1. Me. In Lake Michigan. Drunk and not wearing pants.
2. "Fatties in the back" with Elyse: the rap song we wrote while playing the game of Life. It goes as such: fatties in the back, y'all, hos in the front. Bitches in the sidecar, your mom's in my bedroom.
3. "FUCK YOU APRIL" the only thing Mark took away from Revolutionary Road.
4. Peaches with oatmeal cobbler.
5. "Met him on a Monday and we f'ed all night! The doo run run run, the doo run run."
6. Bowling with Jenny & Elyse. Playing Santa Claus.
7. Dr. Mario domination. And Jeopardy losses. And Monday game night with Mark when Jenny's at class. Battletoads.
8. The running route.
9. Lunch with grandma and grandpa.
10. The beach, the beach, the beach.
11. Waterslides in GB.
12. The maxi pad on that sign we passed every Tuesday.
13. That chai shake I had that one day.
14. Golden Girls with Jenny.
15. The drunken Thursday night: picking out wedding songs and a whole bottle of wine.
16. So much pizza.
17. Can I say the entire 4th of July weekend? The entire 4th of July weekend. The speed boat, the soaking, the hot tub. When I lost my sense of taste for a day and was told: this isn't bad! It's great! You can drink straight vodka! And then I pretty much did, along with cinnamon whiskey and champagne.
18. That guy at McDonald's with the shirt that just said: cheap trick cheap trick cheap trick cheap trick cheap trick.
19. The shirtless man who walks around Green Bay.
20. How I read all of Macbeth and conjured up some lesson plans to teach it and then got the email that said oh yeah I took that out of the curriculum.
Are there more? Yes.
21. The Bullfrogs game when Justin told Jenny her shirt smells like sex in front of a toddler and his very annoyed grandma.
22. Cornhole. Badminton.
23. Jenny's sausage pasta. And all that other food she made me.
24. Woodman's in the summer, throwing groceries at Elyse. Listen to her laugh as I tell a man outta my way!
25. Bad TV with good people.
26. Ice cream at Hansen's.
27. Inappropriateness on the white board; Mary "slut."
28. CHAD.
29. Sleeping in. Sleeping with a fan.
30. Jenny! Just Jenny.
Same shit, different outfit.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
End of Green Bay Days.
A panic attack this morning when the ipod stopped working on the run. The songs would play one second, skip to the next, move through the list. I couldn't turn it off so I pulled out the earbuds, held it in my sweaty palm and finished the workout. And with a sideache.
Thought of the shitty situation: leaving tomorrow, and with the radio stolen, the ipod my only music.
But I restored it. It works now, after taking off all the songs and putting them back on. Thank God. Surprise, too, that I fixed something technology related. I fucking fixed it.
*
I've been having issues with time for awhile, but especially since I've been in Green Bay. At the same time it feels like I arrived yesterday and it feels like I've been here for at least three months. The lawn day weekend, the fourth of July weekend, the job offer from Hutchinson--all feel like something from half a year ago, at least a couple of seasons ago, instead of the start of the summer. The year at Century? I can't remember how it started. I can't remember the everyday. And it still feels like seasons until school starts again. I can't envision my classroom, I can't motivate myself to really plan lessons, I can't accept that I'll be going at my own classroom, all on my own. The thought of living in Albertville until October makes me a little sick, but I really have no choice; no money; two months longer without my bed; the thought of the busy schedule that coordinates with eaching. I've forgotten what it's like to not be lazy.
Secretly, I'm glad I didn't work this summer. Secretly, I'm glad I didn't have to work with customers, wake up and go to work. I hate myself for this. I need work to start so I no longer feel like such a slug, so useless, such a bum, such a mooch. I need the students. I need my career.
But how long is it going to take to start, and how long is it going to feel like it takes to start?
Jenny & Mark have taken such good care of me these six weeks. But it's time to leave and start planning. This summer, I guess, I've just put my life on hiatus. Thought of things I'd do if I had money, didn't have creditors calling three times an hour, didn't hate myself for not working even though I suppose I really could have. Hopefully, it's just a pause between studenthood and adulthood, or careerhood. The last time I'll play these games, have to have friends buy me lunch all the time, have to feel ashamed or lazy. I hope this is the last summer I have to make excuses. I spent a lot of the last couple of months feeling like I don't deserve the good things that are happening to me. But also not the horrible things that are happening to me.
