Does anybody remember the old Burger King jingle about having it all "your way"? That was back in the day before the big shiny plastic-headed scary man showed up. I think, though, it was the start of something....
Today, I was forced from my warm cocoon on the couch with the latest Greg Iles paperback and a snoring 65-pound pit bull to go out and forage for cat food and supplies to make it to pay day. After counting pennies and finally just using the stinking credit card (hey, who's NOT in debt these days, right?), I was backing out of the Wal-Mart parking lot when a song I didn't like came on the radio. I automatically switched stations. No joy. The next station I picked was also playing something that wasn't one of my instant all-time favorites.
I found myself a little irritated. Now, granted, the Topamax seems to be making irritation a lot more frequent that it should be for me, but to get irritated over the radio? And then it hit me. I'm used to my lovely little iPod, and a world full of music programming tailored just for me.
As I drove home, radio firmly off, I starting thinking about how many things we customize to our individual wants and desires now. Of course fashion is an expression of taste and all the many shades of it, including hair and accessories, but we can now order our cars customized straight from the factory. We can get laptop computers in a rainbow of colors. There are "skins" to cover graphing calculators (I saw this on a late night voyage to Office Max) to keep them from being mundane tools. We have cases for cellphones and iPod which we can then load with graphics, videos, and music of our own choosing. We can instantly "demand" practically any movie ever made from Internet providers. For the most part, any food we have the slightest craving for (except umeboshi, of course) can be had with a little effort.
Is this good? I am the first to jump on the customize it bandwagon. I own very few things that I have not in some way "tweaked" to mark as my own. I think it's important to be able to express individuality and creativity. I'm just wondering if maybe, just maybe, we're not getting just a wee bit....dare I say it?...spoiled? If we are, is that a bad thing?
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
MRI
Yesterday was my MRI. I came home when 7th period started, and I took my Xanax about 30 minutes before the test started.
I really can't tell you much about it after that. Xanax is some serious stuff. I remember riding in to the hospital. I remember being fascinated by bright colors and saying some really stupid things. I remember being rolled up into the machine and having a plastic grille put over my face, but I didn't feel any fear at all.
The machine wasn't at all like I remembered. It wasn't a huge confining metal tube this time. Whoever redesigned it had a brain apparently. It was still a tight space, but just knowing that only my head was inside it made it better. Of course part of that may have been the fact that I was flying somewhere out in space on the Xanax, too, and wouldn't really have cared if they'd set me on fire. I barely even flinched when they put the dye IV in, and my fear of needles is the stuff of legend.
I'm glad it's over. If I can just somehow adjust to the Topamax (I stepped up the dose last night, per orders), then I might finally be able to get on top of this thing instead of being ground to a fine powder beneath it.
I really can't tell you much about it after that. Xanax is some serious stuff. I remember riding in to the hospital. I remember being fascinated by bright colors and saying some really stupid things. I remember being rolled up into the machine and having a plastic grille put over my face, but I didn't feel any fear at all.
The machine wasn't at all like I remembered. It wasn't a huge confining metal tube this time. Whoever redesigned it had a brain apparently. It was still a tight space, but just knowing that only my head was inside it made it better. Of course part of that may have been the fact that I was flying somewhere out in space on the Xanax, too, and wouldn't really have cared if they'd set me on fire. I barely even flinched when they put the dye IV in, and my fear of needles is the stuff of legend.
I'm glad it's over. If I can just somehow adjust to the Topamax (I stepped up the dose last night, per orders), then I might finally be able to get on top of this thing instead of being ground to a fine powder beneath it.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Stupamax
Today I had to play the organ for our church's Homecoming Sunday since our regular organist had guard drill this weekend. That would have been enough stress, but when I arrived to practice, the sanctuary was full of people so I couldn't practice, and my music director forgot to tell me about one of the choir specials I needed to be able to play. I immediately felt those twinges that in the past have meant a migraine is about to descend from above like the hammer of the gods.
No headache came. Instead, I suddenly had a Topamax moment instead. The lights had pretty little halos surrounding them that shimmered. The notes on the page, when my mind was actually conscious of scanning them, were meaningless spots of printer's ink. My hands, thank God, moved independently of my stricken brain, and as far as I know, everything went well. Everyone seemed to like the offertory, the only portion of the service other than prelude and postlude where I perform alone, so God got me through another one.
After the service, my aunt, our pianist, came over to talk to me, and she found out that I was taking Topamax. She also takes it, and she gave me the most appropriate name for it that I've yet heard: Stupamax. It makes me feel stupefied and act stupidly, so I think that's my new favorite name.
I have a theory about the drug that I'm going to fly by my doctor next time I see him. It seems like anytime I would normally be having a migraine, I get the "stupids" instead. I don't know if that's just a coincidence, or if that's the way this is going to work. Maybe it's just revealing the stupid that was hiding behind the thin veneer...who knows?
Because I'm such a technophile, I tend to make analogies equating my brain to a computer quite frequently. When the Topamax kicks in, it feels like my brain has "too many windows open" or something. Today, the image of a little pop-up warning me that my virtual memory was running too low kept threatening to make me giggle in the middle of the sermon while I was staring at the sparkly chandeliers in the sanctuary.
