self-deprecation

Sometimes words cannot express what I'm thinking and feeling. I feel mute, voiceless, helpless to express my rage, joy, discouragement, anxiety. I haven't yet mastered the ability to identify and come to terms with my own emotions. Writing things down sometimes makes it easier, unless I read what I wrote and realize that I sound like a imbecile. Or think I do. I have been known to go back through previous journal entries and "edit" things I didn't like. I even occasionally make rude comments to myself, mocking the ridiculousness of whatever I had said. It's really not much motivation for journal writing. It also makes it hard to articulate any of those thoughts out loud...for if i find myself worthy of ridicule, won't everyone else?

the perfect jeans

I'm being punished.

Nearly 2 months ago I splurged and spent an exorbitant amount of money (for me, at least) on a pair of jeans. The price shall remain a mystery, but let's just say that when I tried them on, I was so convinced of their awesomeness that I shed my usual penny-pinching attitude and bought them anyway.

Then came the remorse. These jeans sat on my dresser in the bag with the receipt for 2 weeks. I agonized about them, thinking of all the excuses why I shouldn't keep them; I couldn't possibly pay for crummy jeans that cost that much! But I was finally convinced by the fact that it usually takes me a good 6 months of hunting before finally finding a pair with buying. At any price. So spending a little more on 1 pair shouldn't be the end of the world, right?

Once I decided to actually put them on, I remembered that they were a good 6 inches too long. Off they went to a friend's house to be hemmed. Alas, I didn't measure very well, and we, or rather, she, since I was only good for conversation while she sewed, hemmed them a bit too long. So they returned to their place on top of my dresser until last week when my sister-in-law re-hemmed them for me.

And now that I can actually wear them with no excuse, I'm finding them a bit less amahzing than I originally thought. Did I really pay ___$ for jeans that are already exceedingly faded in certain places? And maybe I widened up a little over Thanksgiving, but I don't recall them being quite so stretched in the waist...and hemming flared pants often ruins the shape of the leg...

I suppose it's what I deserve. Next time I'll stick with a cheap pair. At least I'm only out 20$ if I decide I don't love them after all.

28

I will be 28 in just barely over a week, and I'm approaching this birthday with a bit of trepidation. I graduated from high school ten years ago. I've been out of school (well, finished my most recent degree, I should say, since I can't resist taking classes while I teach) for 3 years. I've been living in Utah for far longer than I ever intended. I'm only 2 years from 30.

Twenty-eight sounds old. Like someone who should have a real direction in life and be doing something worthwhile like working at a real job where she intends to stay for a while or one that has benefits (at least that's what my dad tells me). A twenty-eight year old should know how to curl her hair. She should be able to properly apply eye liner. And she should especially own a stunning black dress.

There's a small part of me that doesn't mind getting older. The part that thinks it's silly to fret about 28 or 30 or 45, especially when people routinely think I'm barely 20. This wise part knows to embrace life with each stage that passes.

But still...I can't help thinking...can't I just stay 27?

Wise Mongolians

If I ever have a baby, I'm going to swaddle him/her just like this:

It's brilliant! Notice how the wrapping is tied- there's no wiggling out of this burrito. I think you could toss the newborn around with no adverse effects.

And then, if s/he is starting to want a bit more freedom, we'll graduate to this:

election day

To vote...

Or not to vote?

At UVU there's a sign on the wall of the International Center that says "Half of the American people have never read the newspaper. Half never voted for President. One hopes it is the same half" (Gore Vidal).

On a day like today, I suppose we have four main groups of people: (1) those who are moderately informed and educated on the candidates; (2) those who vote and have very little idea aside from what they've seen/heard on the advertisements; (3) those who have no idea and vote anyway; (4) those who don't care and don't vote.

But how common do you think it is for people to vote on issues they know nothing about? I've also been wondering how common it is for people just pick a random name for races they know nothing about or how many just leave it blank. If I don't know anything about a person/issue, I generally leave it blank (ok maybe I occasionally vote for someone from a party you've never heard of. It's for moral support!). Maybe you just shouldn't vote if you don't know about the issues.

So do you think it is more important to be an informed voter or to do your civic duty? But isn't it part of our civic duty to be at least somewhat knowledgeable on the things we're helping our government decide?

what do you smell like?

Today in class we were talking about American hygiene (which the Brazilians thought was border line dirty and the European thought was possibly over the top), a student asked me if American men wear cologne.

I had to pause to consider my answer. Yes, they wear it. But I think there's something about the 5 foot rule- if you can smell the cologne from more than 5 feet away, it's too strong...or something like that. I told him that yes, they wear it, but it's usually not very strong. He was wondering because someone actually said this to him in the mall the other day:

girl: Hey, are you gay?
male student: Um, no. Why do you ask me this?
girl: Because I can smell you from a mile away!

There's really no response. Who says something like that to a total stranger?! Now this student happens to be from a country where men typically were cologne and a lot of it. The more important the occasion, the stronger he smells. He doesn't always wear it for school (which may tell you something about why his grades aren't so stellar), but I've noticed that when he wears it, he wears it. You can smell him from the other side of the room. It usually smells nice enough, but not being a perfume wearer myself due to the instant headache no matter the quantity or quality, I usually keep my distance.

I like the idea of perfume. I like smelling the little sample sticks that come in magazines. I like looking at the lovely bottles and thinking about old fashioned perfume pumps (my grandma used to have some of those). I just can't handle walking around all day with a fuzzy brain. Even scented lotions sometimes bother me.

My sister usually wears perfume or some kind of body spray when she dresses up. My mom wears it all the time. My dad wears cologne for special occasions? or possibly all the time. I'm not sure. My grandpa smells like aftershave. My grandma smells like Tide and Bounce. But I couldn't recall smelling perfume on many of my friends. What do you guys smell like?

If you get enough people to say you're right, does that make you right?

What will happen if Palestine convinces the world to declare it a state? Will it actually work?

May I draw your attention to the "Books I've been reading lately" list. If you've paid any attention at all to my list, you may now notice that something is missing. Something that has been on the list for far too long. After 2 long years (2 summers actually) I have finally, FINALLY finished Harry Potter e il Principe Mezzosangue, aka Harry Potter #6. In Italian. It took me many moons and the all-too-constant assistance of a dictionary. But I finished.

Finalmente!

A jaunt to DC

Last week was fall break and being as I was dying to go somewhere, we finally used our Delta vouchers that have been sitting around for months (that's the only reason I'd willingly choose to fly delta) and hopped on a plane bound for DC. Why DC? Well, it was one of the only places too far to drive to and cheap enough to use our tickets; most of the activities were free; the metro is relatively reasonably priced and goes almost everywhere; we had an offer of a place to stay from our lovely friends Brooke and Max. Who could pass up such an opportunity?

Day 1: Arlington Cemetery. Tour of the capitol. Air and Space Museum. Below is the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington.
In the afternoon, we met up with T-rav's old roommate RyRy.
Day 2: Torrential rain (and no jacket- what was I thinking?!). Holocaust Museum- what to say about that. You can't really say it was great- moving, perhaps? Depressing? Educational? Museum of American History.