It's the summer before I go back to school to teach, not to be a student. To start the next big part of life that eight years of college took me to reach. I keep thinking of what I expect it to be like, but I really have no idea. Other than a lot of work. And what if I just get so busy and overwhelmed I just wish for the days of brokeness, of summer 2009, when I gave myself no responsibility. When I took no responsibility.
Thought of the shitty situation: leaving tomorrow, and with the radio stolen, the ipod my only music.
But I restored it. It works now, after taking off all the songs and putting them back on. Thank God. Surprise, too, that I fixed something technology related. I fucking fixed it.
*
I've been having issues with time for awhile, but especially since I've been in Green Bay. At the same time it feels like I arrived yesterday and it feels like I've been here for at least three months. The lawn day weekend, the fourth of July weekend, the job offer from Hutchinson--all feel like something from half a year ago, at least a couple of seasons ago, instead of the start of the summer. The year at Century? I can't remember how it started. I can't remember the everyday. And it still feels like seasons until school starts again. I can't envision my classroom, I can't motivate myself to really plan lessons, I can't accept that I'll be going at my own classroom, all on my own. The thought of living in Albertville until October makes me a little sick, but I really have no choice; no money; two months longer without my bed; the thought of the busy schedule that coordinates with eaching. I've forgotten what it's like to not be lazy.
Secretly, I'm glad I didn't work this summer. Secretly, I'm glad I didn't have to work with customers, wake up and go to work. I hate myself for this. I need work to start so I no longer feel like such a slug, so useless, such a bum, such a mooch. I need the students. I need my career.
But how long is it going to take to start, and how long is it going to feel like it takes to start?
Jenny & Mark have taken such good care of me these six weeks. But it's time to leave and start planning. This summer, I guess, I've just put my life on hiatus. Thought of things I'd do if I had money, didn't have creditors calling three times an hour, didn't hate myself for not working even though I suppose I really could have. Hopefully, it's just a pause between studenthood and adulthood, or careerhood. The last time I'll play these games, have to have friends buy me lunch all the time, have to feel ashamed or lazy. I hope this is the last summer I have to make excuses. I spent a lot of the last couple of months feeling like I don't deserve the good things that are happening to me. But also not the horrible things that are happening to me.
It's the summer before I go back to school to teach, not to be a student. To start the next big part of life that eight years of college took me to reach. I keep thinking of what I expect it to be like, but I really have no idea. Other than a lot of work. And what if I just get so busy and overwhelmed I just wish for the days of brokeness, of summer 2009, when I gave myself no responsibility. When I took no responsibility.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Why I am afraid of the Moon and other ridiculousness that keeps me up at night.
There are some nights when the Moon is so orange and low in the sky I'm determined it's coming toward me. I'm walking down the street, toward the thing at dusk, but suddenly it's getting bigger. It's growing and growing and I'm forced to run away from something that is so big that no matter how far and how long I'll run, it's going to squash me. And that's the thing. I don't imagine it hitting me with a big kaboom! and debris flying everywhere. I imagine a cartoonish squish or maybe a splat and my Nikes sticking out from the crater, an image I've stolen from The Wizard of Oz.
Then theories about two moons at one time. Two moons. I'm afraid of two moons. I'm afraid of two moons in the sky, one higher than the other, one orange and one gray, both coming at me. What if you were looking into space and you saw one crash into the other? And then everything went dark? The image on TV was of two moons. I gasped and covered my eyes with a blanket. It's so scary.
And how does anyone walk on the Moon. How does anyone just walk around, looking at the Earth, where everything else is hanging out. Astronauts, after a stroll, go to get back into their spaceship and the engine won't turn over. It's time to go, one says, and he puts the key in the ignition, and rer-rer-rer-rer-sput. Rer-rer-rer-rer-sput. And they're stuck in space forever. I'm afraid of space. Ironic, because I'm really claustrophobic.
The Moon used to follow me to work every morning on the bus. I used to watch the Moon follow me to school every morning from Elgin. It's just hiding something. And I don't know what it is.
*
I probably should stop reading so much before I fall asleep, but what keeps me up at night includes the fact that I haven't read enough Shakespeare. That I don't know enough historical information. That I have no fucking clue how the stock market works, that people sort of "invented" how the economy would work, how money would be handled, and I can't even organize these thoughts in my head. How could anyone just figure that out? Or war strategies. How long would I have to study battlefield theory before I really got any of it?
