I'm Such a Hippie

After watching the Lost series finale, one of the things that struck me (don't worry - no spoilers here), was that there were almost exclusively couples in the final scene. As I was in a pretty emotional state at that point, I was moved to think, "Man, love really is what it's all about."

This is nothing new for me, because I've been really like that for most of my life. I've always been in touch with my feelings of love and appreciation. I've always tried to be verbal with the people who have been good to me, and even at 3 am feedings, I've tried to be "in the moment" with my bundle of joy. I have this great marriage, and several close friends that I've had for years. I got this love thing down.

This epiphany from TV, however, made me think about the places in my life that weren't full of love: the grudges I've kept and the people I've written off. I starting feeling how unimportant those things were, and, while I'm not going to throw myself at people who find it a pleasure to manipulate and hurt, I've found that it's easier to just "get over" things that don't have a simple way out.

My husband and I were talking about it on the way home from the Lost Finale Party (heheh, sort of a party. there were two couples, one toddler, and some wheezy dogs that kept eating my chips.), and we realized that that's the one goal we can really say we have for our children: to find an actual, real love that will last. I hate to sound all Snow White-y, hoping that someday their princes (and princesses) will come, but what higher goal can there be? Sure, my kids will be brilliant and successful (right?), but how much more important is it for them to find someone who makes them happy than find a job that makes them rich! When I think about my other "kids" - my students - I honestly hope the same for them. I see some of them out there trying to figure out what to do and focusing so much on where and how much they want out of life, but what makes me the most pleased is when one of them finds someone that really makes him or her feel like no one else in the world could compare.

So if you're looking around and trying to figure out how to make your mark on the world, don't forget to keep an eye out for someone who you could make your world.

And peace, man.

Too Old for This...

Man, I hate the days when I don't feel like an adult. I've been in a slump for a month or so and I didn't realize it till today. I feel like I did when I was a teenager: this overhanging sense of being a screw-up. Isn't that horrible? I'm in my 30's, in a great marriage, have a great kid. I'm a homeowner (and even landlady), pretty good at my job (except getting grades in on time - but who doesn't have issues with deadlines?), and, overall, happy with things. So why do I feel like any minute now I'll be discovered as a fraud?

Some of the stuff that's been bumming me out has been legit, but most of it has little to do with me feeling foolish or like an outsider.

I was a little bummed a couple of months ago when a disagreement with a friend led to me dropping one of the projects I had been working with her on. While I ended up being relieved to have more time with my family and things that should have been taking priority, things were said and done that just plain hurt my feelings (am I not bigger than that?), and I was bummed to leave the other people involved. I was a bit bummed when I had to put on a brave, bigger-than-this face for the dropped project's final showing. I was a bit bummed when I realized that I couldn't bring myself to apologize for something I don't believe was wrong just to make peace with a friend. Actually, I was more bummed to think that my friend would probably never really believe that she wasn't right in what she did. I'm bummed to think there's really no resolution here. I was a bit bummed when my husband didn't get one of the promotions we were hoping for. I was a little bummed last month when I had what looked like a really early miscarriage. I was a bit more bummed when the doctor determined that they weren't sure if it was an incomplete miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy and I had to get these shots to make it go away. I was pretty bummed, too, when they said I'd have to wait another three months before trying again for another baby.

I've just been in a funk here.

What's weird is that it's just now hitting me. I keep thinking it'll be okay when all this is over, but I'm not very sure what "all this" is. Maybe it's because it's overcast and muggy. Maybe I'll feel much better on Sunday. I'm not really a hopeless type of person, but I'm definitely squinting really hard to find the light at the end of the tunnel today.

The Lone Star State

I'm not always so Texas-devoted, but I remember having a conversation once with my husband about the places we could imagine ourselves actually living, and we determined that this is the only state we could imagine being from. I was a bit taken aback because he's just first-generation Texan. His parents were born in Jersey and Arizona, I think, and, since my family is from Kansas and Pennsylvania, I always considered us more strongly connected to the more broad idea of American or human than so much Texan. I realize, though, that he's right: I would much rather be from here than an outsider. As a kid visiting relatives in Pittsburgh, I was surprised that their car commercials in Pennsylvania didn't have state-specific references ("built Pennsylvania TOUGH").