I'm trying to have a sense of humor about this, but sometimes, especially days like today when mental acuity was needed, it's really not all that funny. Although, I guess if you were watching me weave back and forth on the organ bench, it might have been quite a laugh.
No headache came. Instead, I suddenly had a Topamax moment instead. The lights had pretty little halos surrounding them that shimmered. The notes on the page, when my mind was actually conscious of scanning them, were meaningless spots of printer's ink. My hands, thank God, moved independently of my stricken brain, and as far as I know, everything went well. Everyone seemed to like the offertory, the only portion of the service other than prelude and postlude where I perform alone, so God got me through another one.
After the service, my aunt, our pianist, came over to talk to me, and she found out that I was taking Topamax. She also takes it, and she gave me the most appropriate name for it that I've yet heard: Stupamax. It makes me feel stupefied and act stupidly, so I think that's my new favorite name.
I have a theory about the drug that I'm going to fly by my doctor next time I see him. It seems like anytime I would normally be having a migraine, I get the "stupids" instead. I don't know if that's just a coincidence, or if that's the way this is going to work. Maybe it's just revealing the stupid that was hiding behind the thin veneer...who knows?
Because I'm such a technophile, I tend to make analogies equating my brain to a computer quite frequently. When the Topamax kicks in, it feels like my brain has "too many windows open" or something. Today, the image of a little pop-up warning me that my virtual memory was running too low kept threatening to make me giggle in the middle of the sermon while I was staring at the sparkly chandeliers in the sanctuary.
I'm trying to have a sense of humor about this, but sometimes, especially days like today when mental acuity was needed, it's really not all that funny. Although, I guess if you were watching me weave back and forth on the organ bench, it might have been quite a laugh.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Living with Topamax Part I
I say part one because I foresee this being a running series....
When the alarm went off this morning, I almost could not even drag myself out of bed. My body refused. It simply refused. I managed to crawl across the bed to the phone and called Mom to check that she was up and let her know that I was, our morning ritual, but as soon as I hung up the phone, my eyelids slammed shut again.
I finally made it in to the shower, but the overwhelming sense of exhaustion remained even after the hot water started to flow. Toweling off, I was tired. Brushing my teeth, I was tired. Getting dressed, I was tired. Driving to work, I was probably a danger to myself and others as I fought to stay awake.
There's no reason other than the Topamax for this. I was up til 11 last night, but that can't explain the way I felt. That also can't explain what came later.
Around 10:00, my brain just quit for the day. It packed up its workbag, flipped off the light switch, and went home for a long weekend. Unfortunately, I had to flail around and try to cope with teaching without it. My students were kind, but I hate having to even ask them to be kind because I am weak. Let me tell you now, there's nothing quite as disquieting as having your mental facilities cut in half and knowing it. I felt like everything I was trying to do was being done underwater in a strong current. Words and names for things went missing, a symptom I have whenever I have a really bad headache.
My doctor warned me that I might have the tiredness and some of the same types of processing issues that the migraines themselves bring as my brain chemically adjusts to the Topamax, but my LORD, I am only taking the lowest dose right now. If it's going to get worse in a few days when I step it up to the next dosage, somebody is going to have to nursemaid me to keep me from walking into traffic and forgetting where I live. I hope I adjust soon...
When the alarm went off this morning, I almost could not even drag myself out of bed. My body refused. It simply refused. I managed to crawl across the bed to the phone and called Mom to check that she was up and let her know that I was, our morning ritual, but as soon as I hung up the phone, my eyelids slammed shut again.
I finally made it in to the shower, but the overwhelming sense of exhaustion remained even after the hot water started to flow. Toweling off, I was tired. Brushing my teeth, I was tired. Getting dressed, I was tired. Driving to work, I was probably a danger to myself and others as I fought to stay awake.
There's no reason other than the Topamax for this. I was up til 11 last night, but that can't explain the way I felt. That also can't explain what came later.
Around 10:00, my brain just quit for the day. It packed up its workbag, flipped off the light switch, and went home for a long weekend. Unfortunately, I had to flail around and try to cope with teaching without it. My students were kind, but I hate having to even ask them to be kind because I am weak. Let me tell you now, there's nothing quite as disquieting as having your mental facilities cut in half and knowing it. I felt like everything I was trying to do was being done underwater in a strong current. Words and names for things went missing, a symptom I have whenever I have a really bad headache.
My doctor warned me that I might have the tiredness and some of the same types of processing issues that the migraines themselves bring as my brain chemically adjusts to the Topamax, but my LORD, I am only taking the lowest dose right now. If it's going to get worse in a few days when I step it up to the next dosage, somebody is going to have to nursemaid me to keep me from walking into traffic and forgetting where I live. I hope I adjust soon...
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Beauty of Books
I just got back from my night class, and I am struck afresh by how much I love reading and literature. We're doing Absalom, Absalom! by Faulkner, and there is almost everything in the world in that novel. It's a wonderful work.
We spent the evening looking at specific passages from the novel and doing close analysis of them. While I know that probably sounds like one of Dante's Inferno levels for many people, for me, it was great. Too often, I'm the one doing all the "heavy lifting" for a work, so when I get to sit with people who enjoy the reading as much as I, it's a special sort of refueling.
