. I turned the music back on and there it was again. I stopped the song entirely and walked to the kitchen, to see, perhaps, if the epitome-of-evil was running around the kitchen, training for any marathons, making little roller coaster rides so he could open an amusement park called "Six Flags Over DANGIT I can't think of any good jokes because I have a freaking MOUSE in my apartment". Nothing. I went back to bed. This time I heard some random squeaks and rustling again. I isolated the sound.... IT WAS IN MY AIR VENT.

The next thirty minutes were spent with all the lights on in the apartment, sitting about four feet away from the vent and debating whether I should open it to investigate. You know how, in the horror movie, the dumb person always goes to see the cause of that strange sound in the attic? I FINALLY understand. It's not like opening the vent would have done me any good. I wouldn't have seen any salacious scene that I could have used to blackmail the mouse into leaving my residence. But all I could think of was whether I should open the vent so... the mouse could jump on me and eat my face? So tempting, brain! I still wonder how I managed to talk myself out of it.

I don't really know what sort of activity went on last night because I was so tired from not sleeping, from imagining the little rat jihad that was slowly gaining more and more support ever since news of my use of chemical warfare has leaked, that I just passed out. It probably helped that in order to get away from this hellish houseguest I actually went out and exercised*! Maybe I should let him stay, at least until he charges up some outrageous phone bill or leaves his crap in the kitchen.

Oh wait. He already does that. Literally.

My coworker advocates taking matters in my own hands and buying the strongest poison I can find. I'm partial to the idea, except for the fact that I kind of want to use this as an excuse to bring some cats up here to hang out with. I get lonely sometimes, you know? And while mice are okay at listening, they really suck at giving advice.

Well, advice that doesn't involve jumping on their hosts and eating their freaking faces off.



*Geez guys, do you realize that it took me three minutes to spell "exercise"? I tried "excersize" and "exersice" before I gave up and used spell check.

Face it, people, some of you are average. In fact, most of you are average. It's kind of what the word means, isn't it? Deal with it, live it, embrace it, but for heaven's sake; stop trying to be eccentric. Yeah, it's cute for the first twelve times or so, but after that? There's even a wikipedia article. Read it. Avoid it.

Granted, that's the girl stereotype. I guess the boy equivalent is the moody, emo kid. My gosh, can't these people just be happy? And not the fake, giggly, ridiculous happy, but the kind of quiet, calm, I like to read books happy? Maybe the moral of the story is

JUST CALM DOWN ALREADY.

First, go to the library. It's the place where they have lots of books, and you get to take them home for free for a week or so, and bring it back. Walk up and down the aisles for awhile, then look carefully and pick a book. Then? Read it. So this may be the English teacher talking, but come on. Practically everything you're thinking? It's been thought already. And then someone wrote about it. That doesn't mean you have to stop trying to be original, but just stop taking it so seriously. Originality is difficult. Realize that. It might be the first attempt at originality that has gone through your brain so far, but with constant effort, it just might not be the last.

Next, and I realize that this might be difficult for some people but give it a shot anyway--don't be a jerk. I actually heard someone today question the need for compassion. It's appalling. I'm appalled. This is my appalled face. >=O
You don't even have to dress it up in fancy words. Be nice even if there's no reason for it. Be nice even if there's no reward for it. Just be nice.

Mogi-ogi-o by Heidi · 365 Project

Mogi-ogi-o by Heidi · 365 Project

53%

I think I'm starting to get carpal tunnel. I am definitely sleeping less than I am accustomed. I am currently trying to balance work responsibilities, a social life, One Act practice, writing a novel and playing Skyrim. Thank goodness it's Thanksgiving next week. I'm hoping to knock out the majority of the thing then and finish early because I know that the end of the six weeks' grading period is going to be mad.

Weirdly enough, my bf has started calling shopping carts 'buggies' and it makes me want to punch him. I hope he stops. They're shopping carts. Buggies are something you ride across sand dunes. Buggies are something you pull with a horse. You do not take a buggy with you as you go grocery shopping. They're also not trolleys or trams or whatever the heck other naming mockeries people have made for this simple shopping aid. Also, calling something a name that's different from what everyone else calls it does not make you look interesting and unique, it makes you look like a pretentious dolt. Don't say 'cheers' to end a phone call or in place of 'Thank you' unless you're from someplace that still has a king or queen.

That's just daft*.






*See what I did there? How do you like it? Hm? 

Ten percent!

I'm ten percent finished with my NaNoWriMo novel. I am amazed at my fantastic literary prowess as I write, the way my fingertips flash across the keys, the way the words stack up in regimented lines that suddenly become poetry--oh, who am I kidding. This novel will be worse than Twilight. But at least I'm working on it. I'm really determined to finish this month and become a "winner". Winning is important, or at least that's what I hear. And no, I'm not going to make any Charlie Sheen jokes, you people can do that for yourselves.

Lazy.

I miss you most in the morning.

 

I miss you most in the morning.
Most every morning, I wake up thinking I could call,
I could come visit, I could come running--
we could relive it.

