We are getting married in February of next year, and we are super excited to be using
Central Valley Photo Booth
for our photo booth!
Check them out! Great prices and excellent customer service. Wooo!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Losing Weight
I've lost 11 pounds since January 1st!
Everybody get pumped. I'm going to keep going, too.
Everybody get pumped. I'm going to keep going, too.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
For Emily
"Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.
It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime."
— Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451)
It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime."
— Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451)
Monday, January 19, 2009
We Quit It
I started feeling a little bit sick and we just decided to stop.
We made it FIVE days though!
We win a small medal, not a big trophy. I already gained back 4 of the 8 pounds I lost.
Oh well.
We made it FIVE days though!
We win a small medal, not a big trophy. I already gained back 4 of the 8 pounds I lost.
Oh well.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Master Cleanse
Tomorrow morning I start the master cleanse. I'm sure you've heard of it: lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper. Laxative tea. I'm gonna post as much as I can during the cleanse, both to document it in case any of you want to do it, and to keep my mind off the fact that I am not eating any food.
Am I nuts? Probably.
Am I nuts? Probably.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The Living Room
I've wanted to post this blog for a long time! We worked hard at getting our living room in good condition when we first moved in, and we finally got it to a place that we're happy with. I am so lucky to have such an artistic, creative partner. Here are the fruits of our labors:
Our living room started out with this beautiful grey-blue paint. Lindsay helped us pick it out:
We recovered our poop-brown chair with cool fabric from Urban, turned our mirror sideways and added a lamp/table.
We have to give some credit where credit is due- to Eric. He found this lamp on Craigslist and it is amazingly perfect. It matches all of our colors and lines and metals- and it's functional and stylish. Good job, honey.
We have awesome inlet shelves near the kitchen. We put some cool crap in there so people can see how neat we are.
These shelves are right above Eric's computer station (I wasn't allowed to take pictures of it for this blog since his bangs weren't did). Some cool features include the initials we painted, the candle holders and orange vase from West Elm, and the huge wooden pillar things we got mega-cheap from Pottery Barn. Gotta love those sales.
Pillows! Urban Outfitters, How I Love Thee:
We bought these circular mirrors because we had visions of being the first cool people to have a set of circular mirrors on their wall. Then we saw about 10,000 other people with them, so I used some scraps from the ottoman fabric and made this frame/art thing. The plant is from Ikea and the phone table is from Mary Roellke. Love that lady.
Accent lamps from Ikea. Oh-so-chic. Brown curtains! We were thinking of doing a pattern, but sometimes you have to know when to say when.
My favorite project. I got a template for paper flowers from a local Paper Source store, and then modified it and bought more paper to fit my needs. These flowers are so fun to make... and look freaking sweet.
Another project (remember, I was basically unemployed for two months!) was this TV stand. Eric had this old, crapper of a stand he got at a thrift store. I repainted it, added some of our wall paint to the bottom shelf for good measure, and then spray-adhesived (my most favorite thing) a decorative kitchen towel to the top. It looks so fun! The lamp is one we already had, but put that cool shade on the top. I salvaged it from a yard sale.
This coffee table was another vintage find. We stained the wood to match our end tables. The coasters are from West Elm and the organic, free form wood bowl is from Home Goods. Honeys, if you haven't hit your local Home Goods store, get off the couch and go NOW. It's like, the Ross or Marshalls of home furnishings.
Then, of course, the ottoman (with strangely expensive orange wool fabric) and the pillow we got from Urban:
So here she is, in all her HGTV-inspired glory. There's still more to be done, but we've gotten comfy with what we have. Ah, yes. Also, please excuse/note our Christmas deco! We couldn't take it down for these pictures. It's just a bit, but just enough for us. Happy Holidays, from our Living Room!
Our living room started out with this beautiful grey-blue paint. Lindsay helped us pick it out:
We recovered our poop-brown chair with cool fabric from Urban, turned our mirror sideways and added a lamp/table.