Posing by the very famous leather jacket worn by The Fonz.
They were filming a movie while we were in DC and we stumbled across this in a parking lot in Chinatown.
In case you don't recognize the truck in the picture, this might help.
Day 3: The Washington Monument- I swear it was swaying in the wild gusts of wind. Lincoln Memorial. WWII, Korean War, and Vietnam Memorials- I thought it was interesting that each war memorial seemed to fit the war it represented. Some were large and stately and full of triumph (WWII) while others were small and quiet and situated off the beaten path (Korea). National Archives- the Declaration is much more faded than I anticipated! The National Cathedral- a little bit of "medieval" Europe right in our nation's capital. A Haunted Tour of Old Town Alexandria- wasn't terribly spooky, but fun just the same. Maybe one day when I have dollars coming out my ears I'll buy a teensy little house in one of those neighborhoods and hunt for ghosts myself.
View east from the Lincoln Memorial
Vietnam Veterans Memorial .
National Cathedral. Bob gave us a great 1/2 hour (actually turned into 1.5 hours) tour and showed us a moon rock embedded in one of the stained glass windows and all kinds of other random coolies things (we found the Darth Vader gargoyle all by ourselves). This church is ginormous. And beautiful. If we ever need to get married again, I'm booking the children's chapel for the wedding.All in all, a lovely trip. I'm hoping we have lots of reasons to go back in the near future.

tie or tide...the results

So. It seems that you people prefer tide to tie. And I'm perfectly ok with that. You say tide, I'll say tie, and we'll all just get along.

However, what baffles me is what determines which one you say. Is it that you say what you think you hear and 1/3 of the population doesn't hear the -d on the end? Or is there actually a pattern in location, gender, age, etc, that is obviously missing here from such a small survey sample. In my family, for example, my mom, sister and I (New Yorkers) all say tie me over; my dad (Utahn) says tide me over (my brother probably doesn't say either, as he spends most of his time cursing). Where's the pattern in that?

Another question that I still have is where exactly did the expression tide me over come from in the first place? Now I'm no etymologist, but my theory lies in the meaning of an obsolete form of the word tide, which, according to the OED (thanks for the byu access, sister!) means:

tide: To carry through (an undertaking); to enable (a person) to surmount (a difficulty, etc.) as on a swelling tide.

The earliest use of this form of tide occurred in 1626 and the last in 1870 and, coincidentally, coincides with the first appearances of the expression tide me over.

to tide over: to get over or surmount (a difficulty, time of stress, etc.) as if by rising on the flowing tide, or by taking advantage of a favourable tide

And, surprise! (to me, at least) an alternate and modern definition of tide is:

tide: To carry, as the tide does

If you consider tide in this way rather than thinking solely about waves flowing to and fro, I think it makes quite a bit of sense where our expression originated.

Alas, the OED has no information concerning tie over (at least that I can find), so I can't answer when, why, or how it emerged into the English language. But I will say that as a descriptivist, and maybe also because I myself say the alternate expression, I can't condemn the use of tie. It's just the way language evolves, folks. Take it or leave it.

breaking news

A new language has been found!! Although most of you probably don't care two shakes, here's an article about the world's most recent language discovery. If I could, I'd fly right over to northern India to hear it for myself!

tie or tide

T-rav and I are in the middle of a word debate that probably doesn't have a right or wrong answer but is fun to talk about just the same. He noticed this posted on my facebook status: "hungry and far from the kitchen with only 3 small cookies to tie me over."

He thought it was strange that I said tie me over because he has always heard/said tide me over. When he mentioned the difference, I instantly went into ridicule mode. TIDE me over? What is that supposed to mean? But then I started thinking about it and tie doesn't really sound all that much better...and I suppose I had heard tide now and then...so we started doing some google research (if only I had access to the OED, I'd try that too). We found that:

• Tie me over has 10,300,000 hits while tide me over has 2,710,000 hits (not that this is scientific or proves anything, but ole' Dr. Robertson used it in every class to explain such and such an idea).
• There are loads of sites that mock the use of tie and support the use of tide.
• Many sites agree that tie me over is a colloquialism and therefore wrong (which I have a problem with).
  

One British site says: ...I say that the true form is to tide one over. In some slight defence of to tie one over, it is becoming more common, but it is a folk etymology (read “error” if you prefer) that has grown up because the word tide here seems to make no sense.

The idea is that of the swelling tide, which will carry you over some obstacle, with the implication that it won’t require effort on your part. It may be that it’s a deliberate echo of Brutus’s comment, in Julius Caesar: “There is a Tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the Flood, leads on to Fortune”, or it may at least be taken from the same idea of a ship, say, waiting for the tide to rise and carry it over the bar into a harbour.

Now I'm not sure I buy the part about a swelling tide...but he makes an interesting point. So what do you say? And I'm wondering if this is regional or age-related or random or some other variable. Post a comment and answer the survey (and send others my way. I need a bigger sample group!), please!

to beat or not to beat

I nearly chucked my marker at a student in my class today. Between personal conversations, questions to me (usually about something I barely answered), answering the phone in class (the inappropriateness of which we've already discussed) comments about our discussion, and random inane comments and noises from one strange Mexican kid, I could hardly hear myself think. Until today I've liked this class, but I'm starting to reconsider. They're just too unruly.

In their defense:

1. We have a large class in a teensy classroom that is ill-lit (unless you open the shades on the windows, which in turn blind the teacher).
2. The students are sitting nearly on top of each other, making it extra easy for them to chat.
3. Because they're sitting so close together, it's very easy to conceal phones and text messages, furthering classroom distraction.
   
4. We meet right after lunch, which usually has a drowsy effect on students, but with this group it's like a party.
5. It's a listening speaking class, so we do lots of conversational, active activities.
   

But REALLY. During the second hour of class, I was ready to pack up and leave. But then the students would have been delighted to leave early, and student glee is NOT what I'm going for. I've had unruly classes in the past, but this one is pushing all the right buttons. Perhaps it's the Arab guy who gives me less respect than his male teacher. Maybe it's the weird Mexican kid who sits in the back and says "no" and/or claps at everything anyone says. Whatever the problem, they're going to be surprised when they come to class on Thursday and find that their teacher isn't quite as nice as she may have seemed. Here's what I've been tossing around as disciplinary ideas:

1. Throw things at them when they're noisy.
2. Refuse to speak until everyone is quiet.
3. Bring a horn/whistle to blow whenever they're not listening.
4. Stage a public beating.
   
5. Refuse to answer questions of students who may not have done their homework.
6. Throw out students who come unprepared.
7. Deduct 10 points every time a student speaks out of turn.
8. Yell.
9. Throw out the weird Mexican kid.
10. Confiscate cell phones and possibly laptops (I don't know if I can make myself do this one- my German teacher answers phones that go off in class...in German. I don't have that kind of...courage).
    

My personal favorite is to throw things, but I might get in trouble for that. I suppose I could make my class very boring in hopes that it will calm them down, but I already struggle to make our topics relevant and interesting to skeptical students. I get sick of hearing "teacher, why you make us do this?" or "teacher, how does this help my English?" Or maybe they think my class is boring and that's the problem? I'm not sure. Any other ideas out there?

Radio West had a program on Mormon Feminism last week with the fantastic Joanna Brooks and Claudia Bushman. It was great. Here's the link, if you're interested.