Books make that communion possible. The amazing thing about them is that they make that communion possible between any two people from any backgrounds anywhere in the world as long as both of them have read the same work. I've talked with students from all over the world about the ideas in To Kill a Mockingbird, and even though that novel is set in the Deep South of the past, even modern Japanese college students can feel the power and talk about the connections they feel.
This aspect, more than the fantastic escapism, more than the portals to new knowledge, this power to unite, even briefly, even casually, is the best part of books. Through our reading of them, we can learn not just about ourselves, but we can bridge the gaps that are all too large and common in our modern world with simple conversations. How wonderful!
We spent the evening looking at specific passages from the novel and doing close analysis of them. While I know that probably sounds like one of Dante's Inferno levels for many people, for me, it was great. Too often, I'm the one doing all the "heavy lifting" for a work, so when I get to sit with people who enjoy the reading as much as I, it's a special sort of refueling.
Books make that communion possible. The amazing thing about them is that they make that communion possible between any two people from any backgrounds anywhere in the world as long as both of them have read the same work. I've talked with students from all over the world about the ideas in To Kill a Mockingbird, and even though that novel is set in the Deep South of the past, even modern Japanese college students can feel the power and talk about the connections they feel.
This aspect, more than the fantastic escapism, more than the portals to new knowledge, this power to unite, even briefly, even casually, is the best part of books. Through our reading of them, we can learn not just about ourselves, but we can bridge the gaps that are all too large and common in our modern world with simple conversations. How wonderful!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Migraines
I went to see a neurologist today about my headaches. It seems that in addition to all the other bum genes I inherited, a "migraine gene" seems to be one of them. My grandmother had them, but they mostly skipped Mom. Isn't it wonderful to be the generation to which the random gene skips?
The doctor was very nice. I wasn't sure what to expect, but he was actually a double major with English in his undergrad. That's so very rare. He had two really interesting things to share about links between literature and neurological conditions that I had never heard before, so of course I had a good time. Anytime I can learn something new, I'm pretty much happy. Maybe that's a coping mechanism, but through the years and through the medical experiences, a decision to just look at it all as a source of education has helped.
He gave me a prescription for a migraine prevention med to take daily, and I'm to have an MRI Tuesday. Just the thought of being rolled into that tube distresses me. I'm very claustrophobic. He's given me some Xanax, something I haven't ever had before, so I imagine that I won't care what they do to me. The last time I had one, I was only in up to my chest so they could get images of my knee. I remember it sounding like about a million of those windup monkeys playing tin drums. Maybe if I can just keep that image in mind, it won't be so bad.
Well, tomorrow is Parent Teacher Conference Day, and I'm sure that's going to be a barrel of laughs, so I am headed off to bed.
The doctor was very nice. I wasn't sure what to expect, but he was actually a double major with English in his undergrad. That's so very rare. He had two really interesting things to share about links between literature and neurological conditions that I had never heard before, so of course I had a good time. Anytime I can learn something new, I'm pretty much happy. Maybe that's a coping mechanism, but through the years and through the medical experiences, a decision to just look at it all as a source of education has helped.
He gave me a prescription for a migraine prevention med to take daily, and I'm to have an MRI Tuesday. Just the thought of being rolled into that tube distresses me. I'm very claustrophobic. He's given me some Xanax, something I haven't ever had before, so I imagine that I won't care what they do to me. The last time I had one, I was only in up to my chest so they could get images of my knee. I remember it sounding like about a million of those windup monkeys playing tin drums. Maybe if I can just keep that image in mind, it won't be so bad.
Well, tomorrow is Parent Teacher Conference Day, and I'm sure that's going to be a barrel of laughs, so I am headed off to bed.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Homecoming Week
This is our school's Homecoming Week. That means that all normalcy goes right out the window and insanity prevails. Today was Halloween Day in the week of dress-up days. We had costumes both tacky and creative all over the place. I had a mime, Raggedy Ann, a Ninja Turtle, Mario, and Death all in first period.
Tomorrow is "Wacky-Tacky" Day, which, for the past two years at least, the students have largely interpreted to mean they need to come to school looking like something dragged in for questioning from the Vegas Strip. They couldn't understand why the administration wasn't in favor of calling it, even unofficially, "Pimp and Ho" day. No, I'm really not kidding. They honestly couldn't see anything wrong with the idea of being called a pimp or "ho" even in jest.
I fail to see what any of this has to do with the idea of Homecoming. Mostly, it's just a pre-Halloween week of costumes. The only day that has anything to do with the actual idea of our school is the final day, a dress up day for our school colors.
Why can't there be some events designed to focus on the tradition and history of the school, or even some sort of welcome given to the classes of yesteryear who return? Instead, like so many other things that started out meaningfully, it's turned into a meaningless week-long debauch.
I try to tell myself not to be such a grump about it, but I really wish there was more focus on school pride and less simple rebellion against the dress code. There ought to be something to make us all proud to be from Podunk. Then Homecoming might be something worth remembering.