We have to give some credit where credit is due- to Eric. He found this lamp on Craigslist and it is amazingly perfect. It matches all of our colors and lines and metals- and it's functional and stylish. Good job, honey.
We have awesome inlet shelves near the kitchen. We put some cool crap in there so people can see how neat we are.
These shelves are right above Eric's computer station (I wasn't allowed to take pictures of it for this blog since his bangs weren't did). Some cool features include the initials we painted, the candle holders and orange vase from West Elm, and the huge wooden pillar things we got mega-cheap from Pottery Barn. Gotta love those sales.
Pillows! Urban Outfitters, How I Love Thee:
We bought these circular mirrors because we had visions of being the first cool people to have a set of circular mirrors on their wall. Then we saw about 10,000 other people with them, so I used some scraps from the ottoman fabric and made this frame/art thing. The plant is from Ikea and the phone table is from Mary Roellke. Love that lady.
Accent lamps from Ikea. Oh-so-chic. Brown curtains! We were thinking of doing a pattern, but sometimes you have to know when to say when.
My favorite project. I got a template for paper flowers from a local Paper Source store, and then modified it and bought more paper to fit my needs. These flowers are so fun to make... and look freaking sweet.
Another project (remember, I was basically unemployed for two months!) was this TV stand. Eric had this old, crapper of a stand he got at a thrift store. I repainted it, added some of our wall paint to the bottom shelf for good measure, and then spray-adhesived (my most favorite thing) a decorative kitchen towel to the top. It looks so fun! The lamp is one we already had, but put that cool shade on the top. I salvaged it from a yard sale.
This coffee table was another vintage find. We stained the wood to match our end tables. The coasters are from West Elm and the organic, free form wood bowl is from Home Goods. Honeys, if you haven't hit your local Home Goods store, get off the couch and go NOW. It's like, the Ross or Marshalls of home furnishings.
Then, of course, the ottoman (with strangely expensive orange wool fabric) and the pillow we got from Urban:
So here she is, in all her HGTV-inspired glory. There's still more to be done, but we've gotten comfy with what we have. Ah, yes. Also, please excuse/note our Christmas deco! We couldn't take it down for these pictures. It's just a bit, but just enough for us. Happy Holidays, from our Living Room!
Friday, December 19, 2008
Artichoke Preparedness
We just boil those big poppa's. We boil them until the leaves near the stem can be pulled off really easily. Or until the stem is almost smooshy. It's not hard. It's easy. Those big ones took almost 45 minutes! Holy crap.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Artichoke Awesomeness
That's going in our bellies tonight. We ate his brother last night, and he was meaty and delicious. Mmmm.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Snow Day
The snow stopped falling late last night. The schools closed, however, so I was out of a job today. Eric and I slept in a little bit, worked on some things for a few hours and then braved the extreme cold to run errands. Our first order of business was eating- we had been out late last night at the Sara Bareilles concert and ate afterwards, but it was early afternoon at this point and we hadn't eaten a thing. We wanted breakfast, so we finally found a place that was still serving at 2 pm and was walking distance from a tram stop. We stepped gingerly down the road, choosing our footholds carefully. It was icy, icy, icy. Finally we made it to the restaurant to discover:
We ate until we couldn't talk. Partook of delicious eggy goodness and pigs in a blanket that would make your head spin.
Then we hit the post office, a toy store, Urban Outfitters and Zupan's. Our arms laden with groceries, we trekked up the hill and finally settled back into our warm place, happy and exhausted. My calves are killing me, the artichoke is in the pot, boiling, and I look out the window on a white-laced city with a smile tonight.
We ate until we couldn't talk. Partook of delicious eggy goodness and pigs in a blanket that would make your head spin.
Then we hit the post office, a toy store, Urban Outfitters and Zupan's. Our arms laden with groceries, we trekked up the hill and finally settled back into our warm place, happy and exhausted. My calves are killing me, the artichoke is in the pot, boiling, and I look out the window on a white-laced city with a smile tonight.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Snow
I have another blog to post- out of order- but this one can't wait.