Slumpy Day

Today shouldn't be a slumpy day. Today had so much potential. I bought my level 3 students candy and did a fun activity (or fun for me. They had to eat black licorice with their eyes closed- not knowing what it was- and then describe it), I went to a fantastic lecture with the inspiring Uyghur woman Rebiya Kadeer, I didn't have to teach much of my level 4 class (because of the lecture that we attended) and I get to go to Irish dance. And I really like what I wore today, which, shallow as that may seem, actually can affect my mood for the day.

But I still feel slumpy. I partially blame two of my students. They're frequently negative about the topics we discuss in class and today I really didn't know how to react to them. Usually I just shrug them off and continue with our conversation, but today their brief comments about nothing made me go from perfectly content to perfectly not.

The thing is, I've been feeling like that more and more this semester. Now if it were January or February, this would be quite normal. But usually in the fall I'm happy to be back at school and starting afresh. But I'm not. I'm less patient with my students and less inclined to spend extra time doing things for them. I know I should "live in the moment," but I'm exceedingly antsy to move on with our life. I just wish I knew what "moving on" entailed, other than moving out of Utah. I'm going to stir crazy and some days I think the unsatisfied wanderlust might just kill me.

And more and more often I wonder if I really want to teach. Don't get me wrong- I really like teaching. But isn't there something more meaningful I could be doing? Like working with the Uyghurs to help free their people? Or finding money for my Haitian friend whose school is still in ruins? Or going back to Guatemala to help them with their gardens so their children aren't malnourished and sick? Or...or....

Sorry for complaining. I just had to get that off my chest. Do you ever feel this way?

"I want my first amendment...as long as I agree with it"

The other day I heard someone say the following:

"The people who say there should be no mosque at ground zero are some of the same ones who say the pastor in Florida has the right to burn as many Korans as he wants."

Now lest you think I think something other than what I actually think, let's make two things very clear:

1. I think they can put a mosque wherever they dang well please, and no, I don't find it inappropriate or insensitive for a mosque to be built on or near ground zero (because it's actually 2 blocks away AND there was a Muslim prayer room in one of the towers for years). I think it would actually be quite nice. America is not at at war with Islam. We're at war with terrorists who, yes, are Muslim, but that doesn't condemn an entire faith.
   
2. OBVIOUSLY it's rotten to burn Korans. Rotten, horrible, insensitive, exceedingly disrespectful, etc. But do people have a right to do so if they feel like it? Sure. Is it stupid? Very. But not illegal.
   

I find it interesting, however, that some people seem to have a double standard with the rights of Americans. To protect the rights of pyromaniac Americans, we must allow a Koran-burning, but then interfere with the rights of a religious minority who want to build a mosque? I don't think it works like that. Or it shouldn't. I think if burning Korans is ok, so is a mosque. The rights that protect one unpleasant thing are the very same that protect one pleasant thing. I guess as we cling to the First Amendment, we have to allow for some give and take on both sides.

Chickens!

The long awaited pictures of our chickens:

This is Bertha. She's the dominant one of the bunch and was a champion layer until she got sick. She still hasn't quite recovered. She's not the most beautiful thing and we sometimes wonder if she's half turkey. She's so fat she waddles when she walks and almost falls over if she runs, leaving her panting and heaving in recovery.

This is Roger (upon T-rav's insistence, we named our lovely hen an ugly man's name). She's third in the pecking order and currently our best layer:

The coop T-rav built, plus our neighbor's old dog kennel combined to make a great pen. We sometimes let them out into our yard and the neighbor's orchard for some extra excitement. Bertha is sometimes to fat and unsteady on her feet to make it down the ramp without a tumble. A new ramp is in the works.

For a while we were only getting 1 egg a day, but we're up to 2 the past week. If they don't crank up the numbers soon, we might just have to buy another 2 chickens. I want a surplus of eggs. But here are the fruits of our/their labors. Don't they look nice?

greetings

Many of my students have been disenchanted by American greetings because they don't realize that when an American says "Hey, how're you doing?" they don't really want to know how you are. It's just a greeting. Some of them have been quite surprised when the American expressed discomfort at their detailed explanation of their current mood.

Because I'm aware of this, I usually don't ask my students how they are unless I really have time to hear their answers. And we talk about what Americans really mean by their question. But I was wondering what you say. When you see someone you know walking past or in a room, what is your usual response? Do you just say hi and keep walking? Do you ask them how they are? Do you stop and chat? I'm sure one's response is greatly dependent on how much time is available...I'm speaking generally here. What would you do/say?

new season new semester

School has started and, true to how the world should be, it's suddenly much cooler. Knowing Utah, it's not likely to stay that way, but I've been enjoying it while it lasts.

The hard drive on our laptop is kaput. Lovely. This also explains why I feel so disconnected from the world (no computer, no TV. You mean if I want to know what's going on, I have to go to the library?!)

I have a Dane AND a Fin(n -anyone know the proper spelling for a Finnish person?) in my new class. Huzzah!

My attempts to take German 2010 (attempts that were foiled by my department last year) have been foiled once again. Surprise! I have to teach during German twice a week. Thank goodness for auditing. Alas, the total price for books for the lone class = 226.00. And there are no used books to be found since it's a new edition. Down with the publishing industry!

Did I tell you all I now have chickens? Pictures proving their ugliness will be coming as soon as my computer is back in order. I can't wait.

In case you haven't heard yet, Mormon feminism is back.

It's about bloody time.

see vs. meet

The other day I was talking to a friend about her 2 week old baby (we'll call her Bertha) and she asked me "when are you going to come meet Bertha?" There was something very strange to me in that question. Can you guess what it is?

Keep thinking...

I was surprised by her asking me to come meet her baby (did you guess right?). I was expecting her to ask me when I was going to come see her baby, which is what I was accustomed to hearing, not meet.

When I hear the verb meet, I think of becoming acquainted with someone. To me, that implies equal acquainting between people. A baby, in my opinion, although she may have the beginnings of her own personality, is not yet cognizant enough to become acquainted with anyone.

In my curiosity, I asked my mom what she would say (without telling her about meet), and she used the verb see. When I used a sentence in this way with meet, she looked at me funny...which leads me to wonder if this is a trend among 20-30ish women (and men?). But is it regional? I have no idea. I've heard many of my friends use meet, but then again, most of those with babies live in Utah right now.

I was also thinking that this might say something about the general feeling towards babies these days...please bear in mind that I have no babies and don't recall what it was like for mothers 30 years ago, but I think younger women are more likely to feel like their baby is a real, unique person right when she's born than women of the previous generation. I think babies used to just be, well, babies, whereas now they're this miracle of a human that I (well, not I, but you know what I mean) produced in this very baby-centered culture.

Have you heard men or women (or both) use meet? What would your mom say? What have you heard/what would you say?

Your Majesty, Honor, and Excellency

T-rav and I had a lively discussion last night concerning political, military, or religious titles and the respect that accompanies them (or should). If, for example, I were to meet the president of the US, I would be excited to have met the president regardless of whether I agreed with his/her politics; the office of president commands respect regardless of whether I really like the person. I may not fawn over the person if I think they're a schmuck, but I still respect what they've done to get themselves in such a respectable position.

