If you're wondering where I've gone, worried that's I've disappeared off the face of the planet, take heart! I've simply moved blogs. Please make sure to check out my new one, titled Somewhere Before Mars, to get the latest awesomeness from me:
http://redplasticdinosaur.wordpress.com/
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Success!
It's been a while since I've felt like I've succeeded in accomplishing something important. Finally a blog that won't be about treading water or gray skies or sleeping. A blog about moving forward. A blog about taking the on the GRE and coming out with a slightly above average score.
My history with standardized testing is one of anger and misfortune. From the moment I first picked up a number two pencil and stared at the bubble pocked answer sheet I knew this relationship would be one filled with mediocrity. Lucky for me, I wanted to go to a state university so a middling score on the SAT was fine.
But then I decided I wanted to go to grad school. The first time I took the GRE, this past October, my score was sub par, even for me. Verbal was okay, but quantitative, woof. So there was much heartbreak, much moaning about my dismal future, and much punching of pillows. At last there was a steeling of resolve as I realized, wait, I didn't really study.
So I studied. And I got my sliver above mediocrity. And I'm tickled pink.
Please don't mistake my joy at an average score as a red flag for laziness and an absence of care when it comes to topics of scholarship. I am every bit the opposite when it comes to actual school work. You need only glance at my undergrad GPA to see that. Standardized testing though is an evil meant to give good test takers the upper hand when applying to school. Maybe it's a necessary evil.
All I know or care is that I have a score that gives me a chance at getting into gradschool. One day I might have a Master's degree and then maybe even a Doctorate! One of my steps to a happier and better me has been taken successfully.
My history with standardized testing is one of anger and misfortune. From the moment I first picked up a number two pencil and stared at the bubble pocked answer sheet I knew this relationship would be one filled with mediocrity. Lucky for me, I wanted to go to a state university so a middling score on the SAT was fine.
But then I decided I wanted to go to grad school. The first time I took the GRE, this past October, my score was sub par, even for me. Verbal was okay, but quantitative, woof. So there was much heartbreak, much moaning about my dismal future, and much punching of pillows. At last there was a steeling of resolve as I realized, wait, I didn't really study.
So I studied. And I got my sliver above mediocrity. And I'm tickled pink.
Please don't mistake my joy at an average score as a red flag for laziness and an absence of care when it comes to topics of scholarship. I am every bit the opposite when it comes to actual school work. You need only glance at my undergrad GPA to see that. Standardized testing though is an evil meant to give good test takers the upper hand when applying to school. Maybe it's a necessary evil.
All I know or care is that I have a score that gives me a chance at getting into gradschool. One day I might have a Master's degree and then maybe even a Doctorate! One of my steps to a happier and better me has been taken successfully.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Hibernation
I'm not going to lie. I haven't been up to a whole hell of a lot. Since Sergio left for Virginia I've sort of been coasting through the week with very little motivation. Usually he's the one that pushes me to do something. Now I just go home and sleep.
My free time is relegated to two days a week. I still love my job but I'm quickly realizing the regular work week is not conducive to my mental health. I need a bit of spontaneity in my schedule. School gave that to me. Boy do I miss school. Reading and writing and discussing in class. Those were the days my friends.
Even now I'm finding it hard to write. I'm scared to harp on the same subjects over and over. But little has changed in the past two years. I'm still confused. I still want to go to grad school.
But at least it's warm now.
My free time is relegated to two days a week. I still love my job but I'm quickly realizing the regular work week is not conducive to my mental health. I need a bit of spontaneity in my schedule. School gave that to me. Boy do I miss school. Reading and writing and discussing in class. Those were the days my friends.
Even now I'm finding it hard to write. I'm scared to harp on the same subjects over and over. But little has changed in the past two years. I'm still confused. I still want to go to grad school.
But at least it's warm now.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Recharged
It's amazing what good a little sunlight, heat, and music can do for the soul. Bitter and grey I left Chicago and arrived in New Orleans to feel the tendrils of heart crushing winter fly from my shoulders. The sun reached into my very innards and coaxed to life that nut of happiness and hope that had hibernated through the rain, sleet, and snow that comprises a winter in Chicago.
While having my nose and shoulders softly kissed red by the heavens would have been enough to set any soul blooming like so many tulips, the people truly set the smile on my face. My friend Kristi picked me up from the airport and whisked me to Baton Rouge for the evening, introducing me to potential grad school professors, and then drove me tirelessly back to New Orleans. Getting to spend time with my parents in a way reminiscent of the family vacations we took not so long ago was priceless. I miss them and it was wonderful.