I am reminded of my state pride by Ambo's post about Texas' independence day. So, here's to Texas and the wonderful things and people that come from Texas: Lyle Lovett, NASA, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Six Flags, and the guy that plays Shawn on Psych.

Blogging about Blogging

I have things to write about and will do soon.
They are:
Michael Buble'
Horses in Houston
A Good Marriage
More Guilty Pleasures

and another one that I wrote down on the back of a receipt in my car while I was driving into the city for an appointment. I have time to think about them, but, apparently, not to write about them.

More later.

Book Binge

I had forgetten how long it'd been since I read a book for fun. Even over the Christmas break, I don't remember managing to read anything (not counting Little Gorilla, Goodnight Moon and Oliver Finds His Way - which I read repeatedly, but not for fun). I'd skimmed through Pride & Prejudice in December but only because I was teaching it in class. (Oh, now I remember, the last book was Garden Spells in October. Months ago. Sad.)

Until the weekend before last, I was on an involuntary book fast. Then, I stumbled across a new Stephanie Barron novel while browsing on Amazon. Usually, choosing a book is difficult for me, because I'm distracted by all the interesting-looking covers of books which, upon further inspection, don't actually look interesting at all (curse you, slick and trendy cover designers!). I figured I could trust Stephanie Barron, though, as she had written a series of murder mystery novels with Jane Austen as the heroine (shout out to whichever of the Bales twins - Delaina, right? - was working at the library that summer that I was looking for something interesting - she pointed me to the series which I heartily devoured. And maybe it was Bridget). So the Stephanie Barron book - A Flaw in the Blood - was delivered on or around January 9, but things kept getting in the way of my reading; things like working for a living and people who want me to help them wipe their noses.

After one of those miraculous days when my husband and I were actually off together and able to co-wrangle the Boy, I was mere pages from the end of the book. We stopped into Target to waste time before dinner with friends and I wandered into the book section there and picked up two more. One of them looked too fun to not get (Jane Bites Back - where Jane Austen is, in fact, still alive as a vampire in modern America) and the other was the third in a series that I've read (A Lion Among Men by Gregory Maguire, from the Wicked series). I put back the Lion book because, while I love the musical, the Wicked books are rather dark and allegorical for my usual pleasure-reading tastes, and I've just not been in the mood for the depth. I finished Barron that Monday night and picked up the Jane book minutes later.

Over the course of the work week, I managed to get through the Austen vampire book, but, as I had a horrible cold and the book wasn't all that compelling, it took me till Friday. Once I've downed two books in a row, though, it's hard not to keep going.

Saturday, since the in-laws came and borrowed my boy for the day, I ran off to the mall and couldn't keep myself out of Barnes & Noble despite my plan to head straight to the movies for some cheesy-romance-with-a-pretty-backdrop time (Leap Year - guy with an accent? check. predictable storyline? check. beautiful foreign landscape? check. thoroughly enjoyed it anyway? check.) In my haste, I stayed to the center aisle and found, in the 50% off stack, Audrey Niffenegger's new book, Her Fearful Symmetry. The Time Traveler's Wife was haunting and beautiful and so not science-fiction feeling, despite the whole time-travel premise, so I was pleased to find this new one, especially at a bargain. I delved into that as soon as the Boy went to bed and finished it two nights later (tonight - minutes ago).

I feel like someone who's just polished off a particularly sublime meal: sitting back and basking in the memory of its goodness without feeling stuffed. In fact, I did read instead of eating dinner. Perhaps this could be my new diet: mix in some cheesy themed novels with a few substantial ones and - voila! - I'm losing 10 pounds!

Stories... Hmm...

So... of the cheesy love stories I'm about to write or have half-written in notebooks strewn about my house (and, oddly, my garage), which are you more interested in: the super-unlikely cinderella-ish story, the semi-autobiographical "college freshman" chick lit, the adolescent ghost-mystery-fuzzylove story, or the semi-scandalous December/May (really more October/April) romance?

I've gotta say, though, 3 of the 4 take place on a college campus: I wonder why I do that?

