the good: John Talbot, English faculty and brilliant poet, came to chat with my 518 class (advanced poetry workshop) today. At one point, SJ (as opposed to sej) asked him what his favorite poem was in his book The Well-Tempered Tantrum. I was expecting an embarrassed hesitation on his part--I don't know Talbot very well. Instead he pointed out two poems as clearly being superior to the others--superior to the point that he insisted on reading both and talked about how brilliant one was. "As soon as you write like that," he exclaimed, "I'll buy your book." The best part? They were my two favorite poems in the book, one of which I had felt rather foolish for pointing out as my favorite poem because it wasn't one of his super-dense-intellectual-only poems. Which he also said something about: (in regards to Eliot's "Four Quartets") "For ten or fifteen years, it didn't even occur to ask what the poem was about."
the bad: Talbot was so excited about his own poetry, that he took up more than half the class period in which we were to workshop my poetry and SJ's (who has appeared as OrneryGuy in the past). The result was SJ and me battling it out PaperRockScissors style. I had FOB flashbacks, but without the pleasant company.
the ugly: Due to the limited time and the fact that it was somehow difficult to keep everyone on task, I managed to throw myself into a panic attack while workshopping my poems. That being said, I did get some good ideas for "things incommon." I think instead of coming off out of breath and panicked/anxiety-ridden, I was super efficient. Not sure which is scarier.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Seven is a crowd
Typical evening in my pink-accented house: Camilla and her fiance in the kitchen. . . or Camilla in the kitchen and her fiance in the living room studying, possibly with Ashley and her boyfriend. Unless, of course, Sister and Fiance are in the living room. Then Ashley and boyfriend are at the kitchen table. At least until a few nights ago when Sister and Fiance decided that they like the couch in the study better to cuddle on.
Did I mention that my computer is also in the study?
Did I mention that my computer is also in the study?
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
I'm here because I was in the comic book
I was trying to find music I was in the mood to listen to as I wrote up assignments for my 518. (Let me decode that: poetry. I was writing poetry, okay?) Anyway, I made my through Death Cab for Cutie, The Shins, Eisley, Ben Folds (I did stay for awhile on "Don't Change Your Plans" and "Song for the Dumped"), and the soundtrack for Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, which is what this post was actually going to be about. None of them were doing it for me, though. Until I finally found the answer. . . Josie and the Pussycats.
If you haven't seen this movie, you probably have more brain cells than me. But that doesn't change the fact that I love it. Love, love, love it. And the music is dreadful in a very wonderful way. Josie's voice was dubbed by the lead singer of Letters to Cleo. . . who is the group featured in 10 Things I Hate about You. This is like one big confessional, isn't it?
"I want a vintage tee... and Heath Ledger."
If you haven't seen this movie, you probably have more brain cells than me. But that doesn't change the fact that I love it. Love, love, love it. And the music is dreadful in a very wonderful way. Josie's voice was dubbed by the lead singer of Letters to Cleo. . . who is the group featured in 10 Things I Hate about You. This is like one big confessional, isn't it?
"I want a vintage tee... and Heath Ledger."
Oy vey, have you got the wrong vampire.
Happy Halloween everyone. I am (appropriately) listening to Phantom Planet as I write this post, so that explains any sudden lyric-burst.
So to celebrate the most pagan of holidays I bought mass amounts of candy and arranged for a movie/pizza night with the other grad students in my infamous 452 class. We had exactly six and a half trick-or-treaters find our house.
I turn pale when she walks by
I am lost in her eyes
She is always on my mind
She is always on my mind
Movie/Pizza night was only slightly more successful. Out of the four grad students, plus guests, we were expecting around 10 people to enjoy a campy horror flick and eat mass amounts of pizza. Instead, there were three people: me, A and B, who are married (A is in my 452 class and hosted).
I guess it's nobody's fault now but my own. . .
But everyone who didn't come missed out. Excellent pizza and a wonderful movie: The Fearless Vampire Killers, or Pardon Me, Your Teeth Are in My Neck, directed by and starring Roman Polanski. My favorite moment was when a victim-to-be grabbed a cross off her wall and the (Jewish) vampire said, "Oy vey, have you got the wrong vampire." It wasn't until later that we realized that he was Jewish and therefore unaffected by the cross. Classic.
___________________________________________________
My night being reported on, I have one more thought. Someone commented today on the fact that I hadn't dressed up. I assumed that my not dressing up would be an obvious action on my part, but he was disappointed that I hadn't taken the opportunity to dress up today or at the parties I attended over the weekend. Why do I need to dress up? I'm happy this way. Okay, "happy" might be stretching it, but there were enough Hermiones and Darth Vaders and Green Horses running around campus today.
Although I did think about dressing up as "ladylondon" for Sunday night's party by pinning my Union Jack (which is huge) to my shoulders as a cape.
So to celebrate the most pagan of holidays I bought mass amounts of candy and arranged for a movie/pizza night with the other grad students in my infamous 452 class. We had exactly six and a half trick-or-treaters find our house.
I turn pale when she walks by
I am lost in her eyes
She is always on my mind
She is always on my mind
Movie/Pizza night was only slightly more successful. Out of the four grad students, plus guests, we were expecting around 10 people to enjoy a campy horror flick and eat mass amounts of pizza. Instead, there were three people: me, A and B, who are married (A is in my 452 class and hosted).