A few years ago Dick Cheney came to speak at BYU for a graducation service. There were all sorts of protests and a group of crazy students (though crazy for other reasons and not just for this) even planned an "alternative commencement" with Ralph Nader for people who couldn't stomach the idea of listening to VP Cheney. I didn't understand all the hype. Had Cheney been a genocidal dictator, this would have been a natural reaction. But Cheney wasn't a bad guy (well maybe they thought so...). Maybe you hate his politics, but he's still the VP and it's kind of cool that BYU managed to get such an important person to speak at commencement. At least that's how I saw it. To me, the vice president, who also happened to be Cheney, would be speaking to BYU students. Since he wasn't coming to give a political speech, his political views were irrelevant to me.

T-rav, on the other hand, sees it the other way around. Although he didn't hate Cheney, he saw it more as Cheney, who happens to be VP, came to speak. Being excited or angry about him coming completely depended on how he felt about Cheney's politics. If he doesn't like the person or the politics, he won't be as excited to meet them. It doesn't matter if that person is president or king or prophet; T-rav respects the office if he also respects the person.

So which category do you fit into? And which do you think is more normal for Americans? Why?

flem or francais?

I know that probably most of you aren't terribly interested in socio-linguistic things, but I found this article absolutely fascinating! I had no idea that Belgium was in such linguistic disarry. In such a case as this, when you have 2 nearly equal language groups that strongly dislike the other, wouldn't it be easier to just divide the country? If only it were so simple...

If you're not in the mood to read the full article, just answer me this: wouldn't you like to be called a Walloon of Wallonia? Or perhaps you'd prefer being a Fleming of Flanders? I just hope I can live in Linkebeek.

news

Here's the latest:

I broke my foot just over 2 weeks ago, which was healing nicely until I thought it would be a good idea to jump (gently, of course) on my auntie's trampoline. Maybe not so much.

We just got back from a week trip with our friends Brian and Callie to California. Traipsing around Disneyland, LA, San Diego and Tijuana with good friends and the cutest 9 month old = loads of fun.

My garden is nearly ready to produce something (other than weeds) and my compost pile is fermenting nicely. If any of you live in the area and have any spare grass clippings or green waste, bring it by!

I shall be spending the next blessed weeks before school starts again reading, gardening, hiking (once my foot gets back to normal, of course) and generally relaxing. Not that I'm trying to rub it in...if any of you have some spare time, feel free to stop by and hang out.

blogs vs facebook

T-rav thinks blogs are slowly dying, and I must say, he might be right. Are they already being replaced by the faster, easier facebook? We're all about instant gratification these days, and for that, there's nothing better than facebook.

Facebook makes nosing around people's business a whole lot easier. You don't have to snoop around various websites to see what people are up to. Just a quick click will bring you to far more information about people's lives than you ever wanted to know (honestly, do we really care how many times you're going to the gym or what your dog did last night or how clean your house is?). Universal adoration comes easier on facebook. Those who hate you can be blocked, and a true facebook junkie has dozens of fellow addicts just jumping at the chance to tell you how amAHzing you are. It's a little burst of superficial self-esteem at every turn.

But truth be told, I kind of miss blogs. I don't miss those comments giving glory laud and honor to the writer (I find them insincere and obnoxiously similar to those facebook comments I refer to), but I miss knowing what my friends are up to. I miss reading full sentences and paragraphs and stories containing actual nouns, verbs, and prepositions. And punctuation! Yes, blogs do have their faults (being completely 100% self-centered for one thing), but they gave a bit more insight to what people were actually thinking and feeling. For a few short but lovely years, I was able to keep in contact with friends of mine who may not be so good at emailing/calling/texting. So if blogs really go away, I will miss that. As much as I enjoy facebook (and I really do), it's just not the same.

It's just like ALIAS in real life! I probably shouldn't be so excited about foreign spies living in the US...

cool or creepy?

I have a student who is a clown.

Enough said.

I just finished reading some of the nicest journal entries from my level 2 writing students. Their assignment was to write 1 paragraph (~8 sentences) about things they like about themselves followed by 1 paragraph (~8 sentences) about things they disliked (physical appearance, personality, abilities, etc). Almost all of them started their entry with "this was really hard for me to write about..." Now if it had been me, it would have been because I couldn't think of enough good things to write. But all of them mentioned it was difficult because they couldn't think of things they disliked.

I know what you're thinking. Arrogant Asians, right?

But no, this class is actually mostly Hispanic students, all from different cultures, some LDS, some not. All of them said the loveliest things about themselves without being a bit proud or obnoxious. And their dislikes were honest, but not degrading or full of self-loathing. I don't know what went wrong in my wiring, but I've never been like that. What good things I could come up with were usually short and half hearted and the bad list long and self-contemptuous.

I'm not hinting at a "oh, no you're so wonderful" kind of comment to this post. I'm just wondering what you would have written about yourself. Would the postivies or negatives have been easier?

You've heard the expression "publish or perish" right? From the way I've been going, I'm not going to make it much longer (I'm trying to start something, really I am!), but T-rav is well on his way with his very first published work. Aside from some odd corrections his non-native English speaking professor made, it's pretty dang good.

Go Irish go. I hope they have better luck than previous blockade breakers.

Fire!

The most exciting thing just happened. Two cute, innocent looking Korean girls were playing around before class by a fire alarm...and accidentally bumped into it, causing the alarm to go off and everyone to evacuate the building.

YES!

I love fire drills. They're so exciting (except when you think of all the books that could burn if the building were actually on fire). And I've always secretly wanted to pull a fire alarm.

So we all dutifully exited the building to the beautiful sunshine, though some less enthusiastically than others. I was ecstatic about this chance to hang out in the sun until I unwisely opened my mouth and mentioned to someone with Authority that it was just an accident and that I had seen it and Mr. Authority made a call and suddenly the alarm went off and we all had to go back inside (and now I had no excuse for not being prepared for my next class).

But it was a glorious few moments.

oh how things change

Exactly one week ago, if you had asked me my summer plans, I would have told you that they involved spending an extended time in Kyrgyzstan (the small central Asian country just west of China), speaking Russian and hanging out with Kyrgyz peeps while Trav did his internship. Alas, due to 1 very stubborn UVU bureaucrat (and the slightly unstable political situation in Kyrgyzstan- they just had a coup a few weeks ago), his application for approval from UVU was denied, leaving him without an internship and us without plans for most of the summer.

My, how quickly thing can change.

So now what do we do for the next 3 months?

the new girl

With a ring in her very straight and well-shaped nose and her long, straight, black hair, she reminds me of a gypsy. She defies the world with her body language and smoldering gaze (in an angry not seductive way). And as of today she's my newest student.

I've seen her around campus a few times and always given her a wide berth. You don't want to get in the way of that kind of attitude! Today our conversations went something like this:

Me: Welcome to class. What's your name?
her: (mumbles as she glares at me)
Me: One more time, please?
her: ****! (her name, not a curse word. but it kind of sounds like one)
Me: Here's your syllabus. Please read it (as I flee back to my table)
after class:
her: Is it always going to be like that?
me: Like what? About Native American tribes?
her: (nods sharply, says nothing, arms folded defiantly)
me: No, just some days. So if you're bored by Indians, don't worry. We'll do other things.
her: (nods again)
me: (thinking I detect a glimmer of a smile, I smile back. What little smile there may have been suddenly disappears, and she stalks out of class).