This is like a wikipedia addiction. You look at a page, you learn something new, but it just reminds you of everything that you don't know. I don't know enough about teaching theories. This is why I have teaching nightmares every night. I don't know how much stuff I'll get with my classroom. I'm never sleeping again. How do I know that what I've learned about history is true? I mean, I just watched a show about the Boston Massacre that told me that what I thought I knew was a lie, and I didn't even know that much.
How can anybody study the Moon. How could someone say: hey, I'm pretty sure the Earth is round without having seen the pictures we've seen? Where do all of these people come from, knowing what stars are, and just figuring out how we can launch humans into space and walk in space suits on the lunar surface. How is somebody willing to be the first person to do this? It would take three years to get to Jupiter. Who is going to be the person who spends six years in outer space, and how could they ever do it without ridiculous psychological damage from isolation, and how could you land on Jupiter? It's just gotta be too fucking cold, right? I mean, the Moon gets to -150 Celsius at night.
Fuck you, rocket scientists.
The other day we found a show called "If There Was No Moon" on the Discovery channel. Patrick Stewart narrated. If there was no Moon, he said, the Earth wouldn't have an axis. Then, a cartoon drawing of the Earth, wobbling like a top on its last couple of turns, then computer generated images of snow on the sphinx and Antarctica hot with dry, cracking soil. Then, scientists debating on where the Moon came from. Another planet? A meteor? A piece of the Earth that broke off once, before anything, when the planet was spinning and spinning and spinning?
This picture scares the shit out of me. But I can't stop staring at it:
And how does anyone walk on the Moon. How does anyone just walk around, looking at the Earth, where everything else is hanging out. Astronauts, after a stroll, go to get back into their spaceship and the engine won't turn over. It's time to go, one says, and he puts the key in the ignition, and rer-rer-rer-rer-sput. Rer-rer-rer-rer-sput. And they're stuck in space forever. I'm afraid of space. Ironic, because I'm really claustrophobic.
The Moon used to follow me to work every morning on the bus. I used to watch the Moon follow me to school every morning from Elgin. It's just hiding something. And I don't know what it is.
*
I probably should stop reading so much before I fall asleep, but what keeps me up at night includes the fact that I haven't read enough Shakespeare. That I don't know enough historical information. That I have no fucking clue how the stock market works, that people sort of "invented" how the economy would work, how money would be handled, and I can't even organize these thoughts in my head. How could anyone just figure that out? Or war strategies. How long would I have to study battlefield theory before I really got any of it?
This is like a wikipedia addiction. You look at a page, you learn something new, but it just reminds you of everything that you don't know. I don't know enough about teaching theories. This is why I have teaching nightmares every night. I don't know how much stuff I'll get with my classroom. I'm never sleeping again. How do I know that what I've learned about history is true? I mean, I just watched a show about the Boston Massacre that told me that what I thought I knew was a lie, and I didn't even know that much.
How can anybody study the Moon. How could someone say: hey, I'm pretty sure the Earth is round without having seen the pictures we've seen? Where do all of these people come from, knowing what stars are, and just figuring out how we can launch humans into space and walk in space suits on the lunar surface. How is somebody willing to be the first person to do this? It would take three years to get to Jupiter. Who is going to be the person who spends six years in outer space, and how could they ever do it without ridiculous psychological damage from isolation, and how could you land on Jupiter? It's just gotta be too fucking cold, right? I mean, the Moon gets to -150 Celsius at night.
Fuck you, rocket scientists.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Case of the Runs.
When I was out running on Monday a man with a teardrop-shaped body stood in his driveway and hollered a conversation at me. I pulled out my earbuds and he said have a good run! I said thanks, and he kept talking. I used to do that for 20 years, but I can't do it no more. Too old. I didn't know what to say so out came, well it's a good night for it and kept moving along.
For some reason my running pains are in the heel of my left foot. I've never had heel pain before. I couple of pains shot up my shins today, and my toes blister a bit at the end where they've hit the tips of my shoes, shoes that I've put over 400 miles on but keep because I can't afford new ones. The insides are worn down, some cushioning is missing.
I have no money this summer, no job, little motivation to do as much work as I should be doing. But I've been keeping up the running. I picked up running again in April, slowly, big spaces in between days. In May I went a whole week without a jog, but went out on County Road 25 a most other days; I ran for most of June (except the first week), and I've run my way through July, so far.