I guess it's nobody's fault now but my own. . .
But everyone who didn't come missed out. Excellent pizza and a wonderful movie: The Fearless Vampire Killers, or Pardon Me, Your Teeth Are in My Neck, directed by and starring Roman Polanski. My favorite moment was when a victim-to-be grabbed a cross off her wall and the (Jewish) vampire said, "Oy vey, have you got the wrong vampire." It wasn't until later that we realized that he was Jewish and therefore unaffected by the cross. Classic.
___________________________________________________
My night being reported on, I have one more thought. Someone commented today on the fact that I hadn't dressed up. I assumed that my not dressing up would be an obvious action on my part, but he was disappointed that I hadn't taken the opportunity to dress up today or at the parties I attended over the weekend. Why do I need to dress up? I'm happy this way. Okay, "happy" might be stretching it, but there were enough Hermiones and Darth Vaders and Green Horses running around campus today.
Although I did think about dressing up as "ladylondon" for Sunday night's party by pinning my Union Jack (which is huge) to my shoulders as a cape.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
like a tapeworm
Relief Society and Elders Quorum were combined today. Sister and I were sitting together, in the same seats we had warmed during Sacrament and Sunday School. We were chatting and I was glancing around to. . . I'm not sure why. I knew Tolkien Boy wasn't there and there isn't really anyone else that I 1)know and 2) want to talk to. But in the process of glancing around, I realized that a nice-looking young man was trying to catch my attention to see if the seats next to us were open. They were, so I nodded and moved my purse.
The NLYM and his roommate introduced themselves as John and Michael, respectively. Sister and I intro'd ourselves. John then asked where we live--this is an insanely spread out ward. I gave him our address and we discovered that they live in the cul-de-sac our house sits on the corner of. Or rather, they discovered that we live nearby.
The meeting began and, with the exception of some peanut gallery remarks, our conversation ended. (When the speaker announced that he was talking about scholarships, Michael cracked, "Ah yes. Filthy lucre.") After the meeting, the guys left and Sister and I began to leave, helping put up a few chairs first. We were searching for our roommate when John appeared to thank us for letting them sit next to us. Sister charmingly "you're welcome"d him and then asked again where he lives. When he told her, I had to add, "You know the place. It's where Dan lived." Dan is our cousin and John was his roommate/mission buddy.
John finally got distracted by another girl, and Sister and I found our roommate and made our way out of the building and home. We got home and while our roommates made dinner for their men, Sister and I worked on homework, etc. Dan (who is dating roommate A) came over. When Sister came out to the kitchen, he commented that he had run into John, who had told him that "he met some cute girls today at church." Dan replied, "You must be talking about my cousin. She's engaged, so step off." I waited (out in my study and out of sight) for Sister to point out that I was there too, but she just laughed.
I know I harp on this too much, but it bothers me. Because no one in their. . . and by "their" I mean "his". . . right mind would describe me as cute. I've had this conversation before, multiple times. But why couldn't John be talking about me? He didn't observe anything other than my exterior today--no scary eg feminist statements made, no allusion to grad school. Does it naturally and obviously have to be Sister? I said something to this effect, but neither Dan nor Sister heard me. So now I'm just going to pout about it. No, I'm just going to continue to be annoyed with my state of being.
The NLYM and his roommate introduced themselves as John and Michael, respectively. Sister and I intro'd ourselves. John then asked where we live--this is an insanely spread out ward. I gave him our address and we discovered that they live in the cul-de-sac our house sits on the corner of. Or rather, they discovered that we live nearby.
The meeting began and, with the exception of some peanut gallery remarks, our conversation ended. (When the speaker announced that he was talking about scholarships, Michael cracked, "Ah yes. Filthy lucre.") After the meeting, the guys left and Sister and I began to leave, helping put up a few chairs first. We were searching for our roommate when John appeared to thank us for letting them sit next to us. Sister charmingly "you're welcome"d him and then asked again where he lives. When he told her, I had to add, "You know the place. It's where Dan lived." Dan is our cousin and John was his roommate/mission buddy.
John finally got distracted by another girl, and Sister and I found our roommate and made our way out of the building and home. We got home and while our roommates made dinner for their men, Sister and I worked on homework, etc. Dan (who is dating roommate A) came over. When Sister came out to the kitchen, he commented that he had run into John, who had told him that "he met some cute girls today at church." Dan replied, "You must be talking about my cousin. She's engaged, so step off." I waited (out in my study and out of sight) for Sister to point out that I was there too, but she just laughed.
I know I harp on this too much, but it bothers me. Because no one in their. . . and by "their" I mean "his". . . right mind would describe me as cute. I've had this conversation before, multiple times. But why couldn't John be talking about me? He didn't observe anything other than my exterior today--no scary eg feminist statements made, no allusion to grad school. Does it naturally and obviously have to be Sister? I said something to this effect, but neither Dan nor Sister heard me. So now I'm just going to pout about it. No, I'm just going to continue to be annoyed with my state of being.
in no particular order
1. Kapka's annual Halloween party tonight. I admit, I dressed up, but didn't go in costume. Costumes are for people who can be wacky and spontaneous. The last Halloween costume I wore was Lois Lane--that way I could wear a suit and look good without embarrassing myself. Miss K showed up as a very sexy angel. Maybe I need to look into getting a set of wings.
