On Writers

I feel this obligation to post something before the turn of the new year. My dilemma is that I have no idea what to write about. So, for perhaps the last time this year, I give you a random thought:

There's this podcast to which I subscribe called Reading Rockets. I chose to ignore the goofy title and the odd looks I get from people when they scroll through my iPod in order to bask in the glory of writers talking about writing. Authors of children's literature talking about writing, or illustrating, and how they entered their profession. The need to write runs through nearly every interview, the common thread stitching together the collection of people. These people whose work I read as a child all had the inescapable need to put pen to paper (or finger to key) and write something. I wonder to myself sometimes if I have that same need. I write, yes, but do my musings on this page amount to anything more than rambling?

I don't do a lot of creative writing. For lack of a plot, I instead opt for a record of my daily actions and the interesting things happening to me. And I wonder, could I ever come up with an idea good enough about which to write an entire book?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It looks like I won't make my goal of 72 posts in 2007. For this New Year's Resolution, 75 posts in 2008. With a little less slacking during the summers, I think this goal is very do-able.

If I don't post again before 2008, Happy New Year!

Becoming Things

My friend from middle school had his college graduation party this evening. Many of my friends from high school and even middle school were there. I had a good time catching up with everyone, but more than anything, it was strange. Everyone looked basically the same, maybe a little older, but somewhere since high school, everyone grew up. We're all becoming something. The answer to the question, "So what are you doing these days?" is no longer, "Oh, you know, getting ready to graduate," it's "Oh, you know, working in a job related to my chosen profession." We've all become something. Teacher, missionary, wife, humanitarian aid worker, professional student.

We jumped that gap from kid to adult without even noticing it. It just kind of happened. It doesn't really feel like it for the most part. Weird.

Random Thoughts

Well, it's nearing the end of this year in which I resolved to post at least six times a month, and if I am to make my goal I will have to post four more after this one. Sadly, I haven't really come up with anything to talk about despite contemplating possible topics for the last week. So, I turn to you, dear reader, to give me something to talk about.

For today's edition of verbal spew, I give you Random Thoughts:

- one of my students poked me on Facebook. I find this a little weird, and am having difficulty deciding what to do in this situation. Shall I poke back, or shall I leave it at this?
- We've finally decided on the spring musical, Once on This Island, composed by the same people that did Ragtime. I dig it.
- There was a cat stuck in the PAC. It was very cute, but I'm glad we got it out, because dead rotting cat corpse is not my favorite odor.
- My students don't like working...ever.

Well, I think I'm done for now. Post suggested topics in the comments.

Sam's Barber Shop

When I was little, my Dad got his hair cut at Sam's Barber Shop in Pulaski. It was this little shop that had the revolving striped poll outside the front door. It smelled like stale smoke and some kind of lubricant. Sam shared the space with his father's clock repair shop. I suspect that's where the lubricant smell came from. It was always full of sound: ticking clocks, the drone of an old radio in the background, small talk between Sam and whoever was in the barber's chair, and thirty different clocks chiming in the hour, half, and quarter hour.

I never really liked going with Dad; little girls don't get their hair cut by barbers. I would sit there and look at the pretty, ill-fated deer in the hunting magazines and watch the demo screen on the Contra arcade game over and over. I always had a book--the Hardy Boys, or Encyclopedia Brown, or Nancy Drew--but I couldn't concentrate for all of the ticking clocks, especially if I was trying to figure out why Encyclopedia knew Bugs Meany was lying (if you're wondering, yes, I Wikipedia-ed it). Sometimes I would play checkers with Keith, but I'm not very good at strategy-type board games, and I got tired of losing pretty quickly. When that happened, I would sit and look at the clocks. All kinds of clocks. Coo-coo clocks, grandfather clocks, old pocket watches, clocks with spinning weights. I wanted to know how they worked, and why some of them had long chains and others didn't, and how a pocket watch could do the same task as the big heavy mantle clocks.

I never really got to find out. We moved before I was old enough to understand any of that, and I doubt I would have bothered finding out.

While I'm Thinking About It...

Have I mentioned that I think high schoolers are probably the strangest beings on earth? It didn't seem so bad when I was that old. Then again, I was in the smart kid classes without the craziness and the psycho parents. Or maybe just the craziness.

Anyway, just thought I'd share that while I was thinking about it. And if you're wondering, yes, there is a story behind it. I'd share, but well, I don't think that's wise.

The Aftermath

I got home today around 6:00pm. Driving home, I fought the rush hour traffic and watched the sky turn pink and orange in my rear view mirror. It was strange. It still is strange. I can hardly believe that it's only 9:45 and I've been home for several hours. "Christmas Carol" is finally over.

I hoped to go home right after school today, maybe get some work done, grade some stuff that I've been hauling around for several weeks in anticipation of some spare time in which to finalize my notes on their feedback, but it was not to be. The dressing rooms, back hallway, and my classroom are all a complete mess from having 25 people in and out of them all weekend. So, in an effort to get ready for school tomorrow, and to get the costumes prepped to leave tomorrow, I went to main campus and worked. I didn't realize how much I had been neglecting my actual job (teaching) for the last month until I saw the grades for my main campus classes. I hadn't given them a grade for more than three weeks. Not even participation. It took me two hours to figure out what it is that we've been doing since Thanksgiving break (not much). I'm also wondering what I'm going to put on my lesson plans. We didn't really do anything because I was working on the show.

The show itself went really well. I think we had over 300 people come total, which I consider a success since the publicity for this show was basically non-existent. All the feedback I've heard so far has been only positive, and it's my hope that we've started building a solid foundation for whatever it is we're going to do in the near future. Plus, we made a fair amount of money, so perhaps I can go buy gaff and spike tape, and tie line and maybe even start saving for the spring musical (or play...whatever we end up doing).

Each night of the show had it's own problems. Thursday we had a girl pass out because she had to cough, but wouldn't do it into the mic she was wearing so she held it in. Friday another girl passed out because she hadn't eaten all day. Saturday the lights guy didn't show up (or even call for that matter) and I had to do it with my limited knowledge of lights and our particular board.

Usually after a show there is this feeling of longing for it to continue, the wish for just one more night. I can honestly say that I have experienced no such feeling. In its place rests the sensation of relief. It's over. I can think about something else now; Districts, or fund raisers, or what show we're going to do next. The things which have lived in the back of my mind are finally free to burst forth and have their moment in the sun. How long they will have in the sun, I am not sure. I do have to teach and plan lessons at some point in time. But not right now, not for a few days at least.

Show Week

It's generally acknowledge that show week sucks for everyone involved. I have the feeling that the typical anxiety is magnified this time since we are most certainly not ready. If I could, I would push back the date, but that would mean living with this feeling for another week, and frankly, I don't think my nerves could handle it, and the PAC is booked for the rest of the month anyway. As opening night approaches, I feel more and more like I'm missing something important; not for lack of planning, but lack of knowledge.

I was over in the office the other day, trying to figure out some paperwork regarding tickets (which I don't really understand), and the bookkeeper handed me a sheet which I assume I was supposed to fill out at some point in time but didn't for lack of knowing that I had to. So, tomorrow morning I have to figure out what paperwork I missed, and what other things I have to do to get this show on the road. I have a suspicion that it involves money and paying for security and custodial services. More money. Have I mentioned that I hate money and hate dealing with it?

I'm getting more and more frustrated that I don't have a manual that tells me all of this. To my knowledge there isn't anything that walks you through how to reserve the PAC, or arrange for custodians to come in, or hire security for an event. Having to ask my department head is getting frustrating to me. I don't like bothering people, see, and taking her entire lunch period asking questions seems like a bother to me. That's one of the reasons I like books, I can't bother books.

A week from today, the show will be over, and I can finally relax and go back to teaching, because I haven't been doing much of that lately.

A Possibly Dubious Distinction and the Poster

I saw this badge browsing the blog-o-sphere and thought it was interesting. Apparently some website thinks my blog is written on a post-graduate reading level. I wonder what their criteria are, especially since it takes mere seconds to decide the level of writing. I also wonder if I should take that as a complement. Is that just a polite way of saying my writing is incomprehensible to the majority of the English speaking world? Does it have more to do with lack of typos and average length of words than actual writing quality? Isn't the goal to be understood rather than sound intelligent through the use of unnecessarily long words?

Whatever the case, congratulate yourself, dear reader, on being educated enough to understand my writing. If nothing else, get a good chuckle out of this. I did.

Here's what I worked on this weekend. Hurray for Photoshop and free 30-day trials. This is the poster that I will hopefully be getting printed some time this week. I also made the tickets, which should also be printed sometime this week. I think they look pretty snazzy. If you're wondering, the drawing is the frontispiece from an early edition of A Christmas Carol. I really like the black and white look. No goofy Christmas red and greens here. Anyway, if you happen to be in the Orlando area in two weeks (December 6, 7 & 8), you should come see it, if only because you know me, and you know that the Colonial Drama Department needs money, and who doesn't like watching train wrecks? Perhaps if you're feeling especially charitable (it is Christmas, after all) you could print out the poster and hang it in your place of business, or simply spread the word.

P.S.

You maybe wondering, "why the random post?" That's right, I have work to do.

