Monday, November 20, 2006

Warning: not intended for home use.

I'm spreading the word about this site because it causes me such paroxysms of delight.*

Take the grammatical agony out of everyday reading. Also, check out Darren's post and link to it; his descriptive sentence causes me physical pain. (and OH I hope that was intentional because otherwise I've just insulted Darren and/or shown my own linguistic weakness!)

Happy Monday-Before-Thanksgiving!

~~~
Edited to add: Yes, I realize that opening sentence rhymes. I'M A POET. I DO things like that. Man, tough crowd.

Monday, November 13, 2006

I made a hat

But I haven't taken a picture of it yet.

So here's one that I found online (courtesy of Brooke's email link to this site)



What do you think? Maybe in red for GalaxySpaceCat?

As Mel says: Happy Monday!!

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Girl got skillz.

When you hear that, you can rest assured that they are - whoever these mysterious they are - talking about me.

I'm sitting here, not grading (though I should be...) knitting AND blogging AND thinking about martial arts. I'm like a flying-spinning side-kick to the purl stitch through the back loop. Rock it.

I've been feeling marvelously peaceful lately. Work hasn't really slowed down, and if it weren't for that darn printer yesterday, this week, though busy (duh) might have floated on by like...like... a drop-stitch scarf on the stream. Or something. Huh, what?

I've got friends. I've got LOST* tonight. I had our Bible-study small group on Sunday, with spaghetti and meatballs and fellowship and everything. I know that God is answering my prayers in quiet, surprising ways, and I know that writing is my calling. I can feel it calling (shouting) at me, even in my sleep. Maybe that's God, too.

But see, here's the thing: I love teaching. All the way and wholeheartedly. Yet...always yet! I'm learning that it's almost impossible to do both, unless I'm old and gray with a PhD under my belt - after my name - somewhere, anyway.

So, there's that to think about this week.

But there's also this, for the "Pirate Party" in VA this weekend:













and this (for the same reason):













(see? Half-bird, half-woman, all totally hot. Well, tempting unto the rocks of death for the Greeks, anyway).

And the almost-done-but-not-quite scarf for my sister-in-law. Hence, the simultaneous blog-knit. This particular b-day gift might turn into a Christmas gift...

Happy Halloween!


~~~~

*Does anyone else have the strange urge to correct that phrase to "I've gotten lost tonight."? Dratted grammar indoctrination.

Monday, October 9, 2006

New Book Review up on ktg words

See the sidebar for the book review on Good Omens.

Also. I'll post something soon.

Wheee!

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Stop in the name of Newton's First Law of Motion!

Wanna hear something really, really cool?

...


I am SO BORED.

As in, I am sitting here, in my office chair, with absolutely nothing to do for almost two whole hours.

Isn't that WONDERFUL?!?! Whhheeeeehahahahahaha!

(if you think this post is ironic, you are so out of the loop.)

In the words of the inimitable Hoops & YoYo: "Happy sunny day! Happy sunny day!"

I think I'm gonna go sit still for a while.*



~~~~~~~~~~
*"why not blog, while you've got the time?" you might ask. . . . . . I think I'll save that for later. Because I can! Mwuahahahahahaha! Power! I have the power!**


~~~~~
** okay, no more maniacal laughter. I go relax now. Bye-bye!

Monday, September 11, 2006

September, what?

Wait, wait, wait.

It's what date? September 11th? I don't want to post about that since everyone is going to post about that. **

insert your own...
- remembrances - anger - bitterness - sorrow - politics - pictures - songs - poems - lists of lost -

I know my feelings on this. You know them too: you experienced / are experiencing them today, we all have been. for 5 years.

5 years. Sheesh.

I won't tell you to "Never Forget" and put up a horrifying picture of the devastation in NY. I won't play a patriotic tune and tell you that you need to march forth to prove your inner staunchness. I won't tell you that I spent all morning weeping as I remembered that day. That's not what grieving is about.

Listen to something lovely and aching today. Look into the air as an airplane passes over and pray a little. Hold someone's hand. Laugh and be joyful all by yourself. You can. It's allowed. Go to a memorial service and make congregational reponses. Stare into space. Sing a sad little song that hurts your heart. Write an essay. Write a letter. Talk. Be silent.

You can look at a flag drifting on the wind at half-mast and know peace. It's not sacriledge. You are also allowed to feel fury. Emptiness. Patriotism. Frustration. Today's the day we remember. Tomorrow's the day we keep going, as we always have. As we must.

So, mourn in your own way, as I'll do in mine. I'll also be with you, if you need it. Today and tomorrow and on.

Does this sound bitter? Distant? I hope not - that's not what I intend. Encouraging, if anything. Be well, all.

-ktg

~~~~~~
Oh. I just did post, didn't I? Ah me. I might as well say, "I am speechless." Like will ever happen.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Revelations of Cosmic Import.

Sci-fi geeks and NASA scientists punched the air and possibly did a little moonwalk across their living rooms when this news burst onto the scene yesterday.

Oh yeah. And you thought we were nuts. Ha!

Go here for more background info on all the excitement. Don't you just love it when a possibility becomes a reality?

Why is this important, then? Ever heard of the "Big Bang"? Yeah, well, dark matter is another piece in the puzzle that, once completed (if ever, really) will explain the origin of the universe (see "Big Bang nucleosynthesis"). I'd say that's rather significant. Also, it's really, really cool. It supposedly shifts galaxy orbits and velocities... the reason the universe moves around, spins, expands.

But what is it, really? Is it, as Stephen Baxter in Vacuum Diagrams proposes, evidence for life in another form? Access to another dimension? Ooh ooh, the possibilities, as always, are infinite.

Oh, Happy Day!


Monday, August 14, 2006

Peek-a-Boo!















See that? Up there? Yeah, that's me lately. Running around so fast, so hither-thither, I'm not even a blur; I may have actually traveled through the brane of the universe, on a singularity, bent around a quantum function, crossing over the fold in space-time on a cosmic string...

Okay, soooooo... too much hard SF lately (although I'll probably post a review of Stephen Baxter's Vacuum Diagrams here in a bit) and not enough Buffy. Oh, wait. How about: not enough Spike TV. No, um, hold on. ...come on, Karen, think of something normal, possibly even girly or something... Yeah, like, not enough Project Runway, and stuff. (Anita, I am definitely teasing. Please do not wrap me up in too-tight white pants and frowzy silver lamé blouse! You were right about the Pam Grier, though. So awesome!)

Ya'll want an update or something?

Well, here's where I'll be working this fall (click weekday links for location):

Monday , Wednesday , Friday

Tuesday , Thursday
And wherever else I can find work for the remaining 20 hours of my week.

So, yes, I did get a job (or 2), and though not exactly the position I wanted (the full-time gig at GSC), I now have some good stuffs to add to the old curriculum vitae. I also have a lead on a weekend spot with another company for a few weeks in the fall that will add some cash to the budget. It's going to be a long, hard, haul, but I have faith that I'm being looked after. It's funny - lately it seems as ifGodd has been sort of having a good time with me, as if he's just wanting to point out, again and again, that I'll be taken care of, no matter how fearful I am.

I mean, He sent me my dearest friends. And, actually, that's the topic that I wanted to post on today. Friendship. I sometimes sit back in completely wonderment at the abundance of good people in my life. It's almostunbelievablee that I could be so lucky as to have such... outstanding? amazing? phenomenal? friends around me. One friend helps me paint my living room into the wee hours, never complaining a single time as I demand that she fill in the holes in the wall with extra paint and be extra careful not to get any on the baseboards, since I force her to do the dreadful "detail work" at the edges of the walls. Then she grins and invites me to lunch the very next day. And that's only one day - her kindnesses, both the small and the gigantic, happen every day, in unnumbered ways.

Another buys me lunch because she wants to spend time with me. Did you get that? She buys me lunch just so that we can hang out. Then she gets me a job for a bit of extra moolah, we work together for eight hours, and she STILL wants me to sit with her at her house to watch an episode of Deadwood that she's already seen. She even poured me a glass of Diet Cherry Coke and brought it to my lazy-butt-self on the couch. Girl is so tired she passes out on the other couch as I make loud comments and shouts of surprise during the show, completely disregarding her poor sleepy self. Yet another friend just makes my day happy with an extra beef enchilada and hours of good talking. Not to mention, of course, miles of bookshelves and bowtie festival pasta. They help me calm down when I have a job/money/men/schedule freakout (prior to the exciting news mentioned above). Another, going out for super-cheap sushi, talking about the former / sometimes men we can't seem to extricate from, laughing out loud and listening close, and just letting me know she wants to spend some time.

Friends who lend you grocery money. Give you mattresses and appliances. Get you a job.

Friends that want to see you because they want to see you. Not to get anything, not to take care of you. Just to hang out, be together, laugh, all that.

It's funny: I've written on this topic before, in rather a different vein, but I'll reiterate here. I've spent most of my life believing that I'm not very good at being friends with women, but I've learned that some of the most important relationships in my life are with these women that have come into my life in the past few years. I just hope that I can be as good a friend to them as they are to me. It'll definitely take some work - they really do take care of me in the most astounding ways.

I am the luckiest girl in the world. (a bit gushy - I knew I'd get around to being girly.)*

And... I'm BACK!

