So tired. So, so tired.
I will post again someday soon.

thing i'd forgotten about my brother: he refers to god as "the big guy". seriously.

It's my brother's birthday today. I get confused, because my mom's is the 21st of august, and so today I thought I'd already forgotten his birthday. But no!

I talked to him on the phone tonight, and it's so .... we don't know each other at all, kind of. I don't know how that happened, how I am a person who is not close with her brother.
Relationships sure are wacky!

By the way, I was totally wrong about the cutest education theorist you ever will see

LEV VYGOTSKY

I forgot to post this earlier, and I don't know why I feel it so important to post now, but there you are.

something i remembered while looking at bills this morning

I had bad dreams last night, mainly toward the end about people trying to break into my apartment and do me harm, which was really easy because my sliding door doesn't lock well (in real life too). But in the midst of this nightmare, I noticed an extra full book of stamps on the floor. "Wow," I thought.

You ever seen the horrible coal mine GE commercial? With the "sexy" coal miners? Have I talked about this before? Google it or something, I'm sure it's out there. Man, advertisers are idiots.

I wanted to tell you all how good My Name Is Earl is. Really really good, I tell you. I think it was the third time Earl mentioned Carson Daly as the inventor of the concept of karma that I said to myself, "This is the best thing ever." It isn't, and Arrested Development of course still has my heart, but it is one damn fine show. I wish I had a better head for quotes, because I would mention the one about the Express for Men shirt. Also I liked how nice Earl and Crab Man were to each other.

I am watching the american Office now, and the girl who plays Pam is being so cute. Everyone is getting an award, a personalized, terrible award, and she just got an award for the whitest sneakers. She's so happy, because she's so drunk, and adorable.
She thanked God! In the acceptance speech!

This is a terrible entry. Unless you watched these shows tonight too.

No show has ever made me happier than Arrested Development. And to think, I would have missed the premiere if it weren't for Jack, looking up a way to run home from Ayelet's.

That doesn't sound at all right, but it is what happened. Bless you, Jack.
Do you even read this blog?
Well, the sentiment still stands.

yeah, yet another post.

I know, shut up already Kristi. Do your homework. Have some dinner.

But I have this song in my head, because I finally got around to watching The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou all the way through, and I had never heard the song "Queen Bitch" before I listened to it play over the ending credits of that film. My GOD that is a good song. The film: when I first tried to watch it, I was in a bad mood I guess, and started feeling like my fears about the movie were justified, that Wes Anderson was being all self-derivative, and no, I don't know how to explain how that is possible. Anyway, I stopped watching. I started again, but stopped because still I was not in the mood. Then like, I don't know, weeks later? Yay for netflix not having due dates. So I watched it last night, and I do think it's flawed, definitely, but in interesting ways. So that I am excited/optimistic about the kinds of things Wes will do later, rather than fearful. He's really weird. In no other movie of his have I felt that as strongly, just the weirdness of him. It's good. I don't like the movie better than the others, but I'd enjoy seeing it again.
Except that I switched netflix plans to the one-at-a-time deal and so I need to return all mine so I can get to all the neat stuff in my queue, like the scary Charlotte Rampling s and m nazi thing, and before that the Bob Newhart Show.
Oh! I should put the Muppet Show in there, if I haven't yet!
One-at-a-time will be hard.

I have been considering movie trips to Portland, to see the ones that don't come here, such as 2046, Grizzly Man, and The Aristocrats. And I want to see Broken Flowers here before it leaves (this Thursday). But this is not saving money. No. BUT, THEN, LIVING IS NOT SAVING MONEY. Yes, that is true.

Yeesh, I ramble a lot, and post too much, and my text is too light and small, and I don't understand how any of you read anything I post. Maybe you pick and choose, going for the short ones or the ones with pictures. That would be wisest.

OH
The reason I started this third entry of the day was to post Queen Bitch because that song is driving me insane in the best way, insane in the way that I have to make other people hear it and go insane too, if they are given to do so.
right here, kittens

watching the celebrity poker show, i must say, i love dave foley (its host).
example #54 of his greatness, during this poker-watching marathon:

poker expert phil: if anthony folds this hand, i swear to god i will shoot myself in the head with a bazooka.
dave: and that would be awkward, but you've got the arms to do it.

what i'm doing instead of homework: reading about fashion shows; looking up "jolie laide"; finding a site that also linked to this:

Huh.

why i like to take photos i like to take

I am listening to this. You try it.