P.S.2
I made my post quota for November as well! Dare I hope for an extra to make up for my abysmal summer post rate?

That Feeling

There's this feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I'm stressed and facing an important deadline whose only cure seems to be sleep. I'm a worrier, see, it's what I do. Unfortunately, the temporary relief gained from sleep wears off after I shake the sleep from my vision and realize that nothing has been accomplished. Before I know it, the real world starts invading my dreams, and I see myself on opening night running frantically around the PAC looking for props and set pieces. I hate this feeling. What's making it worse is that I don't know what to do. In college the solution was always sitting down and writing a paper, or spending hour upon hour in the drafting lab, or staying up all night doing something. This time I have to find my own solutions. New solutions. Blaze a new trail through this experience and hope to come out unscathed on the other side.

Christmas Wish List 2007

Wal-Mart has started playing Christmas music, which means: it's time to publish the annual Christmas Wish List! This is seriously a wish list. I don't really expect to get most of it.

• a laptop bag
• an Apple Wireless Mighty Mouse
• a digital camera
• Guitar Hero III
• Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on DVD
• Stranger Than Fiction on DVD
• a drafting board (or something like it, you should talk to me...)
• a calender (with retro poster art or black and white photography)
• tools (pliers, side cutters, wrenches, a socket set, etc.)
• Photoshop

Finally, a Break

It's nearly Thanksgiving, yet it feels nothing like it. Sure, the weather has finally taken a turn towards chilly, and the darkness comes faster, but there is a definite lack of--well--something. Perhaps it's that I'm not examining my schedule to see if I can cut class on Wednesday in order to go home on Tuesday. I'm not making Thanksgiving plans. My life has been so consumed with everything else (and by "everything" I mean only one thing: work) that the thought of stopping and doing something other than think about the long list of things I have to do to get "A Christmas Carol" up by December 6 is ridiculous. On top of all that, I have to worry about fund raisers for International Thespians Society and registering for District Thespian competition at the end of next week.

Despite all of the stress and endless lists of things I have to do, I'm having fun. Each day I spend at work, the more I am convinced that I have to best job in the world. It has it's downsides, not the least of which are money and paperwork, but everything else is a blast. There are problems to solve, it's challenging mentally, physically, and emotionally. I'm being stretched as a person, and I'm loving it (in a non-McDonald's kind of way).

Ode to the Coffee Pub

There's this little coffee shop in Tallahassee which has become popular with countless FSU students for it's coffee and atmosphere. C. introduced me to the Coffee Pub one evening last Spring semester, and it quickly became my study spot, my hangout, my escape. On more than one occasion I found myself twisted up with a book and a steaming cup of tea in one of the comfy chairs in the corner furtively watching the people around me as I tried to make sense of Beckett, or Virginia Wolff, or Stoppard (oh, Stoppard!). Some evenings when I didn't have much to do, I would just sit and journal, sipping the amazing Mighty Leaf tea with honey.

On evenings like tonight, I want nothing more than to sit and listen to the low hum of college students doing homework and chatting with friends, having conversations that don't relate to someones boyfriend, or High School Musical (the bane of my existence). I miss intelligent conversation, and being around people who have heard of the Lost City of Atlantis (no, not the ride), or Death Valley, or Tibet. There is only so much high school jabber a person can take.

If anyone knows of a good coffee shop in the East Orlando area, please share (Starbucks and Barnie's do not count).

Not Scary Enough

I've decided that I'm not scary enough. I remember going into "Les Miserables" being completely terrified to miss a rehearsal. Despite my warnings, my cast doesn't seem worried about missing rehearsal. As much as I don't want to, I may have to cut someone, just to prove a point. I hope it's not someone I like. But the fact is, several of them have missed rehearsals without telling me why, or even telling me in advance, and that is--frankly--not cool. I want to give them some time to settle in and work things out with their parents as far as rides go, because I remember what it was like being in high school, but at the same time, there hasn't been one rehearsal where someone wasn't standing in for someone else. Considering that we are less than 4 weeks from opening night, that is not good.

I have to be scary. Develop that look. Do something so that they will pay attention and quit goofing around. Maybe I need to grow up a little too. I think that might be my problem. I'm so young and so close to their age that they make a joke, and I totally get it, so I make a joke too, and then we start going back and forth and we don't get anything done. Did I mention that I spent half an hour talking about Nintendo with some of my cast last week when we should have been rehearsing? I need to quit that. It's not good for anyone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Hispanic festival was on Friday in the PAC. They needed someone to run the fly, and since none of my students know how to use the fly safely, I stayed and did it for them. It has been a really long time since I've done anything like that. No matter how evenly weighted the grand drape is, getting 3000 pounds of anything moving is going to take some energy. Doing it upwards of 20 times quickly and in the span of two hours is downright exhausting. My hands are bruised from the rope, despite the leather gloves I wore. I think it was worth it though. A few hours of my work will hopefully be returned in the form of clean dressing rooms and a good relationship with that club in the future. If not, well, they can do their own fly work next year, and it's not my fault if someone gets a grand drape on top of them.

I'm Supposed to Turn Those In?

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you'll remember that I write a lot when there are other things to do. This evening is no exception. For those readers not intimately aware of the school calendar, I should mention that this is the last week of the first grading period. That means grades are due tomorrow by noon, lesson plans from the past nine weeks were due at the end of the day today. Here's the thing though, I didn't hear about the whole lesson plan thing until yesterday at lunch in my very first "departmental meeting" (it just so happened that the fine arts faculty ended up eating lunch in the same room).

The lesson plans shouldn't be difficult since I've only done one or two things since my arrival on campus three weeks ago (can you believe it's been that long?). Unfortunately the lesson plans require using a completely different and totally mysterious teacher language, a language which I haven't yet learned. There is a form to work off of, but to my untrained eyes, it looks like a bunch of gobbledygook which I can hardly hope to translate before tomorrow.

All of a sudden I feel like the kid scrunched down in the chair in the back because he forgot to do his homework or study for the test.

Despite being behind in the lesson plan department, I'm beginning to recognize the early flickers of confidence. I'm growing, dare I say it, comfortable in my job. Don't get me wrong, I am still flailing in the vast ocean of the public school system, but my flailing is beginning to resemble treading.

The Mom Song

I saw this on some website and thought it was hilarious. So I thought I'd share. Enjoy!

The First Referral

I had to write a guy up Thursday. It took a week and a half of teaching. That's probably not a good thing. I found myself wondering what I'd done wrong as far as classroom control goes? He and I had a discussion earlier in the class period about his grade (which is not good to say the least, although I haven't actually calculated it yet). In hindsight, I probably should have drawn the line and said I wasn't discussing it. Frankly, I don't know what else he was expecting from his performance. What gets me is that he didn't even try. Last week he told me that he didn't really want to be in my class in the first place, something about not wanting to be an actor. I told him that I wasn't expecting amazing performances, and all he had to do in my class to pass it was try. Just try, that's all I want. He said he wasn't smart enough to memorize his lines. I told him he' s selling himself short, and that he has potential to do whatever he wants.

On Thursday he walked out of my class without permission. What else was I supposed to do?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In other news, I've blown my monthly quota out of the water. I'm pretty excited about that. Maybe my annual average will be 6 posts a month. It's just a product of actually having something to write about for the first time in a long time. Good times.

Auditions, Red Ribbon Week, and a Sort Of Clean Stage

This has been a fairly productive week. I ordered a copy of "A Christmas Carol," taken steps to get the rights and worked on purchase orders to buy scripts. I'm still overwhelmed, but for the first time since last Monday when I started, I think I might actually make it.

Last week a girl from SGA came in and asked if the Drama Club wanted to do a skit for Red Ribbon week. Not knowing that Red Ribbon Week was only two weeks away at the time, and that this week's class periods were basically lost to PSATs, I accepted and put the students to work. At first we had an extravagant plan which included a whole lot of monologues and a whole lot of people. But we realized how little time we have left today, and decided to cut it down to a few people, like seven. The cast for the skit is entirely students I trust (and who trust each other). I was worried that the younger people would get scared being in front of everyone in the courtyard and forget lines or just refuse to perform, but cutting it down to just these few people makes the entire situation a lot easier. Although I'm not sure how everyone else will react when they find out that they're out. I think they'll understand though, and hopefully they won't be upset.

I also spent three and a half hours in the theatre meeting with my Drama club officers and cleaning the stage just a little. It's not as clean as I would like, but I talked to the maintenance guy and he said they could mop the stage and clean up the wood finish that someone spilled, which actually makes me really happy. I thought I would have to go in and clean it up myself on Friday, but now I don't have to and can spend Friday getting ready for auditions on Monday.

And I've finally scheduled auditions for "A Christmas Carol." Monday at 3:30 in the Drama room/PAC. Cold readings. So this weekend I'll have to find scenes/monologues for my prospective actors to read for me.

My freshmen are performing their first scenes tomorrow. I'm expecting disaster. No one was really off book last class, which means they have a lot of work to do before tomorrow's class period. I'm sure a few of them will surprise me. Others might disappoint. Either way, it means I don't have to lecture.

Oh, and I think I might want to do "Urinetown" for the spring musical. Really, it's a lot cleaner than it sounds.

Characters

I spend every day with characters.