~~~~~~~~~~~
* No, this blog did not suddenly morph into the We Channel. Geek-girl-super-sonic-knit-kicking will be back soon.

Friday, July 28, 2006

Spicy dicey.

This scarf is actually rather pretty, in a feisty, Mardi Gras kind of way. It was a gift for my (wicked)* stepmother's birthday. I used the same gorgeous-yet-horrific rayon bouclé from Fiesta Yarns' La Bohéme collection that I used for my mom's shawl, except in Jamaican Spice. Anyway, here's a dreadful picture of it. I tried to color-correct, but I'm still learning about white-balance.


I won't include the mortifying details of the creation of this project, as the yarn became more snarled and tangled than the relationships in the 2nd season of LOST, and as I realized that I know more curse words than any decent English teacher should. "Blast" and "darnit" don't count, by the way. All I will say is that it is only advisable in the most extreme circumstances to ever, EVER cut the knots out of a skein of yarn. I wove in something like . . . oh, I dunno, eight or nine dangling ends. Not counting the bind off length. For a single-skein scarf.

The great news is that the drape of the fabric is just about that which I'd hoped. I worked on size 10 circulars, knitting flat, and the guage made the scarf lightweight, but not overly flimsy. It's 26 stitches wide, so that when it hangs around the neck, it folds and twists in a suprisingly flattering way (are you noticing all of the "f" adjectives? no idea where that comes from . . .) I had considered fringes, but the nature of the yarn made that an unnattractive option, since it was so splitty that the fringes just looked messy. The edges don't seem very "neat," but with the drape and the width, they almost seem purposefully ruffle-y. Folded in a drawer or elsewhere, the scarf may appear less-than finished, but I think it will be perfect on a black suit, even for a more formal occasion. I'm sure that Peggy will have a great place to wear it.

And now! I have five whole rounds done on the Honeymoon Cami. I am no longer afraid! The pattern is emerging from the needles, and I wish I could express how thrilling that is! Now I have something to fully occupy my poor anxious brain while I wait for . . . The Phone Call. From those people (about the job).

Seriously. It's got to be soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~
*
Peggy is not really "wicked." She is the rare breed of stepmother that doesn't usually appear in fairy tales. She's actually a cool lady. (do I get my favored child status back now?)

† What did I learn from this project, you ask? Since my goal is to learn something each project, here's my response. Do not ever, ever, ever, EVER buy rayon bouclé again. Ever. And don't cut knots in frustration. And use a white piece of paper for white balance in photographs. I am now enlightened. The end.


Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Beyond the Tesseract

This is the kind of geek that I am.

Imagining the Tenth Dimension.

Please, enjoy. Learn. Be enlightened.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Anticipation.

sucks.



And yet, I must wait, fingers crossed and eyes lifted heavenward. Oh, help me have faith in what must be.