And then the music! The music and the art and the people! And the food! Oh, the culture! That beautiful, slow, rich Southern culture that is so often dismissed as poor and ignorant, not worth preservation. Being in the North, where I'm considered a slow walker, I've forgotten how quick I am below the Mason Dixon Line.
Maybe it's only a mirage to be admired while on vacation. I feel like a part of me is tied to New Orleans. It's had its hooks in me from a young age. I feel myself pulled to her. But am I just nostalgic for the nostalgia that isn't mine? Am I infatuated with city that's an empty shell of its former glory? No. No! Because we need a New Orleans. We need that other worldly place to escape and revel, and even sin.
I don't know what I want. I know I don't want this cold angry city the rest of my life. I don't want this loss of purpose that accompanies my vitamin D deficiency. I know I want love and intelligence and to somehow improve this world, this country. But that's so general! I'll simply plow forward and see what comes. What can any of us do besides that?
While having my nose and shoulders softly kissed red by the heavens would have been enough to set any soul blooming like so many tulips, the people truly set the smile on my face. My friend Kristi picked me up from the airport and whisked me to Baton Rouge for the evening, introducing me to potential grad school professors, and then drove me tirelessly back to New Orleans. Getting to spend time with my parents in a way reminiscent of the family vacations we took not so long ago was priceless. I miss them and it was wonderful.
And then the music! The music and the art and the people! And the food! Oh, the culture! That beautiful, slow, rich Southern culture that is so often dismissed as poor and ignorant, not worth preservation. Being in the North, where I'm considered a slow walker, I've forgotten how quick I am below the Mason Dixon Line.
Maybe it's only a mirage to be admired while on vacation. I feel like a part of me is tied to New Orleans. It's had its hooks in me from a young age. I feel myself pulled to her. But am I just nostalgic for the nostalgia that isn't mine? Am I infatuated with city that's an empty shell of its former glory? No. No! Because we need a New Orleans. We need that other worldly place to escape and revel, and even sin.
I don't know what I want. I know I don't want this cold angry city the rest of my life. I don't want this loss of purpose that accompanies my vitamin D deficiency. I know I want love and intelligence and to somehow improve this world, this country. But that's so general! I'll simply plow forward and see what comes. What can any of us do besides that?
Monday, April 4, 2011
Rainy Monday
It's grey but not freezing so I can't complain. This weekend I'll be gone to the warm Southern comfort of Louisiana. I can already feel those short skirts brushing the back of my legs and the slim soled sandles beneath my feet. The food will be heavy and the music loud and I'll finally be in my sunny element once again.
I need to forget about things that are pressing firmly on my mind. I need to unknit my brow, settle my stomach, and accept the moment for what it is. There will be plenty of time to be worried and stressed when I return. But this weekend is an escape from all that for a few precious days.
When I get back, then I'll set to figuring things out. Then I'll wonder where I'll go, what to do, what's most important. My batteries will be recharged. My mind will be less fried. I'll come back to a warmer and better Chicago. Hopefully I can have a positive and productive outlook for a while insteady of this foggy quagmire of uncertainty and aggrivation I've been sunk in.
It will be kittens and rainbows from now on.
I need to forget about things that are pressing firmly on my mind. I need to unknit my brow, settle my stomach, and accept the moment for what it is. There will be plenty of time to be worried and stressed when I return. But this weekend is an escape from all that for a few precious days.
When I get back, then I'll set to figuring things out. Then I'll wonder where I'll go, what to do, what's most important. My batteries will be recharged. My mind will be less fried. I'll come back to a warmer and better Chicago. Hopefully I can have a positive and productive outlook for a while insteady of this foggy quagmire of uncertainty and aggrivation I've been sunk in.
It will be kittens and rainbows from now on.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Adventures in Writing
I'm getting geared up for a few writing projects I have in mind. It looks like Sergio will be going to Virginia to do the Endstation Theatre Festival again May through July so I figure I'll have pleanty of time to knock out a few pages of my latest attempt at a novel. The project I'm most excited about is one that will involve a month long roadtrip up the Eastern Seaboard. Needless to say, that one won't be happening for a while.
This will be the summer of writing. Well, writing and applying to grad school! And eating well! How about the summer of getting my life in order? The summer of doing those things which will make me a more successful and proactive person! All of the above!
Perhaps it's the sunshine outside or the gift of warm weather dangling just out of reach, but I'm feeling pretty gung-ho about things. In a month I'll look back and rejoice at the fact that I'm done moving. In a week I'll be an hours flight outside of New Orleans. Everything will work out because it always works out. I'm always alive at the end of the day and if I'm not, well, I guess I won't care at that point.