There's Bon Jovi Guy. He looks like Jon Bon Jovi. He's kind of crazy, and likes to do semi-acrobatic things while running around like an idiot. I yelled at Bon Jovi Guy and company today for being idiots.

There's Pee Boy, who asked to go pee in the first five minutes of class on my first day of school. No, Pee Boy, you can't go pee. You should have done that during lunch. He hasn't asked to go pee since.

There's Crazy Girl, who has emotional problems.

There's the Suck-Up, who insists that I am her favorite teacher and Drama is her favorite class. She's had me for all of a day, and she's had a sub in Drama for the rest of the year. She's trying to get on my good side. She's a Suck-Up.

There's Girl-With-Too-Much-On-Her-Plate. She does band and sleeps in my class.

There's the Corner Girls, who don't pay attention, and who will be getting low grades on their first assignment because they haven't been working on them. At all. So they're getting low grades.

There's Well-Dressed-Guy, who always wears a tie. And he was wearing Seminole colors on my first day. That was pretty awesome.

There's Attitude Girl (more like three or four Attitude Girls) who insists on talking over everyone else, then giving them attitude when I tell her to be quiet. She wasn't in class today. I was happy about that.

So, I spend my day with characters. I don't really want to, but it's my job.

Have I Mentioned...

...that I feel completely incompetent in my job? I'm realizing this week how little I know about the process of putting on a play, especially in the early stages. I went on the Dramatist Play Service website today to try and figure out how to buy the rights for "A Christmas Carol". I personally would rather have written my own adaptation and avoided the royalties all together, but given that I have a new job to learn, lesson plans to write, and a month and a half to get this show up, I decidedly don't have that kind of time. It doesn't help that I come home every day emotionally and physically exhausted. Anyway, the thing is, not only do I not know how to buy the rights to something, I don't know how to do that with my Drama club budget. There are forms to fill out, I know that much, but when do I do that? How do I do that? And then there is something about budget restrictions because our budget is basically entirely from dues, and funds from dues are already spoken for (something about shirts). The problem is, I don't have details on that. The last teacher didn't leave details; either that or I just haven't found them yet, since I can't get into my filing cabinets because I don't have keys yet. NO FREAKING KEYS! There are about six different things that I want/need to do that all require keys, not the least of which is letting my students into the classroom in the morning so I can do something, like maybe, teach.

If you couldn't tell, I had a really bad day. I expected to get keys, didn't get keys. I found out that my entire budget is about $2,600, and I can't use all of it. And did I mention that we don't have a sound board because someone was skipping in the PAC a few weeks ago, broke into the booth, and poured some kind of liquid all over the sound board and shorted it out. Lack of sound board means lack of sound system. We also don't have any lavaliere mics, and they cost about $1000, and we can't opt for the cheaper variety because Colonial is in the flight path of two airports, and the planes interfere with the signal. So if we're going to have our actors wired for sound, we either rent or borrow mics. Did I mention that our entire budget is about $2,600?

Oh, and our shop is a mess. The one saw that we have that has a blade has a frayed power chord, and I am hesitant to let anyone use it.

On top of all of this, I have to start worrying about Districts, because registration is December 1st. Oh, and guess what, that costs money too. A lot.

And I think my classes hate me. And I don't know what I'm doing.

The First Two Days

I survived my first two days.

I spent Monday at the 9th Grade Center dealing with freshmen. In the eight years since my own time as a high school freshman, I had forgotten the depth of immaturity. I went in assuming that exercises I enjoyed in college would work fine for my new freshies. I found out very quickly that things like walking around the room without talking to classmates or examining oneself in the mirror and following instructions are completely beyond the range of possible behaviors. Thankfully, there are only two periods of freshman Drama I.

I left on Monday afternoon exhausted, discouraged, and completely exhausted. As I drove away from campus, I wondered what I'd gotten myself into. How could anyone do this for a living, day-in-day-out fighting the natural tendency of 9th graders to pay attention to anything but the teacher? Despite my emotional and physical exhaustion, I drove to my alma matter, University High, to get advice from those older and wiser: my own high school drama teachers. I watch them rehearse the fall play for a while, then I sat down with Mrs. D to go over what it is exactly that I'm supposed to be teaching these students. I quickly realized that my initial plans were far too optimistic, and I needed to adjust my expectations. It is after all Drama I, and they are not IB kids. And it turns out that the assignment I gave them on Monday (memorize, rehearse and perform a scene) is a bit too advanced for them. I decided to let them carry on with it, just so I could see what they do with it.

Tuesday I went in nervous and worried. I only had two classes on Monday, and this time there were three. Could I make it through the day? Do I have that kind of stamina? The answer: yes, because unlike on the freshman campus they are old enough to control themselves. Tuesday was great, and a small bit of my Monday afternoon doubt began to evaporate. The were involved, and up for playing goofy theater games and actually giving it a good effort.

I finished the day energized and in a surprisingly good mood.

Day three was an entirely different story which I will save for another time. In any case, keep praying; I'll be in survival mode for quite a while.

Separation Anxiety

I knew it was coming. When I decided to get a Mac, I was fully aware that there would be a learning curve. I've spent all day (literally about 8 hours) getting my computer set up and working the way I like it. After about four hours, I realized that I'd only half installed most of my applications, so I had to get online and find out how to a full install. Not really difficult, but a nice reminder that I'm no longer working on a Microsoft machine, thank goodness. But along with that there are a few things I'm beginning to miss about my old computer.

1. The keyboard. I could fly on that thing, and this new one is going to take some serious getting used to.
2. The shortcuts. I just don't know what they are. It took me two or three hours to figure out what one of the shortcut symbols means (it's Option, by the way, or Alt on other machines). Oh, and there are four function-type keys instead of two. And heaven forbid it lock up on me, because I have no idea what the Ctrl+Alt+Del equivalent is. Thankfully, it's a Mac, and I shouldn't have to worry about that for a while.
3. The familiarity. I just haven't gotten used to it yet, and when I came upstairs and used my old computer a little bit, it felt like coming home to where everything is familiar.
4. The 'x' button on the right-hand side of a program. I'll get used to it.
5. Knowing where everything is and subsequently feeling a little computer savvy.

I accidentally deleted the Pictures folder in the Finder menu and had to create a new one. But it doesn't have the cute little Pictures folder icon, and I want it back, so if anyone happens to know how to make it come back, please leave me a comment.

I'm considering buying some form of Macs for Dummies. Until then, all Mac related advice is greatly appreciated.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Unrelated Notes:

We're one week into October and I'm posting for the fourth time. Maybe I'll make up for being a total slacker over the summer.

Condolences to all Gator fans. LSU sucks. And they're rude. (Did you hear what they were chanting after a very nice Tim Tebow touchdown? That's just not polite.)

While today it sucks to be a Gator, it rocks to be a Seminole! Dare I hope for a winning season? Unfortunately, the tough part of our schedule starts now. Wake Forest, Miami, Boston College, Virginia Tech, and the game that makes Thanksgiving suck, Florida. At least we've started putting up some offense.

And while I'm on the topic of football, let me just say that USF shouldn't be ranked higher than UF.

You Can Come In Today

I awoke Friday morning to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I shook the sleep out of my voice as I flipped open my phone. Colonial. Dang it. "Hi, Laura. This is J at Colonial. You can come in today if you want." It was 7:30, and there was no way I wanted to face my new students without time to prepare. So, I opted to start work on Monday.

That afternoon I went to the main campus to just orient myself, find the light switches, you know. I got there around 1:45 and spent a little bit of time in the office and then made my way over to the drama room, my room, to look around. The front doors to the PAC were locked, so I went around the sides and started trying doors. I rounded the corner and heard a promising chatter behind one. So I knocked. The door burst open and I was met by six or seven drama students. "Are you the new drama teacher?" "Yeah, I am." And then I was being hugged by some person I've never met. Pretty crazy. After that I went inside and met the substitute whose been teaching the drama classes for the last two weeks. She did her best to scare me out of my mind. Watch out for these four, I had to give them referrals. The drama 3 and 4 kids are really good students, but they like to talk a lot. So after that we went over what they've done so far, at least to her knowledge. It wasn't much, and it sounded pretty boring anyway.

So, I have until Monday to figure out what I'm doing with these kids in our first class. The sub will still be around to help with the transition, and we'll see how that goes. Monday I'm on the freshman campus, Tuesday on main.

In other news, I got my laptop today, and have spent the entire afternoon trying to figure out how everything works. I think I'm getting it, but it will take a while.

The Sheriff's Office Would Not Say What the Dessert Was

This article popped up on my iGoogle news feed. The headline read, "Cops: Florida Boy, 13, Killed Brother, 8, Over Dessert." Being in need of a good laugh, I read the brief article. The highlight of the article comes near the end: "The sheriff's office would not say what the dessert was." Immediately I started thinking of slightly altered headlines: "Teen kills brother over Little Debbie Snack Cake," "Boy Blames Twinkie for Brother's Death." There's a banana cream pie somewhere in there too. And then I think of some reporter standing on the steps of the police department addressing a harassed looking officer surrounded by pushy TV news crews. Pencil poised, he asks, "And what kind of dessert was it? Did it have a creme filling?" Of all the questions one could ask, did the child have a history of violence, are the other children okay, they chose to inquire about the dessert.