2. Saw Elizabethtown. That decision was one part Orlando Bloom/Kirsten Dunst (I admit to often enjoying her as an actress and to often enjoying looking at him, although not in LotR) and one part the word "Elizabeth" was in the title. It actually felt like I was watching four films all happening to the same guy, but that's okay. I enjoyed it, very much so. Except for Dunst's Southern accent. I couldn't quite believe it. She did have some great lines, though. In fact, add Claire Colburn to my list of roles I wouldn't mind playing.
3. I feel complete tonight. Complete and yet empty at the same time. Sister and Fiance are in the next room, cuddling on the bean bag, whispering what I suspect to be absurd and unnecessary things. And even though I have great friends and an excellent career ahead of me, I want that. I wanted that in the theater today--to have someone to poke at the good lines and someone to put their arm around me during the beautiful scenes and someone to start analyzing it with me as we watch the credits--all the credits.
4. I think this is a new thought, at least for this list. K pointed out to me tonight my ability to develop a crush on any new guy who presents himself. And this is all too true. But I can usually dismiss those crushes quickly. As of tonight, the list is empty and while part of me is pleased with this open dance card, part of me is sad that there just isn't anyone to want to be with on a Saturday night. Or any other night.
5. I just felt like the list should end on an even number. "Everyone is less mysterious than they think they are." Amen, sister.
2. Saw Elizabethtown. That decision was one part Orlando Bloom/Kirsten Dunst (I admit to often enjoying her as an actress and to often enjoying looking at him, although not in LotR) and one part the word "Elizabeth" was in the title. It actually felt like I was watching four films all happening to the same guy, but that's okay. I enjoyed it, very much so. Except for Dunst's Southern accent. I couldn't quite believe it. She did have some great lines, though. In fact, add Claire Colburn to my list of roles I wouldn't mind playing.
Everyone is less mysterious than they think they are.
I'm hard to remember, but I'm impossible to forget.
I'm going to miss your lips. And everything attached to them.
We peaked on the phone. (imdb.com)
3. I feel complete tonight. Complete and yet empty at the same time. Sister and Fiance are in the next room, cuddling on the bean bag, whispering what I suspect to be absurd and unnecessary things. And even though I have great friends and an excellent career ahead of me, I want that. I wanted that in the theater today--to have someone to poke at the good lines and someone to put their arm around me during the beautiful scenes and someone to start analyzing it with me as we watch the credits--all the credits.
4. I think this is a new thought, at least for this list. K pointed out to me tonight my ability to develop a crush on any new guy who presents himself. And this is all too true. But I can usually dismiss those crushes quickly. As of tonight, the list is empty and while part of me is pleased with this open dance card, part of me is sad that there just isn't anyone to want to be with on a Saturday night. Or any other night.
5. I just felt like the list should end on an even number. "Everyone is less mysterious than they think they are." Amen, sister.
Friday, October 28, 2005
A post for the sophisticate. . . and everyone else
Miss K:
just wanted to say hi.
word has it you're flirting with our mutual friend.
yes, I mean dickens.
Honey, I'm flirting with everyone lately. I finally decided it was safe again. And no, I don't know what that means. But it's lovely and fun and fantastic. I am an excellent flirt.
I love you--don't you care?
I opened the door of the Fobcave tonight to find rain coming down in fierce straight-shots. My first vocal reaction was "Oh crap." (I'm afraid it was. It should have been "Oh hell," but it wasn't. And tonight I choose not to elaborate.) The second reaction was a shriek when I misjudged the width of the river running up against the curb. And my third reaction was to dance. In the rain. But I stopped myself. Logic stepped in and said, "No honey. You could slip and fall. A car could swing around the corner. You could embarrass yourself." So I didn't dance. But I did watch the road on the way home. The steetlights color-bathed the pavement and made the night brighter than day with the reflection off the water.
I do wish I had danced. Maybe I will now.
I do wish I had danced. Maybe I will now.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Too late to still be awake and thinking
I'm wondering if I can maintain this friendship. I've been hurt so many times. You have hurt me so many times. And I keep returning, keep letting you unknowingly pick away at me. Should I keep up this relationship? Can I keep forgiving you? Can I keep being your friend and keep helping you?
Tonight I don't want to. Tonight I want to yell at you, but you'd never hear me because I'd do it with a smile, just flirtacious enough for you to forget, just like you always do.
Tonight I don't want to. Tonight I want to yell at you, but you'd never hear me because I'd do it with a smile, just flirtacious enough for you to forget, just like you always do.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
the short list
1. reserved
2. taken
3. wonder if not interested in women
4. not attractive
5. permanently preoccupied
6. spoke to today. myself not attractive.
must and will indulge in chocolate and a haircut.
2. taken
3. wonder if not interested in women
4. not attractive
5. permanently preoccupied
6. spoke to today. myself not attractive.
must and will indulge in chocolate and a haircut.
me, myself, and me again
Today has been one of those off days to the nth degree. I don't know how I didn't manage to get any rest last night--I know I slept, but I don't feel as if I slept. And I don't remember any dreams, so the physical exhaustion makes no sense. And the mental exhaustion I'm just going to chalk up to grading papers and conversing with Tolkien Boy last night.