Suffice it to say, this girl is far from warm and fuzzy. And even if she's not as bad as she seems upon first impression, she's still a bit...intimidating. I'm hoping we can bond over her being Middle Eastern and me loving everything about Arabs, but I'm skeptical. We'll see how things develop.

glorious sleep

I had a 5 day reprieve from school last week. Our original plans involved driving to some exotic location and lounging on the beach, but due to other possible future travel developments and the need to save our pennies, we opted to stay home. It was actually quite pleasant; we did a whole lot a nothin'. Most of our time was spent reading, lounging, watching movies (I recommend Goodbye Lenin and Bulletproof Monk-it really is as awesome as it sounds), interspersed with eating and a bit of gardening.

Oh, and sleeping, did I mention that? I discovered that when I have no reason to get up, my body will naturally wake itself up after exactly 7 hours and 50 minutes of sleep. At first I thought it was just because of the sun shining in my window, but then the sun went away for 3 days and I still woke up right on schedule. And I felt absolutely great. I guess I hadn't noticed how tired I had been getting from skipping sleep. Who knew your body actually does need 8 hours!

Alas, after such a great discovery, I'm back in school, and with it comes fewer and fewer restful hours during the night. I suppose that gives me one reason to be grateful my church doesn't start until 1:00- at least I'll have Sundays.

a lesson on Muslim headscarves

If you've ever wondered the difference between a burka, hijab, and chador (or wondered what they are in general), check out this article from the bbc. It's about a law passed in Belgium that bans women from wearing a burka, but if you scroll down about halfway, there's a lovely set of pictures with accompanying explanation about headscarves.

Last week my eye doctor thought I might possibly have a brain tumor or MS or optic neuritis or something else dreadful. So for a week and a half I did too. After tears and hysteria followed by extreme anxiety, I settled into a nice indifferent sort of mood. After all, I rationalized, it couldn't possibly be me who has something horrible like MS, right? Other people get that. Not me. I'd rather have a brain tumor. So then I had an mri and waited for the results (and waited and waited and nearly blew up at the most idiotic, unhelpful morons at the radiologist's office)...

...and finally found out that my brain is free and clear of anything nasty.

Disaster averted, for now. Hopefully the spots I'm seeing in my right eye will disappear within the next month or so, leaving me only with an unpleasant memory and high bills.

faith

I've been thinking a lot about faith lately. My patriarchal blessing says that I have been blessed with great faith. And as a child and teenager, that was easy to believe, especially since nothing bad every really happened to me. Oh, I had my "trials" just like everyone else, but nothing that really challenged my beliefs. But I've started wondering how to have faith but also have your heart aligned with God's will.

For example, If I were to develop a terrible disease, I'm totally, 100% sure that if God wanted it, I could be cured. No problem. But does He want to? What if it's His will that I suffer? What if there's "something I'm supposed to learn" from said ailment? All the faith in the world won't change God's will....or could it? If I had stronger faith, would I be healed, even if it's not part of God's plan for me?

So how do I know what God wants for me? How do I pray the "right" way and ask only for those things which God wants for my life? What if my faith is great, but not placed in the right area? Is my my faith then in vain, and I end up a bitter, dying old woman? Or must I accept that whatever God does is the best thing...

...but then, does God have an active hand in everything that happens to us? Do some things just happen because they happen and God just observes? Are these things really planned out for us?

I have so many questions.

some thoughts/worries

1- I'm looking for the perfect shade flowers to plant around my house. Perennials would be nice, but not mandatory. Any suggestions?

2- Sunday morning I woke up to whitish spots in my right eye. I immediately assumed I was going blind (my greatest fear since I first got glasses at the age of 7), and rushed to the doctor Monday afternoon. Since then, I've gone to 2 eye doctors and 1 retina specialist. I had my eye poked, prodded (literally) and puffed with air, dilated twice, and several color photographs and scans done (which I'm sure cost a fortune...I can't wait to see the bill for all this). And after all that, they still don't know what's wrong with me. It could be nothing. Or it could be something terrible, but the doctor refuses to tell me lest I start needlessly worrying and assuming the worst. Which I'm already doing, of course.

3- I've decided I need to get rid of/stop wearing all of my flowy shirts. I've had 2 students ask me if I'm pregnant in the past week. Once I show them my non-pregnant stomach, they're convinced, but really. It's getting a little old. And then another student asked if something was wrong with me because I'm pink instead of white or brown (and I wasn't blushing). What can I say, I was blessed with a ruddy complexion.

4- Three more weeks til the end of the semester. I'm going to be very sad to leave these students behind. Aside from some dear but rather...demanding level 2 students (who would learn a lot faster if they actually listened for a few minutes) these 2 classes have been some of my best. They've definitely made up for the beasts from last fall.

5- I miss blogging.

Dear weather,

Please stop fooling around with winter. I'm sick of swirling bits of snow that don't really stick and dry, dead grass and trees. Also. I would like to remind you that I do not live in Seattle, and therefore the sun should come out more than once a week. Please go find spring. I'm sure you can entice her to stay.

Sincerely,
a whiny, vitamin-D deprived winter-blues sufferer

Happy St.Patrick's day!

Trav always makes fun of me for this, but I consider myself Irish (Irish-American, I should say) above all other nationalities. In reality, I'm not really any more Irish than I am German or Danish or English. But I identify more with the Irish side of the family. Maybe it's because I've done lots of research on my Irish family history. Or because my first name is Irish. Or because my middle name is from my off-the-boat Irish great-grandmother. Or because they speak/spoke a really fantastic form of Gaelic (which I tried to teach myself in high school). Or maybe because I do Irish dance. Whenever I mention it, people ask me if I dance because I'm Irish. I don't really (there are far more non-Irish Irish dancers than Irish...but there is a ton of red-headed Irish dancers...); I do Irish dance because it's awesome. It's just convenient that I happen to be part Irish.

Whatever my personal motivation may be, there are dozens of reasons to be proud to be Irish. Here's a short list:

• to speak Irish Gaelic
• to speak Irish Engligh
• to be so feisty! How many other countries are renowned for having such fiery tempers?
• to be green! Sometimes when I see pictures of Ireland, I'm homesick for the land I've never been to
  
• to have great fiddle music
  
• to eat soda bread
• to have produced James Joyce
• to believe in leprechauns
  
• to have done a large chunk of the dirty work in American cities during the early 1900s
• to have a long, rich, fascinating history
• to dance with flying feet

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

for the love of dirt!

I started a compost pile. And I love it. I love that I can throw food out my screen door into the pile of decomposing food (this is especially enjoyable when throwing eggs that cracked when I accidentally flung them to the ground in their shopping bag). That my leaves went to good use this year. That I feel earthy and wholesome piling up my vegetable waste while I'm preparing for dinner. That I might possibly have nice soil for my hopefully organic garden this summer. That my garbage doesn't stink any more and is only half as full these days (the recylcing has probably had something to do with this, too).

I did, however, make one fatal mistake. I put this compost pile in one of the worst places in my yard. It's close to the house, yes, but it's in almost constant shade. That pile hasn't felt any sun in months! And because of this, I fear my compost won't be ready in time for spring planting. I also suspect that I need to turn my compost pile more than once in a while. And I don't really have any soil in my compost mixture, and I'm pretty sure that's one of the key ingredients.