Oh, and it happened in The City Beautiful. Yup, sounds like Orlando. And The Simpsons, come to think of it. ("Lisa, no! Your hands are too weak!")

Anyway, I thought it was amusing...the dessert line, not the death.

Orientation and a New Computer

Once again the self-imposed post quota was not met. I was so close too. But October promises to be an eventful month as I should be starting in the classroom within the next week, so the only thing to keep me from writing is busyness, or perhaps a mental breakdown.

And speaking of mental breakdowns, OCPS did their best to steer me down the path of insanity yesterday at Pre-Employment Orientation (PREO). I arrived on time, much to my surprise. Having left ten minutes behind schedule, and siting in Orlando rush hour traffic, I expected to be dashing in, breathless and confused. Instead I strolled in, and waited for them to let us in. Go me. Anyway, the morning session was entirely paperwork. Two hours of writing my name, address, phone number, social security number, signature and the date. Every so often I would actually read what I signed. Thank goodness I learned to quickly skim through documents and get the general idea in college. My favorite form was by far the drug test release form. Yes, you can study my pee, especially since my employment is contingent on the results of the drug test. Once I'd finished the substantial stack of paperwork, I went and did the drug test, got fingerprinted, and had my picture taken for my OCPS employee badge, then left for lunch.

The afternoon session was almost entirely form free, and completely exhausting. Never in my life have I had so much important information thrown at me in so little time. We had sections on payroll, health insurance, life insurance, retirement, teacher certification, OCPS general expectations, etc. They gave us this folder that has a cute collage picture on the front and scary information overload on the inside. Thankfully I have a couple of weeks to figure out insurance stuff and five months to think about my retirement plan. It's strange to think about retirement, since I haven't even started working yet.

Now that I've been hired, I decided to go ahead and get a new computer. My old Dell is on it's last leg, having spent four years in faithful service (except for that one time the hard drive died and I lost all of my pictures from Barbados). I can't say that I'm sorry to see the end of this era. Waiting a minute and a half for it to open Firefox (or any other program for that matter) has become more and more frustrating. So it is going into the computer bag forever and it's spot on my desk will be filled by a brand spanking new MacBook. Yes, I'm making the switch. And I'm pretty excited about it.

Guess What...

I got a call today from the Assistant Principal at Colonial High School offering me the job as the new drama teacher. So, I guess I'm a teacher now. When I woke up this morning, I was a college grad looking for a job. Now I'm employed and am responsible for all of the students in the drama program, as well as the theater, the dressing rooms, the power tools (oh! the power tools!)...everything. I will have more keys on my key ring than I've ever had before. Students...my students...will hear me coming my the jingle of my keys.

I bounced (literally) around the office for a good half hour today, down to the machine room, up to the verifiers cave, back to the seasonal/on-call cube. I didn't sit down for an hour. I couldn't. When I finally got my sizable butt back into my chair and the euphoria began to wear off, I got this horrible sense of fear. A man just called to tell me that they've decided to give me more responsibility than I've ever had in my life. And it's just me. I'm flying solo.

I've never directed a play before. Or designed a set. Or taught a class.

This year will be a year of firsts.

The Lamentable Reality of Fall in Orlando

Autumn captivates me. I love the leaves, how they turn from green to red and orange and yellow. I love the crisp air, and the first time it's cold enough to see your breath. I love scarves, and long sleeved T-shirts (I want to wear my Virginia Tech shirt without sweating!), and jeans. I love apples and all of the dishes that are made from them, apple pie, apple sauce, apple butter. I love football games with fans bundled up in sweatshirts, hats and scarves of matching colors (especially when those colors are garnet and gold and they're doing the tomahawk chop).

But I live in Orlando, in the state where old people go to escape the cold. I live where the leaves stay green through November, and the apples are trucked in from other states, and scarves are a fashion accessory and nothing more, and the wrong football team wins the games. I live where you can go swimming on Christmas if you really wanted to.

It hit 90 degrees on the Fall Equinox, and I was filled with jealousy because somewhere the leaves are falling. Just not here.

My Grammar Obsession

You may not know this about me, but I really like getting my grammar and spelling correct. I have even been known to send properly spelled and punctuated text messages to my friends who invariably respond with something like, "k cu l8tr". Digispeak or whatever you want to call it is the bane of my existence.

Knowing this, it will probably not surprise you that I proofread my previous post at least three times before finally publishing, twice after (making changes each time) and editing yet again today upon discovery of "their" in place of the correct "they're". It's a little sad really.

I had a professor who forbade us to use "like" in class. He handed out these bumper stickers that said, "This is a like free zone." Every time someone used 'verbal ellipses' as he called them, he'd just look at them and say, "try that again." It made us think about what we wanted to say before we started speaking, and resulted in better answers all around. Every so often I go on a quest to eliminate 'verbal ellipses' from my own speech, and since my language has become saturated with 'likes', 'ums', and 'you knows', I'm considering embarking on one such quest in the near future. Care to join me? It's amazing how intelligent one sounds when the pointless noise goes away.

An Entry from my Journal

I haven't written on the blog much lately. Life has been pretty boring, and I've just now started adjusting to the whole it's-September-and-you're-not-in-school thing. In reaction to the dawn of this reality, I've retreated into myself a bit while I become acclimated to post-student life. As a result, I've been writing a bit more in my paper and pen journal, the one that doesn't get e-mailed to all of Crusade by my parents. As it happens, I've been a delinquent in that as well since hearing that I didn't get the job at University High School. So, after two weeks of collecting dust on my bedside table, I decided yesterday to pick up my Moleskine and [gasp] write something. And as it turns out, I found what I wrote rather amusing. I have chosen, in the interest of total disclosure (yeah, right), to share this with the world at large and risk it being sent to half of the country by my parents.

Here goes (minus the spelling errors):

"8 September 2007

"Saturday 12:45AM

"I haven't put pen to paper in what feels like ages. There are many reasons for this, but I will only highlight the major ones.

"1. There's not much to write about. I go to work, I come home, I read, I sleep. That's (sadly) about it. Aside from a few high points (and by 'a few' I mean two), there isn't anything to relate.
High point 1: Bard - I got a cat for my birthday. He's adorable, but embraces his catly nature and can be quite aloof.
Irony: As I wrote that previous point he abandoned his aloofness and walked through the door.
High point 2: Interview - I had an interview at Colonial High School for the vacant drama teacher position. The result: another week or so of painful anticipation for a phone call. Here we go again. I resolve to stand up for myself this time.

"2. The only thing I've really thought about in the last month is Harry Potter, and I dare not write about that in depth lest the writing result in a fully formed essay. Moratorium on scholarly writing for the time being. Besides, Dad has finally given in and read the books, so I have someone with whom I can share my HP thoughts.

"3. Any news in the last three weeks (barring the previously outlined high points) has been boring at best and depressing at worst. Basically, I don't want to think about it.
Outlier: Bard the Cat is ill with an upper respiratory infection and as a result has been snotty and lethargic for three days. He has also taken to sneezing in my face (I will consider it a miracle if I get through this experience without a kitty cold) and giving me mean looks for the two hours following the administration of his antibiotic via squirty thing to the mouth. But, who could blame him? He has apparently gotten over this for the night since he is sitting on my bedroom floor staring fixedly at my sponge-painted wall.

"And speaking of sponge-painted walls, my room is due for a complete redesign. Away with the high school memorabilia! A box is sufficient for your tacky glory! In with the intelligent and trendy decor of a recent college grad and twenty-something (cue Jamie Cullum music). If only I knew a hip twenty-something to redesign my room."

Well, there it is, one of the few times the silliness in my personality actually comes out in my journal.

And now for something completely different...
You may or may not have noticed that I fell horribly short of my self imposed quota for blog posts in August. I have no excuse other than plain laziness...and it's hot in August; who can think when they're sweating? But summer is winding down, and with it must go the laziness.

I was also wondering if anyone caught the literary allusion in one of the post titles from last month. Think 20th Century American poets. And...go!

The Bard

I don't really make a big deal out of my birthday. And I don't expect much from it. I'm not really big on presents or cards or whatever else, but this year, this year my birthday present rocked. His name is Bard, and he's 5 months old.

He has also woken me up at 6 AM for the last 3 days, but somehow I don't really mind that much because he's cute and he just falls asleep on my pillow anyway. He likes sleeping on the hard wood floor beneath the dining room table, and he does that clawing thing that Buttons did when he was happy. He purrs a lot. I don't think he knows his name yet, but sometimes he'll look at me when I say it. And for some reason, he likes being on his back, even when you hold him. He's actually been sick for the last two days.

We went to the animal shelter on Saturday afternoon, not expecting to take a cat home with us (before they release the animal they have it spayed or neutered, not spayed and neutered as we said several times throughout the day). But we walked into the kennel (is it called a kennel for cats?) and there he was, the first cat we picked up. Mom liked him straight away. He was friendly, and he let us hold him the entire time without really trying to get away. Keith and I wandered around a bit, looking at the other older cats and some of the younger, but Bard eventually won out. And I'm glad he did, because he's cute, even if he does sleep all the time.

Happy Birthday to Me

It's my birthday. Just thought I'd share.

August is the cruellest month...