I'm listening to Rascal Flatts. I know I just blogged a day ago complaining about Sister wanting them for wedding reception music. But I felt like RF today. And now I'm kicking myself for being such an ornery hypocrite.
I focus too much on myself. I know this. And if anyone said this to me about him or herself, I would say, "Good for you. That's how it's supposed to be right now. This is our time to be selfish." But I'm starting to want more than living for myself. This doesn't just mean someone to be with romantically, but doing things I don't directly benefit from or doing things for others that doesn't involve my job or my research or me.
Another thing to work on, I guess. . . So TB, meet me at the Jacobsen Center? ;)
I'm listening to Rascal Flatts. I know I just blogged a day ago complaining about Sister wanting them for wedding reception music. But I felt like RF today. And now I'm kicking myself for being such an ornery hypocrite.
I focus too much on myself. I know this. And if anyone said this to me about him or herself, I would say, "Good for you. That's how it's supposed to be right now. This is our time to be selfish." But I'm starting to want more than living for myself. This doesn't just mean someone to be with romantically, but doing things I don't directly benefit from or doing things for others that doesn't involve my job or my research or me.
Another thing to work on, I guess. . . So TB, meet me at the Jacobsen Center? ;)
Valid
"By creating beauty out of nature, art calms and quietens it. All the arts, even those based on sounds, create silence." Levinas
"Love is watching someone die." DCfC
I've been sitting in the graduate student instructor offices (gsio) trying to research. . . well, what I was trying to research isn't as important. But I've been distracted by one of my fellow instructors talking to a student who is wondering why he got docked ten points in the "Ideas" section of the personal essay rubric. His argument: it's a personal essay and I should be able to write about whatever I want to write. Don't dock my ideas. Dock my organization, my voice, my word choice, my sentence fluency (which, by the way, no one really knows what that means). But not my ideas.
Fair enough. You gave me original ideas. But what did you do with those ideas? You can't write the paper once and hand it over--especially the personal essay. You have to push yourself beyond a narrative.
I'm too tired to continue, but here are my final thoughts:
"Five kids read it and couldn't come up with anything on the paper." That's because you didn't give them anything to work with.
Just because someone is an English major doesn't qualify them--to the level of your instructor--to tell you how good your paper is. Just because your roommate who is majoring in English read it, doesn't make it an A. It makes it a paper that an English major read. So there.
"Love is watching someone die." DCfC
I've been sitting in the graduate student instructor offices (gsio) trying to research. . . well, what I was trying to research isn't as important. But I've been distracted by one of my fellow instructors talking to a student who is wondering why he got docked ten points in the "Ideas" section of the personal essay rubric. His argument: it's a personal essay and I should be able to write about whatever I want to write. Don't dock my ideas. Dock my organization, my voice, my word choice, my sentence fluency (which, by the way, no one really knows what that means). But not my ideas.
Fair enough. You gave me original ideas. But what did you do with those ideas? You can't write the paper once and hand it over--especially the personal essay. You have to push yourself beyond a narrative.
I'm too tired to continue, but here are my final thoughts:
"Five kids read it and couldn't come up with anything on the paper." That's because you didn't give them anything to work with.
Just because someone is an English major doesn't qualify them--to the level of your instructor--to tell you how good your paper is. Just because your roommate who is majoring in English read it, doesn't make it an A. It makes it a paper that an English major read. So there.
Monday, October 24, 2005
What Sarah Said (DCFC)
I keep confusing screen names when I log into different things. It's getting a little frustrating. Mostly because I want to be all names at all times. . . but I find that editorgirl is a little different from LadyLondon. To begin with, when I write LadyLondon I use caps. Just in case you missed it.
editorgirl was last year. She was me plus april, which expanded is me plus Miss K plus HMP plus Kapka plus aa plus oh!resolution plus (occasionally) wife of oh!resolution. She was the editor, the one in charge (until the infamous night of "Where the hell is eg?"), she was the one going on to great things. For those who don't know and don't want to go through the archives (this includes me), editorgirl was a name given me by the ubercool Kim Johnson, a professor of poetry and immense thinking at BYU.
LadyLondon appeared this summer, when it felt like editorgirl had disappeared. Rex asked me if I wanted to part of an online discussion board and desparate for some good discussion, I agreed, however hesitantly. In my head, LadyLondon was originally a more sophisticated, more stand-offish version of editorgirl. She was also less fun, more bookish. . . if that is possible. She still loved John Cusack and the 80s and poetry, but in a way that she could hide behind them to create a quirky identity.
I've spent a lot of time lately blogging about my identity in one way or another. And I'm not saying that I have everything figured out. Once that happens, I'll be insanely bored with life. I like mystery and puzzles, even when they come in the form of me. But I think editorgirl is back and LadyLondon is still around. . . anyone else feel the need to bust out a dialectic here? Sorry, the effects of 452. But the synthesis is what I'm in the process of creating. Fingers crossed, this synthesis (who will still go by editorgirl, LadyLondon, and occasionally, PepperGirl), is someone willing to be wrong sometimes. Someone who is willing to let people into her life--not just into her head via this blog.
It's something I'm working on. I'll let you know how it goes.
editorgirl was last year. She was me plus april, which expanded is me plus Miss K plus HMP plus Kapka plus aa plus oh!resolution plus (occasionally) wife of oh!resolution. She was the editor, the one in charge (until the infamous night of "Where the hell is eg?"), she was the one going on to great things. For those who don't know and don't want to go through the archives (this includes me), editorgirl was a name given me by the ubercool Kim Johnson, a professor of poetry and immense thinking at BYU.