It's snowing today in Portland, Oregon. We woke up to a flurry coming down and the temperature's dropping, which means it's gonna stick. Here's a picture and a video to help describe:
It's snowing today in Portland, Oregon. We woke up to a flurry coming down and the temperature's dropping, which means it's gonna stick. Here's a picture and a video to help describe:
Friday, December 5, 2008
NaNoWriMo No Mo
It's over! Amazing. I completed the NaNoWriMo Challenge. For those of you who don't know what it is, I will tell you! Starting November 1st, writers across the nation join together to write a novel within 30 days. There are no rewards, prizes, or accolades given if you complete the task. Your finished novel is not submitted for review or reading. It's simply a way to motivate blocked writers across the country to write! I have written before about my inability to focus on writing for the last few years. Since my heart is no longer stripped, stamped and hung out in the wind, I haven't had any good material. Or, I haven't had any good motivation to write, since my primary drive before was to cleanse myself of painful memories and ideas.
NaNoWriMo was awesome. I spent the whole month writing! Hating, half the time, what I was doing, and finding that my once carefully constructed writing voice was hidden. I used to be so good at writing! I did it all the time. I was practiced. Even more so, I found it hard to create plot points, since I was used to writing short stories and not novel plots.
I have a lot of editing to do. The one luxury not afforded to NaNoWriMoers is that of editing. You have to just produce. I had to do one little bit of editing along the way, but for the most part it is just poetic vomit. There is a lot of cleaning up to do. With so much material (50,000 words!) I know I have the makings of a good story. I just have to craft it now.
I promise to post good parts when I have them.
I really love writing.
NaNoWriMo was awesome. I spent the whole month writing! Hating, half the time, what I was doing, and finding that my once carefully constructed writing voice was hidden. I used to be so good at writing! I did it all the time. I was practiced. Even more so, I found it hard to create plot points, since I was used to writing short stories and not novel plots.
I have a lot of editing to do. The one luxury not afforded to NaNoWriMoers is that of editing. You have to just produce. I had to do one little bit of editing along the way, but for the most part it is just poetic vomit. There is a lot of cleaning up to do. With so much material (50,000 words!) I know I have the makings of a good story. I just have to craft it now.
I promise to post good parts when I have them.
I really love writing.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
NaNoWriMo
is taking up all my time. Here is an excerpt:
Jordan laughs and laughs. She has a really nice laugh, one that is not too noisy or shrill, but still makes you want to join her. She also has an easy way of talking, listening carefully to what you say, but always responding quickly. Her face is interesting, not just a normal, boring face. She has those heavy lids, thick lips. She doesn’t wear too much makeup. Enough to make you look at her with purpose, but not so much that you can’t tell what she really looks like. She has watercolor eyes, liquid and moving. A button nose, turned up a little. High cheeks. She’s good looking, and people notice her. Not just because of the dreads. We walk out the back exit to the bar and she leans up against the brick wall, wet with rain. I hold her against the wall and put my hands on her high cheeks.
“You are adorable.”
“I am ethnic looking.”
“You are.” I kiss her, and it’s actually not as sloppy as it should be. She keeps her tongue close to her lips. “You are very good looking.”
“Well, yes. It’s the eyelids.” She closes her eyes and raises her eyebrows, showing her perfectly spaced eyeliner dots.
“You ready to go home?”
“Almost.” She leans in again, this time pulling me down by my neck. She kisses me along my neck, my ear, then gives me a couple closed-mouth kisses on my cheek. “Yes. Now we can go.”
When we get into my place, she has not forgotten the séance, as I hoped she might. She rummages around in my junk drawer and finds a few votive candles. She lights them on my coffee table, and I get some plates from the kitchen to set them on. No need for waxy residue. We look up séance online and find some hints about how to make them safe, but both of us are shaky, drunk, and can’t stay focused on the tips. We sit facing each other across the coffee table.