I haven't been writing much lately, mostly because very little has happened. The last several weeks my mental faculties have been completely focused on the job interview five weeks ago, and the fact that I had not yet heard from them. On Wednesday I finally received the less than 30 second phone call which I had so wanted for more than three weeks. "Yes, the position has been filled." I hung up the phone and thought, you couldn't have told me that three weeks ago? Because there were things that I wanted to do during the month of August that involved me being out of the state for a while. Instead, I sat around Orlando and worked, wondering what my future would hold.

So anyway, after the euphoria that was the month of July, I'm now into August and searching my thoughts for some purpose in this summer. And for the first time in my life, I have found myself wishing that I was a student, packing my belongings into my car and driving towards some kind of goal, even if that goal was just to make it through the semester.

Potter and Other Related Thoughts

Here are a couple of links to articles about Christianity and Potter, one on Townhall.com and the other on Verumserum.com.

And for some of my own thoughts:

I've gotten quite a bit of flack from Christians over my love for the Harry Potter books, mostly from the older generations. I've been told many times that the Harry Potter is evil, and no Christian should read them. I've even had someone question my salvation because of Harry Potter. Here is my problem with many of the anti-Potter people: they haven't read the books. One such person went so far as to give me an "article" (I hesitate to call it an article, it was more like an uninformed rant) about Satanism in Harry Potter. I read it and laughed. The author clearly had never read the books, and any credibility that remained melted away with the grammatical errors and typos. Several quotes were taken completely out of context, some putting Voldemort's words into Harry's mouth. The one I remember specifically is from the end of Sorcerer's Stone in the Harry-Quirrelmort battle (normally I would find the quote, but Dad has my copy of Sorcerer's Stone). It also poorly argued and failed to cite sources of any kind.

What bothers me is not that people have a problem with Harry Potter; everyone is entitled to their opinions, even if they are wrong. It is the fact that the harshest criticism comes from those who did not decide for themselves whether it is good or evil. (Case in point: Laura Mallory, the Georgia woman who petitioned to have the Harry Potter books banned from school libraries despite never having read them.) Perhaps the most dangerous of bad habits, blind acceptance of opinions and ideas without serious critical thought has taken it's toll on modern America. And this reaches far beyond Harry Potter. What about young Christians today? I've heard people bemoan the lack of theological substance in modern praise and worship music, especially when compared to the hymns of old. This is a direct result of young Christians just accepting what someone tells them, and not trying to go farther and learn the foundations for their belief. Frankly, it is manifest laziness. I write this knowing that I am guilty of it as well; my knowledge of church history and the finer points of theology is decidedly lacking.

I could go on, but I'm starting to feel like I'm writing a paper, and it's getting late, so I'm going to step down from my soap box.

Anyway. . .last week I had Deathly Hallows with me at work since I was loaning it out to some of the other Seasonals and rereading during lunch and break times. It's presence on my desk was enough to garner multiple anti-Harry comments. I honestly kind of expected it.

Solitude

I've been living alone for several weeks now. Part of me says, this is amazing. I get to sit around at home and do whatever I want: play piano at 11PM (well, I'd do that anyway, just not as loud), watch The Simpsons while eating a dinner of cottage cheese and apple sauce, read without interruption anywhere in the house, or blast my music at 7:30 in the morning when I'm making my lunch. And I like driving myself to work in utter silence, or listening to a podcast on my iPod, or the radio instead of thirty minutes of political drivel, or "I'll tell you what," or "that's what I'm saying," or "weelll, looks like it'll rain today" (my internal reaction: no shit, Sherlock, it's central Florida in the summer). I used to get these pounding headaches at work that wouldn't go away until I went to sleep, but I haven't had one since I started driving myself. Maybe it's to do with being on my own schedule, or just not having to listen to the inevitably painful conversation in the carpool. I hate the carpool. All this to say, it's been nice, and I've found myself in a better mood for almost a month now.

The downside to being alone is I don't ever see anyone outside of work. Let's face it, I'm not what one might call a social butterfly. I don't make friends quickly. I can count on my two hands the number of people I met in college with whom I hope to stay in touch. That is not an exaggeration. My friends from home have continued on with their lives, moving on to other states or countries (or are already there). I hesitate to search for new friends since I don't know what this next year will look like, and people are hard work. They suck the life out of me.

So, it appears that I'm alone down here. I haven't spent an evening away from home for two weeks. In that time I have retreated into my books, imagining myself a part of worlds that will never exist outside of the imagination. It seems like I'm happier there, lost in my thoughts.

As for the work situation, I haven't heard from them yet. With every passing day the shadow of doubt grows in my mind. Two weeks ago I was hopeful, now I'm just frustrated. So much for making a decision soon.

Deathly Hallows

I finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows around 6:3o yesterday evening. When I finally put the book down I was glad that no one else was around because I looked liked I'd recently been crying (I had), smelled like I'd spent more than 24 hours (with a good 7.5 hours of sleeping) in bed, leaving it only for food and bathroom breaks (I had), and felt simultaneously elated and aimless. Now that my weekend of Potter-mania was over, I had no idea what to do with the rest of my time. I was very close to picking up the book and starting over again, knowing that my first read was extremely fast, and that I therefore missed many of the minute details. But the thought of going through all 759 pages again was a bit daunting. This thought, coupled with the realization that reading it again would mean that one of my coworkers would have to wait longer to read it (as they are waiting on my copy), prevented me opening the book.

I got to work today hoping that at least one other person would have finished, but alas, I was disappointed and had to bite my tongue many times throughout the day as we discussed the series up to the end of book six. Hopefully tomorrow will yield more people who have finished the book, so I can finally start talking about this with people.

Deathly Hallow's Eve

I got home from work today and found that I was not at all hungry, and that it is far to hot to go hit a tennis ball against a wall at the community center. Instead I planted myself in front of the computer, a dangerous place for a Harry Potter fan on the eve of the book seven release. I don't want to be spoiled, see. So I thought I'd check J. K. Rowling's website to see if the door was open (explaining this statement would take too much time and energy), and low and behold, it was. And as I read Jo's letter to her fans which was behind the door, I started getting a little teary. It wasn't a particularly sad letter, no gut-wrenching goodbyes or inspirational epitaphs, it was just thank yous to all the people who have helped her along the way. My sadness wasn't just for the loss that I might be feeling (I have this horrible feeling that she's going to kill him off), but for her as well. She has been writing these books since 1990, and now, 17 years later, it's all over. I've been reading these books for only a couple of years, and I'm incredibly sad about it ending. Granted, I'm a sap when it comes to anything ending, but that is besides the point. The end of the Harry Potter feels akin to the last show of "Les Miserables" at UHS, my senior show, or even graduation, although I am not as elated as I was then (perhaps that feeling will come when I see the gloriously brown UPS truck roll around the corner tomorrow).

Anyway, to avoid being spoiled, I'm avoiding Facebook (you know some joker is going to put it on their feed), e-mail (lest the live or die list appear in the subject line, and basically any website that isn't violently opposed to spoiling Potter fans. I know it's extreme, and a little ridiculous, but I've been counting down to this since January or February when they announced the release date.

In other news, I haven't heard back from University High yet. I'm starting to get a little worried. And no, Dad, I haven't called Osceola, lay off it.

Anyway, I'm off to finish Half-Blood Prince so I'll be ready for the UPS man when he comes.

Interview (Reprise)

The interview this morning went very well. They didn't offer me a job on the spot, but they did go over the classes I would have if I am hired, which I think is a good sign. The conversation when well. I didn't stutter or say something stupid, which is quite impressive, because when I get nervous I stutter a lot and say stupid things. So, I'm optimistic. As I sat in the lobby waiting for my interviewers to come out, I realized that the place still smells the same, after 4 years it really hasn't changed at all. A few coats of paint, but it's still the same.

And now for what I really want to talk about: Harry Potter. I went to the midnight showing of "Order of the Phoenix" with some friends from work (so that we'd all be miserable at work the next day together). The first 15 minutes were absolutely perfect; I couldn't stop smiling. The rest of the movie was also quite good, although I missed the subplots that were lost in translation from book to movie. The best thing about this movie was, in my opinion, casting. A few new characters were introduced (Luna Lovegood, Dolores Umbridge, Grawp) and each was almost exactly the way I imagined him/her. The fact that the screenwriter, designers, director and actors were able to paint the same image I had in my head speaks to the quality of J. K. Rowling's writing and the filmmakers' dedication to maintaining the spirit of the original text.

They made some significant changes to the fight in the Ministry of Magic which I found unnecessary. For example, the Dumby/Voldy battle produced something that look astonishingly like the Priori Incantatem link that was described in the Harry/Voldy fight from Goblet of Fire. I suppose that really comes down to a difference in interpretation, but well, I think I'm right. The Dumbledore's Army scenes were really great though. I imagined the Room of Requirement a little differently, but that happens.

Overall it was a really good movie, and I suspect it is better when not compared to the book. It is impossible to fit a nearly eight hundred page book into a two and a quarter hour movie.

The Summer of Potter, as I've heard it called, continues with the release of the final installment of the book series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on July 21st. All I can say about that is: Harry had better not die. Or Ron and Hermione.