Tomorrow is "Wacky-Tacky" Day, which, for the past two years at least, the students have largely interpreted to mean they need to come to school looking like something dragged in for questioning from the Vegas Strip. They couldn't understand why the administration wasn't in favor of calling it, even unofficially, "Pimp and Ho" day. No, I'm really not kidding. They honestly couldn't see anything wrong with the idea of being called a pimp or "ho" even in jest.
I fail to see what any of this has to do with the idea of Homecoming. Mostly, it's just a pre-Halloween week of costumes. The only day that has anything to do with the actual idea of our school is the final day, a dress up day for our school colors.
Why can't there be some events designed to focus on the tradition and history of the school, or even some sort of welcome given to the classes of yesteryear who return? Instead, like so many other things that started out meaningfully, it's turned into a meaningless week-long debauch.
I try to tell myself not to be such a grump about it, but I really wish there was more focus on school pride and less simple rebellion against the dress code. There ought to be something to make us all proud to be from Podunk. Then Homecoming might be something worth remembering.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Taking It All Back Again
Two weeks ago, I went to see my doctor because I had my usual sinus crap, and his nurse took my blood pressure. Without posting the gruesome numbers here, let's just say it was running high. Not quite "Oh my God, you're about to explode" high, but close. This isn't the first time it's spiked high. I had problems with it in grad school based on diet and stress. I cut back my salt and exercised and it responded beautifully. It also spikes high when I am fighting one of these colds from hell, so I wasn't really worried.
Last week, I went back, and it was still high. Usually, it goes down after a round of antibiotics. Equilibrium is restored, and my body goes back to business as usual. Not this time, though. The life I am living has finally taken its toll. The words hypertension and medicine were mentioned. I wanted to bury my face in my hands and cry. Is there never a break?
I met with a dietitian Wednesday. She was a very bouncy older lady who wears and understands the value of wearing Birkenstocks, so once I got over my initial wariness and she stopped talking to me like I was a person of subnormal intelligence (something I find almost all health care providers do, at least initially), we got along fine. I have to cut my caffeine back to one soda a day (ONLY ONE DIET MOUNTAIN DEW!!!!!), I'm to cut my salt radically, and I am to lose weight.
Normally, this would have put me into a spiral, but to tell the truth, all these things are just symptoms of something much larger. I have done the very thing that the AP trainers warned me not to do. I remember the very first trainer I ever worked with telling me that nothing burns a teacher out faster than AP, that we as new teachers needed to make sure that we gave as much time to having a life outside the classroom as we did crafting and sculpting our lesson plans. I haven't done that.
What I have done is stay too late, sleep too little, eat very poorly and with no attention to the food, sit behind my desk until it gets dark, drive home, and fall down knowing that the next day is going to be a photocopy of the one just finished. I know this sounds negative, but I really don't mean it that way. I love what I do. I couldn't go do it if I didn't. It's just that I've been burning my fragile little birthday candle at both ends with a blowtorch, and the reserves that I once had have melted into vapor and smoke.
I don't take care of myself physically. I don't read for fun. I don't watch movies to relax. I don't see my friends or email the ones who live too far away. I don't have people over for dinner. I haven't produced any new poetry in over a year. I have been so busy submerging myself in trying to be the best teacher I can be that I've almost lost all the other aspects of who I am. This bout with my blood pressure has been sort of a wakeup call for me.
I need to reconnect to the things that are important. I need to take the time to do things that don't have anything to do with my teacher self. I need to try to repair the damage I've done to my relationships with my friends by my inattentiveness and all-consuming absorption. I need to heal the imbalance in my physical self before the problems I'm having become lasting and potentially debilitating ones.
Therefore, from this point forward, I'm taking it all back again. I need to turn around and find my way out of the place I'm in now before all hope of navigating a new path is gone. I don't know if I can change these things now, but I intend to try. Maybe the effort itself will be something that changes me for the better.
Last week, I went back, and it was still high. Usually, it goes down after a round of antibiotics. Equilibrium is restored, and my body goes back to business as usual. Not this time, though. The life I am living has finally taken its toll. The words hypertension and medicine were mentioned. I wanted to bury my face in my hands and cry. Is there never a break?
I met with a dietitian Wednesday. She was a very bouncy older lady who wears and understands the value of wearing Birkenstocks, so once I got over my initial wariness and she stopped talking to me like I was a person of subnormal intelligence (something I find almost all health care providers do, at least initially), we got along fine. I have to cut my caffeine back to one soda a day (ONLY ONE DIET MOUNTAIN DEW!!!!!), I'm to cut my salt radically, and I am to lose weight.
Normally, this would have put me into a spiral, but to tell the truth, all these things are just symptoms of something much larger. I have done the very thing that the AP trainers warned me not to do. I remember the very first trainer I ever worked with telling me that nothing burns a teacher out faster than AP, that we as new teachers needed to make sure that we gave as much time to having a life outside the classroom as we did crafting and sculpting our lesson plans. I haven't done that.
What I have done is stay too late, sleep too little, eat very poorly and with no attention to the food, sit behind my desk until it gets dark, drive home, and fall down knowing that the next day is going to be a photocopy of the one just finished. I know this sounds negative, but I really don't mean it that way. I love what I do. I couldn't go do it if I didn't. It's just that I've been burning my fragile little birthday candle at both ends with a blowtorch, and the reserves that I once had have melted into vapor and smoke.