LadyLondon appeared this summer, when it felt like editorgirl had disappeared. Rex asked me if I wanted to part of an online discussion board and desparate for some good discussion, I agreed, however hesitantly. In my head, LadyLondon was originally a more sophisticated, more stand-offish version of editorgirl. She was also less fun, more bookish. . . if that is possible. She still loved John Cusack and the 80s and poetry, but in a way that she could hide behind them to create a quirky identity.
I've spent a lot of time lately blogging about my identity in one way or another. And I'm not saying that I have everything figured out. Once that happens, I'll be insanely bored with life. I like mystery and puzzles, even when they come in the form of me. But I think editorgirl is back and LadyLondon is still around. . . anyone else feel the need to bust out a dialectic here? Sorry, the effects of 452. But the synthesis is what I'm in the process of creating. Fingers crossed, this synthesis (who will still go by editorgirl, LadyLondon, and occasionally, PepperGirl), is someone willing to be wrong sometimes. Someone who is willing to let people into her life--not just into her head via this blog.
It's something I'm working on. I'll let you know how it goes.
And if Duchess jumped off a cliff. . .
| How You Are In Love |
 You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. In relationships, you tend to be a bit selfish. You need your space and privacy. You don't like to be smothered. You're secretly hoping your partner will change for you. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard. |
Hmmm. Not sure if I believe all this. Except the last one. That last one is too true. Actually, this is me. Dammit.
with love and squalor
Sister asked me a week, week-and-a-half ago if I would help put together the music for her reception. I agreed at the time because it seemed like the only thing I could help with. But now I'm realizing that our ideas of good music and good love songs are the two ends of a spectrum. At least, that's the argument I'm making. The truth is I don't want to give her my love songs.
On my list (right now):
"Brighter than Sunshine" Aqualung
I never understood before
I never knew what love was for
My heart was broke, my head was sore
What a feeling
Tied up in ancient history
I didnt believe in destiny
I look up you're standing next to me
What a feeling
"Someday You Will Be Loved" Death Cab for Cutie
I cannot pretend that I felt any regret
Cause each broken heart will eventually mend
As the blood runs red down the needle and thread
Someday you will be loved
You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved
"Be, Be Your Love" Rachel Yamagata
If I could take you away
Pretend I was queen
What would you say
Would you think I'm unreal
'Cause everybody's got their way I should feel
Everybody's talking how I, can't, can't be your love
But I want, want, want to be your love
Want to be your love, for real
Everybody's talking how I, can't, can't be your love
But I want, want, want to be your love
Want to be your love for real
Want to be your everything
"The Tension and the Terror" Straylight Run
And I try but I'm not convincing,
Your lips they pout and twist and,
I die trying just to keep myself from kissing you,
You take in everything with a certainty I envy
It's somehow all I need just keep me guessing please
"Fresh Feeling" Eels (courtesy of Kapka)
You don't have a clue,
what it is like
to be next to you.
I'm here to tell you,
that it is good,
that it is true.
Birds singing a song,
old paint is peeling,
this is that fresh
that fresh feeling.
Words can't be that strong,
my heart is realING,
this is that fresh,
that fresh feeling.
Okay, so maybe I was trying too hard to make a point. I'd have some Gershwin and Sinatra on there as well. But I'd also have some Bollywood, some Shins, some Eisley. Where Sister wants Rascal Flatts and co. (not all country, but. . . I don't know. I even like RF). Just not my style of "I like this song for the lyrics and the music" vs. "This is fun to kiss to."
On my list (right now):
"Brighter than Sunshine" Aqualung
I never understood before
I never knew what love was for
My heart was broke, my head was sore
What a feeling
Tied up in ancient history
I didnt believe in destiny
I look up you're standing next to me
What a feeling
"Someday You Will Be Loved" Death Cab for Cutie
I cannot pretend that I felt any regret
Cause each broken heart will eventually mend
As the blood runs red down the needle and thread
Someday you will be loved
You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved
"Be, Be Your Love" Rachel Yamagata
If I could take you away
Pretend I was queen
What would you say
Would you think I'm unreal
'Cause everybody's got their way I should feel
Everybody's talking how I, can't, can't be your love
But I want, want, want to be your love
Want to be your love, for real
Everybody's talking how I, can't, can't be your love
But I want, want, want to be your love
Want to be your love for real
Want to be your everything
"The Tension and the Terror" Straylight Run
And I try but I'm not convincing,
Your lips they pout and twist and,
I die trying just to keep myself from kissing you,
You take in everything with a certainty I envy
It's somehow all I need just keep me guessing please
"Fresh Feeling" Eels (courtesy of Kapka)
You don't have a clue,
what it is like
to be next to you.
I'm here to tell you,
that it is good,
that it is true.
Birds singing a song,
old paint is peeling,
this is that fresh
that fresh feeling.
Words can't be that strong,
my heart is realING,
this is that fresh,
that fresh feeling.
Okay, so maybe I was trying too hard to make a point. I'd have some Gershwin and Sinatra on there as well. But I'd also have some Bollywood, some Shins, some Eisley. Where Sister wants Rascal Flatts and co. (not all country, but. . . I don't know. I even like RF). Just not my style of "I like this song for the lyrics and the music" vs. "This is fun to kiss to."