But when I think of all that we've been through,
going back to you seems such a foolish thing to do.
I hope you know that even if I don't,
I wanted to.

All those words you said at the ending
were pretty revealing and I can't forget them.
All those ways we missed at connecting, despite all our trying,
it always came back to what I couldn't give you.

So when I think of starting up again or trying to be friends,
it seems impossible to do.
That even if we can't, I wanted to.

Who knows why two people perfectly aligned
should ever have to find themselves apart?
I'll never understand my heart.

I miss you most in the morning.
Most every morning, I wake up crying.

 

 

 

Even if I Don't.

Rachael Yamagata

Update.

Well, while it seems like forever since I've updated this, it appears to only have been a month and four days. Could have been worse. Things have been busy and with school starting back up, all I've been doing is working, grading and doing my best not to fall asleep too early in the evening. That hasn't always been successful, as last Monday's 13 hour night's sleep is evidence. But give me credit for trying people.

Today it was easy to stay up til now, because it was Labor Day and I didn't have to work. Also because I took a nap. Went hiking around the Fort Worth Nature Center and I really wanted to see a buffalo (bison? I don't know) but I didn't. I did see a prairie dog, which is not at all the same thing.

Also, notice how terribly brown and dry everything is. Texas has been suffering from the most ridiculous drought ever and basically everything is catching on fire. I was reading about the terrible fires around Austin, and I know that Possum Kingdom had another surge of fires last week and gosh, people. Just stop burning things already. Even little things.

But the weather today was fantastic. It was cool and I think that if it did make it over 90 degrees, it wasn't by much. It's sad that I'm excited by 90 degree weather, but after days and days of 105 and 108, 90 degrees is immeasurably more pleasant.

Also pleasant, my classes this year. I'm not going to get into much detail but I do feel like I will enjoy my second year of teaching. First years are always difficult, and I'm glad I didn't end up with a job over the summer because by the time that last bell rang in May, I felt like a mushy pulp that had just been poured from a blender. It's taken an entire summer of lazing around to get over it and I was still bracing myself that first day, waiting for that one class that I just knew would be the worst.class.ever. So far, I'm still waiting and even though it's only been two weeks, I'm holding out hope that the kids stay the way they've been so far.

My birthday is in a week, too, which I guess can be pleasant or not depending on how you look at it. While the idea of aging isn't terribly fun, at least I'm still under 30. Also, I feel like this year's birthday will be better than last year's, which was celebrated by splurging on pizza, because I was too poor to afford a real splurge. I mean, don't get me wrong, I do like pizza, but not as my sole birthday extravagance. The boyfriend's birthday is the day before mine, so we'll have a weekend of celebrating, and by celebrating, I mean probably watching Bizarre Foods on Netflix and making something yummy for dinner. And having cake. And eating it, too.

Yours are the sweetest eyes.

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside.
I'm not one of those who can easily hide.
I don't have much money, but boy if I did,
I'd buy a big house where we both could live

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do.
See I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue.
Anyway the thing is, what I really mean, 

yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen.

And you can tell everybody, this is your song.
It may be quite simple but now that is done
I hope you don't mind. 

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
how wonderful life is now you're in the world.

If I was a sculptor but then again, no,
Or a girl who makes potions in a traveling show.
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do.
My gift is my song and this one's for you.

And you can tell everybody, this is your song.
It may be quite simple but now that is done
I hope you don't mind. 

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
how wonderful life is now you're in the world.

So my trend of liking covers continues. This version is different enough, and I like Ellie Goulding's voice. It's sweet. Approachable. Kind of like how I wish I could sing if I could sing, but alas, I can't. 

In other news, I have exactly two weeks left of vacation, and then in-service begins. Tomorrow I'm not exactly free either, since I've signed up to attend a workshop given by the region. The good news is that attendance will count towards my comp days later in the year. The bad news is that it's in Azle and I have to drive 35 minutes to get there so I'll probably have to wake up super duper early. For the first time since May. Not counting the weekends where I go biking. But I don't really know how well getting up early helps in regards to cycling in the heat, considering it's so freaking hot here. It was 98 degrees at 10:00 this morning. This whole week, in fact, looks like it's going to be super hot, which is fantastic, since I'm moving at the end of it.

Yes, I get to move to my one-bedroom, after a whole year of having entirely too much space on my hands. I'm excited for the lower rent and to get away from the loud upstairs neighbors, since I'll become an upstairs neighbor myself, but it's supposed to be 108 on Thursday. 108! Or 106, depending on which weather source you use, but either way it makes me sad. Already. 

Went to Austin with the boyfriend, which was fun. I'm  tossing in some photos from there so that it looks like my summer vacation was entirely more eventful than it actually was. I'm not complaining, because I relaxed the heck out of myself and I'm pretty sure the next 10 months will get me all wound up again. Plus, I'm hoping for a lot of fun and exciting things to happen during this next school year. And then next summer... don't get me started on next summer! (It's going to be fantasmic!)