More thoughts for the day

I keep getting distracted by the use of who and whom in my writing. The thing is: I purposely ignore the rules sometimes. You could call it diction (or would that be syntax?), but I seriously just want to be clear. I feel like the correct use of whom sounds stuffy.

Thoughts for the Day

I like having windows in my classroom because, on a sunny day, the light shines on my wedding ring and the diamond makes sparklies on computer, the desk and the papers I'm grading.

What I Like About Teaching

No, it's not the summer, because, in fact, it's only about a month and one is still expected to attend trainings & stuff.

What I like about teaching is that it's an opportunity for infinite hope.
Hope that I get the good kids.
Hope that this year goes well.
Hope that their parents don't object to the material.
Hope that they pass this test.
Hope that they understand what I'm trying to say.
Hope that that one parent doesn't keep calling all year.
Hope that I can get some rest over Christmas break.
Hope that this semester will be more focused.
Hope that I can get my room in order before I get observed.
Hope that the assistant principal didn't see me coming in late.
Hope that they'll remember the basics for that state exam.
Hope that I don't have that kid next year.
Hope that I can fit this novel in before the end of the year.
Hope that I can get all my curriculum together over the summer.

Hope that, next year, I'll have it together and it'll be the best year ever.

Exes

I used to feel a bit of self-pity about having been dumped back in the day. Even as a happily married woman, I still felt that twinge of "mean ol' boys didn't know what they'd be missing". I must say that, recently, I had a bit of a change of heart about that. I mean, yes, totally the two (three?) guys that totally dumped me did not realize what they were missing, but, truth be told, I wasn't my best self when I was with them and I really can't blame him. Once I got into relationships that lasted more than two weeks, I ended up blindsiding them by morphing into the kind of girlfriend you see in How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days, instead of remaining the charming self I really am. [ahem.] Poor Brandon. And Dan.

Usually, though, I was pretty quick on the dumping draw myself. If any little thing went wrong or I just lost the fire, he was outta there. For example, my first boyfriend ever, Brian, got a haircut. Apparently, that was enough for my 2nd-grade-self to see the light, and away he went. Frankie, in the 8th grade, asked me to be his girlfriend on Thursday, then on Friday, he said a curse word at my lunch table. Being the kind of girl I was, I didn't stand for that kind of disrespect and dumped him in a note on Monday. In my later years, I regretted this, because in high school he lost the big glasses and became a titan of intellect and athleticism and hotness. Fortunately, he secretly still pined for me until college, when we ran back into each other, started dating, didn't break up, got married, and started having babies together. Now, it's not so secret that we like each other, but it helped that I cut out the crazy long before we said "I do" (okay, so I mostly cut out the crazy. I'm a woman, I have my days.)

When I was talking to some of the girls on the drill team I sponsor, I reminded them that for all these "dumb ol' boys" that they're tired of and have to dump, there's my son. He's a gorgeous little toddler who loves his mom and is doted on by these beautiful, charming girls. I reminded them that those boys were once like him, and that my boy, presumably, will some day have his heart broken by a dumb ol' girl. So there's a part of me that winces now for the boys who I wasn't very nice to or who I didn't pay attention to or whose heart I may have broken. If that's you, I'm sorry, and here's hoping karma recognizes my humility for my son's sake.

Family Planning

I ran to Walmart yesterday with a list of things in mind to pick up. Frankie was working; it was just me & the boy. Stopping at Mas Amigos beforehand & walking into the store, I had already seen 5 or 6 current/former students, a Prancer mom, my Sunday school teacher from when I was 4 and random other familiar inhabitants of my small town.

I went down the aisle that has digestive health products on the right that lead into adult diapers at the end and, on the left, shaving products that trickle into family planning. As a married adult pondering the pregnancy test section in previous years, I know what it's like to be aware of the fact that when you hit that section of the store and you're not an AARP member, people know what you've been up to. I've considered that it is necessary to grab the EPT and go, lest rumors of your future children's names get back around to you the next day. I don't think I have ever been "caught" down the family planning aisle, though. Lucky Me.