I just took this picture. It feels good to me to look at it. If you click on it, it gets bigger, and better.



I like the colors, and the jumble, and the closeness.

A long time ago I wrote on a blog that I was going to write on my blog about close-ups and what they mean to me. I don't think I'll write very well or very much, but now's the time I'll fulfill that promise.

Objects don't look the same when you see them sitting on a table as when you put your eyes at tabletop level and then look at the objects. When you look closely at something, it can seem more like it's yours than it did before; it can seem prettier than it did before; it can seem stranger than it did before, so strange that it makes you feel the strangeness of the entire world, of life itself, because you have looked at that thing many times a day for many many days and only now seen this strangeness it has. Like your keys, maybe. You might just then notice the grace in the thing; you might just then notice small details, remember the fact your necklace beads are held together with red string.
Sometimes being closer to objects like that makes me feel less unsure and unsafe in the world, in a small way, maybe because then the objects surrounding me have more presence, then life seems slightly more real. Maybe I have more presence. With more familiarity between my surroundings and me. It is like in The Little Prince, with the fox, who tames the prince or does the prince tame him? because they see each other at the same time every day, because they see each other over and over and out of all the foxes this one is the best, out of all the princes, this one is the best.
Anyway, a person can get very used to and fond of an object, a necklace, a lighter, if you start to see it as part of your own presence or whatever. Like a stuffed animal, when you were a kid. And how safe you felt with all the stuffed animals around you.
Other times, looking closely at things doesn't make me feel safer or anything like that. I feel just as unsure, just as much a part of my problems, but it is still nice all the same to see prettiness and strangeness, right there in front of me. It is good to know I can see it. It's, I guess, poignant somehow.

This of course goes with photography, and art, in general. It all runs together into these ideas about close-ups.
I hope you know what I mean by this, that I am not too garbled.

Today was teddy bear picnic day (more a teddy bear...eat-inside-the-classroom day) at the school. There was a parachute, and there were frisbee things, and there were root beer floats and like lots of glueing things and even there was stale popcorn. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Make coffee, or give in to my desire for wine?
I am not really asking. Because you will not give me prompt response, internet. I should like make a point to socialize with people now that I know people here. But I am tired. I wake up at 5:30 every morning basically. 5:30.

At the end of the school day, before the parachute and frisbee and then table-cleaning chair-stacking finale, there was a really nice time, when I got to sit down with a root beer float myself and watch the Winnie the Pooh video, one that I'd seen as a kid, and watch these kids laugh at it, and it was raining in the story while it was raining outside our window.

I bet some kids will remember today for a long time, when they try to. I remember certain days from elementary school, like when we saw Pollyanna, when we had an obstacle course, when ...I don't know, things like today. It's so weird to think I'm part of a kid's memory of childhood maybe now, in a small way. It is an obvious thing of course, but it's still odd to feel it happen.

the funniest, most despairing food i have ever seen

Ok, so I'm totally stealing this link from mimismartypants, but wow: http://mirrors.meepzorp.com/harrisonburg.k12.va.us/lunch/

I can't decide which meal is most disgusting, or saddest, it all.....it all qualifies. Yet perhaps the most sinister is "packed lunch".

A Brief Photo Essay on Jean Piaget, the Cutest Little Education Theorist You Ever Will See

i bet you 10 bucks i'll end up deleting this

At some point in the last year, my best options all narrowed down to one: go to the teaching program at Willamette in Salem, Oregon.

