What I think I will buy with my tax return

Although I owe the lovely state a wad of cash, I will still be getting some back from federal, and this is what I think I will buy:

1) A new interior door handle for the passenger side of my car. Because you know, it broke off. Like the other one. Here's the story in case you forgot. So once again my car is a death trap.

2) A lawn mower. Just a dinky one most likely, because I only have a few scraps of grass around my house. But they are getting out of control. It's like a jungle out there.

3) Those nice wooden bookshelves I've been talking about since moving into my new house. I want three. Six feet high, about three feet wide, with adjustable shelves. Real wood, not laminate.

4) Perhaps some plants/shrubs/flowers for outside. But I probably shouldn't because I just kill everything.

5) And the rest I will put in my savings account for when I get my act together and decide to start my master's degree.

Library Lovers

 (This is a re-post/revise of a January 2009 posting).

On my way home I stopped at the library to return the crate of books I had (yes, a crate full). Upon my entrance, I noticed a girl aged about 17 who was crying. She was totally wiping her eyes, sniffling, and clutching a cell phone. I can understand. I myself have received some very upsetting news at the library. For example, the three men that I am sure I could have married had we actually carried on a conversation both left me there, broken hearted. All of them were quite mysterious.

I saw the first one when I was in seventh grade. He was wearing a baseball camp, sitting in a big, comfy chair, reading the newspaper. We smiled at each other, and then I swear I saw him at Rite Aid six days later. I don't know who he was.

The second guy I saw my jr. year of high school. I was at a table doing homework by the magazines when he walked in. He was dressed all in black, but not in a creepy goth way. More like a bad-ass, mysterious hunk sort of way. He had flip flops on, though, which caught my attention, because it was like February. He looked about my age, and I was really confused why he was at the library because he definitely didn't go to my high school. It was a small town, so if he lived in it, I would have known. While staring at him (he was choosing a magazine), I came up with this whole story about how he must be here visiting an aunt or something. Foreign and mysterious.

The third guy was a total dream doll. He was Italian, with this beautiful dark skin and gorgeous face. This was while I had my internship in the children's section of the public library. This one actually talked to me. I was behind the desk, checking in some books, when he came up to me and asked if we had a foreign language section for kids. He spoke with an accent, and when I asked him what language he was looking for, he didn't surprise me by saying Italian. This seemed to be going well, but then a toddler popped out from behind a shelf and I realized it was his son. So hunky library patron number three was out of the question.

Back to the initial statement: I've experienced upsetting circumstances while at the library, just like the crying girl I saw. Not only did I lose my three true loves, but I also opened up an envelope that held some very disappointing news in it. I'm not going to talk about that, though. Most people don't open their mail up while at the library, but I needed to. It was the only place I could be alone, and I wanted to be alone when I found out the news. I think the library is a very relaxing place, and I find a lot of comfort in visiting it. Also, by going to Borders and spending money on clean pages.

So I told you about my upsetting intimate moments in various libraries, whereupon three very attractive yet mysterious men abandoned our future of love together, and whereupon I opened some upsetting mail. I totally forgot about the pivotal moment in my life whereupon I bawled my eyes out in the third floor bathroom of Hamersley. It was rough getting to the third floor before anyone saw me. I had to go up all those stairs. But I had to go to the third floor, not the second floor, because the top floor is pretty much abandoned. You are looking for some really boring books if you have to go to the third floor. So I went into the biggest stall, locked the door, and cried enough tears to fill the watertank of a toilet. Also, dried my eyes with toilet paper. And it was Charmin.

Family Photos, a priceless memory

I sarcastically love those photos of families where everyone wears khakis and a blue shirt, or like jeans and a white shirt, or maybe black pants with matching red shirts. They all pose, putting their hands on each others shoulders and whatnot.

Like this

or this

It's important that the backdrop is one of those roll down scenes or neutrals.

I totally have one of my extended family (cousins, aunts, uncles) and I, circa 1998. We were rocking the jean/white tee combo. Grey background, I think.