(meanwhile... tap, tap tap goes my foot.)

~~~
degré de solvabilité d'image: Dessin Gwendal, de Massilia Sound System. du cet site Web

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

"Do you not hear me speak?" UPDATED!

I have just been cast as "Antonia," the female version of Antonio, in Town and Gown's production of William Shakespeare's The Tempest. Yeah, she's the bad guy. Wicked, scheming, devious, evil... we love her.

And I would put someone else's role up here, too, but I'll let her share the news.

At the request of my readers, I add the show dates:

September 22 - 24
and
September 29 - October 1

Town and Gown Theater
Athens, GA

Fri-Sat: 8pm
Sun: 2pm

Thursday, July 6, 2006

I hope you're hungry.

This from a friend to whom I send many kudos.

Poetry, dear readers. That's what this is. Beautiful, beautiful, poetry.

(po'tree, even)

Tuesday, July 4, 2006

Happy Birthday, Mom!

My mom celebrated her birthday on Sunday, and though she probably hasn't received her gift quite yet, she's already seen the pictures I'm including here.

On a close inspection of my face, it appears
that I must be about to say something terribly profound.
Too bad you'll never know what it is...


The shawl that I made is from a super-easy pattern (CO 36, knit one row, increase second stitch of every subsequent row, BO, weave in ends, and voilá!) But the yarn, OH that yarn. So pretty, so tempting, with its tasty colors/flavors (raspberry mocha is the one I chose for my mom). On the size 15 needles, however, the bubbly rayon bouclé that looks so enticing dangling from the yarn store rack rapidly became the stuff of nightmares. It took almost two months to create this supposedly "simple" pattern, as I started and stopped and ripped and shouted my way through the first 20 rows.

"Oh no," I'd think, "did I remember to increase this row?" Well... since my original 36 stitches have now increased to over 50, but also since I haven't been counting and it's impossible to count rows with this yarn, I'll guess, "no," and go ahead and increase riiiiiight now.

Ring, ring. "Hello," I answer the phone, holding my knitting less-than-perfectly-carefully in my other hand, watching in horror as the giant stitches of bubbly yarn slipped off the needle before my helpless eyes. Where did they go? Lost forever! Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!! Over and again I dropped these ridiculous stitches. I once was just sitting and knitting with Mel when I glanced in her direction to laugh and then looked back: at 3 dropped stitches.

Suffice to say, by row 112 (or so), I had learned to find those pesky fallen friends and wind them all the way back up to my live row. At one point a little one had slithered its way down 6 rows, but with my now-well-trained eyes, I caught the little bugger and twisted him back up to where he belonged. I can barely express my self-satisfaction at that point. Ha-HA!

Melanie, again, proved a lifesaver. Apparently, this skein was two smaller skeins knotted together, which, in my infinite observational skills, I failed to notice until about 1/3 of the way through the row in which the knot should appear. In her infinite wisdom and patience, Mel helped me go backwards through the tangled jungle of rayon insanity and start the second 1/2 of the skein at the edge. How she accomplished it, I'll never know, since I still can't see the RS or WS of the knitting with this stuff.

I learned quite a bit on this super-easy pattern, of which the quality of perserverance as it applies to knitting is not the least. I also learned to beware of rayon bouclé. Its dangers sneak up and nip, nip, nip, until the "little project" turns into a marathon. The point, however, is that I have accomplished my general knitting goal, even with something this seemingly straightforward, which is to learn something new from every piece that I create. Thanks, Mom, for that, even though you had no idea you were still learnin' me sumthin'.


Happy Birthday, Mom!
I hope you get to wear it somewhere delightful!

Friday, June 30, 2006

Orbs.





What is this? Is it an orb, of the kind the Ghost Hunters† are always seeking? Or is it a conveniently place flying object, of a dust-mote sensibility?





On Wednesday night, Brooke, Jenna, and myself, armed with chocolate-chip cookies and red wine, put ourselves in the enviable position of seekers of the paranormal (I say "enviable" with confidence because you and I both know you wish you had been there). We spent several hours, four in fact, sitting in a cell in the Old Greensboro Gaol, built in downtown Greensboro GA in 1807. We made it until midnight, when our rear-ends had had just about enough of paranormal scouting for the night. I almost finished my knitting project (which shall remain a secret for a bit, since it's a gift to be mailed today), and Jenna read some lovely Latino/a short stories, one of which is rather appropriately titled: "The Night the Lights Went Out." We made a unanimous decision that reading that particular tale out loud was not the best option in the spooky jail cell.

So, about this place. It's a two-story, granite, well, I can't exactly say "monolith," though the two-foot-thick walls certainly project fortitude (ya' like that, IRD teachers?), but perhaps stronghold? Small citadel? According to the brochure, the prisoners were apparently hung, rather than hanged, and OH how it hurts the grammarian of my heart - even as it provides rather ridiculously easy fodder for gutter humor. I like this description of their demise better (an actual detail from the Historical Marker just outside): "When the hangman pulled the lever that controlled the trap door, the culprit was...


Upstairs, to the far left, dangles a noose . . .


And, once the Executioner, a.k.a. the County Sheriff, pulls the lever attached to the stairs . . .








so does the prisoner. Dangle, that is. Down this hole.












(See that bright light? I think that must be eternity.)


Aside from that, the prisoners of this squat edifice made a home in either one of two ground floor cells, less than 2 feet from the main door, behind gridded iron doors, and had no windows or privy. Heavy iron chains are attached to the wall, "just in case." The rickety, unnerving stair to the second floor is to the right of the door, 6 steps up, pivot, 4 more...and you're facing the noose, dead (ha) ahead. To your right, from the top of the stairs, is the penthouse: a larger cell, usually reserved for the non-violent criminals. Like child molesters. I kid you not.


I took this shot facing the door, as the "chandelier" lights glinted with only the reflection of sunlight from the two top-floor windows, and the darkness encroached from the corners. Jenna had my back as I took this, and the other shots, while Brooked manned the light switch downstairs. I shouted "Off!" and the world went dark. I shouted "On!" rather hastily, as I got each shot and started to feel my neck hairs prickle as the dark crept close.

This upstairs cell is probably the only area of the Old Gaol that felt like anything at all. The air was weighty, even while the sun was up, and its stuffiness seemed like more than the usual summer heat in a closed space. It was difficult to breathe, and I definitely didn't like it. I politely asked the whatever-may-be-up-theres to show themselves, if they liked, because I am fascinated by them and don't want to disturb them. I don't know if "they" exist in that place, and much less if "they" made an appearance, but I did get that seeming "orb" just after my request. Granted, I was standing directly in front of a working floodlight, aimed at the ceiling, so it's probably weak evidence. Interesting, nonetheless.

The three of us gradually became more and more comfortable with the place, especially as we practiced our own variations of "whistling in the dark." We all chatted sporadically, Brooke enjoyed her Esquire, Jenna laughed at her reading, and I shifted any nervousness I had towards the open door to the building, watching for pranking teenagers or more questionable visitors. The only visitation we experienced as we sat in the musty, hot cell downstairs, was a black cat. I caught a glimpse of a twisting shadow outside, and then the glint of green eyes in the dark beneath the trees. He ran away before we could get over to him, but it was a rather appropriate high point to our night.

No EVPs, no shadows, no electromagnetic readings. Just three women enjoying a steamy summer night in an old Georgia gaol, half-hoping for a spooky experience, half-relieved that all stayed quiet on the paranormal front.

And then...





~~

† See also: TAPS official website, and the Georgia Ghost Hounds. Yeah. I'm a nerd. You knew this.

§ No Jennas were actually harmed in the making of this blog.




Monday, June 26, 2006

Welcome home, Melanie and Nate

I'll post more about the grand return of the Childers later, but I wanted my readers to see the kind of parties we throw 'round about these parts.

Thanks to Reuben Bennett for reminding us that it's waaay more fun to make carbonated beverages explode than it is to drink ourselves into oblivion. Hurray to the little kid in all of us!

    Experiment Requirements:
  • 1 2-Liter of Diet Coke
  • 4 Mentos (the Freshmaker!)
  • a group of people that like to watch things go "kablooie!"

It's just that easy, kids! Please, try this at home!

And be sure to thank the amazing Brooke Hatfield for her photographic amazingness. Not to mention her astounding fashion sense. (girl knows how to kick it!)

Friday, June 23, 2006

Totally lied.

'Cause I'm back to make you laugh a little on a Friday afternoon.

Best. Onion article. EVER. (from Ejannnena.)

Oh, and I went for a run this morning in my spiffy new shoes. So awesomely awesome. Except for the part where I paid $89, and now I see that they are less than $70! Ah well. The pain I suffer for my addiction...

And NOW!! The Great's Schedule, redux.


    Sunday
  • 9:30am-7pm - teaching with IRD in Duluth*
  • 9pm-10pm - Deadwood, on HBO

    Monday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconee† (tutoring)
  • 2pm-10pm - teaching with IRD in Decatur

    Tuesday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconee (tutoring)
  • 3:30-5pm - continuing training for IRD
  • 6pm-7:30pm - jiu-jitsu

    Wednesday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconee (tutoring)
  • 4pm-7pm - Martial Arts (and STORM team teaching)

    Thursday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconee (tutoring)
  • 2pm-5pm - working on writing, getting published°
  • 6pm-7:30pm - jiu-jitsu
  • 7:30pm-8:30pm - open mat (optional)

    Friday
  • 10am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconee (tutoring)

    Saturday
  • 7:30am-5:30pm - teaching with IRD in Snellville
  • 5:30pm-midnight - whatever the heck I feel like doing.∞

~~~~~~~~~~

* All IRD teaching times include driving time. (for which I get paid, btw)

† Why didn't anyone mention that in the previous schedule post I misspelled "Oconee" every single time?! (and I bet now you're gonna go look, just so you can have a good laugh at my expense. Yeah, go ahead, laugh. But now you know that I know that you didn't notice, either! So, there, HA!)