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Old (Brides)Maid
Today I am feeling too guilty to function. Of course, when I think logically about it, I shouldn't be guilty. But, as always, I'm getting ahead of myself.
On Friday I spent the day at home studying (after I taught at 9:00), waiting for the internet people to finish our connection. I ran back to campus at 4:00 to pick up Sister and on the ride back to the house I promised (between her phone calls with Mother and Fiance) that I would help clean the house and the car this weekend. When we got back to the house, I was dizzy from a headache, so I decided to lie down (Master Fob, if that's wrong you can remind me of the rules next time I see you) for a minute. The minute lasted about forty and I woke up to LadyJane (a friend you will all meet in the near future) calling me to decide what time we were going to dinner before the English GSA movie night (yes, I'm such a losernerd). I agreed on the time and then realized I had about 15 minutes to pull myself together and go. So I get up and walk to the bathroom, which Sister is furiously cleaning. I apologize for falling asleep and guiltly say, "I told you I would clean the bathroom." Sister breaks her icy silence to tell me that I leave hair everywhere (it's definitely not her or our two other roommates. . . especially the really long brown hairs. . . ). I apologize again with Sister reprimanding me for never cleaning. I don't bother to explain--again--that I do clean, not that she cares, and when LadyJane comes I gratefully escape out the door, with Sister still shooting icerays at me. . . and now LadyJane.
Poor LadyJane had to listen to me try to explain my normally more-than-gracious Sister's issues with me, convince me to shut up, and then listen some more. I was worried about coming home to the same fight--when my family gets upset, we don't really talk. We just freeze everyone else out. But when I came home, Sister had left a day early to Bountiful with Fiance.
I went up to Bountiful the next morning to basically sit around and prompt my father to tell me that I'm not a terrible person or SuperBitch or whatever. I explained that I had cleaned the kitchen multiple times, etc. and that I wasn't dumping all maintenance matters onto Sister. He understood, but his idea is that if you patiently wait long enough, the freeze will end. He doesn't understand that it just makes the next freeze that much worse.
By the end of the day, Sister was talking to me again, mostly because Mom and LittleSister came back from New York. They had gone primarily to see Wizard. LittleSis was super-excited to show us what they had bought for us in New York--and, I admit, so were we. Presents are always good. First out comes Sister's gifts: two necklace-earring sets and a bracelet. I'm watching and hoping that there is another bracelet for me--it's one of the heavy carved wood bracelets I've been trying to find for months, but can never find one I love in Provo. They all watch Sister try on a pair of earrings and slip on the bracelet before pulling out my gifts: a pashmina and a scarf. Those of you who know me well are thinking "Perfect! Eg lives for and in pashminas." And normally it would be perfect, excpet neither of them are in colors that I'm wearing much right now. Instead, as Mom quickly points out, they are colors that match my bridesmaid skirt.
I don't really know how to follow that. The only thing that really comes to mind is "Damn" over and over again. But that really doesn't say anything. My dad pointed out to me this weekend that my life is going to be very different from Sister's or, for that matter, Mom's. This isn't really coherent with what I've just been writing, but I need to get it out of my head and onto the screen. I don't want my life to be like my mom's or Sister's--not that there is anything wrong with their lives. Mine just seems to be heading in a very different direction. I can see myself with my PhD and my tenure track position and my publications and my conferences. But I don't see myself--or want to see myself--as an old maid. During my rather distracted dinner with LadyJane I tried to explain to her this feeling I have that the guy I have my eye on is too good for me. But in reality, there's always the suspicion that a guy isn't good enough for me. (This isn't the case with current guy. Current guy is amazing on about a million different levels and if I knew how to approach him, I would.) But that sounds wrong. It's the suspicion that my life is supposed to be a certain way and I need to find someone whose life is supposed to parallel mine, who is wanting the same things or similar things. And it's becoming harder and harder to believe I'll find someone like that--especially since it seems that men who are after the same things I'm after are also after a someone more like Sister.
On Friday I spent the day at home studying (after I taught at 9:00), waiting for the internet people to finish our connection. I ran back to campus at 4:00 to pick up Sister and on the ride back to the house I promised (between her phone calls with Mother and Fiance) that I would help clean the house and the car this weekend. When we got back to the house, I was dizzy from a headache, so I decided to lie down (Master Fob, if that's wrong you can remind me of the rules next time I see you) for a minute. The minute lasted about forty and I woke up to LadyJane (a friend you will all meet in the near future) calling me to decide what time we were going to dinner before the English GSA movie night (yes, I'm such a losernerd). I agreed on the time and then realized I had about 15 minutes to pull myself together and go. So I get up and walk to the bathroom, which Sister is furiously cleaning. I apologize for falling asleep and guiltly say, "I told you I would clean the bathroom." Sister breaks her icy silence to tell me that I leave hair everywhere (it's definitely not her or our two other roommates. . . especially the really long brown hairs. . . ). I apologize again with Sister reprimanding me for never cleaning. I don't bother to explain--again--that I do clean, not that she cares, and when LadyJane comes I gratefully escape out the door, with Sister still shooting icerays at me. . . and now LadyJane.