I've made the decision that while I'll be lonely without Sergio, I'm going to have a positive summer. It'll only be a tiny two and a half months. Plus I have Fay. It'll be fine.
This will be the summer of writing. Well, writing and applying to grad school! And eating well! How about the summer of getting my life in order? The summer of doing those things which will make me a more successful and proactive person! All of the above!
Perhaps it's the sunshine outside or the gift of warm weather dangling just out of reach, but I'm feeling pretty gung-ho about things. In a month I'll look back and rejoice at the fact that I'm done moving. In a week I'll be an hours flight outside of New Orleans. Everything will work out because it always works out. I'm always alive at the end of the day and if I'm not, well, I guess I won't care at that point.
I've made the decision that while I'll be lonely without Sergio, I'm going to have a positive summer. It'll only be a tiny two and a half months. Plus I have Fay. It'll be fine.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Moving
In theory, moving a 300 square foot apartment into a much larger house is a thing of simplicity. Through a few dishes and books in a box, tuck your cat under your arm, and boom. Done. After almost two years of feeling settled, I've forgotten this back breaking, mind numbing, nerve bending task and have formed an even greater collection of stuff. From my easel and painting supplies, to my small record collection. From my desk to my bed, this won't be fun. I can rejoice in the fact that I have a few weeks to move out. I dread the day I have to do it all at once. Most of my books are already at home in their new bookshelf and the majority of my kitchen supplies are getting cozy in new cabinets. But there are pots and pans, DVDs, an entire walk-in closet, my bathroom, and all of my furniture left. I need to set goals. This weekend, the rest of my kitchen, the rest of my books, all of my DVDs, video games, records and CD's will be moved. That's the minimum. The following weekend I'll be out of town and then I have one more weekend to get all my small stuff out before I call in the movers to take the big stuff and then clean. It's all very daunting. I need to focus on the future right now. I need to see myself with my little attic painting/writing studio and doing laundry on a weekly basis, and having barbeque's in the backyard, and drinking brandy out of my new little snifters I bought online. Forward, that's where I'm going. Forward, forward, forward. To here, to grad school, to a place I can put down my bags and not move for at least five years. To warmth and happiness, and a tiny slice of contentment (but not enough to stagnate of course). One day soon this move will be complete and I'll bask in the sun of my low rent and ample room.
Friday, March 18, 2011
NOLA
In a few precious weeks I'll be back in the city which will forever have a firm hold on my tiny passionate heart. New Orleans. Just the thought shoots sharp tingles through my arms and legs.
New Orleans, New Orleans, New Orleans.
What can I say about New Orleans that hasn't been said. Oh to live in a city with so vibrant a heart beat, who greets each day with loud, unforgiving music, who can't be beat by any danger sent her way. Her face is weathered and worn but she smiles and welcomes and parties like each day will be her last.
I can't help but think that our fates are intertwined. I fell in love at a young age and through my happy affairs with London and Chicago, I've never felt a diminished pull towards her. The people with endurance I can hardly fathom show such loyalty to her. She locks hands with you and never lets you go.
Now I'm just writing silly, cliched, poetics, but isn't that what we do when we fall and fall hard? I'll be there soon and then I'll be back. Back to Chicago. Chicago's wonderful but I've begun to see we are an ill fit. I'll be here for a while yet, but not forever. I'm an unwitting nomad, perhaps. We'll have to see.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Blog for Blog's Sake
I've been awful this month, haven't I? I've either been busy, didn't have anything to say, or a little of column A and a little of column B. There are a lot of political things I could say, but something tells me I'm preaching to the choir and honestly, there comes a point when I'm just exhausted with the whole thing. I'm not done fighting by any means, but it's gosh darn frustrating!
The sun is shining today which I think means a happy blog is in order. It's funny how easy it is to pick something unhappy to talk about compared with something uplifting. It's not that I'm perpetually gloomy. Well then, let's talk about the sun.
I've missed you, sun. I've missed the bounce you put in my step. I missed the smile you unwaveringly place on my lips. And most of all I missed your radiant warmth. Actually, I still miss that. One thing about living in Chicago, it really makes me appreciate you in a way that Florida never did.