I know this because the Nike mile sensor on my ipod tells me so. Yesterday when I got in from a 3.9 mile run Lance Armstrong's voice came on my ipod (I almost wrote Lance Armstrong came on my ipod but that's pretty gross) and said congratulations! You've reached 250 miles! That's since Christmas when I got the new sensor. Not that great, really. But enough to keep me motivated. In those now 261.67 miles I've had 82 running workouts (only about 11 a month--that sucks, but let's face it, January through March can eat a dick) and burned 40,298 calories.
Here's why I'm feeling good about myself today, looking through the history since June:
7 June 3.2 miles
8 June 2.5 miles
11 June 2.5 miles
12 June 4.1 miles
13 June 3.2 miles
14 June 3.1 miles
17 June 3.9 miles
18 June 3.9 miles
19 June 2.4 miles
20 June 3.9 miles
21 June 2.5 miles
22 June 3.8 miles
23 June 2.1 miles
25 June 2.9 miles
26 June 3.0 miles
28 June 3.0 miles
30 June 2.9 miles
2 July 2.9 miles
[big break here for cabin time, calories consumed: 80,000]
6 July 2.9 miles
7 July 2.9 miles
8 July 2.8 miles (twice this day) and 4.3 miles
9 July 2.9 miles
11 July 2.9 miles
12 July 2.9 miles
13 July 2.9 miles
14 July 2.9 miles
15 July 2.9 miles
16 July 3.8 miles
17 July 5.6 miles
I really hope I can stick this out. I just want to wear my favorite pants again. I just want to enjoy playing dress up again. I just want to stop counting the chins in all the pictures I take. I just want to. I feel so much better that way. I am such a better person that way.
For some reason my running pains are in the heel of my left foot. I've never had heel pain before. I couple of pains shot up my shins today, and my toes blister a bit at the end where they've hit the tips of my shoes, shoes that I've put over 400 miles on but keep because I can't afford new ones. The insides are worn down, some cushioning is missing.
I have no money this summer, no job, little motivation to do as much work as I should be doing. But I've been keeping up the running. I picked up running again in April, slowly, big spaces in between days. In May I went a whole week without a jog, but went out on County Road 25 a most other days; I ran for most of June (except the first week), and I've run my way through July, so far.
I know this because the Nike mile sensor on my ipod tells me so. Yesterday when I got in from a 3.9 mile run Lance Armstrong's voice came on my ipod (I almost wrote Lance Armstrong came on my ipod but that's pretty gross) and said congratulations! You've reached 250 miles! That's since Christmas when I got the new sensor. Not that great, really. But enough to keep me motivated. In those now 261.67 miles I've had 82 running workouts (only about 11 a month--that sucks, but let's face it, January through March can eat a dick) and burned 40,298 calories.
Here's why I'm feeling good about myself today, looking through the history since June:
7 June 3.2 miles
8 June 2.5 miles
11 June 2.5 miles
12 June 4.1 miles
13 June 3.2 miles
14 June 3.1 miles
17 June 3.9 miles
18 June 3.9 miles
19 June 2.4 miles
20 June 3.9 miles
21 June 2.5 miles
22 June 3.8 miles
23 June 2.1 miles
25 June 2.9 miles
26 June 3.0 miles
28 June 3.0 miles
30 June 2.9 miles
2 July 2.9 miles
[big break here for cabin time, calories consumed: 80,000]
6 July 2.9 miles
7 July 2.9 miles
8 July 2.8 miles (twice this day) and 4.3 miles
9 July 2.9 miles
11 July 2.9 miles
12 July 2.9 miles
13 July 2.9 miles
14 July 2.9 miles
15 July 2.9 miles
16 July 3.8 miles
17 July 5.6 miles
I really hope I can stick this out. I just want to wear my favorite pants again. I just want to enjoy playing dress up again. I just want to stop counting the chins in all the pictures I take. I just want to. I feel so much better that way. I am such a better person that way.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Lawn Day all Up in Dat Shit.
I suppose I should explain myself.
We had a lawn party this weekend. I offered to fill the water balloons. The best way to do it was with the hose held between my legs. Mark tied the balloons. He tied two pink balloons together and put them over the hose.
Then we all were disturbed. And what followed was about 20 pictures of me with junk. This one, where I'm a hunchback, is one of the least disgusting.
Sexy badminton team. I bet you didn't notice my racket-hand. Racket-hand!
Marylovesmeat.com.
The chips are camera hungry.
I filled this gun with beer. And it was so fucking cool and then it leaked all over me.
Look at Chad's shadow. Gross.
Splashction shot.
Water balloon toss. In an earlier game, Mark and Chad lost and then had to make Jenny and me drinks. Mark made a drink that was popular from the cabin last week: called Jeano's vag. Delicious.