Interview

I got a call this afternoon from a phone number that I thought I recognized. The voice on the other end of the phone confirmed that. It was the person in charge of interviewing perspective English teachers at University High School. She asked me if I could come in for an interview. Of course I said yes.

So I have an interview this Thursday at 10:00 AM.

I'm nervous, and I have no idea what to wear. I spent two hours shopping after work this evening and got a shirt, but no pants. Needless to say, I'm going to the mall tomorrow, and hopefully I will find a classy suit.

And as for the actual interview preparation, I don' t know where to start. There is so much to think about, how to handle discipline issues, what qualifies me for that particular job in the first place, why I want to be a teacher. I spent some time online reading up on possible interview questions, and I realized that I don' t know the answer to quite a few of them. But at least it's a place to start.

Today on a whole has been really draining for me. I didn't get enough sleep last night (completely my own fault) to start, and then I got the call from UHS this afternoon, then I spent half of my evening stressing about clothes (stupid clothes), and then I spent the rest of it dwelling alternately on the impending interview and "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" (which was fabulous, by the way). So, I will finish this day with a quick nap before I have to be up tomorrow morning for work. Oh bother.

My Bed is my Muse

I wrote a lot of papers in college. A lot of papers. But I seldom wrote those papers at a desk. I would start at my desk, fully intending to be efficiently productive for several hours. But after the first 30 minutes I would get restless and start fidgeting and inevitably migrate from the desk to the bed. For some reason I could never write at the desk. Ever. If I was downstairs I would migrate from the table to the couch and back again.

So, in an attempt to get this cover letter written, I've migrated to my bed. Maybe if I can't get past the first paragraph I'll go back.

On a different note, I didn't meet my post quota for June either, but I got pretty close, so I count it a success. It is summer after all.

The Job Search and a Mild Obsession

I am finally getting the wheels rolling on this whole teaching thing. I spent half of this afternoon calling local high schools to see if they have open positions and had a moment or two of grinning hope coupled with several moments of mild panic when I heard receptionist after receptionist say, "No, all of our teaching positions are filled." But there remain a select few high schools that still need teachers, so I am resting on those few.

On a pseudo-whim, I called Focus on the Family to see if they had internships available for Adventures in Odyssey. This, I have to say, has been a dream of mine since childhood (hence pseudo-whim). Well, not an internship specifically, more like a job, but I will start with small steps. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in the kitchen on a Saturday morning listening to Odyssey and playing paper football with Paul. I remember also setting the alarm on my watch so that I would remember to come inside at 3:30 or 4:30 or 5:30 (I don't remember which) every weekday afternoon to listen to the reruns. I still listen to them online at work. I got Adventures in Odyssey CD or tape sets every Christmas until my second year of college. And I actually listened to them. A lot. (Oh, parents, by the way, they have the old classics out on CD now, it's called the Gold Audio Series, I think. I want them :-). And a MacBook.) Most of the tape sets are incomplete because we listened to them so many times that they wore out, or were eaten by the tape player. I learned half of my vocabulary from Eugene Meltsener, and I know Isaiah 41:10 in some random version because that's what was on Odyssey. I know who many of the actors are (at least the old ones), and in some cases I could tell you who else they've voiced. It's a little sad, actually.

Random anecdote, I was watching some old episodes of Quantum Leap or maybe 21 Jump Street with one of my roommates and I hear this voice, and I'm thinking, I've heard this voice. So I sit there for a minute and then I realize, this guy was on Odyssey! He played Horatio Spafford on the episode, "It Is Well" (and many others I'm sure).

Honestly, I think it was Adventures in Odyssey that started my love for the theatre and performing arts in general.

Anyway, that's what I did today, other than work. I really should have written a cover letter, but I fell asleep after I got home and then ended up watching The Office Marathon on NBC, because, well, who doesn't like The Office?

Oh, Dear...

...I am slowly becoming a prime candidate to be one of those sad, fashion challenged, rut-dwelling people on TLC's What Not To Wear. Stacy and Clinton are coming for me, I can feel it.

Random Thoughts

Here they are:

• Naps from 7:00PM-8:30PM are not conducive to a healthy sleep schedule.
• Resumes are a pain.
• I have too many books. Wait, no such thing...
• A person's nationality is fluid, especially when they become famous for something. Case in point: T.S. Eliot. This American ex-patriot is in both the Anthology of American Literature and The Norton Anthology of English (as in British) Literature.
  
• Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows comes out in a month, I'm so stoked. Still have to read Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince again before then.
• I should read more.
• I should quit cheating on the crossword puzzles. But I won't.
• I never finished most of the books I read in high school. I should work on that. But I won't. At least not yet.
• Ben Folds rocks. Always.
• I saw on Facebook that an old roommate has friends getting married named Pam and Jim. I immediately thought of she was talking about The Office. I was mistaken.
• I enjoy 20th Century Lit much more than I enjoy 19th Century Lit.
• June 21st. Summertime, and the living is easy...
  
• My list of books to read will never dwindle. Never.

Bedtime!

A Salute to Sir Salman

I saw this news bit on the latest headlines feed on my Firefox browser and thought I'd share. Salman Rushdie was knighted. That's pretty cool. We talked about him periodically throughout my Modern British Literature class, as his work has relevance in the modern political world as well as British literature of the last two or three decades. In case you didn't know, Salman Rushdie is the author of Midnight's Children and perhaps more (in)famously, The Satanic Verses, the novel which garnered a fatwah from the Ayatollah Khomeini. So much for freedom of speech. My professor "didn't have the courage" to assign either of his well known works, so we instead read Hanif Kurieshi's The Black Album. Anyway, I have a lot of respect for Sir Salman. He probably knew that the publication of The Satanic Verses would likely sign his death warrant, yet he published anyway, and the next year went into hiding. So congrats to him, I say. Maybe ten years of hiding was worth it.

Update: "Rushdie title 'may spark attacks'". Anyone surprised? Yeah, me neither.

Arduous Processes

For the last several months, my aging computer has been running slower and slower by the day. In order to rectify this situation, I have embarked on the long and arduous process of wiping my hard drive and starting over in an attempt to cleanse my digital self and be rid of the demons which inevitably plague Microsoft machines. So I spent part of Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon backing up the 25 Gigs of information stored on my trusty laptop. My documents and other non-music files fit easily onto two CDs. I abandoned the CD strategy on Backup Disc 5, somewhere in the B's in my music collection. So I put all the music on my iPod and plan to download a program which will let me rip music from iPod to .mp3. I'm sure one exists--I had to do the same thing when my hard drive melted a couple Christmases ago. Now to find one that I can easily download and use.

And while I'm on the subject of arduous processes, I've been cleaning my room. It sounds rather childish and perhaps a little trite, but it is really taking a long time. Not only is there the standard mess of living in it, but I also have ten years of garbage (not literally) crammed into every crevice of every drawer and more knickknacks than I know what to do with. Unfortunately I inherited the pack rat gene and am completely incapable of throwing something away if it has any semblance of sentimental value. For example, I found a ticket stub from when I went to see the national tour of "The Producers" at the Bob Carr. Who keeps that stuff? Oh, right, me. But on the other hand, I also found my Tartu, Estonia bus pass from summer project five years ago. Now that has some sentimental value. Perhaps my best strategy for combating my pack ratty nature is to learn to discern what really matters in life. And then I could write a book about it. Maybe start Pack Rats Anonymous. The possibilities are limitless.

Why, one might ask, am I doing all of this stuff which I clearly do not enjoy? Because it means putting off looking for a job. If anyone thought graduation meant an end to procrastination, then well, they clearly do not know me. So, I'm putting off finding a job. I've done some of the paperwork, but I need to revise my resume and write a cover letter or two for principles of local schools.

Anyway, Windows Service Pack 2 is calling my name. Talk about arduous.

P.S. I'm thinking the quota is going out the window this summer. It's just not practical.

Summer Project Time

Well, I'm not going to make my quota. I blame this on being gone for half of May. Oh well. Maybe I'll try to make up for it in subsequent months. Maybe. Anyway, now for what I really wanted to write about.

Every summer around the end of May students from all over the nation embark on Summer Projects to, well, everywhere. And every time I get a giant bag of checks from Such-and-Such Summer Project at work my mind flashes back to my own summer project and I grow simultaneously nostalgic and jealous. Perhaps this is enhanced realization that I, having gone and returned from my summer vacation, am not getting on a plane and going anywhere, and that I, being boring and unmotivated, am working all summer sorting checks for all the people going on summer project to exotic places. And then I'm reminded via internet and work that several of my friends are on summer project. Keith, Scott, Katie...the list continues. And while there is some consolation in the knowledge that they too have to get up in the early hours of the morning, I know that their days will be filled with something fun, exciting, and more importantly, varied, whereas mine will indubitably consist of typing, sorting, batching, more typing, breaks at 10 and 3, and lunch somewhere between 12 and 1.

Trying to Meet My Quota

I decided several weeks ago when I was making changes (I'll call them structural changes) to my blog that I would try to post at least six times a month. So I'm writing in an attempt to meet my quota. That sounds bad, but when I read about writers or hear interviews I'm struck by how many of them had to force themselves to write at the beginnings of their careers. They would set a word quota, or a page quota and just sit and write. No matter what. Whether they had something to write about or not, they would write. Even if they knew that the words they put down on the page would more than likely be cut in subsequent revision, they would write. I sometimes marvel at people who have that kind of willpower. I certainly don't. I would always set goals for myself in my homework when finals week rolled around and everything started getting crazy, but I seldom met those goals.