Getting Ripped Update

Remember how I lied about two weeks ago describing how I was giving up carbs and sugar in order to get ripped? Okay, so you probably didn't know I was lying. I didn't either. See, after the first week everything has gone to shambles. I do not think it is physically possible for me to give up bread and chocolate simultaneously. In fact, I ate some chocolate while at work and I am eating a very small amount of pasta right now. So suck it Tim Ferriss and your bean/egg white diet.

On the bright side, my mouth totally tolerates the strange consistency and flavor that is cottage cheese. I can fully eat it for breakfast now.

I don't want you to think I've given up, because I haven't. I'm trying really, really hard, actually. But I'll be honest. I slip. I want nothing more than a big fresh loaf of french bread dipped in melted chocolate. But I'm trying not to succumb.

Sometimes Mildly Awsome Things Happen Without You Expecting It

Setting: My classroom, Thursday morning. I had a sub the day before, so my room was messy and I was a bit unsure of what I'd be teaching in the morning. Plus, I had an IEP meeting that morning at 8, so I didn't even have a chance to re-group myself.

Students are coming into class, it's five till nine, and I'm trying to scarf down some breakfast before meeting with my word study group.

Enter: 30ish woman wheeling a cart with various doo-dads on it. She looks a bit unsure of herself, eyes me, I look back at her, and then finally...

Woman: Are you the teacher? (because you know, I look so young that she thinks maybe I'm just a helping hand or something. But I try not to be offended).

Me: Yes, I am. Can I help you?

Woman: I'm here to replace your computer.

Me: Really? (because no one had mentioned anything about this to me) Awesome! (scrambles to close e-mail and programs so the process can begin).

Woman: Tell me what programs you use.

Me: Umm...SRI, SAM, Novell, and Microsoft Office. Nothing fancy. Oh, and Read-About.

Woman: Do your students use Read-About on your computer?

Me: Yeah, sometimes they do, because our student computer doesn't work. It takes like 38 minutes just to start up, and then it won't let you access any programs once you're logged in.

Woman: Well, your old computer is actually going to become the student computer. We are taking out your current student computer. 

Me: So, essentially, I am getting two new computers?

Woman: If you want to think about it like that.

Me: Cool. This is so great.

Woman: I'm also going to wipe off all the things you don't use so everything will run much faster.

Me: Fantastic.

I meet with students and start teaching while helpful-tech-lady dismantles everything, cleans it, and then sets up my new computer at my desk. She also moves my old computer over to the student computer area and sets it up. It actually works.

One hour passes, I take my students to PE and then come back. I test everything out. It's awesome. And she also repaired Class XP, so I can actually access SASI now to look up student phone numbers and information.


Spent some time on Friday selecting a new background, screen saver for student computer (C6 Students Rock), and uploading Mavis Beacon typing program onto student computer because now it has enough memory to support such a thing. 

Dusty's Cupcakes

Amy Sedaris, cup cakes, rabbits, computers. How could it get better?

He's getting married

Oh my gatos they would air Jason and Molly's wedding on ABC. And even though I was really good about not watching the recent season of The Bachelor with Jake (didn't watch any episodes, didn't google news it, didn't read blogs about it, etc), I so totally have to watch Jason tie the knot. Even if he was an ass to poor Melissa.

So once again, ABC is going to suck up my time. Two whole hours. I swear to you, this is it. No more. I better get in the shower because it starts in 28 minutes.

Drive-Up Window

It was like I was thrown into the depths of the dragon's lair, the spitfire of the broiler, the screams, the heat of the flames, and then, the cool breeze of the open window.

I worked the drive through window of McDonald's.

Never thought I'd write the above sentence. But I had to. My school had a fundraiser, and since I did not participate in McTeacher's night last year, my guilt swallowed me whole, like how a ravishing man might eat a McChicken burger in one bite.