Now that I think about it, there are probably dozens of things I haven't done to make my compost perf. And I have no idea what they might be. But luckily, the Central Utah Gardens have a class in a few weeks all about compost. It's free, I'm going, and I'm ridiculously, nerdily excited about it. I've had a vegetable garden the past 5 years, and it has been quite successful. But I haven't delved into organic gardening or composting or producing herbs that I actually cook with more than twice a year (if you need any sage, or rather cups upon cups upon cups of sage, head down to my old house. Two winters still haven't killed that stuff off yet). I'm hoping this year I can learn all sorts of useful things and end up with produce coming out my ears.

If you happen to still live somewhere near Utah county, you can sign up for this class (or others) here.

a quandry

Answer me this: if you were getting married, would you let your family (and your in-laws) know the dates you were thinking about? Or would you just pick a date and tell everyone to stick it- rearrange your schedule or don't bother coming. And what if this wedding was planned TWO WEEKS in advance. What would you do then? Eh?

Would you, as a friend/relative of the couple, be able to drop everything and be at the wedding...on the other side of the country? And what if you had something you couldn't get out of? What then?

mums the word

Today my German teacher was wrong. WRONG! And I did nothing to correct him.

He was explaining the difference between simple past (preterit) and present perfect in German. To do so, he compared the German to English: The boy went to the store. vs The boy has gone to the store.

Both correct sentences, both past tense. So German teacher says to class "Is there a difference in the tenses of these two sentences? Does it change the meaning?" No one says anything (probably because no one had any idea what he was talking about....Americans are notoriously bad at knowing their own grammar. But don't fret if you're one of them. You can't help it if you're a product of your less-than-worthy-grade-school-English-education).

I, not wanting to appear a know-it-all (I answer too many questions as it is), simply nodded my head. He asks again, I nod again. There is a long pause...and my teacher confidently declares "There isn't a difference! And it's the same in German!"

My eyebrows raise in skepticism. No difference? Excuse me? There is totally a difference. Yes, maybe it's a subtle, picky difference, but it's a difference nonetheless. Could you say I went to the beach last summer and I have gone to the beach last summer interchangeably? If I were to say did you see the movie, you might answer yes, last Saturday. But what would you say to have you seen the movie? Does it sound right to say yes, I have seen it last Saturday. I certainly hope not!

Unfortunately, I didn't say any of that. Instead, I sat there with my eyebrows raised, head shaking vigorously in disagreement, and mind racing. How to contradict/argue with my teacher in the middle of class...I've never been good at that...the blushing that results is always so uncomfortable. But luckily, we have a Russian student in my class who piped up (I think being a foreigner gave her an advantage) and said what I was thinking. My teacher shrugged it off as poor Russian teaching skills. But he did agree to look at one of her English textbooks at a later date, so apparently he's not opposed to being wrong.

I really should have said something. I wanted to. Usually my reason for keeping quiet in such a circumstance is insecurity- I'm never totally sure that I'm right. But this time, I knew I was right. I teach this stuff to my students on a regular basis. I can show him dozens of different grammar books as proof of my rightness. But rightness doesn't matter when you're too silent to answer.

Dang it.

the way of the Russki

I have a Russian student this semester. I love him because he's Russian and I've never had a Russian before (Russian speakers from Armenia or Tajikistan, yes, but never a real Russian!). I'm kind of partial to reverse discrimination- I love my minority students more.

On my first day of class, I was slightly terrified of this Russian guy. He's about 5'6", extremely muscular (think a smaller version of the bad guy in Rocky 4...or someone who's obsessed with "building muscular mass," as he puts it.). His hair is short, dark blondish, and perfectly parted. He wears his pants slightly too high for American taste and always tucks his button-up shirt into his slightly high pants. His clothes are perfectly tailored to his muscular frame. He insists upon calling me Mrs. Zirker and always raises his hand when answering a question in class. He is, in short, very intense.

But after a few weeks, I realized that although he is indeed very intense (and very intelligent), he's not really that scary. He's actually really great. His English is much higher than a level 2 (which is the class I have him for), so he understands when I make jokes that the others don't catch or when other students are being remarkably dense (I have a lot of dense students in this class. They're nice, but very thick). And he started smiling, which made him seem less like a military sergeant.

But the best thing about this student is his writing. He is simply incapable of writing something comprehensible to the average American. His love for "fancy" words (as his grammar teacher says) is just too strong. For example, when asking for help with the printer, instead of saying something like "Could you help me with the printer?" he says "Could you render me some assistance with this printing device?" Or if he wants to know about a homework assignment, he sends me an email that says "Let me address to you with question concerning the implementation of our home assignment." Did he get married? No, he "entered into a matrimonial alliance."

And this is how he feels about an athletic competition from his youth: "In the course of our displacement I did not experienced a critical excitement, inasmuch as I possessed sufficient training abilities. On the contrary, the feeling of foretaste overfilled me, which was stimulated by adrenalin."

I love it.

when your luck runs out...

...you get a dreadful head/chest cold, complete with excruciating sinus pressure, a nose that drips like my bathroom faucet, a hacking cough that sounds like consumption, and dizzy spells. Twice. In a three week period of time. Did I mention that up until 3 weeks ago, I hadn't been sick in over a year? I guess it was coming to me.

And I have watched nearly all the online episodes of House, Chuck, Ugly Betty, Bones, The Biggest Loser, and The Office. Oh, and I watched Sense and Sensibility twice. I'm running out of things to watch. Any suggestions?

valentines

This year our valentine's day was lovely, albeit a bit non-traditional. As usual, my "gift" was a cherry hostess pie. I gave T-rav a box of his favorite cereal and some peach gummy rings. We don't usually spend more than $4 on presents for each other. I've gotten a hostess pie for the past 7 years, including the year that brother Matt stepped on it with his size 27 feet. I can't remember if I ate it anyway...

We spent the evening with some of T-rav's old refugees from Bhutan/Nepal. We played "hide and find" with the kids, chatted with the Pundit (the local Hindu leader), danced to a favorite Nepali song, and ate the most delicious Nepali food you'll ever have. They fed us rice with lentils and mutton, carrots, and cucumbers. We ate with our hands (they gave us the option of silverware, but we said we wanted to do it their way) and discovered that using your thumb to shovel the food into into your mouth is much more effective than just slurping food off your fingers.

We topped off the night with the movie Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress about rural China during the 70s. Two boys from the city are sent to be "re-educated" in the ways of chairman Mao, but instead fall in love with a local girl while reading her Western novels.

How was your day?

meat is murder....tasty tasty murder

T-rav and I were at dinner last night at a most-delicious meaty restaurant (Texas Roadhouse) wherein I consumed at least 6 rolls smothered in cinnamon-butter, a salad, sweet potato, several ribs, and a big fat juicy hunk of steak (If I have any vegan/vegetarian readers out there, I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable...I can't help it). Most of our friends ordered their steak medium. One asked for well-done, and T-rav and I opted for medium-rare. It was perf. The outside was salty and flame kissed; the inside was progressively pinker until it reached an uncooked state of nirvana. Oh the succulent meaty flavors! Oh the tender texture! Oh the juicy center, mooing at me from between layers of pink. I savored/snarfed every meaty bite. I haven't had a good steak like that in months. Years! Or maybe since the last time I went to Texas Roadhouse.

If you ask me, steak should be eaten at most medium, at best medium rare. Why bother eating a steak at all if you're just going to suck all the life out of it. You might as well be chewing on a piece of old leather.