Poor LadyJane had to listen to me try to explain my normally more-than-gracious Sister's issues with me, convince me to shut up, and then listen some more. I was worried about coming home to the same fight--when my family gets upset, we don't really talk. We just freeze everyone else out. But when I came home, Sister had left a day early to Bountiful with Fiance.
I went up to Bountiful the next morning to basically sit around and prompt my father to tell me that I'm not a terrible person or SuperBitch or whatever. I explained that I had cleaned the kitchen multiple times, etc. and that I wasn't dumping all maintenance matters onto Sister. He understood, but his idea is that if you patiently wait long enough, the freeze will end. He doesn't understand that it just makes the next freeze that much worse.
By the end of the day, Sister was talking to me again, mostly because Mom and LittleSister came back from New York. They had gone primarily to see Wizard. LittleSis was super-excited to show us what they had bought for us in New York--and, I admit, so were we. Presents are always good. First out comes Sister's gifts: two necklace-earring sets and a bracelet. I'm watching and hoping that there is another bracelet for me--it's one of the heavy carved wood bracelets I've been trying to find for months, but can never find one I love in Provo. They all watch Sister try on a pair of earrings and slip on the bracelet before pulling out my gifts: a pashmina and a scarf. Those of you who know me well are thinking "Perfect! Eg lives for and in pashminas." And normally it would be perfect, excpet neither of them are in colors that I'm wearing much right now. Instead, as Mom quickly points out, they are colors that match my bridesmaid skirt.
I don't really know how to follow that. The only thing that really comes to mind is "Damn" over and over again. But that really doesn't say anything. My dad pointed out to me this weekend that my life is going to be very different from Sister's or, for that matter, Mom's. This isn't really coherent with what I've just been writing, but I need to get it out of my head and onto the screen. I don't want my life to be like my mom's or Sister's--not that there is anything wrong with their lives. Mine just seems to be heading in a very different direction. I can see myself with my PhD and my tenure track position and my publications and my conferences. But I don't see myself--or want to see myself--as an old maid. During my rather distracted dinner with LadyJane I tried to explain to her this feeling I have that the guy I have my eye on is too good for me. But in reality, there's always the suspicion that a guy isn't good enough for me. (This isn't the case with current guy. Current guy is amazing on about a million different levels and if I knew how to approach him, I would.) But that sounds wrong. It's the suspicion that my life is supposed to be a certain way and I need to find someone whose life is supposed to parallel mine, who is wanting the same things or similar things. And it's becoming harder and harder to believe I'll find someone like that--especially since it seems that men who are after the same things I'm after are also after a someone more like Sister.
Friday, October 21, 2005
best class ever
I'm not sure what happened today, but class was awesome. And it was only one part me. Actually, it was a big part me, and I will now explain that statement.
I've blogged before about the roles we play, and specifically about the roles I play. I act a certain way around certain people. I put on different personas, attitudes, vocabularies, etc. I talk about different parts of my life with different people--and feel awkward and guilty when I cross the boundaries I've set up. I am never really myself because I am never really completely me. This was part of the "Me in Monogamy" post. Showing all of me lets a person see, well, all of me and makes me vulnerable to the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" (apologies if I misquoted).
But today in class--I was still the teacher, but it was me being the teacher, if that makes sense. And if it doesn't, I don't know how else to say it.
We talked about summary vs. analysis. I showed a clip from the "Mormon" Pride and Prejudice (when Elizabeth throws the hymnal at Collins) and then summarized it for the class. I pointed out that I didn't need to tell them what had happened because they had watched it themselves. So what should you tell people/your reader about the text? And they started to analyze the clip--the music, the camera angles, the details, etc. They did an excellent job. But what came next was even better. I had the desk speech from DPS, which made me excited just to be watching it, which I told the students. And then we watched it. I told them I wasn't going to summarize it again--they were spared that pain. And I also told them I had been thinking about saying "In addition to your essays I want to compose a poem of your own" but I didn't. What I did do was play the clip again. Students could--and did--call "Stop" when something happened they wanted to analyze. And the whole class got into the discussion. It was fantastic. I was so into it that I was surprised and sad when the bell rang.
Other things happened at the beginning of class, and during class, that allowed me to be me. I wish I could explain it better. No, that would take to long. Let me summarize.
I've blogged before about the roles we play, and specifically about the roles I play. I act a certain way around certain people. I put on different personas, attitudes, vocabularies, etc. I talk about different parts of my life with different people--and feel awkward and guilty when I cross the boundaries I've set up. I am never really myself because I am never really completely me. This was part of the "Me in Monogamy" post. Showing all of me lets a person see, well, all of me and makes me vulnerable to the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" (apologies if I misquoted).
But today in class--I was still the teacher, but it was me being the teacher, if that makes sense. And if it doesn't, I don't know how else to say it.
We talked about summary vs. analysis. I showed a clip from the "Mormon" Pride and Prejudice (when Elizabeth throws the hymnal at Collins) and then summarized it for the class. I pointed out that I didn't need to tell them what had happened because they had watched it themselves. So what should you tell people/your reader about the text? And they started to analyze the clip--the music, the camera angles, the details, etc. They did an excellent job. But what came next was even better. I had the desk speech from DPS, which made me excited just to be watching it, which I told the students. And then we watched it. I told them I wasn't going to summarize it again--they were spared that pain. And I also told them I had been thinking about saying "In addition to your essays I want to compose a poem of your own" but I didn't. What I did do was play the clip again. Students could--and did--call "Stop" when something happened they wanted to analyze. And the whole class got into the discussion. It was fantastic. I was so into it that I was surprised and sad when the bell rang.