“Okay, now you say something about wanting to talk to the spirits.”
“No way. This is your deal. I am here for support. You have to talk to them.”
“It’s your building!”
“…”
“Fine. Spirits, we come to you in peace. We want to talk to you and ask you questions about yourselves. We want to see your scary spirit faces and tell you to go home.”
“That’s it. I’m sure that’s gonna make them come.”
Jordan giggles and holds her hands out closes her eyes.
“You do it, too.”
I do the same.
“If there is anyone here tonight, we want to talk to you. We want to hear what you have to say. We can help you move on.”
I can see the flicker of the candlelight through my closed eyelids. I can feel Jordan’s hands, resting in mine, twitch a bit in anticipation. It’s warm in my apartment. Jordan asked me to turn on the heater.
“Spirits, come to us. We are here for you to speak with. Come join us.”
This goes on for a few minutes. Jordan stops talking and I peek open my eyes to look at her. She has her eyes closed. I feel a little breeze and wonder if I’ve left the window cracked open. I turn to look and in a flash I see the girl from the laundry room, standing near the window, looking out.
“Whoa!” I pull my hands back from Jordan.
“What? What? Did you see something? What happened?” Jordan is on her feet now.
“No, nothing.” I look back at the windows and nothing is there. “This is too freaky, I think we’re forcing it. We should do this when we’re sober or something.”
“Did you see something?”
“No.”
“Yes, yes you did, I can tell by looking at you, you saw something! And I felt something cold, I did.”
“No, you did not. And I did see something, but it was a woman who lives in this building, on this floor. I just fooled myself. It’s nothing.”
Jordan lies down on the ground.
“Damnit. I thought we were getting somewhere.”
I crouch down beside her on the ground. She looks very symmetrical in the candlelight. She opens her eyes and looks at me.
“Thank you for having a séance in your house, Andrew. It was very nice of you.”
“I’m a nice guy.”
“I hope you’re not too nice.”
Jordan laughs and laughs. She has a really nice laugh, one that is not too noisy or shrill, but still makes you want to join her. She also has an easy way of talking, listening carefully to what you say, but always responding quickly. Her face is interesting, not just a normal, boring face. She has those heavy lids, thick lips. She doesn’t wear too much makeup. Enough to make you look at her with purpose, but not so much that you can’t tell what she really looks like. She has watercolor eyes, liquid and moving. A button nose, turned up a little. High cheeks. She’s good looking, and people notice her. Not just because of the dreads. We walk out the back exit to the bar and she leans up against the brick wall, wet with rain. I hold her against the wall and put my hands on her high cheeks.
“You are adorable.”
“I am ethnic looking.”
“You are.” I kiss her, and it’s actually not as sloppy as it should be. She keeps her tongue close to her lips. “You are very good looking.”
“Well, yes. It’s the eyelids.” She closes her eyes and raises her eyebrows, showing her perfectly spaced eyeliner dots.
“You ready to go home?”
“Almost.” She leans in again, this time pulling me down by my neck. She kisses me along my neck, my ear, then gives me a couple closed-mouth kisses on my cheek. “Yes. Now we can go.”
When we get into my place, she has not forgotten the séance, as I hoped she might. She rummages around in my junk drawer and finds a few votive candles. She lights them on my coffee table, and I get some plates from the kitchen to set them on. No need for waxy residue. We look up séance online and find some hints about how to make them safe, but both of us are shaky, drunk, and can’t stay focused on the tips. We sit facing each other across the coffee table.
“Okay, now you say something about wanting to talk to the spirits.”
“No way. This is your deal. I am here for support. You have to talk to them.”
“It’s your building!”
“…”
“Fine. Spirits, we come to you in peace. We want to talk to you and ask you questions about yourselves. We want to see your scary spirit faces and tell you to go home.”