° I like footnotes!

∞ Any suggestions?

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Yeah, so...

Probably going away for a while. Just a warning. But I'll be back. Ohhhh, yes, I'll be back.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

George R.R. Martin

This one was SO GOOD. And now this one is sooooo goooood. Must post review soon!

I have almost nothing to say about this right now except:

GO OUT AND BUY THE FIRST BOOK!

\I'm going to read for 5 minutes before the meeting. Maybe even during the meeting. Then in the 15 minutes between classes. I won't attempt to read while driving, though I'm tempted.

Currently pondering: what unnecessary item in my apartment can I sell to get the money to get the next installment... any ideas, readers?

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Tuesday, Belgium, etc.

Tuesday is not my favorite day. Mondays are the traditional "rough day" for most folks, starting out the workweek after weekend, getting back into the daily grind, taking care of business (every day!), working your way to the top, eight days a week, 16 tons...[insert your favorite cliché or song lyric here].

But for me, Tuesdays are the bane of my... um... something.

I actually started this post yesterday, a Tuesday, but the very nature of that 24-hour period of marked time rendered completion of any project nearly impossible. I couldn't even finish a single round of knitting on the Honeymoon Cami. Melanie, my hero and my Wonderwoman** friend, helped me unknit/unravel/rip out/bang-head-on-wall, and then proceeded to help me cast on again - all 183 stitches. I'm not much into all the tacky pop-culture angel thing, but she's pretty much the definition of one of those helpful guardian flying creatures. Except for the flying part.

Now that it's all over, however, I don't actually feel the need to vent or complain about the bumpiness of my interaction with the world yesterday. Melanie clarified it for me, as I fidgeted and fussed about getting everything done and getting everywhere I needed to be: "Okay," says she, "What can you control today?" She was so right, it was like a punch in the face. Although significantly less painful, it was a real awakening (sans Kate Chopin and/or Robert DeNiro).

Sometimes I feel like these grand "revelations" that I come to, despite that term's overtones of impending armageddon and subsequent rapture, are simply melodramatic attempts to justify previously unhealthy behavior. But then I realize that neither the catalyst for the lightning-bolt enlightenment (intentional pun, thank you) nor the manner of expression are relevant at all; indeed, the decision to make a change is all that matters.

Case in point: me, and scheduling every moment of every day, so much so that I am never, ever, sitting still. Rather, I am always "on my way..." somewhere, to do something, and I'm only ever just going to make it on time. It isn't as fun, or exciting as it sounds, believe me. Call me crazy, but sometimes having too many interests just ain't all it's cracked up to be. I thank Bilbo and Mr. Tolkien for the best analogy: "I feel thin, like butter spread over too much bread." (No, I am not wearing a Ring of Power. Neither am I going Gollum on you, my preciousss readersss)

Ooookay... with that in mind, I end this post with this thought:

What can I control today? My happiness, and my attempts to bring a little happiness to others. That's my Wednesday for you. So long Belgium!

~~~~~~

**Note: I wanted to use this as a link, but I didn't think Mel would appreciate. I dare you to look and not at least giggle a little, though.

Friday, May 26, 2006

The Summer Schedule, Part I (edited, again)

This schedule isn't really set in stone, so much as carved into a bright blue bar of Dial soap. Because, you see, time is like water - it gradually wears away all of our plans, slowly fading our intentions into first abbreviations, then memories. It's a place to start, darn it!

the GREAT summer schedule:


    Sunday
  • 10:30am-2:45pm - teaching with IRD
  • 9pm-10pm - Deadwood, on HBO

    Monday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconne (tutoring)
  • 3pm-10pm - teaching with IRD

    Tuesday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconne (tutoring)
  • 3:30-5pm - continuing training for IRD
  • 6pm-7:30pm - jiu-jitsu

    Wednesday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconne (tutoring)
  • 4pm-7pm - Martial Arts (and STORM team teaching)
  • 9pm-10pm - Ghost Hunters on SciFi

    Thursday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconne (tutoring)
  • 2pm-5pm - working on writing, getting published
  • 6pm-8:30pm - jiu-jitsu, open mat

    Friday
  • 9am-1pm - Gainesville State College, Oconne (tutoring)

    Saturday
  • 8:30am-3pm - teaching with IRD
  • 3-12am - whatever the heck I feel like doing.



Hey, it's a start, people! It will change on July 5, and again on July 10. Charge on!

(cross your fingers that the July 10 change will be a j.o.b. that is full-time with a certain c.o.l.l.e.g.e. Fingers AND toes, please.)



Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Eye of the book-holder.

Now I know how my books feel as I sit at 2am snuggled under my comforter...while I eat breakfast...on airplanes and in airports...beside the pool in the sunshine...on the 'L in Chicago, the subway in NY...they must feel almost like they're being watched.


Peering into depths of theme and character, seeking insight and creativity, abhorring pretension but honoring craft. Looking long and deep into, behind, and amongst the sparkling words on the page into the galaxies of story. *Sigh.* I wish I could read all day, every day. BOOKS RULE!


Current "Can't Put it Down" Reading: Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin. Keep your eyes peeled for a review on ktg's reviews. Also, I'll have a new one up for We soon, even as I write an article on accessible sci-fi for "...a magazine that I won't name yet because the article isn't pbulished yet...". I'll let you know when that gets published, then I'll post the article on the reviews blog.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Lizzie B. (Bennet, NOT Borden)

Well, I guess that's a good thing - although I note with chagrin that Marianne is a close 2nd. Ahem. (Note to self: Watch out for impulsive, overly emotive behavior!)

You scored as Elizabeth Bennet. As one of Austen's most beloved characters, Elizabeth Bennet represents what most women would like to become: strong, independent, and loyal. Of course, she has her faults including a stubborn will of iron and a clinging to first impressions. Overall, Lizzie is bright and lovable...something to admire and aspire to.

Elizabeth Bennet


78%

Marianne Dashwood


63%

Jane Bennet


53%

Emma Woodhouse


53%

Elinor Dashwood


47%

Lady Catherine


19%

Charlotte Lucas


19%

Which Jane Austen Character are You? (For Females) Long Quiz!!!
created with QuizFarm.com

Saturday, May 6, 2006

Hey, I've gotta joke...

Please, go to this site. Please.

I think my neighbors hate me... I laughed SO LOUDLY at these. Genius. Especially Einstein. But get this: the penguin voicemails are actual messages that this guy has received, which he then "penguinized."

If the idea of penguinized voicemails doesn't get your attention, I don't know what else to tell you. Get over there!

Wednesday, May 3, 2006

Watch that Swatch!

I did it! I finished my first swatch for my first garment! And you thought that I'd given up knitting for good. Harumph.

I've decided to go relatively easy on myself with this lovely "Honeymoon Cami" from knitty.com. If you've never been to that site, it boasts an extensive list of FREE patterns that are actually wearable...as opposed to some of the other "free" sites that make you think, "yeah, free of any kind of style or aesthetic sensibility." Visit them often, keep them up and running, because we love them.

Here's the swatch. It's GREEN! We LOVE GREEN! (I should never have watched that mini-series on Queen Elizabeth I. The royal "we" is addicting).



But wait! I'm sure that the eJ will have her swatch up for her... garment soon. I won't give away any secrets, but she is going to demonstrate her true astoundingness in the very near future. And if you haven't visited Anita's little abode and checked out her "KPS Tee," you need to get on over there. She's a role model for all of us.

And Mel? Man, that woman has some prettiness going on with her Prairie Tunic. Mosey on over there, friends, and watch her saga unfold. Or, at least, unfurl.

For those of you who visit my site for fierce and fiery rants and diamond-edged humor, and are taken aback at the knittable gushing, read the previous posts and fear not: I'll keep the silliness coming.

In fact, here's an oddment for today.



Last week, while Jenna and Darren (a.k.a., "The Killer Grems") were at my place watching TV with me, MythBusters was on, and I, in a state of somnolescent frenzy, fell sound asleep. Now that's a hostess for you. Jenna snapped this while I snoozed on the (in)famous couch. Yes, I really am asleep here, and No, this is not the first time I have fallen asleep on the couch sitting straight up. Remember this? Yeah, well, now there are witnesses. Gotta quit that nonsense!

Speaking of nonsense, a bit of, um, "poetry" for you:

The sun is shining, the sky is blue,
Nature's calling out to you,
Spring is here, but moving fast
So get outside and have a blast!
Or else I'll hunt you down and say,
"Why in the world aren't you outside, enjoying the afternoon! Do I have to come over there?! You do not wanna make me come over there!"

Happy Wednesday, ya'll.

Tuesday, May 2, 2006

ctrl+alt+del

Restart program.

Yeah, so today started out seriously, seriously, inside out. Got up on the wrong side of the bed and everything...and believe me, that's a feat when my bed is pushed up against the wall.

So first, Melanie made me laugh with some Penny Arcade and a manbearpig. (I am so totally cereal!). And yes, pontificators and pundits, we definitely get that it's a riff on Al Gore's evangelical environmentalism. I'm not even going to link that, b/c so many bloggers have commented on it. Duh and double-duh. Thanks for the insight, oh sage webwrights. But I digress... and become snarky.*

I was going to post this picture:



But I determined that it would be nothing less than a ridiculous bid for pity. Although... didn't I negate my positive decision to move away from martyrdom by subsequently posting the picture anyway and thereby surreptitiously (for you, eJ) obligating my readers' sympathy? I must be careful, or I'll end up ripping a hole in the time-space-continuum.**


I am cheering myself with silliness, the best, and actually most offensive, is the e-greeting card site listed in the next paragraph. I warn you, if you are easily offended by swear words, or if you don't like SouthPark and other suchlike humor (see above: manbearpig) then I strongly advise you to visit this site instead.

Otherwise, go laugh, albeit with a shocked expression, at the Grumpy Llama. And please, don't hate me forever because I posted a link to something a little off-color. Seriously... although I guess if everyone gets all a-flutter about it, I might change it out.

If you'd rather have some more geekiness in your life, go to Wil Wheaton's blog. Yes, he was Wesley Crusher, of the inimitable (man I love that word) Star Trek: The Next Generation, but he is also a fantastic writer and total, utter, and complete geek. We love him. And come on, you know you watched TNG when you were a kid.

The End. I leave you with the sweetest pic EVER of my nephew Jackson. And for those in the know, this is Jackson #1, of Dave and Jodi.


Now if that doesn't make you grin, nuthin' will. Have a wonderful day, dear readers!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*(aside:Ooh! Ooh! A footnote!) You might notice my lack of patience for pretension. Also, my affinity for alliteration and assonance.
** And you thought it would be a Back to the Future link. Crafty, ain't I?


Monday, April 24, 2006

Attack of the Killer Grems.

My friends, Darren and Jenna, really love each other. In fact, they married each other. Sometimes I wonder, however, about all of the aggression. Like at my birthday party in March, and in public, no less! (Okay, so it was the Taco Stand, and yes, they've probably seen weirder things).

Darren makes the first strike, moving in for the rear choke attack!




What the...?! I'm completely dazed and confused at this random, senseless attack!



