bird by bird

...more blessings than can fit on this chalkboard. Thank you.

Maybe I'm being a little hasty, but I really love this song! Find me a groom, and it's on. 

"Saying 'I notice you're a nerd' is like saying, 'Hey, I notice that you'd rather be intelligent than be stupid, that you'd rather be thoughtful than be vapid, that you believe that there are things that matter more than the arrest record of Lindsay Lohan. Why is that?' In fact, it seems to me that most contemporary insults are pretty lame. Even 'lame' is kind of lame. Saying 'You're lame' is like saying 'You walk with a limp.' Yeah, whatever, so does 50 Cent, and he's done all right for himself." — John Green

Tomorrow is a big day because I have my oral exam/program defense. "What is an oral exam?," you ask? (hold the jokes- it's not that kind of oral exam). Well, it's the last flaming hoop I have to jump through before graduation (I guess if you don't count the seminar paper, creative non-fiction piece, and annotated bibliography project all due before December 18th). From the hours of 11:00-12:00 I will be sitting in a small conference room with my committee, which consists of one ed school professor, one English professor, and my advisor and committee chair. During that one hour, they will ask me questions about what I've learned in each of my classes and how it fits in with the program and with other courses. They'll ask me about my teaching pedagogy and philosophy. They'll ask about writers and theorists and periods of literature and critical concepts. At least this is what I think they'll ask me about. I'm not exactly sure. I'm hopin...

I can't help it! I'm a sucker for a good fairy tale!!

...according to Medieval notions of Courtly Love. (not to be confused with COURTNEY Love.. which I keep typing) I'm researching this for my Medieval Seminar Paper.. if I have to read it, you have to read it. My commentary is in Italics . I. Marriage is no real excuse for not loving. Huh? II. He who is not jealous cannot love. Jealousy can be kind of sweet . III. No one can be bound by a double love. Tell that to the girl on The Notebook IV. It is well known that love is always increasing or decreasing. Sounds like a nauseating carnival ride to me . V. Boys do not love until they arrive at the age of maturity. What exactly is that age?? VI. No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons. Height is not a good reason. VII. It is not proper to love any woman whom one would be ashamed to seek to marry. I fully support this one. VIII.A true lover does not desire to embrace in love anyone except his beloved. True but with the exception of John Mayer IX.W...

I love my tidy apartment, but I agree about messes in my mind.  "Clutter and mess show us that life is being lived...Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation... Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist's true friend. What people somehow forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here." — Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life)

I drove 337 miles to Lawrence, KS this weekend with my "check engine" light on the whole way, but nothing bad happened. I'm beginning to think that my "check engine" light is full of shit. Pulling into Lawrence felt good. Iowa street, Tennessee street, Kentucky street, Mass street. I remembered the streets like fingers remember on a keyboard, and soon I was at KG's front step first recognizing CS curls as she stood on the porch to welcome me. We sat and talked surrounded by the wood paneled walls in KG's apartment, and in between bites of chickpea curry and rice, we filled each other in on everything that I had missed in Lawrence since June. Who is dating? Who broke up?  Where are you working? How is the new apartment? We went down to Mass street, toasted a drink to my dad at the Jazz Haus, and went dancing at the Jackpot. I sweat so much I had to pull my hear back, but I didn't stop. I didn't know the songs or the people I was dancing with...

I saw these guys at the Replay in Lawrence on Friday night!! Unbelievable, but this video doesn't do it justice. 

"The Piano" by Lynne Sharon Schwartz "I still have the Baldwin baby grand piano my parents gave me as a high school graduation present decades ago. All through my adult life, every time I moved I took it with me—no easy feat with a piano so large—or else found it a suitable temporary lodging. The piano has accompanied me from Brooklyn to Philadelphia to Boston and is now settled in Manhattan, where it occupies a good part of the living room. Once I went to Italy for a year, and for that year I asked my sister to shelter it. When I returned I found a few paper clips lodged inside among the strings and I heatedly accused my sister of not taking proper care of the piano, which in retrospect seems an odd overreaction on my part: just a few clips, after all. It’s not clear to me why I’ve held on to the piano for so long and continue to play it, considering that I no longer play well, nor, to be candid, with much enthusiasm. It’s not that I love it so much. I hardly love ...

As I type this, I am sitting in the Black Dog coffeehouse in Lenexa, KS grading research papers while KG teaches at her real, big kid job. She's not just a TA anymore, you know. It's cold and rainy outside, and I love everything about what's happening today. I'm with good friends and good coffee. After I dropped KG off at her job and started off toward this coffeeshop, I hopped on 87th Street and was stopped at a red light. I became mesmerized by the windshield wipers going back and forth and back and forth. I remembered distinctly the last day of high school when EH and I skipped school to go to a Dashboard Confessional concert in Grand Forks, North Dakota. It was pouring rain the whole way to Grand Forks, and we listened to a Coldplay album over and over again. To stay awake, we coordinated the wipers to the beat of each song. We were pretty good at, actually. Coldplay is playing right now in the coffee shop, but unfortunately I don't have windshield wipers to...