Other things happened at the beginning of class, and during class, that allowed me to be me. I wish I could explain it better. No, that would take to long. Let me summarize.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
add vice
Yes, I'm supposed to be grading papers right now.
Yes, I have given one 'A.'
Yes, I have given two 'C's.
Yes, I've only graded three papers thus far.
Yes, I don't want to grade anymore.
Yes, I'm being clever.
Yes, I think he's a pompous ass.
Yes, I know that there's nothing I can do.
Yes, I known you know that I know that there's nothing I can do.
Yes, I'm thinking about someone new (who, for the record, is not the pompous ass or a pompous ass).
Yes, I know that it won't happen.
Yes, I know that it never happens.
Yes, I know that there wasn't a clear antecedent.
Yes, I know that despite there being no clear antecedent you still knew what "it" was referring to.
Yes, I have given one 'A.'
Yes, I have given two 'C's.
Yes, I've only graded three papers thus far.
Yes, I don't want to grade anymore.
Yes, I'm being clever.
Yes, I think he's a pompous ass.
Yes, I know that there's nothing I can do.
Yes, I known you know that I know that there's nothing I can do.
Yes, I'm thinking about someone new (who, for the record, is not the pompous ass or a pompous ass).
Yes, I know that it won't happen.
Yes, I know that it never happens.
Yes, I know that there wasn't a clear antecedent.
Yes, I know that despite there being no clear antecedent you still knew what "it" was referring to.
Not your normal chick
My role models in life: Beatrice (and Benedick) from Much Ado about Nothing. Valancy from The Blue Castle. Buddy from Franny and Zooey. Watts from Some Kind of Wonderful. The girl from "Short Skirt, Long Jacket."
Okay, so they're all fictional, but maybe you get the idea. I like attitude. I like quirkiness. I like people who defy gravity. . . I mean, convention. So when my friend reads me the beginning of his story and the wife of the main character seems like a ditz to me, I want to give her a bit of that attitude and, well, feminist-ness.
So I'm not your normal chick. I like that about myself. I like that I'm not actively searching for validation via men. Not that other girls are. But they are. I like that I know my limitations--and I ignore them. I like that I feel sexy with or without a man eyeing me. But there's another element to these characters who I listed as role models. They all, well, maybe not SSLJ girl, but the others aren't just a little odd and have more than a little attitude--they observe, they critique, they moderate. They are the story tellers. Some of them are the puppetmasters. Some simply have really, really great lines. I'd be happy with that.
I am happy with that.
Okay, so they're all fictional, but maybe you get the idea. I like attitude. I like quirkiness. I like people who defy gravity. . . I mean, convention. So when my friend reads me the beginning of his story and the wife of the main character seems like a ditz to me, I want to give her a bit of that attitude and, well, feminist-ness.
So I'm not your normal chick. I like that about myself. I like that I'm not actively searching for validation via men. Not that other girls are. But they are. I like that I know my limitations--and I ignore them. I like that I feel sexy with or without a man eyeing me. But there's another element to these characters who I listed as role models. They all, well, maybe not SSLJ girl, but the others aren't just a little odd and have more than a little attitude--they observe, they critique, they moderate. They are the story tellers. Some of them are the puppetmasters. Some simply have really, really great lines. I'd be happy with that.
I am happy with that.
I'm the Me in Monogamy
I've put up walls. I know this. In my mind, transparency is an evil to be avoided at all costs. And so I have. Avoided it at all costs, that is.
Part of it is that I like being the eccentric, mysterious intellectual. I can be a bit quirky, be addicted to my poetry and listen to the Shins and Death Cab and wear scarves. And I am this person. But the other part. . .
Part of it is that I'm terrified of getting hurt. Take down the walls, be a bit vulnerable, and people can leave you, ignore you, scratch you, beat you, etc. It's a very risky situation. So you (I when I say "you," I mean "I" or "me") put up walls. You avoid people situations. You become a recluse.
The thing is, I'm not that person. I'm not a recluse. I don't want to be alone. It's not just a romantic sense. I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow I've been presenting myself as shy, reticent, withdrawn, when that couldn't be further from who I am. Well, maybe it's a little bit of who I am when first met. But have more than enough personality and opinions.
Tonight I was more me than I have been lately. It was nice.
Part of it is that I like being the eccentric, mysterious intellectual. I can be a bit quirky, be addicted to my poetry and listen to the Shins and Death Cab and wear scarves. And I am this person. But the other part. . .
Part of it is that I'm terrified of getting hurt. Take down the walls, be a bit vulnerable, and people can leave you, ignore you, scratch you, beat you, etc. It's a very risky situation. So you (I when I say "you," I mean "I" or "me") put up walls. You avoid people situations. You become a recluse.
The thing is, I'm not that person. I'm not a recluse. I don't want to be alone. It's not just a romantic sense. I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow I've been presenting myself as shy, reticent, withdrawn, when that couldn't be further from who I am. Well, maybe it's a little bit of who I am when first met. But have more than enough personality and opinions.
Tonight I was more me than I have been lately. It was nice.
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