too scattered for paragraphs

-Had a solo lunch at Taco Diner today. Read my book, ate fish tacos. Enjoyed the solitude.
-Finished Jennifer Weiner's 'Good in Bed.' Now, I'm onto 'Little Earthquakes.'
-Watched birds on my bird feeder, like the nerdy-a** nerd that I am. I have a bird book now from Half Price Books, and I highlighted and tabbed the birds I've seen. On a realistic note, what a loser am I? On a more serious note, it reminds me of watching birds with my grandma when I was a little girl. Chickadee. Bobwhite. The elusive hummingbird or blue bird. It's kind of special. Love those memories.
-It was BEAUTIFUL here today! Just beautiful. Took a looong walk with B and the dogs along the walking trail near our house.
-Talked about how great it will be when they finish lighting the trail, especially with the hot Texas summers. It will be nice to take long walks after dark.
-Walked to a frozen custard place.
-Preston got loved on by some kids. He likes that.
-Trash Can Sam didn't, so much. Poor dirty-looking little fraggle.
-Ate dinner in Deep Ellum, the only place where there is no wait on weekend nights. You pay for it in the parking, though. Had wheat beer. Tasted like summer.
-Finally realized who the bartender reminds me and my husband of: the bartender from the Shining. It was one of those, "OHHH," moments. And kind of creepy another time, another place-ish. You know.
-Going to Sprinkles tomorrow. You don't know love until you've had those cupcakes. so. good. No, so good!

and when i see you, i really see you upside down

Lyrics from Dath Cab for Cutie's "A Lack of Color." It's what I'm currently listening to. Take that, Xanga.

You know, in yoga, they say we hold emotions in our hips. I have also read that tight hip muscles are the main underlying issue leading to knee pain. Now, isn't that interesting? As I have whined on here for, years actually, I have chondromalacia (fancy pants talk for arthritis before you are 30) in my knees. This keeps me from my old hobby of running, my lame excuse for getting fatter, yada, yada, whine, whine. Well, it was a hobby to me.

Interesting flakey fact number one is that I have a history of being totally unaware of negative feelings, and I've started wondering, "where did they goall those years?" Were they in my hips? (Yeah, I know it's weird.)

I was the "it's no big deal" girl, and I didn't even know it. I just thought I was accepting and forgiving. You know, I have this very spiritual, interesting friend who is an Episcopalian priest; one day he gave me a Buddhist book on anger, and I was totally surprised bc I never ever acted angry. Ever. I was a little offended; yet, when I read the book, it became clear to me that I was angry about a whole mess of crap. I just didn't really know it.

For me, I think it was a form of rugged individualism...you know, that I would not be invested deeply enough that anyone or anything could actually have an effect on me. And I'm not going to get all weepy here, but I'm talking about some super serious stuff that I never knew even bothered me.

I think that book helped me accept the duality of feelings: You can forgive someone, but still have the pain and even some anger, bc that part is outside of our scope of control. And if you turn your head to those emotions, they don't go away, they just change in form. Since I've been more awake to this, I'm continually surprised at what feelings feel like! Case in point, I have a friendship that sort of fell apart almost a year ago. No, I'm not in middle school; turns out, this happens with grownups, too. My point: I am actually shocked that sometimes I still feel sad/hurt. Okay, so on occassion, this initially comes out as Mean Girls-esque judgement; I'm straight up human. But still, I'm shocked by the lingering nature of the whole thing, and I don't think it had a lot to do with the details of the relationship. Rather, that is what it's actually like to be invested in another human and to then get hurt. A few years ago, I would have reacted with full indifference.

My point here is, look at me growing! I am so less repressed than I once was.