It was the only place I even applied. Not the only place I looked at, that I considered applying to...but none of the others would work, I decided. They seemed too competitive; they wanted three recommendations and I could only at most bring myself to ask two people; they had pre-reqs; they were too expensive. Willamette wasn't too far away, not in an expensive area, in a pretty state, in a liberal state; I knew someone who had attended the program, so it wasn't completely unfamiliar, and wasn't complete crap. It wasn't as expensive as other programs, not just the cost of living but the actual tuition; best of all it would only take me 10 months. 10 months, and then I could find a job in New York; I could move there with a purpose, with a prospective income. With the master's an over 40k income. Maybe not as thrilling considering how expensive New York is, but. Still.
So, Oregon; this program; I fulfilled all requirements, I felt I had a good chance getting in yet it wasn't a stupid DeVry-like program, it would give me lots of student teaching hours....10 months. Overcast skies and I'd meet new people, I'd be fine. I'd be better.

So you know I am here now, thinking over and over every day: why? I'm here for all the above reasons, but: no, for reals, why? Couldn't I have tried to get into some other school? Didn't I know I would have maybe a hard time relating to other people in teaching school? I mean, go figure, teaching draws conventional types. And how else did I think I would meet people, in a place like Salem? The life I was leading in Bakersfield was so warped at that point though that I guess I figured any change would open to me the life I wanted. Exit from Bako had to = freedom and joy, right? But of course no. I was so, so relieved when I heard I got into this program.

I know every day we make our lives, any day can change our lives, that most of the problem is just within my own head, my own behavior. But I am disgusted with my program, I am already too tired and overloaded to think of getting a part-time job on the side so I won't meet people that way, I have no mentor-type I want to emulate, not my professors and not any teachers at my site, no fellow students seem to be like me, only in some ways but not really, not enough, and I don't remember how to make friend friends anyway. Only people I see at school and chat with, not friend friends. I ideally would be really excited about people I tried to friend friend, you know? People I'd think are cool. People I'd want to talk more to. I remember people like that, but I don't feel that way about people here. Maybe I'm the jerk, then.

Nothing is getting any easier, and it makes me sad and makes me angry, when it doesn't just make me tired.

This is not supposed to be the type of thing I post about anymore, I don't want to be extremely angsty and personal on here but my goodness this is hard.

I will try not to rant like this every month.
Maybe I will be happy soon.

The only part of the show "Good Times" that I have ever seen is the very end of an episode, about 30 seconds, during which a character reveals he has cancer.

I'm watching a weird show on bravo called, I believe, the asssscat improv? I would have to check on the number of s's. It's the upright citizens brigade at the upright citizens brigade theater (I don't know the upright citizens brigade but it looks very snl-y) and it started off with Tina Fey doing a monologue on a word the audience suggested, the word being "ham."

Improv fascinates me, and especially monologue improv, because, other than loved ones dying, that would probably be my worst nightmare. And yet people do it on purpose.

Isn't life, really, improv? It feels like it, much of the time, now that I think of it. This sounds like it means life is my worst nightmare.

ha ha

sad, sad entry

I'm still not feeling very well. I just spent about 3 minutes staring at my left thumb, thinking "wow, that's really small".

I'm also running out of Robitussin. I don't want to go to the grocery store. It is raining.

this is good to watch when you feel your anger's fading out.

it's salon, there's an ad to click through first

this, i promise, will be the most entries i make in one day

I don't have the attention span at this time to watch a dvd, I feel sick and have no friends here and it's raining and where would I want to go anyway, and I am real bored. So.
So I started reading my old blog, the ....third blog? Oh man. If you count group blogs, and the myspace blog, then I have no idea. Jesus. I'm some kind of...blog schizophrenic.
Anyway I've been looking at the one I link here in the sidebar on the right, and I just laugh and laugh and sometimes think, "OH WOW, I AM SO AWESOME". I'm not even drunk.

Here are two of my favorite entries:
IS THIS BECAUSE I'M AGNOSTIC, GOD? IS THAT WHAT THIS IS? I WOULD NOT HAVE FIGURED MAGIC EYE FOR A TOOL OF YOUR DIVINE WILL.

Everything's better when you're drunk. Except you know driving and dangerous operations, and recovering from alcoholism.
This is a strange entry, I realize.


It is funny, I had a Stephen Malkmus post there too. Did you know, I actually made a magnet of Stephen Malkmus at one time, which I still possess and which is on my fridge now? I would take a picture of it but getting up from this chair I think would have to mean going to bed.

i am so bored tonight and no one's really online and if i call someone on the phone i will only cough excessively.