I showed up for my shift at 5 o'clock, and the place was packed, like a Styrofoam peanut in a UPS box. But I guess it should have been, considering half the school's students and their parents were there. I just opened the staff door and went behind the counter. Nobody asked who I was. Within five minutes I was yelling out names with the gusto of a circus ringmaster. Here's your fries, here's your shake, here's your single serving of chicken nuggets, your double cheeseburger, and your triple bi-pass ticket. Here's 650 mg of sodium and 274 fat calories. Here's a bunch of mashed cow bits shaped into a patty.

Then who appeared to be the manager walked up to me and said, "do you feel comfortable asking for money?" I eyed him suspiciously and then said, "what do I have to do?" feeling a bit dirty. But to hell with everything, right? I'm working behind the counter of McDonald's for god's sake.

I follow him into the pit. Where the truth is being microwaved and the lies are being shoved into a paper sack with a happy face on it. He explained how I would stand at the window where people paid and ask them if they wanted to make a donation. If they did, I'd write their name on a little flier saying they contributed. Easy enough. I stood next to Bea, the drive through girl wearing the headset. I plastered on a smile and was ready to hit up anybody who drove by.

You never knew who to expect. It might be a cheerful mom type who gladly donated, or maybe it would be a man with five teeth and a long orange beard. Maybe it'd be a muscle man wearing headphones while driving, and you'd have to repeat the question because he couldn't hear you. Perhaps it'd be a blond high school girl, or a skater boy who just wanted his McFlurry. Whoever it was, I asked them all. I mentally kept track in my head of how much I made in direct donations, and after standing at the window for 40 minutes, I raked in about 65 bucks.

While I was standing there, though, waiting for the next car, I started looking around. I read all the little secret notes McDonald's writes to its employees, like how they should never say "Is that all?" but instead should suggest another purchase. When someone asks for a shake, they are supposed to respond "is that a large chocolate shake?" I read about how you shouldn't make the customer wait, and instead you need to put the money on top of the register and give them their change ASAP, and then log in the exchange after they drive up to the next window to pick up their food. I saw nuggets coming out of giant plastic bags, and buns coming out of toasters like clockwork.

When my shift was over, I ran to my car in the opposite parking lot, hit the gas, and didn't look back.

Saturday Binge

Tomorrow I am eating anything I want. Specifically, french toast for breakfast, pizza for lunch, possibly fried rice for dinner, and some Ben and Jerry's fish food ice cream if I can get my hands on some. It's all part of my new diet. No, really.

My roommate Natalie and I are embarking on a journey to "get cut." Haha, the old me would think, because I eat chocolate and bread everyday of the week. As part of our high protein plan, the sugar and white carbs really needed to go. I'll be honest, I basically ate pasta every day for lunch. And not the home made kind, the frozen box kind with high sodium.

I know for sure Natalie is lifting and pressing and squatting more than me at this point, and we are taking a similar but varied approach in eating. Like, she forced me to buy and eat cottage cheese. Okay. So I lie. She totally didn't. She showed me how much protein was in it, and since I had no idea what I was going to be eating for breakfast on this plan of no bagels or cereal, I had to do something. I bought some and made myself eat it. Boy, I tell you, it worked. I ate it every morning for breakfast, and it really curbed my need for a morning snack. I'm not sure if this is because of the high protein, or because I was still feeling nauseous from swallowing the stuff down at such an early hour. I'm trying the same thing again next week, only I'm going to pretend like I like it.

I am semi-mostly following the diet plan of lifestyle design god Tim Ferris, who has a blog which he so cleverly titled The Blog of Tim Ferriss. For the nitty gritty details, you can read his meal plan post. And here is a link to all his body related posts. In short summary, this is what I am forcing myself to eat:

Instead of yogurt and a bagel for breakfast, cottage cheese and a bit of fruit.
Instead of a granola bar for a morning snack (which, btw, had more sugar than a rice crispy treat), some peanut butter.
Instead of yogurt, a fruit cup and a frozen microwaveable dinner compliments of Smart Ones, I am actually packing vegetables in my lunch, eating a lot of black beans and soy products, and mozzarella cheese.
Also, a lot of eggs.