How about cats. Cats make me happy on a regular basis. I've really come into my own as a cat person. I used to deny it. No, I like dogs but cats are easier to take care of, I'd say. The truth is, I like cats better. We're both solitary, moody, intelligent, and lovable (right Sergio?). I get cats and cats get me. I mean, if you think about it, I'm basically a cat in human form. I like to nap. I like to eat. I enjoy seafood. I'm a fan of snuggling. But I'm not a crazy cat woman. Promise. I mean, I only have one. Just because I said I was for all intents and purposes a cat doesn't mean I'm crazy. I'll just stop now.
Money. I don't have it now, but when I do it's awesome. I'm planning on moving soon and all I can think about is the wonderful amounts of cash I'll be saving. And I will be saving too. Few things thrill me more than watching my money market slowly expand. I feel like Scrooge McDuck counting his gold coins and boy does it feel good. I don't think it's a greed thing. It's more of a, if I keep doing this maybe I can one day fulfill my dream of building a LEED certified house with bamboo floors and solar panels kind of thing.
So there you go folks, happy things.
The sun is shining today which I think means a happy blog is in order. It's funny how easy it is to pick something unhappy to talk about compared with something uplifting. It's not that I'm perpetually gloomy. Well then, let's talk about the sun.
I've missed you, sun. I've missed the bounce you put in my step. I missed the smile you unwaveringly place on my lips. And most of all I missed your radiant warmth. Actually, I still miss that. One thing about living in Chicago, it really makes me appreciate you in a way that Florida never did.
How about cats. Cats make me happy on a regular basis. I've really come into my own as a cat person. I used to deny it. No, I like dogs but cats are easier to take care of, I'd say. The truth is, I like cats better. We're both solitary, moody, intelligent, and lovable (right Sergio?). I get cats and cats get me. I mean, if you think about it, I'm basically a cat in human form. I like to nap. I like to eat. I enjoy seafood. I'm a fan of snuggling. But I'm not a crazy cat woman. Promise. I mean, I only have one. Just because I said I was for all intents and purposes a cat doesn't mean I'm crazy. I'll just stop now.
Money. I don't have it now, but when I do it's awesome. I'm planning on moving soon and all I can think about is the wonderful amounts of cash I'll be saving. And I will be saving too. Few things thrill me more than watching my money market slowly expand. I feel like Scrooge McDuck counting his gold coins and boy does it feel good. I don't think it's a greed thing. It's more of a, if I keep doing this maybe I can one day fulfill my dream of building a LEED certified house with bamboo floors and solar panels kind of thing.
So there you go folks, happy things.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Hunger Games
I just finished reading The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins. It's been a while since I've been so wildly impressed by literature intended for a younger audience. Back in the day (for example when Grimm's fairy tale's were first being compiled) children weren't coddled. Stories were a way to introduce children to certain themes which are universal as well as difficult to stomach. Fairy tale's were a way to teach children about death and love and the gamut of human emotion.
The death of a parent isn't as widespread in modern times as it has been in the past. I think parents are inclined to shield their children from as much pain early in life as possible. Who can blame them? I want my children to have an ideal childhood of creativity and discovery. But are we doing more harm by lying about the worlds problem's?
I'm no expert. I'm not even a parent. But I do tend to think that literature is a remarkable way to introduce children to themes that are otherwise unpalatable. In a round about way, removed enough from their own tiny lives, a book might prepare them for the shock of losing a grandparent. It seems to me, even as an adult, that when there is a character in a book that I relate to in someway, it helps me to feel less alone. It stresses the universality of humanity.
The Hunger Games is brilliant in that it refuses to talk down to children. It is written like an adult book with death and war and love. There isn't a fight of good over evil. There's grey area written on every page. Decisions are made that aren't good and just, but the right decision all the same. They are terribly glum books, but addicting and all consuming until the very last page.
The Hunger Games will rank up with His Dark Materials and the Harry Potter series as my favorite "literature for young adults", though I hate that label. I hope there is turn in the genre towards more thought provoking plot and characters. Perhaps it is the twilight of the Twilight's.
Friday, February 11, 2011
So a Blizzard Happened
I'm beginning to hate Chicago. I mean, I don't hate it. Chicago has some really great aspects. I'm having trouble thinking of one currently, but... Well maybe the hot dogs... Maybe if I could live at the Field Museum... The truth is I'm just filled with so much venom when I think about this crazy, cold, bitter, spiteful weather we have. I'm sick of being perpetually uncomfortable! I would like to go outside and not wear forty pounds of winter gear. Ah, dreams.