So how do you like your steak?

a feis! the third episode

Today was my third feis (Irish dance competition, for those of you who don't know they ways of the Irish). And like always, it was nerve-racking, emotionally trying, scary, somewhat painful (hi shin splints!), and exhausting. Oh, and did I mention really really fun?

Every feis I've been to is the same (can I say "every" if I've only been to 3?); there's a ton of excitement and build-up beforehand and I can't wait. And then the day of the feis arrives, and I start to wonder why I thought a dance competition was a good idea. And then I get there and watch the other dancers and I KNOW it wasn't a good idea. Suddenly everyone looks better than me. Their toes are more pointed, their legs more crossed, and their steps more precise. How I can I possibly compete with such perfection?!

When it's finally time for me to hop on the stage and dance, I'm pumping full of adrenaline, my legs are shaking, and I'm desperately trying to remember my steps. The first dance is terrifying and usually includes at least 1 sketchy moment. After that, my nerves come and go in waves. For a few moments, I don't care how I do, then I'm mortified that I messed up, then I start panicking about the next dance. And then I remember that more than anything else, Irish dance is fun. I dance because I love it. Sure, getting medals and advancing is nice, but if it isn't fun, why do it?

And once I remember that, everything is better. The nerves are still there, of course (I hope the judge didn't notice the trembling in my calves), but I no longer have the desire to sit in a heap and cry (it's funny how such spectrum of emotions can do that to you). Medals don't matter- having fun does.

But incidentally, I did quite well. I medalled in 5 of my 6 dances and only really messed up once. Hurrah! Next feis: June 2010.

a Jonah day

I woke up today in a remarkably pleasant mood; I believe I may have even bounded out of bed. But something happened once I hit school. I had to deal with some remarkably dense students (no matter how many times I tell them things, they never seem to get it...until suddenly they do, regardless of what I've just said). I blushed furiously several times in my German class (which actually caused me to forget what I was saying rather than the other way around). Then I lost patience with my dim-witted students who then told me I was weird today, that I was talking too fast, and that my hair looked weird (which it did. But was it really necessary to say so completely unsolicited?). Did I then proceed to blush? Yes, of course I did. And then half of my class failed a test that I had been pretty sure they were prepared for. My fault or theirs? I'm hoping theirs, but guilt says it's all me. And now I'm sitting at home thinking about the Russian I should be studying so I don't look like a fool again during Russian class tomorrow. Blech.

personality-free zone

I found my answer. According to Hartman's The Color Code, I don't have a personality. Or rather, I'm deceiving myself to the point where my personality has become mush. You see, I took his little no-fail personality test several times, and each time my results were muddled. The first time (taking it alone, with no assistance) I was 15 Blue, 14 Yellow, 13 Red, and 3 White. The next time (with T-rav's advice), I was 14 Blue, 14 Red, 14 Yellow. The third time I took it alone (again) and promised to be extra honest with myself. The results: 13 Blue, 15 Red, 14 Yellow. Finally, I took it with my friend Lindsey and had the same results as with T-rav. Now, if you haven't read this book, you may be wondering what the big deal is. It's this: Hartman claims that everyone is born with an innate personality, one that will always be dominant throughout your entire life. No matter what. And if you take his test and don't have a dominant color, you're lying to yourself. Or you're confused. Or conflicted. Either way, you have a problem.

I felt kind of lost for a few days. Maybe I really had lost my personality! Maybe that explained why I have often felt torn in certain social situations (should I sit by the wall and observe, trying not to talk to anyone, or jump into the fray and perform an Irish jig? Should I boss people around and start giving orders or just do it myself?). Maybe Hartman was right! Maybe I really didn't know myself anymore.

But after a few days of thinking and reading, I decided Hartman's theory is a load of bull. How can you claim that a personality will remain the same (deep down) throughout a person's life? Can't people mature and change? And why do we have to have just 1 dominant personality? What's wrong with having 3 equal parts (aside from occasionally being confused).

So I've found my personality again. I'm bossy when I need to be, constantly loyal to my friends, and spontaneous and care free when I can be. I worry too much, can't stick to 1 thing for a long time, and tend to know everything (really, I do). Sometimes I find the three parts (as described by Hartman) to be divisive (as mentioned above), but I think it makes me stronger. I can adapt to different situations more easily than if I had just 1 dominant side of the spectrum.

So Hartman can take his prescriptive theories and stick 'em where the sun don't shine. I enjoy being able to analyze how and why people interact they way they do, but don't try to tell me there's 1 answer for everyone. My redness refuses to be told how to think.

Here's a short article about the Pashtun men in Afghanistan...and their confused sexuality. VERY interesting.

the high-fivers

I'm sure you know one or two. They're the high-fivers. The people who can't resist giving you a high five when you or they walk into the room. Have you done anything note-worthy lately? Probably not. But to the high-fivers, it doesn't matter. They give you a high-five just for being alive.

And I HATE it.* I don't understand why these people have to make physical contact in the first place. What's wrong with a polite wave? Or a head nod? I didn't do anything cool, so don't high five me! Please.

*Sporting teams are exempt from this loathing. As are people who have just done something really great. Like kicked someone in the head.

white guilt

I'd like to tell you three stories.

One- Yesterday I watched a movie called Something New, loaned to me by one of my fellow teachers. It's about an African American woman from very high society who dares to go against the expectations of her family and friends and date a white man. Her brother accuses her of "going over to the enemy" and her friends suspect the white guy of having ulterior motives.

One and a half- The teacher who gave me Something New is quite convinced that African (not African American, just African) students at UVU are shocked when they arrive here. Many of them come from well educated, upper class families, but at UVU, they are treated as any other student, not better or worse. They aren't accustomed to being the obvious minority and people not recognizing their higher social status.

Three- The more I'm around my ESL students, the more I think that as a whole, non-Americans are incredibly racist. Remember the drama with the Saudi and the Dominican last week? That isn't the first time something like this (though never quite that extreme) has happened in my classes. One of my Mexican students made shooting noises and motions at a Kuwaiti student. The Koreans don't want to work with the "Mexicans." One Peruvian refused to work with the Koreans. I routinely have students switch in or out of my classes because there aren't enough people from their home country in the class.

Three- within a few weeks of arriving in the United States, many of the refugees (in this example mostly Iraqi or Nepali) already identify the Hispanics as the bottom of the social ladder. Even though they come to the US with nothing, don't have a job yet, and may not even speak English, they put themselves higher on the social scale than their "Mexican" neighbors.

So maybe some white Americans are racist. But I think most of the racism these days comes in the form of "reverse" racism from the minorities in our country. Just listen to black talk radio in Memphis, for example. Or ask black people in the south why they voted for Obama (I've done it- a lot of them don't have a real reason other than his skin color).

What I'm getting at is racism is stupid. And I feel like I've been trained to be guilty about it my whole life. I can't help that I'm white. I usually wish I had darker skin and hair so that I could fit in better abroad. Being white makes you a target when traveling (because as we know, all white people are rich) and can be a serious disadvantage when applying for jobs or school (good thing I'm a girl). I don't deny that there may still be racial problems in the US. But it's a whole lot better here than anywhere else in the world, don't you think?