Now that I'm out of college, I might try setting a quota, perhaps daily or weekly. My playwriting professor said that if you never wrote anything, you were never going to become a good writer. Like anything else, writing takes practice. I should practice more.

And that reminds me, I have yet to post about graduation. I'll get around to it, maybe that will be May post #2.

For Old Time's Sake...

I'm a little sad to say that for the last time in my undergraduate college career I am posting on my blog to avoid writing an essay. Okay, who am I kidding? I'm ecstatic! The thought that sixteen years of school are about to come to a close is overwhelming to say the least. Maybe that's why I've been stalling writing this paper. I've been thinking about it for a few weeks now, idly toying with thesis after thesis, eventually rejecting all of them and deciding that I'll start tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Could it be that I don't actually want this experience to end? Part of me says get me out of here, I'm tired of this, I can't write another paper. Then I think about the good stuff, like sitting on the couch at 4 o'clock in the morning with the roommates talking about Pavlov's dog, or walking home after a long day of school through that garden south of Landis Hall, or wandering through the stacks of Strozier Library picking books to skim based solely on their covers, or that amazing feeling of being done, done, DONE!, if only for the summer.

Speaking of summer, I was over at Curt's house (no surprise) and whilst standing there in the evening sunshine waiting for him to come to the door, I smelled summer. First it was just a waft of something, so I moved around the corner and the smell got stronger. It was that sweet smell, like a flowery bush heavy with blooms. I couldn't see it, but it was nearby, maybe in the neighbor's yard. And for a moment, I was six again, catching bumble bees in a Mason jar off that bush by the driveway. That's what it smelled like, that bush by the driveway. Then Curt came out and caught me thinking about dandelion bracelets, sun tea and backyard baseball (behind-the-meat-house baseball after we broke the parlor window).

So, it feels like summer in Tallahassee. For some reason it's been unseasonably pleasant for this time of year. Usually by the end of April it's unbearably hot and on the verge of being sticky, but these last few weeks have been full of days that make you walk slower to class and sunshine that makes you feel sorry for people who live in Minnesota. Perhaps everything is rose tinted by the nostalgia I'm starting to feel, but somehow I think God made these last few weeks just for me.

The Reading List 2007

Last year I posted a list of books I wanted to read and books I did read. Sadly I failed miserably in reading most of those books. This summer I will try again. Here goes.

Laura's List of Books to Read (in no particular order):

• Cold Mountain - Charles Frazier
• Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K. Rowling (duh)
• White Teeth - Zadie Smith (Purchased for class, but we didn't get to it)
  
• Brick Lane - Monica Ali (see note to previous)
• Arthur and George - Julian Barnes (see note to previous)
  
• Flags of Our Fathers - James Bradley (just need to finish it)
  
• To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
• Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut
• The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
• Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
• Band of Brothers - Stephen Ambrose
  

Not on the List, but Read Anyway:

• Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
• Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
• Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
• Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
• Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
• Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
  
• Beyond Band of Brothers - Dick Winters
• Bridge to Terabithia - Katherine Paterson
  

Maybe I'll make this an annual thing starting every summer. We'll see.

Thoughts About Virginia Tech

I'm having difficulty writing about what has happened this week. There are so many things to process, and somehow I feel close to this. I've been a Hokie all my life (my cheering order: Florida State, Virginia Tech, Florida, not-Miami), and to think of tragedy striking my pastoral Virginia countryside is beyond comprehension. This kind of crap doesn't happen there, it just doesn't. Yet it has. So, here are some questions that have been running through my brain that I thought I would process through writing for my own sake.

Why would God let this happen?
I don't know. Can any of us know while we still live on this earth? Maybe not. But that is okay. I trust that God is in control and He has a plan. Jeremiah 29:11 says, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" It's hard to see hope three days after something like this happens, but it will come. I remember when 9/11 happened it seemed like nothing redeeming could come out of it, but then we heard about the people who jumped the hijackers and crashed in Pennsylvania. And for the first time in my memory, the United States was truly united by something. I have no doubt that through this God will be glorified in some way. He always is.

What does that mean for colleges around the United States and the world?
Well, for one thing, Florida State University now has my cell phone number for use in case of an emergency situation like this. Other than that, I don't think much will change. Security might be tighter for a while (I saw more FSUPD Officers walking around campus on Tuesday than ever before), but eventually the caution will fade away. Most universities are set up in such a way that authorities can't monitor the comings and goings of students (and non-students). Ted Bundy was auditing classes at FSU in the weeks prior to murdering two girls in the Chi Omega house.

What good is a Candlelight Vigil when they aren't acknowledging the God who has the power to change things?
Maybe I'm being callous, but I don't see any point in standing around holding candles when there's no praying happening. The promises made by the student body president, vice president, and the university president really aren't going to amount to anything. Perhaps they are only trying to show support for Virginia Tech. I'm all for that, but instead of blowing hot air, why don't they get on their knees and pray?

How long do we have to wait until Michael Moore turns this into another anti-gun campaign?
Hopefully forever. Frankly, turning this into a political soapbox is utterly classless.

Will the VT President/VT Police Chief get fired?
I hope not, they did what they could. It's not like high school where there's a PA system. E-mail is the only way most universities can communicate with the entire student body. As I mentioned, FSU had all its students [voluntarily] register their phone numbers in case of extreme emergency so they can send text messages to everyone no matter where they are. But if it had happened to us, our administration couldn't have done much more.

Anyway, that's just a few of the things I've been thinking about in the last few days. There are many more questions that have been stewing which I may or may not write about here. But right now, I should be asleep because I have a final exam tomorrow.

Cougar Pride

I went home this weekend initially because my friend Sarah was getting married. But the weekend quickly became about Aida, and not Sarah. My alma mater put on Elton John & Tim Rice's Aida for their spring musical, and I have to say, it was amazing. It was almost as good as Les Miserables, and that's saying something. The girl that played the title character also played Evita last year opposite Keith. Her performance in that show was lackluster. She hit the notes, but it didn't have much soul. This year she carried the show. She hit the notes. She became the character. The costumes overall were excellent, especially considering that the majority of the clothes were constructed by the cast. It was a really great show.

Every time I go back to University High for the shows, I am reminded how lucky I was to go to a school where they have directors that are that good. My high school isn't a theatre magnet, we put out possibly the best shows in Orlando (okay, maybe I'm a tad bit biased, but then again, maybe not). This year the large group musical got Critic's Choice at the District Thespian Competition (the absolute highest honor in the district). They will be performing it in the opening ceremonies at the State Thespian Competition.

I don't know any of the kids on stage anymore. The last of my little freshmen graduated last year (along with my brother), but I still like going back, if only because they are putting on good theatre, especially for a high school.

UPDATE: UHS is doing an Encore performance of Aida this coming weekend. If you want to see it, contact me and I can find out details.

The Last Days

Every time I draw near to the end of something, I'm filled with this horrible sense of nostalgia. It doesn't matter if I haven't particularly enjoyed something, or have been rather apathetic towards the entire experience, without fail I have the urge to take pictures and see the sights. I've thought about making a list of things that I should have done instead of sleeping away sunny Tallahassee Saturday mornings. It might look like this: 1) Visit MacLay Gardens; 2) Run stadiums at Doak; 3) have breakfast with someone; 4) Play frisbee golf at Tom Brown Park; 5) Try a local restaurant. I've thought about making this list, but have decided that such an endeavor would doubtless result in regret and frustration at myself for being a lazy bum on Saturday mornings. So, I'm not making a list. My list of 'lasts' is making me nostalgic enough. For example, the last time I'll: 1) have to sign off on cleaning the bathroom; 2) see a School of Theatre production on Theatre night; 3) go home for the weekend; 4) go to a movie at the SLB; 5) make a house dinner.

I went to see The Philidelphia Story in the Fallon Theatre tonight, and as I sat during intermission, it occured to me that four years ago I was in the same theatre listening to the dean talk about the School of Theatre and all of the opportunities we would have.

There is a countdown on my door to graduation, and with each passing day, I grow more and more uneasy. Graduation from college is so much different than graduation from high school. At the end of high school, I knew where I was going. I had four years at Florida State University ahead of me. Now, my future is uncertain. I have no idea where I will be in one year's time. That scares me a lot. I was talking to one of my roommates earlier today and she asked me what I'm passionate about, and I said, I don't know. I thought college was a time when you're supposed to find yourself, and figure out who you are and discover this thing that you're really good at and that you want to do for the rest of you life. Well, it wasn't. At least not for me.

So in two weeks time, I'll be floating.

The Difference

(note: I began this post many moons ago and have returned to it periodically to finish it)

The other day a memory floated into my consciousness of a speech given to the returning students of the Florida State University School of Theatre by our founding Dean. Most of the contents are now blurred and inconsequential, but something he said stuck in my mind. "The theatre is a temple!" He said it several times with greater passion at each utterance. He reminded me of a preacher I saw in in Barbados who rocked the stage during his sermon. You could tell by the tone in his voice that he believed it with all his heart.