Are there no bastions of culture in a milder climate? Do we really need to suffer in order to hone our artistry? Can't we live on beaches sipping pina colada's and still write the next great American play? I guess not. But then, why couldn't Florida have culture? Florida doesn't belong exclusively to the old, rich, retired, and republican! Why couldn't I move to New Orleans and start a theatre company the produces plays that focuses on Americana?
But then I want to get a doctorate in Anthropology and teach and travel. I want to find and cultivate those things which make me happy. Can't I have that? I can't until I figure out what those things are.
This has been another episode of "Heather Ranting/Going Off on a Tangent".
Friday, January 28, 2011
It's the Final Weekend
Looking up through the sky light in my office, there are patches of blue. It's been a while since the sky was actually visable. This peek into the heavens, albeit soon to be masked again my clouds and snow, is enough to relax the tension that's been building into a perpetual, dull headache.
I'm in a good mood. I finished one book last night and began a new one this morning on the train (The Awakening and East of Eden respectively). I'm wearing my new, vintage, silver llama pin. His face looks like the llamas in "It's a Small World After All" with a crescent eye and a small smile. It's Friday and I'll soon be lunching with Sergio.
This is the final weekend of my show, Escape from the Haltsburg Boys Choir. It's almost completely sold out! There are literally a couple of tickets left for tonight only and that's it. I'll miss these fantastic people, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit relieved to have some weeks of rest lined up ahead of me. Not really rest though. I'll be rededicating myself to studying so come June I'll pass the GRE with a score high enough in the quantitative section to get into grad school.
But I don't want to think about that right now.
Right now I want crack open this beautiful new book. That's as far ahead as I'm thinking on this quiet Friday. There is plenty of time to worry in the coming months.
I'm in a good mood. I finished one book last night and began a new one this morning on the train (The Awakening and East of Eden respectively). I'm wearing my new, vintage, silver llama pin. His face looks like the llamas in "It's a Small World After All" with a crescent eye and a small smile. It's Friday and I'll soon be lunching with Sergio.
This is the final weekend of my show, Escape from the Haltsburg Boys Choir. It's almost completely sold out! There are literally a couple of tickets left for tonight only and that's it. I'll miss these fantastic people, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit relieved to have some weeks of rest lined up ahead of me. Not really rest though. I'll be rededicating myself to studying so come June I'll pass the GRE with a score high enough in the quantitative section to get into grad school.
But I don't want to think about that right now.
Right now I want crack open this beautiful new book. That's as far ahead as I'm thinking on this quiet Friday. There is plenty of time to worry in the coming months.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Grey, Grey, Grey
The colors of a Chicago winter are monotonous to say the least. When struggling down an ice encrusted sidewalk, it's like existing in a black and white movie, the odd bright coat pulling you briefly out of your stupor. It's cold and it's damp and this city is seriously lacking and redeeming qualities at this point. My hunched shoulders have forgotten what it feels like to be unburdened by a coat. My nose has forgotten there was a time it didn't snivel out of doors. I'm exhausted by it all, like the lead tinted sky is bearing down on me.
There's a tiny sadness that perches on my shoulder, huddling close to my ear that has one enemy, the sun. Perhaps it was my over consumption of sunlight growing up in Florida that has left me an addict, tired and angry when in withdrawal. I think in aching longing of laying stretched out in the backyard, book in hand, sweat upon brow, slightly uncomfortable in the mid-summer heat, but undeniably happy.
You would think that for a girl as pale as I am that perpetual shade would be a good thing. In fact I love my fair skin. I'd not feel like myself if my skin bronzed. But I miss being warm. I miss huddling under a wide brim hat and lathering myself in sunscreen. I miss that tired feeling you get only after spending a summer day outside, beaten by a relentless sun.
But I suppose the grass is always greener. One day it'll be hot and I'll long for the crisp, apple scented air of autumn. I'll curse the burn left on my tender shoulder blades. I'll sit in front of my less than impressive window air conditioning unit in my thinnest of airy nightgowns, praying for a break in the impenetrable heat. But until that day, I'll continue to shake my fist at old man winter and his inability to agree with my fragile disposition.
There's a tiny sadness that perches on my shoulder, huddling close to my ear that has one enemy, the sun. Perhaps it was my over consumption of sunlight growing up in Florida that has left me an addict, tired and angry when in withdrawal. I think in aching longing of laying stretched out in the backyard, book in hand, sweat upon brow, slightly uncomfortable in the mid-summer heat, but undeniably happy.
You would think that for a girl as pale as I am that perpetual shade would be a good thing. In fact I love my fair skin. I'd not feel like myself if my skin bronzed. But I miss being warm. I miss huddling under a wide brim hat and lathering myself in sunscreen. I miss that tired feeling you get only after spending a summer day outside, beaten by a relentless sun.