Not so Lucky Troy*. Or maybe lucky in a different way. I had Troy last year. He's a funny guy, making jokes and being silly. I wouldn't expect him to be so talented with the ladies because he's more of just a goof. Perhaps I underestimated him.

Razor blades were on my shopping list. The kind that's surrounded by the bar of whatever that makes your shaving experience a pleasant job, one-handed, surrounded by bubbles and making you feel sleek & sexy like a Roman goddess (according to the commercial). Troy and his friend were boldly contemplating ribbed or colored, I suppose, when I walked down the aisle. Always one to make an uncomfortable scene more uncomfortable, I cracked a smile when Troy glanced up and caught my eye.

"Glad to see you're being safe there, Troy," I cracked.

Blushing but bold, Troy quipped, "Yep, you gotta think about these things."

We stood for a moment, contemplating our respective choices quickly & quietly, then went on our merry ways. On the other side of the aisle was the Prancer mom I had seen earlier. She had heard the exchange and was giggling to herself when she saw me. We chuckled together at the joys of small town living.

*Names have been changed to protect the sexually active.

Classic

I watched Casablanca for the first time a couple of weeks ago.

*I tivo The Essentials Saturday nights on TCM so that I'll (hopefully) be exposed to the movies that make for a complete literacy of cinema. I'm not really sure why I care. I think it hearkens back to the time my dad told my I couldn't read anymore unless I was going to read classics (no more Babysitters Club until you've tackled Moby Dick). I think he was trying to dissuade me from reading at all and stop the early bloom of nerd-erty. Didn't work.*

Anyway, so I watched Casablanca for the first time all the way through. It was lovely! I teared up during that one scene of Rick & Ilsa together. I sympathized with him when he told Sam not to play the song again. I understand the draw of Bogart. I finally *got* the ending that I've seen and seen satirized a million times. It was so worth it.

And I feel all the more literate for it.

When I Grow Up

I want to be:

a voice actor
a dancer
a singer
a soap opera star
a librarian
a secretary
an event coordinator
a painter
a proofreader
an online movie critic
a superhero

Justification

Anastomosis - a scientific term for the interconnection between two entities, such as vessels, channels, or cavities. Also applied to the folding of one word between parts of another, as in Joyce's "underdarkneath" in Ulysses or a vernacular phrase such as "my own self." Extended to mean the interrelation, interconnection intercommunication or intersubjectivity or persons - used thus in J. Hillis Miller's Ariadne's Thread (1992).
(Harmon and Holman, A Handbook to Literature)


I am henceforth going to be literarily correct in using anastomosis in the phrase "a whole nother thing". Good to know. Up to this point, I've just been using it ironically.

Hello, Thirty.

Hello, Thirty,

I didn't realize you would arrive so soon, and, to be honest, I wasn't looking forward to seeing you. Now that you're almost here, though, I'm delighted to admit that it's not a devastating thing. You see, Twenty was a bit selfish and Twenty-five was a bit pushy, and you, Thirty, seem to be the perfect blend of forgiveness and hope.

In honor of you, I will try to redeem the mistakes I've made with Twenty and Twenty-five. I hereby swear off the tanning bed and dieting, and, instead, commit to drinking only the good wine and making a real effort to get out for a walk once in a while.

Here's to you, Thirty.
Now let's not &%$ this up.

Kisses!
Leah

Guilty Pleasures

I love it when Leisure Girl posts about her love of YA books or teen TV, because it gives me respite from the shame I usually carry.

I'm surrounded by cool people: people who listen to bands I've never heard of and watch movies that depress me, people who only read books that educate them or push boundaries of social acceptability, people who would totally mock me if they knew I was going to the New Kids on the Block concert next week. From time to time, I harbor some shame that I enjoy pop music, movies with happy endings (old, new, kitschy, whatev!), read books generally reserved for the pubescent populus, and, dare I say it, play video games, but, dammit, I will no longer be ashamed!

I am ever so aware that these are choices I make for a reason. If you notice, I like the things that are easy to come by, positive in nature and free from the over-analytical self-awareness that weigh down the everyday. I am aware of the world around me and of the world within me, but I've already taken the time to measure the lack. I want to be fancy free and to wear my contentedness like a lapel pin.