In short, torture, really. No chocolate. No sugar. Blah. No really. Like, it hurts. Like, I stare into my cupboard and think "What the %&#@ am I going to eat?"

But there's this catch. You get to eat whatever you want on one day. It actually is supposed to trick your metabolism or whatever. Who knows if it really works. But I figured I'd try it for a month.

So you know, I'll let you know if I get ripped.

If I had it my way

This is what my work day would look like:

8:30 wake up
9:30 start work in my home office
9:31 check vital e-mails because that's important
9:40 read fan mail e-mail, because of course I'd get loads
9:55 work on drafting a novel
11:00 take a ten minute break to go pee and eat a snack, because a lot of people actually get breaks during their work day, not just a 20 minute lunch
11:10 do some research for whatever it is I'm writing about
11:40 draft some more on novel
12:00 read some of my favorite books for inspiration
1:00 eat lunch and mull over what I just read
1:30 be inspired and write some more
2:30 lay on couch and day dream, because that's where a lot of my ideas come from--making up scenarios in my head
3:30 jot down ideas
3:45 work on a short story, drafting or revising or editing
4:45 work on submissions (cover letters, going to the post office to mail things, inquiry letters, etc)
5:45 eat dinner and do whatever I want
9:00 ish write a blog post

Notice I would still work over 8 hours, because there is a lot to do, even if you're not a teacher.

I really need to work to actualize this dream. Because it sure sounds a whole heck of a lot better than what I did today.

Cuatro Cosas

1) Walking With Dinosaurs was amazing. Awesome lights, cool effects, real-life looking dinos. There were a lot of little kids wearing green foam dino hats, but whatever. My chair wasn't sticky.

2) I went to a Mongolian grill for lunch with relatives on Saturday, got a fortune cookie, and the numbers on the back were 4 8 15 16 23 42. Okay, so actually they were 2 7 13 17 33 49, but what if they had been the Lost numbers? I want to make a bunch of fortune cookies with the Lost numbers and hand them out to people I know who watch the show.

3) March is going to kill me. I'll tell you why sometime later this week when I have a lot of time on my hands, like from 7-9pm Friday. Natalie knows, because we are both conspiring together.

4) I have to work at McDonald's on Thursday. I never dreamed this day would come. If you are anti fast food, you should just donate $100 to my school so I am not forced to participate in McTeacher's night.

You Probably Don't Know Who You Are

I still think about you now, even though you're gone. No, that makes it sound like you're dead. And you're not dead, you're just away, living some other life that I am no longer a part of. I felt guilty, because I hadn't thought about you for a long time, and then I remembered everything.

And the remembering stung. Like when you get lemon juice in your eye, only this time, it was my heart. 

At first, I thought about you everyday. Then I thought about you every week. That drained down to one or two times a month, and then I stopped. I think I stopped because I couldn't take it. All those times I thought of you, I prayed for you. Then that stopped too. I know. I'm lame. But it was hard for me, because I'd keep praying the same thing over and over, and I didn't see you, so I didn't even know if anything was changing.

I wanted everything to change for you. Or go back to the way it used to be, I guess. I wanted to tell you in person that I thought you were brave, that I knew all of this was hard for you. Mostly, I wanted you to talk to me about it. I think that was what was difficult for me. You never wanted to talk to me about it. You never said anything. But I knew. I knew too late, that's all. Because by the time I put all the clues together, by the time I had it figured out, you were gone. Or I was gone, depending on how you looked at things.

But I want you to know that I am thinking about you again. Sometimes I want to be like The Giver, you know? And take all those memories from everybody. But then I know I'd be bad at it, because what I do have is overwhelming. That's why I stopped thinking about you. I should probably read that book again. I read it in seventh grade, and a lot of it didn't make sense. But when did anything ever make sense in seventh grade?

Just like how I prayed for you all those times and never found out if anything ever changed for you, I won't know if you read this or not. In fact, I'm probably counting on "or not." But I guess that's okay. The important thing is that I'm remembering.