Steve and Anita find the whole thing amusing, not realizing the gravity of the situation. They're just here for the booze anyway.



Unlike Grover, who eats when he is anxious. He calms himself with a tortilla chip, and tries to pretend nothing is happening.



I decide that Grover has the right idea, and cheer myself up with a delicious Cadbury Egg.™ Mmmm...mmmm.........



Brooke wishes she was in on the action, and flexes her phalanges in anticipation. If only she had a throat to wrap those fingers around.



But Jenna comes back with a knockout for the win! Jenna wins! Jenna wins!



This, my dear readers, just shows to go you, that I have really awesome friends that know how to throw a surprise birthday party! Sorry for the long delay in getting these pics out there, but hope you enjoyed the show.

Happy MONDAY!! I'm a whole day early!

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

"Brevity is the soul of wit..."

(And, if you'll recall, that was part of the humor of Polonius's characterization, for he was hardly ever concise in speech)

Well, my gentle readers, I have neglected you for quite long enough.
So, since it's only 10am and I have had NO COFFEE, this post will undoubtedly be malapropos, inchoate, and laconic. And plus I wanted to use those groovy words.

I started to write a really personal post today, but decided against it. This is a public forum, and the eerie awareness of friends and strangers sort of peering over my shoulder really gives me pause sometimes. Unless I'm ranting, of course. But an intimate discussion of my deep emotional concerns sometimes seems a little - - - self-indulgent, actually. I know most of you come here because you think I'm so awesome and everything, but I don't imagine you need to read all that junx (the eJ and the Anita will certainly both note the attempt at linguistic humor as a deflection from the possible emotional exposition). Ahem.

I will say this, however: an email that the j to the enna sent me last week is still rolling around in my head, in that way that only things that are so-true-they-sting-a-little do. Girl knows her stuff, and her timing is astonishing. The subject line of the message was: "When God pounds us repeatedly over the head," and in it, she quoted a friend-of-a-friend's blog comment. Bit of a long chain of communication, but that doesn't make the comment any less poignant, or any less startlingly apt:

"if we are beginning to learn that God is strong -
prepare to feel weak, and if we are learning that God
fills our needs - prepare to be keenly aware of your
neediness"


So...finding a church and a small group and fellowship and support has given me strength and new eyes to see the world - or, at least, has polished up the old ones - but it sure hasn't made things easier. But at least I know where I have to go to find rest, and where I can, and should, lay my burdens.

On an entirely different note (I think maybe...C#...) a friend of mine, Dave Marck, of the inimitable duo, Shelley and Dave, wrote this in the local "independent, student-run" newspaper. One can only imagine the level of ignorance and bad writing typical of this paper, and you Athens locals can do more than imagine: you've probably been subjected to the agonies of those editorial/opinion/ill-informed articles. Dave, however, is a former editor and a darn good writer, and he wrote the linked article in response to an opinion piece by a philosophy major here at UGA. A philosophy major, writing about the American Soldiers and their bad behavior in Iraq, blaming them, rather than the government. I'll let you read the articles and the responses without my own opinion (yet!), but I will say this: I agree that the philosophy brat is a pompous a**. And you all know how I react to pomposity.

That's all for today, boys and girls. I'll have plenty more to say tomorrow. And what is it with me and Tuesdays, anyway?

Friday, April 14, 2006

Mmmmm...coookies...




You Are a Smiley Face Cookie



You're happy go lucky. So happy, in fact, it's a little past the point of normal sanity.

You usually make those around you smile ... when you're not creeping them out!

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

When knowing is half the battle.

Okay, so I don't really have that much to do as I sit around the Gainesville State College (Oconee campus) Library, waiting for the possibility of a student who needs writing help. I guess one might argue that the potential, the waiting itself, is a kind of exciting suspense...but I think that that one would really need to get a life, and maybe go see a scary movie. (But take me, 'cause I want to see this).

I have officially declared that this week is "Get Papers Ready for Possible Publication Week." A newly created holiday, though not as cool as this one. Which means that I spend about an hour every day looking over my previous writing and editing it a bit, another 1/2 hour researching potential journals, and probably about 15 minutes debating my worth as a scholar at all. Even in the field of Science Fiction, which I can now claim as "my field," since I officially have an M.A. with a thesis on that subject, and that makes me "one-of-the-gang," I feel like a kindergardener who somehow wandered into the reference section at Congressional Library. Look at all the pretty books! Oooooh...words...! And they even have Where the Wild Things Are! . . . which I suppose is in the reference section for some doctoral candidate who's writing a dissertation on... Songs of Innocence: the subjectivity of story in children's narrative. Or something.

Anyway, it's like that old commercial on NBC, with all of the movie-stars and rock-idols making obvious statements about how to live your life: "The More You Know." The only thing is, those sage-like celebrities never finished the dratted sentence. It should be: "The More You Know, The More You Realize the Indescribable Vastness of the Previous Research and Thought in Your Field and Thus Your Own Pathetic Peon-like Quantities of Knowledge in Said Field." Or, in layman's terms (for the general populace - this is Public Access, after all) "The More You Realize You Know Nothing At All." And, for the harsher of tongue and the generally flippant, "The More You Realize You Suck Big Time."

I have a plan, however. Today, even though I was seriously distracted by my older papers and their possibilities, I will restrict myself to only the main one, The Big One, as it were, and its potentialities. (Ya like that word, dontcha?). The Big One, the shattered remains of my thesis-become-presentation-become-publication, "The Grand Inquisitor: Seeking the Sublime in Alastair Reynolds' Revelation Space." I will finish it this week. You'll recall that this week is officially "Get Papers Ready for Possible Publication Week." Well, I will rephrase. From henceforth, this week shall be called, "Get One Paper Ready for Possible Publication Week." Less, pressure, you see.

I also want to add, before I head out, how proud I am of the Ej! She is mostly finished with her thesis, and she's still working as hard as ever to make it the best thing since sliced bread, instead of just a pretty good thing called bread. So anyway, she's pretty darn awesome. Go comment on her awesomeness at her blog. For you are finished here. This is the end. I'm going now. To work on stuff. Well?! Get outta here!

Oh, wait: Be sure to have a marvelous 3rd-day-of-the-week! (or second-day, if you're one of those crazy Latins or Europeans. Weirdos.).

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Bueller...? Bueller...?

Okay. So, I'm here. Or there. Or somewhere.

People have been requesting my current schedule, so that they can find me. Why they'd want that, I have no idea. And who are "they," anyway...

But here it is:

Monday thru Thursday:

    8am-12pm - - tutoring at GSC
    12pm-5:30pm - - grading at TSARS
    6pm-8:30pm - - martial arts (M & W only)
    6pm-7pm - - other workouts (T & Th only)
    9pm-11pm - - LOST and then Ghost Hunters (W only)
Friday:
    8am-5:30pm - - grading at TSARS
    6pm-7pm - - working out
Saturday:
    Whatever and Wherever the heck I want.
Sunday:
    10:30-12:00 - - Redeemer
    2pm-6pm - - tutoring at GSC


This will change, of course, in May. And again in June, and once more in July. But it's a start. Hopefully (cross your fingers and pray!) after July, my schedule will be set for at least a year. We hope hope hope.

Okay, I'll write more later. Joyeux mardi! ¡Feliz martes!

¡Hasta la vista!

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

WARNING! Super-Geeky Post. Normal friends beware.

My dear readers, you may remember my "birthday wish" post that I put up last week, as I struggled to find silliness and happiness in the midst of my 27-year-old-to-be gloom. I cheered myself with goofy links to farfetched wishes for gifts and to random pages that made me laugh. Turns out that someone took me at least partially seriously...

My little brother just moved to Austin, Texas, apparently the live-music capital of the world. I'm thinking it's not much more than Athens, GA with cowboy boots and prairie dogs, but Matthew is getting to love it (I think).

Anyway, the one thing that he and I have always had in common is an interest in video games: console, PC, and otherwise. Let me tell you, he was a bit disappointed that I bought a Mac laptop, since game programmers hardly ever make games for that platform. But I have WoW to keep me content, and that's all I need.