“That’s it. I’m sure that’s gonna make them come.”
Jordan giggles and holds her hands out closes her eyes.
“You do it, too.”
I do the same.
“If there is anyone here tonight, we want to talk to you. We want to hear what you have to say. We can help you move on.”
I can see the flicker of the candlelight through my closed eyelids. I can feel Jordan’s hands, resting in mine, twitch a bit in anticipation. It’s warm in my apartment. Jordan asked me to turn on the heater.
“Spirits, come to us. We are here for you to speak with. Come join us.”
This goes on for a few minutes. Jordan stops talking and I peek open my eyes to look at her. She has her eyes closed. I feel a little breeze and wonder if I’ve left the window cracked open. I turn to look and in a flash I see the girl from the laundry room, standing near the window, looking out.
“Whoa!” I pull my hands back from Jordan.
“What? What? Did you see something? What happened?” Jordan is on her feet now.
“No, nothing.” I look back at the windows and nothing is there. “This is too freaky, I think we’re forcing it. We should do this when we’re sober or something.”
“Did you see something?”
“No.”
“Yes, yes you did, I can tell by looking at you, you saw something! And I felt something cold, I did.”
“No, you did not. And I did see something, but it was a woman who lives in this building, on this floor. I just fooled myself. It’s nothing.”
Jordan lies down on the ground.
“Damnit. I thought we were getting somewhere.”
I crouch down beside her on the ground. She looks very symmetrical in the candlelight. She opens her eyes and looks at me.
“Thank you for having a séance in your house, Andrew. It was very nice of you.”
“I’m a nice guy.”
“I hope you’re not too nice.”
Friday, October 31, 2008
Jose from Cuba
Subbing gets me all worked up. Sometimes it is the blatant disregard for authority that illicits this response. Sometimes it's the excitement of teaching. Sometimes it's the thrill of a new subject, or the humor of the kids.
Today, I'm all worked up again, but this time it is the innocent, pure goodness of a little boy that's done it to me.
First of all, after class had started, Jose looked at me (truly with big brown eyes) and asked, "Have you ever met a Cuban person before?" When I replied that I hadn't, he smiled and said, "You just did!"
After about 10 minutes of working on an assignment, he walked up to my desk with a paper full of errors. We sat together and worked through each question. One talked about "ethnic unrest" and he looked very confused. I said, "You know, Jose, how sometimes Mexican people don't get along with white people, or white people don't like blacks, that kind of thing." His face grew horrified and he said, "So soon?" and then corrected himself to say, "Still, I mean? People are still like that?" When I said that unfortunately, there are still people in the world who are prejudiced and racist, he shook his head sadly and continued his work.
He truly believed that this kind of division in the world had disappeared. If we can make all our children believe that, and truly live it, I guess there's still hope. Little Jose from Cuba, thank you. Today you made me feel like our world isn't a total lost cause.
PS OBAMA/BIDEN '08!!
Today, I'm all worked up again, but this time it is the innocent, pure goodness of a little boy that's done it to me.
First of all, after class had started, Jose looked at me (truly with big brown eyes) and asked, "Have you ever met a Cuban person before?" When I replied that I hadn't, he smiled and said, "You just did!"
After about 10 minutes of working on an assignment, he walked up to my desk with a paper full of errors. We sat together and worked through each question. One talked about "ethnic unrest" and he looked very confused. I said, "You know, Jose, how sometimes Mexican people don't get along with white people, or white people don't like blacks, that kind of thing." His face grew horrified and he said, "So soon?" and then corrected himself to say, "Still, I mean? People are still like that?" When I said that unfortunately, there are still people in the world who are prejudiced and racist, he shook his head sadly and continued his work.
He truly believed that this kind of division in the world had disappeared. If we can make all our children believe that, and truly live it, I guess there's still hope. Little Jose from Cuba, thank you. Today you made me feel like our world isn't a total lost cause.