I don't take care of myself physically. I don't read for fun. I don't watch movies to relax. I don't see my friends or email the ones who live too far away. I don't have people over for dinner. I haven't produced any new poetry in over a year. I have been so busy submerging myself in trying to be the best teacher I can be that I've almost lost all the other aspects of who I am. This bout with my blood pressure has been sort of a wakeup call for me.
I need to reconnect to the things that are important. I need to take the time to do things that don't have anything to do with my teacher self. I need to try to repair the damage I've done to my relationships with my friends by my inattentiveness and all-consuming absorption. I need to heal the imbalance in my physical self before the problems I'm having become lasting and potentially debilitating ones.
Therefore, from this point forward, I'm taking it all back again. I need to turn around and find my way out of the place I'm in now before all hope of navigating a new path is gone. I don't know if I can change these things now, but I intend to try. Maybe the effort itself will be something that changes me for the better.
The New Shelfari Widget
As you can see, I've added the newest edition of the Shelfari widget to my site. Ain't it cool? (Yeah, I know it's not grammatical. So what? I'm off duty.) I love the new design. I like that it shows a rotating assortment of books and that I can pick what shelves I want it to pull from. The graphics are pleasing, too. To me, it's just another nice update from a service that's getting better all the time. Thanks, Shelfari.
Recently....
I haven't written much lately, but hopefully I'll be able to return to a more regular blogging schedule. There's been too much going on lately, and the sinus infection turned into bronchitis, so I've been coming home and sleeping a lot lately.
I've also been fighting a virus on my computer. I am more or less losing that battle. I need Technology to come and take care of it for me. My meager techno skills are insufficient to get this thing off my machine. I have done it damage, but I know it's still lurking waiting to strike again.
On that topic, why the (insert an appropriate word)do people sit around and make these things? What kind of sick freak does that? What's the point? I could sort of understand, if not condone, spyware. At least I can understand the point of it. The little wastes-of-space who send malware out just to mess with people ought to be ground slowly to powder between two large stones, starting with the toes. I can just see them, closeted in their rooms, pushing up their glasses, heavy metal posters coating the walls, giggling in their little cracking, pre-pubescent voices.
What I want is a program that can trace these things to the source and annihilate an offender's computer in a spectacular fireball of doom. I want a message to appear on the screen about 5 seconds before that that says, "This is because you're a stupid little (again, insert a word of your choosing) who deserves to have your backside kicked up around your ears. Go get a life." That would be worth engineering. Technobuddies of mine, especially L, don't you want to make me one of those?
Actually, I know that's not possible, but just the thought of the look of awe and horror on the face of whatever little (word, word, word) caused me to have to fight my computer to accomplish basic tasks the last three days makes me very happy.
I've also been fighting a virus on my computer. I am more or less losing that battle. I need Technology to come and take care of it for me. My meager techno skills are insufficient to get this thing off my machine. I have done it damage, but I know it's still lurking waiting to strike again.
On that topic, why the (insert an appropriate word)do people sit around and make these things? What kind of sick freak does that? What's the point? I could sort of understand, if not condone, spyware. At least I can understand the point of it. The little wastes-of-space who send malware out just to mess with people ought to be ground slowly to powder between two large stones, starting with the toes. I can just see them, closeted in their rooms, pushing up their glasses, heavy metal posters coating the walls, giggling in their little cracking, pre-pubescent voices.
What I want is a program that can trace these things to the source and annihilate an offender's computer in a spectacular fireball of doom. I want a message to appear on the screen about 5 seconds before that that says, "This is because you're a stupid little (again, insert a word of your choosing) who deserves to have your backside kicked up around your ears. Go get a life." That would be worth engineering. Technobuddies of mine, especially L, don't you want to make me one of those?
Actually, I know that's not possible, but just the thought of the look of awe and horror on the face of whatever little (word, word, word) caused me to have to fight my computer to accomplish basic tasks the last three days makes me very happy.
Monday, October 08, 2007
More CI
The one good thing, if there were any good things, about being sick this weekend was that I watched almost all of the 6th season of Law and Order CI while I was incapacitated on the couch. That show just keeps getting better and better. I am really looking forward to the coming season and the fact that the season will be on USA so I can see it.
My favorite episode was one of the last ones I saw. Goren's father may or may not be a serial killer. That would explain a lot, wouldn't it? I love the way the characters keep getting deeper and more complex.
Well, I have things I'm supposed to be doing, and soon it will be bedtime. I have done okay today, all things considered, but I'm pretty wiped out. I probably needed one more day in the bed.
My favorite episode was one of the last ones I saw. Goren's father may or may not be a serial killer. That would explain a lot, wouldn't it? I love the way the characters keep getting deeper and more complex.
Well, I have things I'm supposed to be doing, and soon it will be bedtime. I have done okay today, all things considered, but I'm pretty wiped out. I probably needed one more day in the bed.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Sick
If you're wondering where I am and why I haven't written lately, suffice it to say that I have the sinus infection from hell. Mostly, I'm just sleeping. In the meantime, it appears most people are looking for Elvis Pez, Dr. Who YouTube, Beowulf Boasts, or the Sutton Hoo helmet and sword anyway based upon my hit counter's information....