I wanted to tell you now about a worrying thing.

I have been on the lookout for comfortable shoes, for work. Not only that, I have been considering several styles offered by the Keds company.

It all started last night when reading Miranda July's blog. I am a little in love with Miranda July. She is dreamy. So she wrote an entry, that was about buying some new shoes, which were called grasshoppers, and had the word grasshoppers printed inside on the bottom, and then seeing a dead grasshopper on her lawn or something when she came home from buying the shoes. And she was thinking, that is like some omen, some dire omen. And how horrible would it be to live life feeling you saw signs of peril all around you, and now maybe she was living her life like that, because now she felt spooked.

I really didn't need to summarize the whole entry for you. The pertinent facts were a) I have a crush on Miranda July and b) Miranda July bought some shoes called grasshoppers.
Conducting an internet search with this magical tool my professors seem so excited about, I believe it's called "google", I found there are many styles of Grasshoppers, the elegant offshoot of Keds.

Whatever else we can say about Keds, they are definitely comfortable, yeah? And if you saw Miranda's movie, I mean she wouldn't buy uncomfortable shoes, right? No one deserves that pain!
Plus also look at them:


That is cute, dammit. It would go with my little sailor jacket! I would feel like going boating! And I would have no blisters!

I am drawn to this style too, because they also look ready for boating. But I can't decide which color is better, and I still get a bit much of a momish vibe. The grayish stone color seems ready for sophisticated yet light-hearted pursuits such as filmgoing and museum trips. But, momish.
The blue

is nice for the dark/light blue contrast, of which I have long been a fan. Not good if I got the other navy blue shoes, but if I did not, these would give me the sailorly feel of navy. YET...why get navy shoes that will not go with my sailor jacket?

This is Miranda's, though hers look like somewhere between this color and the powder blue.


They are nerdy, and yet charming; the sole is too plasticky and white and nursey, and yet the velcro strap is so old school kidish and nerdy that...well, that I love them. And the teachers would accept them as professional footwear because of how nursey and nerdy they are. They would ask me, where did you get those?
The major problem with these is that probably they are not good with anything I'd wear to work, only with my casual wardrobe.
Good thing about all these shoes: so so cheap.

I just wrote a long entry, with pictures, about Keds.
I can't...I don't know, I've been thinking a lot lately about what bad things I am and am not, and ok, let's say I'm a dork, and neurotic, insane and self-sabotaging and fearful and dithering and not at all in any way cool.
Ok!

illness and fatigue are pretty good at subduing loneliness--and common sense.

I've been drinking a cherry vanilla diet dr pepper that I got yesterday evening from the school of ed's soda machine, a soda that since I came home last night has been sitting in my refrigerator, you know, opened and stale. I didn't mean to buy it, but I guess on the path to the water button my finger lost its focus.
There's a date on the bottle and on the lid, that is a date which has passed weeks ago. Is that an expiration date? Has diet cherry vanilla dr pepper been in existence long enough to expire?

I neither like nor abhor it, and that doesn't mean I have to drink it, but I do. I sip it slowly. I have no idea why.

I thought I'd share that.

Please see title of previous post.

i cannot explain the process by which i decide things are interesting enough to post.

I noticed this gold box in the corner of the amazon screen for the first time today. They give you miniscule deals on 10 items, for a very short time. This here is one of the three swiss army knives they recommended me. I find it impressive, and confusing.



I cannot remember looking up knives. But, maybe?
It is very shiny.

don't be a bitter man, it could be worser

OH MY GOD

THERE IS A STEPHEN MALKMUS SONG ON A SEARS COMMERCIAL

WHOA

WHAT THE DEVIL

weird weird weird

I post a lot of lousy phone cam pics on flickr.



I like to do that, a lot. I need to keep better track of how many I am allowed by the phone company without additional outrageous charges.
ANYWAY I thought I would tell you about those, because as things stand their audience is basically me and the spirit of the internet, and, sometimes, Brendan. Cool and all, but it's also nice for other people to see them. Maybe.