PS OBAMA/BIDEN '08!!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Honesty.
Just a little blurb about honesty in relationships- this is something I learned the hard way.
Honesty doesn't just mean being honest about the crap you do wrong in a relationship. If you're used to lying and you decide to be truthful all of a sudden, that's great. Really. However, that's not enough. It's not enough to just be honest about the things you have done wrong, or the things you don't like.
I think that's the main point. Of course it takes courage to tell someone when something that they do doesn't sit well with you. It takes courage to have a voice in a relationship and be strong enough to express that.
Honesty is more than that. When people say you have to be honest in a relationship, it means being honest about everything. When you're in need, feeling generous, feeling amorous, feeling cranky, hungry, sad, happy, pretty, ugly, fat, creative- you have to fill the other person in. Don't misunderstand me. I do not mean to say that partners should inundate each other with senseless, menial details about their lives. Some things are better left unsaid- if they are without consequence. (That whole concept is a blog in and of itself, and one I am not going to write tonight) If you feel strongly about something, and the other person can help, it's only fair to include them in on the secret.
It's not always easy and sometimes I want to be the "cool" girlfriend, the one who doesn't care about anything, doesn't need to express herself for fear of being the irrational, overemotional crazy person. But really, if I don't say what's on my mind, all those moments of silence rack up inside my heart and eventually I become that person anyway. Instead, chipping away little moments as they come- being honest without being confrontational- ease the burden.
Honesty doesn't just mean being honest about the crap you do wrong in a relationship. If you're used to lying and you decide to be truthful all of a sudden, that's great. Really. However, that's not enough. It's not enough to just be honest about the things you have done wrong, or the things you don't like.
I think that's the main point. Of course it takes courage to tell someone when something that they do doesn't sit well with you. It takes courage to have a voice in a relationship and be strong enough to express that.
Honesty is more than that. When people say you have to be honest in a relationship, it means being honest about everything. When you're in need, feeling generous, feeling amorous, feeling cranky, hungry, sad, happy, pretty, ugly, fat, creative- you have to fill the other person in. Don't misunderstand me. I do not mean to say that partners should inundate each other with senseless, menial details about their lives. Some things are better left unsaid- if they are without consequence. (That whole concept is a blog in and of itself, and one I am not going to write tonight) If you feel strongly about something, and the other person can help, it's only fair to include them in on the secret.
It's not always easy and sometimes I want to be the "cool" girlfriend, the one who doesn't care about anything, doesn't need to express herself for fear of being the irrational, overemotional crazy person. But really, if I don't say what's on my mind, all those moments of silence rack up inside my heart and eventually I become that person anyway. Instead, chipping away little moments as they come- being honest without being confrontational- ease the burden.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Excuses and Grey Skies
Even though today is one of the rare blue-skied October mornings here in the Pacific Northwest, my post today is about grey skies and clouds. I remember when I first lived here, the colorless skies were a welcome addition to my tortured artist outlook. I can also recall before I left California, letting my skin soak up extra sunshine because I was so afraid that I would never see it again.
The last week has brought rain. Wind, clouds, a serious chill in the air. Eric and I have both brought out our winter clothes, donning jackets and hats, scarves and tights (moreso me on the tights- Eric only wears them inside, on Sundays). Walking down to my car in the subbasement of our building even requires an extra layer. I expected that I would start feeling depressed. I expected that I'd long for the sun, want to claw out my eyes at the sight of grey. That I'd somehow not be able to handle things. I guess I sort of wanted to chicken out- and the weather was an easy excuse.
No excuses, though. Not anymore. No more, "I don't have a man." No more, "Well, I live in Fresno. I can't possibly flourish." No more, "I don't know what to do with my life." There are no more excuses! I am where I want to be, emotionally, geographically, soulfully. I'm here. And, ain't no grey skies gonna mess with that.