This is a total balls shot.
Running through the sprinkler. High-fivin'.
Butt implants.
Should I also mention that we invented the word "blart" this weekend? It means bloody fart. So disgusting.
We had a lawn party this weekend. I offered to fill the water balloons. The best way to do it was with the hose held between my legs. Mark tied the balloons. He tied two pink balloons together and put them over the hose.
Then we all were disturbed. And what followed was about 20 pictures of me with junk. This one, where I'm a hunchback, is one of the least disgusting.
Sexy badminton team. I bet you didn't notice my racket-hand. Racket-hand!
Marylovesmeat.com.
The chips are camera hungry.I filled this gun with beer. And it was so fucking cool and then it leaked all over me.Look at Chad's shadow. Gross.Splashction shot.Water balloon toss. In an earlier game, Mark and Chad lost and then had to make Jenny and me drinks. Mark made a drink that was popular from the cabin last week: called Jeano's vag. Delicious.This is a total balls shot.Running through the sprinkler. High-fivin'.Butt implants.Should I also mention that we invented the word "blart" this weekend? It means bloody fart. So disgusting. But a good weekend. Love the lawn games. I rocked a cornhole game with four ringers.
Monday, July 6, 2009
4thn'.
Not pictured includes beers in a hot tub like a beer commercial, a trampoline on the lake, a jet boat ride that left the "fatties in the front" soaked. Not audible includes the song-a-thons of Friday night, when the drunken stars aligned and we danced around the fire chanting "Lord-of-the-Flies! Lord-of-the-Flies! Pig-gy Pig-gy! Dead pilot! Dead pilot!" And later "vag-vag-vag-vag-vag" while the women drank, and even later, all of us, singing Lisa Loeb and "Life is a Highway" at the top of our lungs, and even later the speculations of MJ's COD, which include him drowning in a swimming pool full of peeps.
Friday night, when the stars aligned and Jenny, Mary, and I created the story of Meatloaf's son, named Sean Loaf. Sean Michael Loaf, to be specific. He's a loaf of bread who solves crime, but he's the private agent type of crime-solver. He's Bond-like, but more undercover. For example, you could imagine an enemy throwing a mod party and Sean Loaf hiding at a table without his bow tie. But then, when it is suddenly time to get serious, Sean Loaf puts the bow tie on, and it's the equivalent of Clark Kent taking his glasses off and going Superman on your ass.
His arch nemesis is a toaster with a bad guy mustache.
Sean Loaf. Meatloaf's his dad. Danger's his game.
Friday night, when the stars aligned and Jenny, Mary, and I created the story of Meatloaf's son, named Sean Loaf. Sean Michael Loaf, to be specific. He's a loaf of bread who solves crime, but he's the private agent type of crime-solver. He's Bond-like, but more undercover. For example, you could imagine an enemy throwing a mod party and Sean Loaf hiding at a table without his bow tie. But then, when it is suddenly time to get serious, Sean Loaf puts the bow tie on, and it's the equivalent of Clark Kent taking his glasses off and going Superman on your ass.
His arch nemesis is a toaster with a bad guy mustache.
Sean Loaf. Meatloaf's his dad. Danger's his game.
Monday, June 29, 2009
It's official.
I officially signed a contract today.
Also, officially, I AM LICENSED BY THE MINNESOTA DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION TO TEACH THE SHIT OUT OF YOU. OFFICIALLY.
Included with my Communication Arts & Literature (Minnesota's fancy way of saying English) comes licensure in:
Also, officially, I AM LICENSED BY THE MINNESOTA DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION TO TEACH THE SHIT OUT OF YOU. OFFICIALLY.
Included with my Communication Arts & Literature (Minnesota's fancy way of saying English) comes licensure in:
- Awesomeness.
- Getting car stereos stolen.
- Cute shoes.
- Saying "boob" in front of my students three times in one day.
- Feigning sickness to avoid parent/teacher conferences.
- Quoting Simpsons episodes in class and then accusing students of being "out of it."
- Speech.
- Listening to Oldies during class, defending Journey in front of 14-year-olds, then starting dance parties.
- Declaring my own Snow Days in October.
- Making fun of substitutes the day I get back, especially with comments about "old people smell."
- Saying "ass" for shock value.
- "Bring Ms. P a snack for an A" day.
When is it going to be time to buy school supplies? I am going to have so many markers in my classroom.
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