As time has gone by, our consoles have changed, as have our interests. I was formerly a strict Super Mario Brothers (esp. #3), Castlevania, and anything with fast cars and the option for manual shifting. Matt and Dave, my older brother, got into PC first-person shooters, like Half-Life and Counterstrike, and while I enjoyed the heck out of the storyline Half-Life, as well as Duke Nukem - really hilarious - the Doom series didn't appeal to me at all. I would say that it was the violence and gore, and perhaps I'd be somewhat correct, but really it was the stress and tension that arises when playing against others, usually 12-14-year-old angsty brats that like to snipe - and whine when nobody listens to their rants - that turned me off of most FPS. In college, though, I remember Matt and I playing Diablo on PS-1, for 8 hours straight one weekend that he came to visit me at JMU. Crazy fun, that game. With two players, it's always a battle to see who leads the way to the next engagement, and with Matthew and I, you know that's a good time.

Matt and I found common ground again in H.S. with a series on PlayStation that was so graphic, my mother banned it after Matt had already purchased it. He took it back to the store... only to buy it again several months later, when we got televisions in our own rooms and he could be sneaky about it. I know he re-bought it because I had fallen in love with it.

The game was Resident Evil, by Capcom. Ooooooh it was good. Replete with spooky sounds, slasher-flick camera angles, make-you-jump scare sequences, and crafty little puzzles to solve. It was like Castlevania on steroids. And with guns. RE-1 was the first RPG console game I'd completely beaten since Castlevania, back in the day. I mean, of course I'd beaten MegaMan and all of those fun Nintendo Games, as well as Sonic the Hedgehog on Sega Genesis, but this! This was something to accomplish. Those of you who've played - remember listening down a long hallway, with the camera view at an angle that rendered it impossible to see ahead, waiting to hear the sticky-stomp footsteps of a wandering zombie? What about the time you jumped - and you know you did - when those dogs first crashed through the line of windows?

It wasn't until RE-1 that I realized that the kinds of gaming that I prefer is the *gasp* RPG. You'll notice that, even now, I have a hard time expanding that acronym to Role-Playing-Game. RPG is a nice little euphemism for those of us just on the fringes of absolute geekdom. Or, those of us who like to believe we're on the fringes. Heh. I loved the idea of solving puzzles and advancing an interesting storyline, as well as battling the bad guys that were obvious bad guys, as opposed to the FPS that encouraged me to shoot other human beings on the opposing team. I guess one might argue that RE-1 isn't really an RPG, since it doesn't involve chance (dice-rolling, or saves, in RPG terms), or experience points, but you can alternatively argue that the increasing weapons capabilities and storage capacity is a form of character-leveling. At least I think so, and I'm the one writing the post. But for the sticklers, RE is technically a "Survival Horror" game. Whatever that means.

Anyway, after beating RE-1 (twice), I moved on to RE-2. I didn't find it as compelling as the first one, all though there were definitely more zombies. There was something about the puzzles being too easy and almost perfunctory that I found kind of bland. I didn't play Resident Evil just to shoot up some zombies, after all.

RE-3 rediscovered its creepy self, with new characters and monsters and puzzles and goriness. I won't give away any of the secrets, but I will say that players get fun prizes for beating this one.

Now, I could only play 2 and 3 because my awesome little brother "lent" me his PS-1 while I was at JMU, because he'd gotten a Nintendo 64, and because he was far more invested in EverQuest on his PC than in his console systems. When I moved to GA, the PS came with me...and, um... I finally returned Matt's Final Fantasy VII to him this past Christmas. Sorry, man. I didn't even play FF.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for my grad school career, RE-Code Veronica and RE-4 were released only for the PlayStation 2, which I did not have and had no intention of getting. Money was tight, and so was time. I happily played EQ for a while, until the game visuals outstripped my PC processor capacity. I didn't play much of anything until EQ-II, and that was only at home with the bros. Blizzard, brilliant company that they are, decided to release World of Warcraft as a dual-platform game, which means that we poor, oft-overlooked Mac gamers got in on the goods right at the beginning.

But I still missed my Resident Evil.

So, my brother continued his outstandingness this year, and actually sent me a PlayStation 2 for my birthday, along with a still-in-the-plastic copy of RE-4. Wow. WOW. Of course, it's wonderful for me in a selfish, time-consuming, geek-chick kind of way. But the best part is that for me, RE brings up the connection I have to my little brother. Yeah, I know, it's dorky. But it's important to me. I don't know, maybe he didn't even think of any of this when he bought it and had it sent; but it's still an incredibly thoughtful gesture to remember my favorite game of ALL TIME and send me the components I need to play it at the next level. I'm a lucky girl to have a brother like that.

I'll admit, I played for 5 or 10 minutes last night, just to see. It's beautiful. And, of course, horrific. I promise I'll get my work done before I get a memory card and start really playing...but when I do, you may just have to leave a message, 'cause I'll be busy for a few days.

Bro, you rock my face off. Even if you are a psuedo-commie-robot-space-cadet.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Reviews

If you know me, you know how I feel about books. It's no secret, really: I have an addiction to getting lost in a good story.

So, then, I have decided to do my best to maintain an updated and ongoing list of reviews of my reading material. I have my current reading in a list in the sidebar, and any books that are linked have reviews attached at my other blog, ktg-words.

I'll do what I can to keep up with it, and if you have book recommendations, please send 'em my way!

Friday, March 24, 2006

Thursday, March 23, 2006

In a hole in the ground...

There lived a Karen.

And she will stay there until it gets warm outside again.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

¡Lloro! ¡Lloro!

Not really... although I did drop two stitches in my yoga-wrap swatch and can't seem to find them anywhere. Did you take them?

Also...still waiting on the NY pics. I should be getting a digital camera for my birthday (please note the final entry)

What do I want for my birthday, you ask? Nothing, really. I'd like to hang out with my friends this weekend, and since most of us are poor students or young (read:poor) professionals, I hope that none of you actually think I'm seriously asking for any of these things - except for my brother, because he works so much - too much!! - overtime that he's became a good old Texas aristocrat.

But in the spirit of openness and soul-bearing-ness that blogging so insistently engenders, here's my current "Dream, dream, dream" list:

~~First, the reasonable – sort of. For my rich friends, anyway~~

~~And now, the dreamable.~~


~~and, finally...~~

  • Maple Leaf forever!(We can only hope they’re kidding).


    So, this is what I do when I'm bored. I'd write poetry, but the muse isn't singing to me today.

    But! It's cloudy, and rainy, and icky. Or so you might think, unless you are know this lovely little piece. Sure, it's about April, but it's still wonderful:

    April Rain Song

    Let the rain kiss you
    Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
    Let the rain sing you a lullaby
    The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
    The rain makes running pools in the gutter
    The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
    And I love the rain.
    ~Langston Hughes


    And then, of course, there's the unmistakable poet of our childhood:


    Rain

    I opened my eyes
    And looked up at the rain,
    And it dripped in my head
    And flowed into my brain,
    And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
    Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

    I step very softly,
    I walk very slow,
    I can't do a handstand--
    I might overflow,
    So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
    I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
    ~Shel Silverstein

Okay. The End. Happy Tuesday!!

Friday, March 17, 2006

Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit!

My Irish Name Is...

Clodagh O'Farrell


I PROMISE a NYC post coming soon! Waiting for pics - I have so much to tell, I might just write the post and add pics later...

Happy Leprechaun Awareness Day!

Wednesday, March 8, 2006

Racy Lace