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Roux in a Tree
This morning about 8:30, I heard Roux barking wildly somewhere off in the woods. Figuring she had something cornered, I stumbled out of bed in my pajamas and found my flip flops. Yelldo was sitting on the porch aquiver with excitement, and I decided that whatever was going on, he'd be better off inside rather than underfoot.
I followed the sound of frenzied barking into the edge of the woods, and called for Roux. The only response was more barking. Thinking that some poor animal was in peril, I cautiously went deeper into the woods. There's nothing quite like a Sunday morning trip through the underbrush in your PJ's. Needless to say, a lot of the things I was thinking were not appropriate for Sunday morning.
I picked my way down to the creek that runs behind my house and still couldn't find Roux, although her bark was getting closer. I heard something rustling back up the hill and I looked up to see a large black and white cat in the top of a dead tree. At the top of the fallen cedar beside it, approximately eight feet off the ground, was my red pit bull.
The cat fled, and suddenly Roux seemed to realize that dogs and trees don't really mix that well. Her excited barks turned into little puppy whimpers. Of course, the tree, probably one that Katrina knocked down, has been overgrown by muscadine vines and various types of saplings, all of which I had to pull down or wade through in an effort to get to her. Cedar being the trusty strong wood it is, even though this tree had been down for quite a while, even the small branches were still strong.
I finally worked my way down the side of the fallen tree, and Roux was able to work her way down to a point that was about as high as my head, but huge branches blocked both her and me from getting any closer to each other. Even though she certainly wove her way through them in her chase for the cat, she was unwilling to go through them the reverse way now that the fever had subsided.
I worked with her for about an hour, and finally decided that neither of us was going anywhere without some help. I found my way back to the house and called Mom and Dad. Dad, being taller than I, was able to get close enough to her to lift her down. Except for being totally exhausted, she only has a couple of little scratches. Hopefully, she won't be quite so foolhardy next time. I don't relish the thought of more early morning pajama-clad trips into the backwoods of Podunk.
I followed the sound of frenzied barking into the edge of the woods, and called for Roux. The only response was more barking. Thinking that some poor animal was in peril, I cautiously went deeper into the woods. There's nothing quite like a Sunday morning trip through the underbrush in your PJ's. Needless to say, a lot of the things I was thinking were not appropriate for Sunday morning.
I picked my way down to the creek that runs behind my house and still couldn't find Roux, although her bark was getting closer. I heard something rustling back up the hill and I looked up to see a large black and white cat in the top of a dead tree. At the top of the fallen cedar beside it, approximately eight feet off the ground, was my red pit bull.
The cat fled, and suddenly Roux seemed to realize that dogs and trees don't really mix that well. Her excited barks turned into little puppy whimpers. Of course, the tree, probably one that Katrina knocked down, has been overgrown by muscadine vines and various types of saplings, all of which I had to pull down or wade through in an effort to get to her. Cedar being the trusty strong wood it is, even though this tree had been down for quite a while, even the small branches were still strong.
I finally worked my way down the side of the fallen tree, and Roux was able to work her way down to a point that was about as high as my head, but huge branches blocked both her and me from getting any closer to each other. Even though she certainly wove her way through them in her chase for the cat, she was unwilling to go through them the reverse way now that the fever had subsided.
I worked with her for about an hour, and finally decided that neither of us was going anywhere without some help. I found my way back to the house and called Mom and Dad. Dad, being taller than I, was able to get close enough to her to lift her down. Except for being totally exhausted, she only has a couple of little scratches. Hopefully, she won't be quite so foolhardy next time. I don't relish the thought of more early morning pajama-clad trips into the backwoods of Podunk.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
iPod
At long last, I have joined the mainstream and gotten an iPod. I had an mp3 player from Dell, and it just wasn't very good. It doesn't work with my Gateway, and it seems to have some kind of nervous breakdown every time I try to cut it on or off.
Since I loved it when it worked, I decided I wanted another one, but since a good one is pretty costly, it's been low on my list of things to get. The other day, though, Dad gave me some money and told me to "Go buy something shiny."
It was so sad. I sat there with the money in hand, and I really, really couldn't think of anything on which to spend it. I've been a poor teacher so long that my first thought was, "I'll pay a bill with it or save it for Christmas shopping." Dad told me, "No bills, nothing sensible. Go buy something you want. Go buy something shiny." A minute later, the idea of an iPod struck.
Thursday, I went to pick up my package from FedEx, and Thursday night I stayed up late setting my new iPod nano. I LOVE it. It's bright red, very thin, and appealingly square. It shows the cover art of all the albums it contains.
My favorite part of it though, is that I can now get podcasts. My old mp3 player wouldn't and couldn't handle that. Now, I can get all those wonderful NPR and PRI shows that I always miss and listen to them during my off period or while I'm waiting somewhere. It's wonderful. I listened to Highway 61 in my classroom Friday afternoon, and I'll get a new episode delivered tonight. It's like a magazine subscription for my ears.