Please, feel free to do the same, even if your happiness rests in Sufjan Stevens or Chuck Polohniak (or Palahniuk, if you wanna be a big nerd about it - John!).

Biggest Potential Shames:
Jane Austen (books & movies)
Meg Cabot
Twilight
boy bands
Murder, She Wrote re-runs
Pushing Daisies
Wicked & Phantom of the Opera
choreographed dances to Michael Jackson songs
Movie Soundtracks (Thomas Newman!)
Nick & Nora
Fred & Ginger

Getting in Touch With Nature

Except for the tiny vacay to San Marcos for three days, these were not a pleasant couple of weeks. The family home is still standing, minus only a few shingles, but, coastal mugginess plus two weeks sans electricity is no way to spend one's free time.

At least there were the few days at my mom's: we brought bare necessities and survival tools: the laptop, the baby, Diet Coke, Pop-tarts (non-perishable!!) and the Tivo.

Creativity

I used to write when I was a kid. I wrote stories, songs, poems - I even tried to write a novel in the fifth grade (I only got about 3 chapters in). I used to be inspired by things and had to control the urge to spill everything onto the pages of my little notebooks.

It's much more difficult for me now. I still have the urge to spill my thoughts onto the pages, but the thoughts don't flow like they used to. Perhaps I've become too aware of my potential audiences and am fearful of appearing foolish, but I've recently become frustrated with my stuttering creative impulse. Is it gone? Am I too grown-up to allow my imagination the freedom it used to have? I refuse to believe that is the case.

I want to be published. I've dreamed this for years. I have potential titles, plots, outlines and characters all stored away in the corners of my mind and spiral notebooks. Every time, though, I try to sit down and put the thoughts together, I either feel stumped or over-analytical. I'm going to keep trying, though. Twilight author Stephenie Meyer had a dream one night, and she sat down and wrote out the story of it in two months, and then had a three-book-deal within the year. Her talents as a writer are not unparalleled, but the spark - the idea -the inspiration - gave her the edge that she needed to be recognized and published. I'm praying for the dream. I'm racking my brains for the spark that will set my keyboard ablaze and allow me to realize one of those big, lifetime goals. I know it's in there. Somewhere.

Someday my inspiration will come.

Wall-E

What a lovely, fun movie!

I heartily suggest seeing Wall-E as a date movie if you're not a kid-toter and, perhaps, even if you are you can leave them at home and watch this without the distractions. (They will watch it a million times on dvd later anyway.)

The plot is precious and the characters endearing. The animation, as is usual with Pixar, sets the standard high above all other animation thus far. For the first act of the show, you may even forget that it's animated.

Go see it, it will be ticket money well-spent.

Twilight

I had noticed in recent years the rise in popularity (especially among teenage girls) a book series by Stephenie Meyer about vampires. The cover art was compelling, but I'm not a vampire book kind of girl. One might note that I'm also not 15, but I find adolescent fiction to be the perfect books to get lost in on summer days - I call it "cotton candy reading" because it generally has little nutritional (critical) value and is gone so quickly. I know I'm not the only one because of the multi-generational popularity of the Harry Potter series.


It's usually just fun to get lost in a story for a while, but I really connected to this Twilight book. It wasn't for any literary reason: the plot is a bit contrived in places, most characters have little depth to them and the prose was sometimes repetitive and weak. It was just that I felt like the story reflected so well the romantic fantasies I had as a teenage girl myself. Not that I dreamed of vampires, but my little heart did swell with hope every time I watched Sense & Sensibility or Meet Joe Black. I had the yearning and desire for that romantic sensation that I knew was part fairy tale, part possible. As a grown-up, with most romantic ideals come and gone, it was really fun to reconnect with those flutterings that were so compelling when I was younger.

I'm gonna be honest here: I pre-ordered the next book in the series, I'm considering going to the release party at B&N when it comes out, I've already got someone else committed to going with me to the movie (December 18), and I'm now a member of the TwilightMoms group online. I'm sure this phase will pass, but I'm going to revel in my teenagery infatuation for just a little bit longer.