Yesterday was a big day for the knitting, as Anita taught me, with great patience and wit, how to read a pattern diagram, to SSk (super-sonic knit!), and to YO. I started a swatch, CO-36, of the yarn I want to use for this gorgeous "Yoga Wrap". Even though the pattern calls for bulky, Anita and I decided to go with a worsted-weight green Alpaca blend...oooh so yummy...

It means changing the pattern, obviously, but since it is essentially just a great big rectangle with sleeves, the alterations should be fairly straightforward. Or so Anita says - I hope she's not just comforting the newbie!

As soon as I remember, I'll stick a pic of the yarn on here. I haven't completely decided that the green will look good as a large sweater-type-object, so I'm taking advice and comments. I'll also post a shot of the swatch.

Good times will be had by all!

Monday, March 6, 2006

My right to rant.

After reading Darren's post this morning, I decided that I needed to catch up on my Google News reading. So, for the past hour or so, I've been perusing publications from around the world on myriad topics: from Hamas's disinterest in Al'Quaida video-taped support of Palestinian policies to the sentencing of a Californian senator in the biggest corruption trial since the Teapot Dome Scandal. I read about Crash winning a "Best Picture" Oscar, and about Jenny McCarthy earning her Razzie.

The kicker? The reason for a second blog post just hours after the really-really-long previous one?

This story. This, unbelievably, disturbingly, heartbreakingly, confused and ridiculous attempt to somehow justify a woefully inept "educator's" (please note the heavy sarcasm here) pathetic lack of self-control and dearth of teaching ability.

Free speech?? For a teacher?? I don't care about the teacher's opinion; whether I agree or disagree with his comments, or the President's policies, for that matter, is utterly irrelevant. Teachers don't get "Free Speech" in a classroom. Yes, teachers need to lead students to think for themselves, absolutely, but we must never, EVER, not even for one tiny moment, forget that our audience, our students, are not only a captive audience, but are both under our control in the classroom AND rely on us for grades and our "opinion" of their thoughts.

How many of you, my good readers, have ever hedged on an opinion in middle school, high school, or college, because you were uncertain of the instructor's position on the issue? How many of you, and be honest here, have actually adjusted your comments because you wanted to ally (or, better, align) yourself with the overall atmosphere in the classroom? Oh, I'm certain that half of the comments I receive on this post will be the counter-argument, that students, especially in high school and at university, will purposefully disagree with a teacher or professor, for the sake of argument, or of rebellion. Even if one argues that students often take a stand against the teacher, even if one argues that the percentage of these students is greater than 5% (which would be a bit of a stretch, I assure you), why should they need to? Teachers provide an open, safe space for students to submit their opinions and to learn to structure arguments, not to allow students to agree or disagree with the teacher.

I have no clear idea as to the nature of this particular teacher’s (in CA – raise your hand if you’re surprised) infraction on this score, since I do not credit sound/text bites in a mainstream news source. I’d rather read the complete transcript of the student’s recording.* The item that set me off onto this rant is the title of the LA Times article. Teachers are not supposed to be indoctrinators, any more than they are to be baby-sitters, and the obviously established standard in the media – supposedly the “voice of the masses” – is that since parents aren’t teaching their children the correct political attitudes, the teachers are responsible for the civic and moral education of their little charges.

I am torn, as ever I am, between a desire to rush into a public school system and start to repair some of the damage before it’s too late – if it isn’t already - and an overwhelming urge to run in the opposite direction. Fight or flight?

As Mutant Enemy might say, “Grrr. Argh.”

* Although I must say, anyone with an ounce of sense, or a few World History classes, should recognize the absurdity of comparing the conservative president of a Constitutional Republic with the dictator of a fascist state. I mean, really.

Nikki Sixx.

Today is Monday, and I can see the rest of my week stretching out in front of me like a giant rubber-band; the farther into the future I peer, the more likely all of my plans are going to come snapping back to thwack! me on the nose. But in a good way. ‘Cause on Thursday I’ll be in New York City with Jenna, Jen, and Melanie!


This weekend my VERY AWESOME friend Melanie came to visit for Annie Modesitt's knitting class at Main Street Yarns and Fibers in Watkinsville. (Four links in one sentence! Rock on!) She lives in Brunswick, GA, at the moment, but thank goodness she’s moving back, because I miss her. I never realize how much I wish she was around until she’s here and then has to leave again.

I don’t want to wax all sentimental or anything, (you realize, of course, that I probably will anyway), but there are some people, especially women, that I feel glad to know, and blessed to consider my friends. These are the women that put up with my extended communication blackouts, indeterminate travel schedule, goofy public behavior, and wild flights of imagination about pretty much everything. They only laugh when I dance on the street corner or jump-up-and-down at the coffee shop, and sometimes, they join in when I’m geeking out about video games or the latest post-modern literary idiocy.

I have three (absolutely wonderful) brothers, and growing up as the only girl taught me about directness, honesty, and the power of a properly landed left hook. Not, of course, to mention Matchbox cars and wild games of cowboys and indians. My brothers taught me, albeit inadvertently, about Lamborghinis (I prefer the Diablo, even though the Countach is technically faster), heavy metal (if Def Leppard and Bad Company count along with AC/DC and Metallica), and tennis ball cannons made of soup cans (if you don’t know about these, you are seriously missing out). The whole “geek” thing? That’s Dave and Matt, all the way. Sorry, boys, your secret is out. You’re nerds, and you infected me. Remember, home is where the hearthstone is.

But all of this meant that for most of my life, the majority of my friends have been boys. They’re easier, right? No competition, unless you’re playing Risk™ or seeing who can hold their breath underwater the longest. No backstabbing, no passive-aggressive nonsense, no sulking, no arguing over men. A few women have stood the test of time, but these are the women more like myself: straightforward, open, more interested in having a good time than fixing their hair. Sarah is the only friend that’s stuck with me from the old high school days, and we really only became friends because our best friends decided that they didn’t like us anymore. Boo on them... except that I wouldn’t trade Sarah for anything. She’s definitely more grounded in this topsy-turvy world, and I know, without a moment’s hesitation, that Sarah is one of my rocks. And she rocks, so that’s cool.

Let me get to the point. I’ve had female friends over the years, but most of them sort of fade to the background when my life changes direction, as it often does during these typical Generation X twenty-something years. Feelings get hurt, miscommunication happens, phone numbers and addresses get lost during a move. It’s tough to keep girlfriends.

Yet. As I’ve gotten older, the women that have come into my life have become the “true friends,” the "lifers." Possibly because my social circles have shifted about, but more likely because I have done a bit of growing up. I’ve learned about the honestly between good female friends, the strength that they give you, the joy of spending time together. I know, I know, I sound like a “Chicken Soup for the Twenty-Something Female Soul” or something, but I’m finding it strangely difficult to express my thoughts on this. I guess, hmmmm... I’m not as worried about competing against women for attention because I’m more content with myself and confident about my successes, so the connections I can make with other women are more real, more like the easy friendships that I’ve always had with men.

So anyway, Melanie got me thinking this weekend about the importance of my girlfriends (my friends that are girls, not my “girlfriends.” Come on now, let’s don’t be silly). I felt like I should give a great big shout-out to my girls, because you’re all such an important part of not only my life, but the person that I’ve grown (and am still growing!) into.* So, cheers to you all! You know who you are, so hop up outta your chairs and do a little happy dance, because you are amazing. Boys, you can dance, too, because you're awesome, too.

And, oh yeah, I started two new knitting projects. More info on those this afternoon.

Happy Monday, girls and boys!

* for Jenna – I know! Dangling prepositions everywhere! Aaaacck!
** Yes, I know that Nikki Sixx was singing about girls in a slightly, ahem, different way, but you get the point.