Excuse my stream of consciousnes, by the way. Day in the life of a random processor. Barbecue.

hey jealousy

I am jealous of xanga's "currently" this and that feature. Bah. Reminds me of how I feel about totally thin women who I cannot secretly judge on any level bc they're also nice, funny and smart: it's so unfair. Like xanga users, I also want to opportunity to define myself by my book and song choices. Henceforth (that's right)...

currently reading

Sometimes I like to think all deep-like. I'll say that above a whisper, because in some circles it is at least a little ego-gratifying. What I'm less likely to admit is that often I dream in pale pink toe nail polish and shades of estrogen. Tell the non-makeup wearing, cheerleader judging teenager that is my former self and I will deny it. I like chick flicks. I like chick lit. I have seen Mean Girls and Bridget Jones Diary a bazillion times, and for the love of God, "nobody puts Baby in a corner."

As if you need more ammunition, I own 13 Going on 30. And Three Men and a Little Lady? Hands down, one of the best sequels of all time. I am only a little ashamed to admit this.

I love it all in the way that if I could actually draw a little mid-sentence heart right here on the computer screen in place of the word love, I would hasten to do so. Jennifer Weiner is the goddess of contemporary chick lit, if you ask me. I'm on a re-read-a-thon, in prep for her newest, which is coming out in April. This is unprecidented for me, because I am not a re-reader, unless we are talking about the nutritional data for Cadbury Cream Eggs, which I keep hoping will change for the better. They are NOT creepy!

also currently reading


Of course, I'm also reading A New Earth, with my super functional little highlighter posty thingy that was rightly featured on Oprah. Have you seen that thing? Genious.

Anyways, I'm always reading something spiritual/metaphysical like this, so it's nothing totally new, but apparently a big deal; over a million people have downloaded the video class she and Eckhart Tolle are having online. I watched it. It's very good, and I can't believe it is on the Oprah show, honestly. It is anything but mainstream, and I think a lot of people see her as a Disney-boycotting Baptist. Just the other day, I was at at a teacher training. This is in Texas, mind you..the actual buckle of the Bible belt, where at another training a facilitator once announced "Hey, ya'll, it's alright to just say 'Amen,'" to which about 3 people in western-wear raised their right arms and let out a drawl-infused chorus of, "Ay-meein." At this particular session, I eavesdropped onto one girl telling another girl, "I like Oprah, but I just don't get how she reconciles living with Stedman. I mean, she is a woman of faith."

I said nothing, because like my mom said, my mouth gets me in trouble. And in Texas, you can take that to the power of about three.

Once, when I worked for a college newspaper my freshman year (in TX), I wrote an editorial entitled "Does Common Sense Stop at the Red River?" (That would be the river that makes the Northern-most border of TX) Really. With my picture next to it. In a conceal and carry state. I know.

so our new place has a patio...

My coffee and I sit and listen to the birds, waiting for drops to finally sink away from the bloated clouds overhead, changing our morning party into something else entirely.

Fat Riley, my cat, stares intently through the windowpane, carefully eyeing the teasing finches perched on the swaying bird feeder. His puffed-up tail shakes in a seizure-like manner, and I imagine he is making the spastic clicking sound he produces when in full-on hunting mode. Occasionally, Trash Can Sam, our 12-pound rescue puppy who no amounts of expensive human shampoo can make pretty, jumps hyperactive circles around him, a beckon to play.

Aesthetically, Sam is something between a disheveled Fraggle and Kramer from Seinfeld. Once homeless, he used to run around outside the classroom where I teach, until I finally took him home. People said things like, “He may be ugly now, but he’ll be so cute once he’s had a bath.” And those who continued to know us both undoubtedly feel awkward when they see him again; as it turns out, that was just the way Sam looked.

Riley has no interest in playing, so Sam cheerily humps him, the one thing that always gets Riley’s attention. Finally, the birds are free to snack in relative peace as Fat Riley and Trash Can Sam are engaged in matrix-like war-fare on the other side of the glass.

I'm a genie in a bottle, baby.