Yesterday afternoon, I was waiting to meet my family to go out to eat, and I went to our local bookstore. I got the latest copy of Mental Floss, a green tea frappe, and commandeered one of the "good" leatherette chairs. I spent a pleasant hour that way with my little iPod screening out the querulous gossiping of old women and the frantic begging for sweets of little kids. Last night, I hooked it to the little stereo I have in my bedroom and read while listening to a podcast. Pure luxury.
Even though I know iPods are annoyingly "mainstream", their ubiquitous status isn't going to keep me from giggling gleefully each time I slip the tiny little white headphones into my ears. It's amazing how much pleasure something small and shiny can give.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Insanity
Today was just plain stupid. It was Wednesday and a short day for us, so I was looking forward to a day of poetry and then an afternoon of staff development. Okay, so I wasn't really looking forward to the staff development, but you know what I mean.
The A/C never came on this morning, so it got nice and toasty in my east-facing classroom. I think it got up to about 80 before a measly trickle of cold air started to ooze from the air vents. This is not all that unusual, but it was just another annoyance today.
Yesterday, my students noticed that the sugar ants had started coming into my classroom. They do that about twice a year, and usually maintenance comes and sprays quickly. Today, ants were everywhere. Second period they were crawling all over backpacks and students. Suddenly, one of my AP students jumped up and said she'd been bitten. Guess what, boys and girls? The sugar ants brought in fire ants today, too. CRAP. We shuffled everybody out of the corner, and I sent another desperate plea downstairs for SOMEBODY to come kill the ants.
During 3rd period, the students near my desk noticed a crackling noise and the smell of burning electrical conduit. I dove under my desk, my students were freaking out, and I unplugged a surge strip that apparently had had its last hurrah. There was no fire, but there's nothing like the possibility of electrical fire to get you moving in the morning. My clothing was covered with dust and nasty from crawling around on the floor.
Around lunch, the day got better. Everything settled down, and while the air refused to come on, I was able to open the door to the glacially-cool hall and steal some of the air by using a box fan to channel it in during my off period. I finally found a way to plug most of the electronic equipment back in, and our kind custodian came and sprayed the ants.
I have to say that I was grateful when everything finally became what passes for normal at Podunk High again. I was starting to look for the frogs and the boils to come next.... Maybe that's being saved for tomorrow.
The A/C never came on this morning, so it got nice and toasty in my east-facing classroom. I think it got up to about 80 before a measly trickle of cold air started to ooze from the air vents. This is not all that unusual, but it was just another annoyance today.
Yesterday, my students noticed that the sugar ants had started coming into my classroom. They do that about twice a year, and usually maintenance comes and sprays quickly. Today, ants were everywhere. Second period they were crawling all over backpacks and students. Suddenly, one of my AP students jumped up and said she'd been bitten. Guess what, boys and girls? The sugar ants brought in fire ants today, too. CRAP. We shuffled everybody out of the corner, and I sent another desperate plea downstairs for SOMEBODY to come kill the ants.
During 3rd period, the students near my desk noticed a crackling noise and the smell of burning electrical conduit. I dove under my desk, my students were freaking out, and I unplugged a surge strip that apparently had had its last hurrah. There was no fire, but there's nothing like the possibility of electrical fire to get you moving in the morning. My clothing was covered with dust and nasty from crawling around on the floor.
Around lunch, the day got better. Everything settled down, and while the air refused to come on, I was able to open the door to the glacially-cool hall and steal some of the air by using a box fan to channel it in during my off period. I finally found a way to plug most of the electronic equipment back in, and our kind custodian came and sprayed the ants.
I have to say that I was grateful when everything finally became what passes for normal at Podunk High again. I was starting to look for the frogs and the boils to come next.... Maybe that's being saved for tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Beowulf Boast
My students have been reading Beowulf lately, and one of their projects was to create an Anglo-Saxon style boast like Beowulf's as he comes into Heorot for the first time. The ones my students came up with were very good, as they always are, but this year, they asked me to make one. I wasn't going to do it, but since both classes asked, I guess I will oblige. Since I don't have anything of merit to share today, I thought you might get a kick out of it, too.
Hail to the Senior Class!
I, Cygnus of the _____ clan,
Born in the land of red clay, pine trees, and kudzu,
Descendant of Irish poets and Apache warriors,
Teacher and child of teachers,
A daughter of the Deep South, stand before you,
a modern-day Prometheus
Bringing books of brain-broadeners to bored teens.
I am a modern-day Earthstepper
And I cover continents in a stride.
The Land of the Rising Sun housed my heart for two years
Leaving was a loss I still feel.
The soil of England, Ireland, Wales, Costa Rica, and Thailand have I also trodden
Their stone dances, dolmens, volcanoes, and Buddhas
jewels of experience to turn over in the light of memory.
Daily I dream of other destinations to feed my desire
To see and know this beautiful world.
I have made mighty music with my fingers,
Earned an academic award or two,
Pursued the prize for two degrees in the Lands of the Bulldogs and the Hoosiers,
Taught my native tongue to those who have traveled far to learn it,
Claimed the king’s gold in poetry competitions,
Won the heart of a fierce, fast, and free canine companion,
And returned to tell the tale to those who have ears to hear.
Now, I will face the fierce class before me
Full of fascinating facts to offer
I will take care of what and who are mine,
Fighting buffoons in the hall
And living by my favorite phrase, spoken by India’s son,
“Be the change you want to see in the world.”