The last week has brought rain. Wind, clouds, a serious chill in the air. Eric and I have both brought out our winter clothes, donning jackets and hats, scarves and tights (moreso me on the tights- Eric only wears them inside, on Sundays). Walking down to my car in the subbasement of our building even requires an extra layer. I expected that I would start feeling depressed. I expected that I'd long for the sun, want to claw out my eyes at the sight of grey. That I'd somehow not be able to handle things. I guess I sort of wanted to chicken out- and the weather was an easy excuse.
No excuses, though. Not anymore. No more, "I don't have a man." No more, "Well, I live in Fresno. I can't possibly flourish." No more, "I don't know what to do with my life." There are no more excuses! I am where I want to be, emotionally, geographically, soulfully. I'm here. And, ain't no grey skies gonna mess with that.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Routine
When we first came up here, I freaked out pretty regularly about my lack of things to do. It wasn't that I didn't have boxes to unpack, rooms to decorate, family to visit and drawers to organize. I did have those things. It wasn't that I was emotionally void- I had plenty of things to think about and concern my brain with. Even when I had schools to visit and applications to fill out, there was something missing from my life that has only recently emerged.
My monthly calendar.
For the entire month of July my book was empty, minus the trip to Fresno we took for my birthday. Literally- empty.
I've been subbing a ton recently, which is both satisfying emotionally and financially. I'm still working my restaurant job, too, which is fine (side note- every restaurant is made up of the same cast of characters. the attractive, jerky boy. the sweet talking religious nut. the ditzy, booby blonde. the anal older server. every place has the same people working there. weird!) but doesn't bring me much money. With these two jobs, my schedule book is gloriously full.
I'm back to my old self- checking my schedule several times a day. Erasing and re-writing events. Counting and recounting my sub days and calculating my money. Highlighting certain kinds of events and underlining others.
I love my schedule. I love my calendar. I love having a purpose.
My monthly calendar.
For the entire month of July my book was empty, minus the trip to Fresno we took for my birthday. Literally- empty.
I've been subbing a ton recently, which is both satisfying emotionally and financially. I'm still working my restaurant job, too, which is fine (side note- every restaurant is made up of the same cast of characters. the attractive, jerky boy. the sweet talking religious nut. the ditzy, booby blonde. the anal older server. every place has the same people working there. weird!) but doesn't bring me much money. With these two jobs, my schedule book is gloriously full.
I'm back to my old self- checking my schedule several times a day. Erasing and re-writing events. Counting and recounting my sub days and calculating my money. Highlighting certain kinds of events and underlining others.
I love my schedule. I love my calendar. I love having a purpose.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
One Down
First, let me preface this blog by saying that I have applied for over 120 teaching jobs here in Portland. I have not received any responses from these applications- except for one. This school called me back after I walked into the school and handed a hard copy of my application to the office manager. I had an interview on Monday for the fourth grade position available at the school.
I felt the interview went well. I spoke well and represented myself accurately. They went with another candidate because I didn't have as much special education experience as the other candidate.
I am disappointed, I'm not going to lie. I had already started quitting my restaurant job and printing out "getting to know you" activities in my brain. I was planning out my first week of school outfits and paying my bills. However, I am still so happy for the opportunity. I was able to speak with REAL PEOPLE. Interview with them, and talk with them- I made connections. And I am happy for that.
Also, my restaurant job is getting a little bit better, making a little more money. I've been subbing a LOT, which is awesome. Now that I am making more money, I don't feel as frantic and horrible about not having a permanent teaching job. I am surviving. I am moving forward. I feel good about that.
Let's tackle the next 120...
I felt the interview went well. I spoke well and represented myself accurately. They went with another candidate because I didn't have as much special education experience as the other candidate.
I am disappointed, I'm not going to lie. I had already started quitting my restaurant job and printing out "getting to know you" activities in my brain. I was planning out my first week of school outfits and paying my bills. However, I am still so happy for the opportunity. I was able to speak with REAL PEOPLE. Interview with them, and talk with them- I made connections. And I am happy for that.