My mother, who had me at 19, said that when I was in-utero, she carefully developed two life goals for me, two very important blessings she felt she had never had. Goal #1: May fetus grow to have longs legs. At 5 feet, 1 and ½ inches, she had apparently grown weary of standing on her tippy-toes and of walking two steps for everyone else’s one. And, she thought, it would be endlessly easier to shop for jeans.

Trite by some standards, but undoubtedly superior to any self-unattained goal I might have concocted had I been approaching parenthood at 19…Content-wise, that is; the goals themselves would have been top quality, by my most pop-psychology standards at least. By then, I had taken and dropped enough community college classes and watched enough Oprah shows to know that goals must be specific and framed into discrete periods of time.

For example: May said hypothetical child learn to shotgun cans of beer without turning nostril into power hose, by the age of 19. Very good goal, and I can tell you from unglamorous experience, very useful. Imaginary love-child goal #2: May said hypothetical child drunk dial, in hysterical Britney-esque fits of laughter and singing, less than 4 ex boyfriends between the hours of 2 and 4 a.m. on the average Saturday, by the age of 19. Definitely blessed with A+ goal-making abilities; really should have kept showing up to class. And it’s a good thing I never got pregnant.

Mom must have rubbed the right Genie’s lamp -or whatever they’re calling it these days- because her wish was granted. Atop painstakingly painted and then thoroughly worn and neglected nails and french-fry toes I happen to think endearing are two long legs, stretching up to my insidiously descending butt.

Unfortunately for mom (and some might say me), she neither took nor dropped enough community college classes by then to know about the specific and time-frame rules. If she had, she may have reframed her long-legs goal like this: May future child have consistently shaven size 4, 6 or 8, long slender legs, with less than 20% body fat and less than ten bruises and scars per leg, every day, forever- not just on the yo part a yo-yo diet.

The second goal was for me to be independent, but that is a whole other King Midas story.

rest in peace

Final sea monkey update: A small wake was held today in classroom ###. Tragically, the surviving two sea monkeys did not in fact repopulate the earth, but instead died when I over fed them. Those who loved them paid homage by writing up a scienific report complete with creepy little RIP headstones that will surely cause any administrator who passes them to judge me on at least some level, a hypothesis, predictions and the tragic conclusion.

I did not include the unintended variable of me being a dumb a** in the report, but let them think the sea monkeys died due to said water purity issue. I am living outside of the law, some might say.

thou shalt not covet

May the teeny tiny baby Jesus (with his baby Einstein videos) forgive me for so coveting this overpriced chair. I'm still working on finding a decent rationalization, I mean inexpensive alternative.

Goodnight weekend, hello new week. May I do all of the things that I always promise myself I'll do, like lay out my clothes and pre-make my lunches and work out every day. For the first time.

Looks like it is two more weeks 'till spring break. Unlike last year, in a different teaching situation, I am not holding onto my sanity with white knuckles, pleading with the universe so I can hold out for spring break...I actually miss the kids on our breaks. Really, I think the big perk is getting to stay in my jammies and drink wine with lunch.

And regarding the sea monkey update you asked for (or didn't)... Sea monkeys: surprisingly hearty. I teach an after school environmentalism program to help fight the black, sticky air that characterizes breathing in urban Dallas; we "hatched" sea monkeys, which are creepy little brine shrimp whose eggs can live in a sealed envelope for an undetermined amount of time. I really thought they died due to a catastrophous event regarding the purity of the water. It was around Valentine's day and I didn't want to break any hearts, I mean these monkeys had names. So, I put the sea monkey coffin deep in my dark pantry of secrets (i.e. that place where teachers put piles of stuff that they don't want anyone to know they are disorganized enough to have) and didn't feed them. Ever. When I finally showed the environmentalism club the blood bath so they could analyze the results of their experiement, pull out the cocktail sauce, those little guys actually lived! Well, two of them. It's kind of like that movie 28 Days Later, actually. I'm hoping the two will find eachother and repopulate their earth. Soon, before I forget to feed them again.

Teachers know everything. Really. We do.