Somewhere along my journeys in the past dozen months or so, I lost my personality. Have you seen it? I know it used to be optimistic and worry-free, less spiteful and more spontaneous. And it used to know where it belonged. But I think it might be floating down some highway of dreams that haven't happened yet. If you see it, will you please send it my way? I'd like to see myself like I remember.*

*For my book club, I've been reading The Color Code, and these are the conclusions I've come to. Once I finish it, maybe I'll know who I am again. I hope...

il hamdu-lillah

He's alive!
The tall dark Haitian who obviously isn't Asian.

not knowing

Hearing bad news is hard. Terrible. Sometimes inexpressibly so. But not knowing what will happen, what did happen, waiting for the good or the bad news and desperately hoping for the good, I think that might be worse. And being helpless to do anything just adds to the frustration.

Hang in there, friends.

welcome to a new semester

On my first day of writing 2 class, I was delighted to find a wide spectrum of cultures represented (ie, a couple of Koreans rather than a dozen, a Russian, some Brazilians, a Japanese, Hispanics from various locales, and a Saudi). Having a diverse class makes things more interesting for me and makes English a lot easier to acquire (mostly because they're forced to speak it. I'll never understand students who come to the US and then refuse to ever speak English).

This morning I had a student from the Dominican Republic show up. He seemed fairly competent in English and chatted with me a bit during down times in class. And just when I was starting to possibly like him a little bit, he started making little jabs at the Saudi student. Something along the lines of "you're from Saudi Arabia? You know what that means?" or "don't you look like someone I've seen before...aren't you related to someone on the news..."

Luckily the Saudi was no pushover. At first he ignored the comments (they were sitting on opposite sides of the room), but then he politely defended himself "Hey, I like my country. Leave it alone."

But by the end of class, little Dominican student was getting rather irrtating. And finally, during their group discussions, Dominican accused Saudi of being Osama bin Laden's cousin (because naturally, all Saudis are related to Osama. And are all terrorists) and therefore a terrorist. At which point chaos ensued. I started shouting at the Dominican to stop saying such inappropriate things while he tried to defend himself, Saudi's friends started shouting at the Dominican, and I frantically tried to draw attention away from the Saudi who had turned slightly red, stood up and mumbled something about needing to go meet a friend, and walked out of class. It was a mess.

Class finished shortly thereafter. Domincan fled, and I ran out to find Saudi. Not surprisingly, there was no friend waiting to meet him; he confessed that since he didn't want to start a brawl in the middle of my classroom, he thought he should remove himself. Which was appreciated. I confessed that I would have punched Dominican in the face. We bonded, I promised I was on his side and would try to control the Dominican. The Dominican was nowhere to be found for a well deserved lecture.

And all on the second day of class.

remodel #3

Living room before:

Living room after:


T-rav isn't sold on the yellow/red combination (please no McDonalds comparisons). But I love it. Especially the yellow. It's a actually a little brighter than it appears in the pictures- think butter cream. Yum. Now I have to think of a different color for our bedroom, but I'm running out of colors. I have orange reserved for the kitchen...and already have green, yellow and blue covered...any suggestions?

Random thoughts for the day...a lot of them

While I was purging my email inbox this evening, I rediscovered this gem of a forward from my father. Enjoy.

• I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.
• More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can’t wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that’s not only better, but also more directly involves me.
• Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
• Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.
• I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
• The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again..
• Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.
• There is a great need for sarcasm font.
• Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.
• I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really, really gets it.
• How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
• I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
• I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
• The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.
• Was learning cursive really necessary?
• Lol has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".
• I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
• Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.
• My brother's Municipal League baseball team is named the Stepdads. Seeing as none of the guys on the team are actual stepdads, I inquired about the name. He explained, "Cuz we beat you, and you hate us." Classy, bro.
• How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear what they said?
• I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!
• While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it....thanks Mario Kart.
• MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
• Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
• I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.
• Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
• Bad decisions make good stories.
• Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!
• If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.
• Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from; this shouldn't be a problem....
• You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren’t doing anything productive for the rest of the day.
• There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.
• I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.
• Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.
• I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren’t watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'
• While watching the Olympics, I find myself cheering equally for China and USA . No, I am not of Chinese descent, but I am fairly certain that when Chinese athletes don’t win, they are executed.
• I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Darnit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?
• I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
• When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something she hasn't already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.
• Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles...
• As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.
• It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.
• I think that if, years down the road when I’m trying to have a kid, I find out that I’m sterile, most of my disappointment will stem from the fact that I was not aware of my condition in college.
• Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I’d bet my a$$ everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time...
• My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the h do I respond to that?
• I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
• I wonder if cops ever get ticked off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.
• The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimate d that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There’s nothing like being made to feel like a fatty before dinner.

Congratulations! You made it to the end. I hope at least one of these tidbits made you chuckle.

Books of 2009

Looking back at my list of books for the year is kind of like reading an abbreviated journal of my life. Last year you could tell when I was depressed and hiding from the world (I reread all of my "forbidden books," the ones I read when I want to escape from real life. But you've never seen them because I am too ashamed to display on the shelves. Or I have been. I think I've changed my mind about them; if my dad didn't have them in NY, I would put them out right now).

This year you can see the different genres I got stuck in (I do heart a good Muslim woman's memoir), the children's books I indulged in (oh, Mr. Popper!), and Harry Potter...yet again (this year my excuse was needing a refresher of #6 since I was attempting to read it in Italian. But once I got started I couldn't stop). I clearly read far too much fiction this year; I remember when I used to read educational books...once upon a time. And then there's the odd book club book that I would never ever choose for myself. But I was surprised to find that I actually liked most of them.

So here they are (at least the ones I can remember), in mostly chronological order, 12,739 pages of 35 books. Red = my very very favorite ones (and I really can't pick just 1. And obviously Harry Potter would be included). Blue = the worst.

1. The Alliance; Gerald Lund
2. The Good Earth; Pearl S. Buck
3. The Kid who Climbed Everest; Bear Grylls
4. Sold; Patricia McCormick
5. Howl's Moving Castle; Diana Wynne Jones
6. The Glass Castle; Jeanette Walls
7. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince; J. K. Rowling
8. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows; J. K. Rowling
9. The Picture of Dorian Gray; Oscar Wilde
10. Mr. Popper's Penguins; Richard and Florence Atwater
11. The Book Thief; Maruks Zusak
    
12. State of Fear; Michael Crichton
13. Angels and Demons; Dan Brown
14. Mrs. Dalloway; Virginia Wolf
15. Code Talkers; Joseph Bruchac
16. Don't Sweat the Small Stuff; Richard Carlson
    
17. Siddartha; Herman Hesse
18. The Mole People; Jennifer Toth
19. The Islamist; Ed Husain
20. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy; Douglas Adams
21. The Reluctant Fundamentalist; Mohsin Hamid
22. Grammar Girl's Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing; Mignon Fogarty
23. Britannia in Brief; Banker and Mullins
24. The Second Summer of the Sisterhood; Ann Brashares
25. Girls in Pants; Ann Brashares
26. Forever in Blue; Ann Brashares
    
27. Prisoner of Tehran; Marina Nemat
28. The Old Man and the Sea; Ernest Hemingway
    
29. The Amulet of Samarkand; Jonathon Stroud
30. The Golem's Eye; Jonathon Stroud
31. Ptolemy's Gate; Jonathon Stroud
32. Leadership and Self-deception; Arbinger Institute
33. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society; Mary Ann Schafer
34. The Art of Racing in the Rain; Garth Stein
35. Kristin Lavransdatter; Sigrid Undset