But I suppose the grass is always greener. One day it'll be hot and I'll long for the crisp, apple scented air of autumn. I'll curse the burn left on my tender shoulder blades. I'll sit in front of my less than impressive window air conditioning unit in my thinnest of airy nightgowns, praying for a break in the impenetrable heat. But until that day, I'll continue to shake my fist at old man winter and his inability to agree with my fragile disposition.
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Field Museum
I have found that place in Chicago which truly makes me feel at home, that little niche where I can wander wide eyed, overflowing with new knowledge, and overwhelmed by what this tiny dot in our mind bogglingly huge universe can produce. The Field Museum with it's nearly complete Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton, Sue, and its plethora of mummified cats from ancient Egypt, fills me with an excessive joy that I rarely have found outside of the Nitrous Oxide my dentist would give me when I was little.
I'm fascinated by ribs. It's a weird thing to be intrigued by, I know. When I stood below the massive Sue, her ribs kept my gaze. I just imagined these very ribs, 67 million years ago, gently inflating and deflating as she took in precious air. Maybe it's because it's refreshing to find something familiar belonging to something so foreign.
Don't get me started on Egypt. People, dead for thousands of years, look like they could just about open their eyes and stroll out of their glass cases. Did you know that in Ancient Egypt I would have been an inch taller than the average man? Besides the fact that I would have been an Egyptian model, they also worshipped cats. Do we need any more proof that I was born in the wrong time?
Now I have a membership. I have big plans for frequent visits to the museum. My little plastic mold T-Rex with "The Field Museum Chicago" stamped across its base, sitting on my desk will serve as a reminder of the ample amount of awesome that awaits me up those marble steps and through those ionic columns.
I'm fascinated by ribs. It's a weird thing to be intrigued by, I know. When I stood below the massive Sue, her ribs kept my gaze. I just imagined these very ribs, 67 million years ago, gently inflating and deflating as she took in precious air. Maybe it's because it's refreshing to find something familiar belonging to something so foreign.
Don't get me started on Egypt. People, dead for thousands of years, look like they could just about open their eyes and stroll out of their glass cases. Did you know that in Ancient Egypt I would have been an inch taller than the average man? Besides the fact that I would have been an Egyptian model, they also worshipped cats. Do we need any more proof that I was born in the wrong time?
Now I have a membership. I have big plans for frequent visits to the museum. My little plastic mold T-Rex with "The Field Museum Chicago" stamped across its base, sitting on my desk will serve as a reminder of the ample amount of awesome that awaits me up those marble steps and through those ionic columns.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Friday Morning Musings
It's cold, grey Friday morning in Chicago. The train always has significantly fewer people on it than other days of the week. I can't help but wonder, what are these jobs that don't happen on Friday? Or maybe a large amount of the population, on any given Friday decide to take a sick day.
It's been a busy and quick week. I've eaten way too much Jimmy John's. I've discovered I may or may not have a minor addiction to caffeine (much to my chagrin). I've begun researching going to grad school for Anthropology. I've watched copious amounts of 30 Rock. I've continued to hate the Chicago winter. Plus a show last night.
Today my parents get into town! I'm so happy they can come up and see my show. Plus we're going to go the Field Museum, I'm going to see Sue (one of my dreams coming up here), and purchase a magnet/coffee cup with her bright, toothy smile plastered on it.
This is shaping up to be a dull post, so I apologise. I'm pretty happy and content at the moment with only the ache of grad school swirling around in my stomach (but I think we're all tired of hearing about that, I know I'm tired of talking about it). So without further ado, I'll leave you to your Fridays.
It's been a busy and quick week. I've eaten way too much Jimmy John's. I've discovered I may or may not have a minor addiction to caffeine (much to my chagrin). I've begun researching going to grad school for Anthropology. I've watched copious amounts of 30 Rock. I've continued to hate the Chicago winter. Plus a show last night.
Today my parents get into town! I'm so happy they can come up and see my show. Plus we're going to go the Field Museum, I'm going to see Sue (one of my dreams coming up here), and purchase a magnet/coffee cup with her bright, toothy smile plastered on it.
This is shaping up to be a dull post, so I apologise. I'm pretty happy and content at the moment with only the ache of grad school swirling around in my stomach (but I think we're all tired of hearing about that, I know I'm tired of talking about it). So without further ado, I'll leave you to your Fridays.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Another Day, Another Book
I finished reading A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson today. I have to say, I'm pretty sad it's over. I don't think I've ever felt this way about nonfiction before. Even with A People's History of the United States, one of my favorite books in the history of my literacy, I was pleased with it's ending point. Mr. Bryson has left me wanting more.