I was going to have dinner way before now, but then my mom called to say how much she likes the Feist cd that I sent her. She really likes the Feist cd! Isn't that the best? And then we had another of the weird chats where I feel like I'm passive-aggressively asking for money even though I'm just mentioning how I have to save money, and no please don't transfer money to me for clothes shopping, for crying out loud. Like we do not have oodles of debt. They are maybe free with the money because lots of people are quitting at my dad's work, and so he was given a raise, for kicks. Which is nice, but he is sort of sad because he would like to quit too. But what a pain to find a new job at his age. Man I get tired even thinking about it. Imagine how he feels, being so old and all. Goodness he's old. And then I was talking with my dad about the hurricane/flood and poor response and generational poverty and racism and, what, why? So backed right out of that. Then we talked a long time about my poor phone reception.

So my dinner ended up way later. I don't know why I'm talking to you about this. Clearly, I am having a mental blog-filtering problem.

Oh, I wanted to say: some good New Orleans related news is that Alex Chilton from Big Star, who had been missing for a few days, turns out to be alright. I would have been very sad if it had been otherwise. Big Star's album Third/Sister Lovers is one of my very favorite albums. I want to say it's like a depressive's lullaby, but no that's not right. If you don't know it, let me know and I will hook you up with tunes. I resisted all caps on the last part of that sentence, but it was hard.

Oh, I had my first pre-student teaching day. I am tired. Tomorrow is another one, and the day after. Question: Do you say the pledge of allegiance anymore? Would you, if you were put in a situation to?

I am strangely strongly missing the kids I aided for a couple years ago, who now are starting second grade wherever they may be. I wonder what they look like now.

in 2 weeks' time, 11:40 went from wind-down time to deep dark oh so lateness.

Augh, sometimes I just cannot think about what I need to think about. I have this thing to write, this thing, and maybe it's harder to write because I have a tiny crush on the professor, which is so weird, because he's bald, and married, and from the South and probably christian, but he's got a picture of Camus on an office wall, and several Nabokov books in his office library, and I can't turn crap in to him...
but mainly my problems with writing this one thing have to do with not being able to stop thinking about unhelpful things, in unhelpful ways,
and then Otis Redding comes on the poddy shuffle
and I want to just lie face down on the floor right then, for the rest of the night and maybe another week on top of that.

But, see, I don't!



I need more than this, I tell you.
Why am I such a headcase?
(Don't answer.)

ok, here's something i've figured out: i'm not going to say "i don't really write anymore," ever again.

lolabelle

from here

And one more highlight of Saturday was a special showing of Laurie Anderson's "Hidden Inside Mountains", a 25-minute piece that was created for EXPO 2005 in Japan. The screening was followed by a lenghty discussion of the work. A personal highlight was sitting next to Lou Reed and his dog Lolabelle through the entire program. The two seem to be quite close and Lolabelle even has an appearance in his "mother" Laurie Anderson's movie.

I....I don't know how to feel about this. On the one hand, I like dogs too. On the other, something inside of me has just died.

Reading about other movies that premiered at that festival, seems the Joaquin Phoenix Johnny Cash pic is going to be good, as well as the Philip Seymour Hoffman Truman Capote movie, as well as the gay cowboy Brokeback Mountain. Movies are a little exciting.

I wonder how a person sings exactly like Johnny Cash. Or exactly like anyone. Joaquin Phoenix, you are spooky.

I am tired. I wonder what would happen if I just went to bed right now.

I would like to know why my landlords schedule yardwork between 8 and 9am on Saturday mornings.

I've been vaguely annoyed with Joanna Newsom ever since whenever, but this morning I was listening to "This Side of the Blue" and when she sang "Svetlana sucks lemons across from me," and the music is all kind of dreamy and sideways--all of a sudden and ever since then I like her very much. Go figure.

School had half a day.

I am sore and tired now, who knows why, but boy I tell you a quesadilla with some sharp cheddar and salsa, and a side of french vanilla yogurt, my that's a nice comfort.