Monday, September 24, 2007
Jeans
Today I went to our local mall to pick up a couple of pairs of pants from my favorite store. I'm very hard to fit being a big girl and tall with it, but I have always been able to walk into this store and pull jeans off the shelf without even trying them on. They just fit.
When I walked over to where the jeans have always been, a shelf of different denim faced me. They'd come up with a clever new sizing method and three different cuts. I stood at the end of a long Monday absolutely befuddled.
A saleswoman had to measure me, always fun, and then she recommended a size that turned out to be three sizes too small. I wanted to sit in the floor and cry.
It's hard to explain why it made me so upset. I guess it goes back to always having had a hard time finding clothes. I had come to rely on those jeans being available and, well, easy. Too many things right now are up in the air and changing. I needed the simple comfort of plain old denim, and suddenly even that trivial constant had disappeared.
The saleslady took pity on me and kept bringing in pairs until I found one that fit right. They do feel good, and they look nice on me. I guess this change isn't all bad. I just hope everything else settles down with such a nice resolution.
When I walked over to where the jeans have always been, a shelf of different denim faced me. They'd come up with a clever new sizing method and three different cuts. I stood at the end of a long Monday absolutely befuddled.
A saleswoman had to measure me, always fun, and then she recommended a size that turned out to be three sizes too small. I wanted to sit in the floor and cry.
It's hard to explain why it made me so upset. I guess it goes back to always having had a hard time finding clothes. I had come to rely on those jeans being available and, well, easy. Too many things right now are up in the air and changing. I needed the simple comfort of plain old denim, and suddenly even that trivial constant had disappeared.
The saleslady took pity on me and kept bringing in pairs until I found one that fit right. They do feel good, and they look nice on me. I guess this change isn't all bad. I just hope everything else settles down with such a nice resolution.
Friday, September 21, 2007
A Day Off
It's about 10 in the morning, and I'm sitting in my rocking chair. Every window in the house is open, the washing machine is gently swishing, and the attic fan is a soothing roar in the background. I am as relaxed now as I've been in months. It's amazing.
I took this day off from school because I have an entire bag of papers I need to grade. I'm realizing now, though, that the grading was a small part of what I needed a day off for. I needed the attic fan and the washing machine. I needed the sound of windchimes from my porch and the agitated fussing of hummingbirds coming to the feeders. I needed to get away from the too often too loud halls of my school and the everyday grind of my job.
I think that when I return Monday, I'll be able to feel much more positive about things. I'm going to go start working on the papers now, but these few hours of peaceful rest from the routine have been divine.
I took this day off from school because I have an entire bag of papers I need to grade. I'm realizing now, though, that the grading was a small part of what I needed a day off for. I needed the attic fan and the washing machine. I needed the sound of windchimes from my porch and the agitated fussing of hummingbirds coming to the feeders. I needed to get away from the too often too loud halls of my school and the everyday grind of my job.
I think that when I return Monday, I'll be able to feel much more positive about things. I'm going to go start working on the papers now, but these few hours of peaceful rest from the routine have been divine.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Unbelieveable
Today I was told that one of my previous students ran over another of my previous students four times in the local mall parking lot. Who are these people? I couldn't believe it. The two people involved were the last two individuals you would ever suspect would become a crime drama/soap opera. This is too sad. I don't know if the one who was run over will live. All I can do is pray for them. Things like this are part of the most bizarre aspect of teaching. Everybody who makes the evening news, victim or assailant, was once some teacher's student.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Doe, a Deer, a Female Deer.....
After fifteen years of driving in the state of Mississippi, I hit my first deer tonight. Coming home from my parents' house, I rounded a curve to find a deer standing right in the middle of the road. It started for the passenger's side edge of the road, and I swerved into the other lane and honked my horn. Apparently that was the WRONG thing to do because it turned around and smashed itself into the passenger's side of my car.
I pulled over to the side of the road and called Mom and Dad. I wasn't afraid of damage to the car, but I was afraid that the deer was lying by the side of the road dying an agonizing death. There are many things that I can do for myself, but killing a deer is not among those things. Dad came and we looked all along the edges of the road, but we didn't see anything. I hope the deer lives, but if it shares some of the headache it gave me, I won't call that an injustice, especially since the whole collision was its idea anyway.
As deer-related incidents go, it wasn't a bad one. Like so many other things that happen to me, I guess I can say about this that if I had to have a wreck involving a deer, this was the one to have. However, could I just petition for a brief moment? Do I have to have a wreck with a deer at all?
I pulled over to the side of the road and called Mom and Dad. I wasn't afraid of damage to the car, but I was afraid that the deer was lying by the side of the road dying an agonizing death. There are many things that I can do for myself, but killing a deer is not among those things. Dad came and we looked all along the edges of the road, but we didn't see anything. I hope the deer lives, but if it shares some of the headache it gave me, I won't call that an injustice, especially since the whole collision was its idea anyway.
As deer-related incidents go, it wasn't a bad one. Like so many other things that happen to me, I guess I can say about this that if I had to have a wreck involving a deer, this was the one to have. However, could I just petition for a brief moment? Do I have to have a wreck with a deer at all?
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