With a heavy heart I placed it back in my bag and pulled out The Glorious Cause by Robert Middlekauff, a 700+ page behemoth outlining the history of the American Revolution. My spine is already moaning at the prospect of carrying it around for the next month or two. But I'm excited. I'm ready to be re-immersed in American history. I may have a fiery love affair with anthropology and astronomy, but history is my rock, that steady spouse who puts up with my slight insanity and stands with strong, open arms.
I'll let you know how this goes. Honestly, I've been thinking about rereading the Harry Potter series again for kicks. If we're going to continue the analogy, Harry Potter is like my An Affair to Remember lover. I don't know. We'll see. What I do know is that I'm ready to be in school again. And on that note, we'll end this all over the place blog entry.
With a heavy heart I placed it back in my bag and pulled out The Glorious Cause by Robert Middlekauff, a 700+ page behemoth outlining the history of the American Revolution. My spine is already moaning at the prospect of carrying it around for the next month or two. But I'm excited. I'm ready to be re-immersed in American history. I may have a fiery love affair with anthropology and astronomy, but history is my rock, that steady spouse who puts up with my slight insanity and stands with strong, open arms.
I'll let you know how this goes. Honestly, I've been thinking about rereading the Harry Potter series again for kicks. If we're going to continue the analogy, Harry Potter is like my An Affair to Remember lover. I don't know. We'll see. What I do know is that I'm ready to be in school again. And on that note, we'll end this all over the place blog entry.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Escape from the Haltsburg Boys Choir
I didn't have a caffeine addiction. I've been careful to keep my coffee intake to times of pleasure, never for a pick-me-up. And then this week happened. Tech week. My schedule of waking up at a quarter to six and crawling into bed no earlier than 12:30 has taken its toll on my (apparently old lady) body. I have resigned myself to the coffee as necessity routine.
But it's worth it. We have a show, people! We are doing theatre! We're telling a story that I believe, at the very least, people will enjoy. This is the zenith of our months of hard work. We did it ladies and gentlemen, and now it belongs to the audience. We're ready, it's beautiful, so let's do it!
I'm proud of this show. I'm proud of our wonderful cast who are some of the kindest, most talented people I've had the pleasure of working with. I'm proud of our production staff who have worked so diligently to make sure we didn't walk on an empty stage naked. I'm proud of our writer and composer who wrote a musical, A MUSICAL! We are a group of awesome people and I don't care who knows it.
I hope my noxious gushing hasn't sent you running for the closest bottle of Dramamine. Seriously, come see the show that received both a cease and desist letter (back when we had a different name) and a tweet from The Vienna Boy's Choir. We almost got sued. If that's not edgy, groundbreaking theatre, I don't know what is.
But it's worth it. We have a show, people! We are doing theatre! We're telling a story that I believe, at the very least, people will enjoy. This is the zenith of our months of hard work. We did it ladies and gentlemen, and now it belongs to the audience. We're ready, it's beautiful, so let's do it!
I'm proud of this show. I'm proud of our wonderful cast who are some of the kindest, most talented people I've had the pleasure of working with. I'm proud of our production staff who have worked so diligently to make sure we didn't walk on an empty stage naked. I'm proud of our writer and composer who wrote a musical, A MUSICAL! We are a group of awesome people and I don't care who knows it.
I hope my noxious gushing hasn't sent you running for the closest bottle of Dramamine. Seriously, come see the show that received both a cease and desist letter (back when we had a different name) and a tweet from The Vienna Boy's Choir. We almost got sued. If that's not edgy, groundbreaking theatre, I don't know what is.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Math
I need to go to Grad school. It's no longer a want, it's a need. The thought bounces around brain in some form or another probably 80% of my day. I'm left chewing my bottom lip (my own personal form of nervous torture) and pulling my hair. I wouldn't be nearly so nervous if I didn't have such an ugly beast standing in my way. Math.
Math has always been my antagonist. This angry relationship began earlier with my dismissal of the times table. Do I really need to memorize 9X4 when I've got such a thing as a calculator? Well, funny you should ask, but I do. Turns out multiplication is the basis for everything and the mean standardized testing people consider use of a calculator "cheating".