Also, my restaurant job is getting a little bit better, making a little more money. I've been subbing a LOT, which is awesome. Now that I am making more money, I don't feel as frantic and horrible about not having a permanent teaching job. I am surviving. I am moving forward. I feel good about that.
Let's tackle the next 120...
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Powell's
Clearly I am not good at writing as frequently as I would like. I'm working on a big post about our living room, and when I went to write it, I realized I wanted to wait until certain things are done- so I put it on a back burner and haven't been back. Anyway, Eric and I took an important trip today and I wanted to document it.
Our first trip to Powell's City of Books since we've been here. What have we been so busy doing that we haven't made it there yet? Oh well- we made it there today. Powell's is an entire city block packed full of books. There are three floors. AND- an entire separate store of technical books housed a few streets away. Incredible. Here is just one aisle:
Powell's has something overly magical about it. I don't know if it's the pure visual spectacle of literally a million books, carefully catalogued and organized, or if it's the smell, but walking into Powell's brings me excitement and peace. Satisfaction. I spent the first few seconds beelining my partner and myself into the Blue Room, which is the literature room. I never let myself down all the aisles, as that would ensure bankruptcy. I allowed myself a couple aisles and some endcaps and felt secure with my two choices: Nick Hornby's "How to Be Good" and Akhil Sharma's "An Obedient Father." I remembered that I still needed Vicki's book, having woefully not ordered it yet. We wandered into the Rose Room, which has educational books and parenting ones, too. I stumbled upon a book called "What We Believe but Cannot Prove" and I couldn't walk away from it. Different scientists and philosophers talk about the wonders of the world and why certain things simply beg for faith. I found "Love You to Pieces," a compilation of creative writers on raising children with special needs. My beloved friend, teacher, and mentor, Vicki, wrote the very first story in this amazing compilation. Vicki recently lost her son, Evan, who had special needs. Reading her story today had a sad depth to it. It made me remember that writing is more than what we can ever expect it to be- it belongs to the writer and the reader, and everyone on the periphery.
We left Powell's to meet a deluge of rain- our first of the year, really- and I looked out into that rain with a bit of nostalgia and longing, and also with a bit of maturity. More than I had the last time I watched rain fall on this city.
Our first trip to Powell's City of Books since we've been here. What have we been so busy doing that we haven't made it there yet? Oh well- we made it there today. Powell's is an entire city block packed full of books. There are three floors. AND- an entire separate store of technical books housed a few streets away. Incredible. Here is just one aisle:
Powell's has something overly magical about it. I don't know if it's the pure visual spectacle of literally a million books, carefully catalogued and organized, or if it's the smell, but walking into Powell's brings me excitement and peace. Satisfaction. I spent the first few seconds beelining my partner and myself into the Blue Room, which is the literature room. I never let myself down all the aisles, as that would ensure bankruptcy. I allowed myself a couple aisles and some endcaps and felt secure with my two choices: Nick Hornby's "How to Be Good" and Akhil Sharma's "An Obedient Father." I remembered that I still needed Vicki's book, having woefully not ordered it yet. We wandered into the Rose Room, which has educational books and parenting ones, too. I stumbled upon a book called "What We Believe but Cannot Prove" and I couldn't walk away from it. Different scientists and philosophers talk about the wonders of the world and why certain things simply beg for faith. I found "Love You to Pieces," a compilation of creative writers on raising children with special needs. My beloved friend, teacher, and mentor, Vicki, wrote the very first story in this amazing compilation. Vicki recently lost her son, Evan, who had special needs. Reading her story today had a sad depth to it. It made me remember that writing is more than what we can ever expect it to be- it belongs to the writer and the reader, and everyone on the periphery.
We left Powell's to meet a deluge of rain- our first of the year, really- and I looked out into that rain with a bit of nostalgia and longing, and also with a bit of maturity. More than I had the last time I watched rain fall on this city.
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