Most of this week I haven't intensely followed the Katrina news, because, you know, you get that feeling some times, of complete helplessness, and thankfulness that it is not now immediately your own problem. And can't I hope things work out but not really think about it? Bad, yeah, but there you go. Anyway, this afternoon I've been reading a lot of the ol' politics blogs, some new york times (eh) and even listening to air america radio. You know something disturbing's going on when you're listening to air america radio, is what I tell myself. No, they're ok I guess. Anyway, here's a couple things I recommend as far as reading about it, though there are tons of articles just as good out there I'm sure.

The more interesting things we talk about in my classes are poverty, disability, ethnicity, how it all works together in society, in the fucking status quo, and what effect a teacher can have with regard to all that. I used to be a much more apathetic person--I can still feel echoes of it, when thinking about the hurricane, when thinking about goddamn poverty--just the overwhelmed feeling that nothing I do will really matter. I do think it's true that nothing stays, everything passes, but there's still some use, some reason, in trying for good things anyway while I can.

The thing I might like most about teaching is feeling that by choosing that profession, I am
I don't know
saying to my old apathy, "fuck that"--
I'm pretty definitively off the apolitical sidelines. Whatever use it will be, it feels like the better choice.

early morning punching

Sometimes my anxiety levels go up a bit, without particular cause, to the point that it's as if I drank pots of coffee constantly, and also...went insane.
Ha. It is a little hard to explain.
So anyway, this is one of those things, like my depression and who knows what all, that actually physically happens to me some times and it's all linked together, but as far as manageability...
Between sitting/lying around in semi-dark all day not quite caring about preparing a meal, and this all-permeating dis-ease/anxiety...usually the latter is what makes me think about medication again. Maybe because it is easier to pick out as a variation from my norm, and also because in the past, medication has helped this part and not the other part. It comes and goes, though, and if I walk a lot and (sorry, people who hate this) smoke a lot, it kind of eases up enough after a few days. The alternative is that I go through the whole rigamarole of getting a psych here and GOD is that annoying, tiring, angry-making.
So I just ride it out a bit, acting a little more awkward, sounding maybe a bit more disjointed and weird (tough to tell, I know), my inhibitions a little lower for some reason as far as what I will let myself say to people, and I'm less clear about saying it too, so...
I don't know quite what I'm saying to you. I just love to share, apparently. Maybe this is one of those inhibition-lowered things, the past week maybe of entries, who knows.

Anyway I started this entry to say, I woke up today really wanting to punch someone. All of my nerviness, which is anxiety but also a bit of generalized anger/frustration, it all focused nicely toward one goal: punching somebody hard. No one in particular. Just someone. Punched. In the face. The feeling's not to the point that I'd actually do it, but the pillow sure isn't a satisfying enough punch. Does this ever happen to you?
If so, what do you do? Ideally I would find a punching bag and gloves I suppose, but I think after all that it would be a let-down. I bet you run around your neighborhood, some of you. Or that you have never wanted to randomly slug something simply because you are awake one morning. But maybe I shouldn't assume.

I socialized this evening, after school, for about a couple hours, at a bar. Not like a good bar, but yeah, way to go socially anxious agoraphobe.
I only had one pint
granted, no food
but when I walked back to my car on campus (not far) wearing my bad shoes
it was a little uncomfortable
but, you see, here's the thing: not painful
so when I looked down to see blood soaked partially through my pants legs

yeah.

I was walking from a bar to my car not feeling the pain of bleeding wounds.

I am not a complete degenerate, I swear. And I wasn't actually drunk, at all, by the time I got to my car. Maybe my heels are nerveless.

Some of you know I visited my school site today, where I will be mostly teaching. And however my professor protested last week when I hinted it might not be diverse enough for someone wanting to work later in an inner city school, uh uh. Totally whitey school. A tad poor. But totally conservative whitey.
AND
a fellow student in my program at that site said her teacher told her there's a time for students to go to Bible class, if they want. Like every week.
Bible class. "Right across the field" or something.
How is this even possible in a public school?

But it doesn't look like I can change schools, so I'll try to make the most of what I get. None of the schools around here participating in our school's student teaching are very diverse, I don't think. But I can, uh, always work the poverty angle, and I'm doing a mentor thing in one class at a more diverse alternative school for the ruffian kids of Salem.
This is totally boring. Sascha at least will be interested, if she ever reads this blog.