So instead of my usual groaning and finger pointing, I'm going to grab math by the you-know-what's and tame it once and for all. I'm restarting the basics, memorizing that pesky times table. By July, I'll get the 500 I so desperately need and want on the quantitative section. I'll conquer that standardized piece of dream killing manure. It will bend beneath the power of my brain!
Honestly, I just feel stupid. I feel like I took 12+ years of math tutorial for granted. I've skimmed by on just enough and now it's not enough. This disability has the potential to ruin my life. I'm terrified of a stupid test. Well no more! Master's in History, here I come!
Math has always been my antagonist. This angry relationship began earlier with my dismissal of the times table. Do I really need to memorize 9X4 when I've got such a thing as a calculator? Well, funny you should ask, but I do. Turns out multiplication is the basis for everything and the mean standardized testing people consider use of a calculator "cheating".
So instead of my usual groaning and finger pointing, I'm going to grab math by the you-know-what's and tame it once and for all. I'm restarting the basics, memorizing that pesky times table. By July, I'll get the 500 I so desperately need and want on the quantitative section. I'll conquer that standardized piece of dream killing manure. It will bend beneath the power of my brain!
Honestly, I just feel stupid. I feel like I took 12+ years of math tutorial for granted. I've skimmed by on just enough and now it's not enough. This disability has the potential to ruin my life. I'm terrified of a stupid test. Well no more! Master's in History, here I come!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Doom
In the grey Chicago winter, with it's barren trees, cloud laden skies, and shriveled vegetation, it's hard not to turn your mind to the rather more bleak than usual thoughts of one's own impermanence. Life, as we know it, is a fleeting, brief thing, the end spurred on by our fragile, inefficient bodies. When compared to other animals, we are ill adapted to live in nearly every environment. We're hairless. We lack attached weapons. We generally not even that strong. If it wasn't for our over sized brain and subsequent ingenuity, we'd be s.o.l. But we're smart (well, at least compared to say a lizard) so we've adapted to our shortfalls.
So we're okay. Not. We may have evolved to exist tentatively on our planet, but let's talk about those things which could potentially wipe us out. Meteors. There are copious amounts of rocks whizzing around our galaxy. Most are undocumented. The chance of seeing a meteor before impact is slim. The chance of seeing one more than six months from impact is almost none. Chances are, there will be a flash in the sky followed by your death about one second later. Even on the opposite side of the world you'll die, albeit a much more slow death of starvation from "winter" brought on by skies covered by debris. In short it's a lose-lose situation in which the outcome is cockroaches rule the world.
But let's say in this galactic game of Russian Roulette we win, the active super volcano beneath Yellowstone National Park which is 30,000 years overdue to erupt will make sure we aren't left disappointed. With a caldera something like 48 miles across (so big it wasn't discovered until areal pictures were taken). I really don't want to think about the kind of explosion slowly building up beneath the bison and campers.
I've been spooked. Thank you Bill Bryson and your A Short History of Nearly Everything, a very good book which I highly recommend. It's not all scary, I promise. The likeliness of either of these scenarios happening in our lifetime is not very high, but I still catch myself glancing at the sky, half expecting to see a big, burning ball, about ten times hotter than the surface of the sun, hurtling towards me at a speed I can't quite comprehend.
Now that I've gotten all the scary out of my system, here's a picture of a kitten:
So we're okay. Not. We may have evolved to exist tentatively on our planet, but let's talk about those things which could potentially wipe us out. Meteors. There are copious amounts of rocks whizzing around our galaxy. Most are undocumented. The chance of seeing a meteor before impact is slim. The chance of seeing one more than six months from impact is almost none. Chances are, there will be a flash in the sky followed by your death about one second later. Even on the opposite side of the world you'll die, albeit a much more slow death of starvation from "winter" brought on by skies covered by debris. In short it's a lose-lose situation in which the outcome is cockroaches rule the world.
But let's say in this galactic game of Russian Roulette we win, the active super volcano beneath Yellowstone National Park which is 30,000 years overdue to erupt will make sure we aren't left disappointed. With a caldera something like 48 miles across (so big it wasn't discovered until areal pictures were taken). I really don't want to think about the kind of explosion slowly building up beneath the bison and campers.
I've been spooked. Thank you Bill Bryson and your A Short History of Nearly Everything, a very good book which I highly recommend. It's not all scary, I promise. The likeliness of either of these scenarios happening in our lifetime is not very high, but I still catch myself glancing at the sky, half expecting to see a big, burning ball, about ten times hotter than the surface of the sun, hurtling towards me at a speed I can't quite comprehend.
Now that I've gotten all the scary out of my system, here's a picture of a kitten:
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