I wrote this little guy for class and then wanted to delete it. I didn't want it to feel bad about itself though, so instead of deleting, I told it I would copy and paste it on my blog. It was very relieved that it wouldn't be going to waste.   "Sister Ida, my favorite sister and also one of the oldest and sweetest at Mother of God Monastery, was my Wednesday night driving and teaching buddy. Every Wednesday at 7:00, I pulled up to the Monastery to pick her up, she would greet me with a warm hug, and we would head down Highway 81. Together we taught ESL to Spanish-speaking dairy farm workers at a little country church 30 miles away. It was my first job out of college, and the first time I felt that I was actually using my degree and what I had been reading about for all of those years. I was finally an English teacher. When we arrived to class, we welcomed the students who had come from one of the five surrounding dairy farms on their only night off. They h...

(Please don't become famous!)

I'm working on a longer piece for my nonfiction class involving several anecdotes that I'm desperately trying to connect. They are all over the place. I met for a conference with my professor last week to talk about what I can do to improve my story. He told me: "Your dough needs more time to rise. Put it back in the oven." "You have the pearls, now you need to string them together." "There needs to be more vegetables in your pot of stew." While these are wonderful metaphors, I have no idea what the H any of them mean. I wanted to say, "How exactly do I do that!?" Instead I said, "Gotcha," and I confidently walked out of his office. So now here I sit a week later, staring at my draft thinking of beef stew and pearl necklaces (neither of which are at all related to my story). Ugh. Figurative language is so overrated.

A professor gave me feedback on a project proposal I wrote last week, and he used the exact phrase: "looks a little sketchy." He's a medievalist. He has no room to talk.  Then, the middle buttons of my button up shirt came unbuttoned while I was teaching. The very top button was the only one that remained buttoned, and I didn't notice until I went home for lunch. My boobs were literally busting out to my class, and I definitely remember two boys laughing in the back row. At the time, I thought I was being entertaining. I guess in a way I was. I burned the roof of my mouth on leftover lasagna, and someone stole my parking space. The nerve...

AO put in an offer on a new house! Friends are coming to my hometown this weekend, and I'm so grateful for their support! TB is feeling (a little) better! The sun is shining! CS survived her conference presentation in Pierre! I only have one day of classes next week! GG has the most hilarious students ever! Marty Jackley won! The No Smoking ban passed! LS gave me the new TS album! It's November, and I still haven't worn my winter coat! My mom bought me boots and hairspray when I was home last! JG is coming back to America soon! I have worked out every single day in November! And it's EK's birthday!!! Happy Birthday!! Let's celebrate!!

I love to dance. I love to dance alone. My body was made that way, I think. The way that I twist and twirl and shimmy and strut is something that seems to happen on its own. The swinging of my hips and skip of my step are motions that are entirely independent of thought and reason and sometimes even rhythm. It is the music that moves me, and the result is instinctual and often very, very uncoordinated. I've grown to value this about this bumbling body of mine, in spite of the sweat and embarrassment that it often produces, mostly because it's something that I'm really good at doing.. alone. For me, dancing with a partner just slows me down and holds me back. It feels too controlled, and there is no freedom to move. Arms and legs have to coordinate with a partner, and speed and direction have to accommodate to the one who leads. I am not the one who leads. Dancing with someone else can be awkward and sometimes downright painful. I know; I've been hurt before. Sometim...

The lyrics sound kind of intense, now that I know them... but the song itself is quite cute and catchy. Check it out.   2 Atoms in a Molecule  By: Noah and the Whales Last night, I had a dream We were inseparably entwined Like a piece of rope made out of two pieces of vine Held together, holding each other With no one else in mind Like two atoms in a molecule Inseparably combined But then I woke from the dream To realize I was alone A tragic event, I must admit But let's not be overblown I'm gonna try to write a love song Just a sad, pathetic moan And maybe I just need change Maybe I just need a new cologne But now I look at love Like being stabbed in the heart You torture each other from day to day And then one day you part Most of the time it's misery But there's some joy at the start And for that, I'd say it's worth it Just as you play the shortest sharp on me And if love is just a game Then how come it's no fun? If love ...

I'm failing in my relationships. I give myself an F. I'm sorry. "A good friend" rubric (1-10)  3  Calls friends on a weekly/monthly basis  0  Participates in important events (wedding dress shopping, cancer runs, etc.)  2  Visits no matter the distance or time commitment  5  Sends emails and letters on a weekly/monthly basis   4  Generally knows what's going on in her friends' lives Total:  14/50 I'll try to be better. I had a similar experience in 9th grade algebra, and I ended up getting a B. Hang in there with me, please?

Ok, I gotta get it together. No more Halloween candy. No more dirty laundry on my bedroom floor. No more stacks of ungraded student essays piled on my desk. No more drawers of crap that need organizing. No more bird poop on my windshield. No more excessive facebooking. Perhaps no facebooking at all. I am going to eat more carrots, floss every night, and shave my legs (above the knee). This is getting ridiculous.