So I got to thinking, what does that mean, exactly? The theatre is a temple. What is a temple? A place of worship. So who or what are we worshiping? Do we join our theatrical forefathers in Greece and celebrate the human body? Art? Creativity? An actor's ego?

If the theatre is a temple, what god does a theatre goer or professional theatrical practitioner (fancy term for drama nerd) worship? It's people. Humanity. The power of man to create, to lie (that's what acting is, after all), to move, to sing, to be human. Now I ask, is that something we want to worship? Does it stop there, or does it go on to the creator of humanity? I can assure you, in most cases it is not the later.

That is one great difference between Christians and the apathetic masses: we know who we're worshiping. We have a relationship with Him. It's not some vague idea that we slap a stage under and start bowing to. I've read quite a few plays this semester for my classes, and so many of them ask, "why are we here"? They're looking for something to worship. In the end, they don't find it. They never find it.

Not So Bad After All

Having sufficiently bashed the Blogger improvements to the Layout editor last week, I'm now going to have to say that I kind of like it. Now that I've finished wrestling with the system trying to get my blog back to normal/slightly improved normal, I like the changes they've made. They actually do make things easier. What would have taken me thirty seconds in HTML now takes me fifteen. Hundreds more of those and I can get back the five hours total that I spend re-customizing my blog page last week.

You May Have Noticed...

...that there are a few visual changes to my blog. Okay, very minor changes. Blogger launched their whole new easy-to-customize system a while ago, and now it's out of beta testing (and has been for a while), so I figured I would go ahead and switch over to the new thingy so I can dink. If you hadn't noticed, my blog was already pretty customized. I didn't have the generic (boring) header, and I had added a Favorite Posts section, I'd changed the color of the post titles, blah blah blah. I knew when I switched over to the new system that I would probably have to do some work to get it back to where I wanted it. And it did. A lot of work. Two hours of work when I should have been sleeping. I spent much of that time bouncing back and forth between the click-and-drag system and the HTML editor. Guess which I prefer...that's right, HTML. The thing is, I had gotten used to it, and I could basically do whatever I wanted with it. Yeah, I would have to look things up online, but I could usually figure something out within a few minutes. Not so with this new system, because now there are widgets, and I don't know what those are, so I'm going to have to either learn or throw in the towel as far as customization goes. So, I have some reading to do (along with substantial translating from "geek-speak" to "(relatively) normal-human".

I like learning new things. Especially when it comes to computers. It makes me feel smart. And a little arrogant ("What, you don't know how to bold something in HTML? Awww, you poor little thing, you"). But then I am reminded that I have no idea why the wireless keeps going out, and why our Internet is spotty. At this point in time, I'm going to cast the blame on Embarq. Although I can't seem to figure out why the wireless router quits communicating once...an hour...every day...for the last week. But I'm going to blame that on Embarq too, mostly because they spelled embark wrong. Stupid Sprint.

Anyway, there's that. I'm going to bed now. Tell me what you think. (Am I shamelessly fishing for comments? Yes.)

Weren't You Supposed to Do That Yesterday?

It was my full intention to be very productive this weekend and do my homework early and spend Sunday evening relaxing and reading. This did not happen, so I'm spending the next--I don't know--hour or so napping, and then homework 'til dawn (if necessary)!

On the bright side, I beat Guitar Hero II on medium...

An (Imaginary) Rabid Fan Attack at the Coffee Pub

I sat in the corner of the Coffee Pub today feeling horribly artistic with my legs draped over the chair arm, Mrs. Dalloway resting in my lap, hot tea in my hand (to pay the rent), and Iron and Wine pumping into my ears. Horribly, horribly artistic. In those two and a half hours I spent reading, my mind kept wandering to an imaginary conversation in my head that featured a rabid fan praising the play that I wrote while sitting in the corner of the Coffee Pub feeling horrible artistic. This RF gushed over the humor intertwined with literary and historical allusions, reminiscent of Beckett in it's pretentious inaccessibility that I succeeded in capturing in poignant scene after poignant scene. During this whole imaginary conversation I was magnanimous and condescending, deigning to grant an autograph to the RF and being every bit as witty and engaging as the witty and engaging characters in my witty and engaging play. 'Beckett used to be my favorite,' said the RF, 'but now it's you.'

And then I would be snapped back to real life by the realization that I have no idea who Septimus is and I probably should, since he just jumped out of a window. Actually, that is a lie. I haven't gotten that far in Mrs. Dalloway, but I'm going to trust SparkNotes and say that Septimus jumped out of a window. I had planned to speed read and finish tonight, but it's quite a difficult book to understand when reading at leisure speed, and let's face it, I'm not a very good speed reader anyway. I did finish Murphy and more than half of Mrs. Dalloway, so I'm hoping that that will be enough to get me an A on my exam tomorrow. I'll plan on answering as many Murphy questions as possible. We get to chose 14 out of 30 to answer, and there are only two books on this exam, so theoretically I could answer all Murphy questions and still be totally fine. I've been especially apathetic this past weekend about school and such. Perhaps it is the Senioritis setting in full force.

Paper Time Again

If you're a steady reader of my blog, you have probably come to realize that my most prolific times of writing usually occur in the late night/early morning hours on the day before a paper is due. It just so happens that today is such a day, and I am once again minimizing Microsoft Word and signing onto Blogger to verbalize my complaints...but more importantly, to procrastinate. Somewhere along the line I missed the life lesson about getting work done before the eve of a deadline. But it is my last semester of college, and I figure, why change now? I have gotten relatively good grades thus far, and well, I'd have to work really hard to lose my Magna Cum Laude status at this point (and Summa Cum Laude is an impossibility).

I've been thinking about freedom a lot lately. This semester has been chalked full of books about it. Every book I've read for my Senior Seminar in Early Anglo-Caribbean Literature has had recurring themes of freedom and slavery; not surprising considering Caribbean history. Sarah Scott's The History of Sir George Ellison tells the story of a good man who is essentially enslaved to his ideals (that was the topic of my first paper for that class). In Modern British Literature we're currently reading Samuel Beckett's Murphy, the title character of which strives for freedom from physical desires. The characters in Tom Stoppard's Arcadia deal with the issue of fate versus free will in mathematical terms (it's a really great play, by the way, even if I didn't really understand the math). Maybe it is our plight as humans to strive for freedom and individuality. So, we strive constantly for something we can never really attain.

That's about as far as I've gotten in thinking critically about this. It's been a busy few weeks, and I would like to think about it more. The thought of writing an essay about it just for kicks has popped in and out of my brain, but I know that since there is no due date for essays written just for kicks, it probably will never get done. We'll see.

Anyway, back to work on Organized Crime and the New York City Garment Industry. What was I thinking when I picked this topic? I could have been writing about JFK assassination conspiracy theories. Hmm...maybe I picked the better topic.

A Rough Day

There are days when ones only recourse is to throw up ones hands and say, "God is in His heaven, and all is right with the world." Today has been such a day, and I have an inkling that this week will be such a week. I feel as though I was punched in the face, kicked in the shins, and another simile which isn't coming to me right now.

I got up this morning knowing that I had a four hour drive in front of me, as well as numerous duties when I got back to Tallahassee. Plus, it's my mom's birthday. I left Orlando two hours behind schedule, and subsequently arrived in Tallahassee two hours behind schedule. I had to go BM shopping alone due to an unfortunate case of chicken pocks, and arrived back at the house just in time to make dinner, getting it done fifteen minutes late. I spent all day being late. That does not bother me though, I'll chalk it up to being on Trini Time. The punch, kick, and other simile came with finding out that I didn't make Teach for America, getting my credit card rejected (I forgot to tell them I was going out of the country, and I was making a $300+ purchase...groceries...will be reimbursed), and getting a somewhat stern talking to from my HR about shopping so late/shopping alone (again I cry: "chicken pocks...it's not my fault!"). Then I spent most of my evening moving across the bathroom to a room of my own, just to add a little stress, or perhaps relieve a little stress, depending on how you look at it. There is really nothing else to be said other than that it was a long day. I would really like to fall into bed and sleep for many hours. Sadly, that is not currently an option.

On the bright side, I think I can finally describe what 'home' feels like. It's not the place where my stuff is, because both Tallahassee and Orlando can claim that. It's not where I sleep every night, it's not the place that I'm driving to all the time, whether I'm going north or south on I-75. It is simply the place where I can feel at peace. Completely at rest. I can't be at peace in Tallahassee; here someone is always asking for my time and energy. At home, I might be asked to do something, but my worth is not contingent on my actions. I realized this on Saturday night as I sat outside the movie theater with my dad and brother waiting for my mom to show up. I flicked a quarter and listened to my brother talk about comic books (graphic novels, hem-hem), and for the first time in a long time, I could just be myself. I was allowed to just sit watching a quarter dance across the table, occasionally chiming in with some snide remark or question about Spiderman. I can't just sit and observe in Tallahassee; people always think there is something wrong if I don't say anything. That is certainly not the case, sometimes I just don't have things to say.

Anyway, that's that. Enough of my complaining and waxing philosophical. One of these days I'll post about Trinidad, but that will have to happen sometime after this week, because it's going to be a busy one.

Oh, I got an A on my Senior Seminar midterm, a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy day.