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gainsay (verb) to declare false.

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Tuesday, Feb. 28, 2006 - 10:17 p.m.

As midterm week approaches, I am feeling overwhelmed. I have been fighting some sort of illness that has been going around. Last evening I fell asleep at 8pm and woke up two hours later aching all over. I felt better today, but I can't seem to catch up on everything I need or feel I need to do.

Scholarship applications are due tomorrow, and I have not had the time to write a decent essay for the one to which I intend to apply, what with toiling as an underpaid TA and all. And between me and the tens of you out there, I feel a bit dubious about the process anyway. Something has to give, and it can't be my writing, it can't be the job to which I am already dedicated, and right now it is my class on pedagogy that is suffering. And my sanity.

Tuesday, Feb. 21, 2006 - 12:32 p.m.

This is war.

Sunday, Feb. 19, 2006 - 5:42 p.m.

I am postively giddy over having just downloaded this article. Ebooks provide wonderful instant gratification. The problem is printing is not an option. Nonetheless, I am over the moon for newly found (to me) Kessinger Publishing for several reasons: a)books b)located near Glacier National Park c)cool books d)in Montana e)rare books

I would be having a good long weekend if I didn't feel so down. My friend, T, had a wicked case of the flu last week, so I am a little worried my immune system is fighting whatever germs he breathed on me by talking to me last Friday. Otherwise, the dry, dry, dry, dry and freezing winter air here in Idaho has finally taken over my skin, which is now so dry it itches horribly. Damn the cold.

That said, I am have an unusual longing for spring. I am a winter baby, born mid-December, so I love the winter, the snow, hush it bring to everything, the bit of chill that justifies my staying inside to read or watch my favorite shows. But, and maybe this is due to the fact that winter consisted more of mud and ice than snow, I am ready for spring like I have never been ready for spring. I am having vision of green leafy trees and -- this is the weirdest -- the way the sunlight hits the buildings during summer evenings, just as the air is cooling, begging people to come outside and drink lemonade and wine on their porches and steps.

I know winter is over when I start longing for summer, even with its overwhelming heat. I don't like the heat (hello, winter baby), but my skin is screaming for sun and warmth. The tulips on my on dining room table will have to do for now. They do a pretty good job.

Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2006 - 10:38 p.m.

This blog has recieved 25 hits in the last 24 hours. This is a lot. One an hour, about. I won't even tell you how I couldn't perform proper division in front of my college freshmen this morning. They now know there is a good reason I majored in religion and English.

Friday, Feb. 10, 2006 - 9:57 p.m.

I just spent a great deal of time writing a lengthy post when my computer overheated and shut off automatically, thus losing my whole post. I have no desire to type it all over again, so here, in a nutshell, is what I wrote:

1) I am tired. The semester is only beginning, and already I am beginning to feel the weight of the work.

2) I have been reading for fun. I began reading The Sun Also Rises and am unsure whether I really think reading it is fun.

3) I am not and doubt that I will ever really enjoy Hemingway. I expect to be shunned by the majority of my collegues.

4) Thursday nights have become Happygirlfunnights. Unfortunately I teach early Friday mornings, meaning the amount of wine I drank last night made my life miserable today. I will be more careful next time.

5) My classmates in the poetry techniques class I am taking have proven themselves to be a virtual time bomb for drama, full of snarky comments and blatant personal attacks, topped off with the denial that they intended to offend anyone. Right. I remain a silent observer to this play which has been carried out via email.

6) I begin a new skin care regimine tonight and am nervous my skin will break out because of the change. Sometimes being human just sucks.

Here's to a relaxing weekend where I will at least accomplish the bare minimum to keep my head above water.

Saturday, Jan. 28, 2006 - 12:02 p.m.

I have been putting off writing a poem in the style of Billy Collins for my Techniques of Poetry class. I have written poetry before, so I feel odd as to why I am avoiding it like the plague right now. I think I am just nervous, especially about writing it at the graduate school level. Whatever that means.

Finall saw Brokeback Mountain yesterday. It is a good movie. I liked it. I like the short story better. And that's all I really have to say about it. I almost feel disappointed, I guess I should say. No, just indifferent. Okay, it's a movie; it's good; okay.

Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006 - 11:39 a.m.

What the hell is wrong with some people? I read this article last night. One of my professors here, who herself is a successful memoirist sans any bullshit, sent out an email with the link. Because both James Frey and so-called Nasdijj were once just a month ago considered successful memoirists, we read A Million Little Pieces and Geronimo's Bones in the nonfiction techniques class I took last semester. Little did we all know that one of the techniques we were observing was total and utter bullshit. My friends, I feel genuinely disillusioned.

And, as much I dislike Frey for egotistical asshole that I percieve him to be, I am more disturbed by the unveiling of Nasdijj's true identity. The co-opting of Native American identity is terrible, yes, and ground floor unethical. But, what really and truly bothers me is that the graphic nature of the book Geronimo's Bones is now revealed as violence against children as a means of profit.

By graphic I mean GRAPHIC. I have read many a war book, books on the Holocaust, books about drugs and disease and abuse, but Geronimo's Bones by far has been the most graphic book I have ever encountered. It portrays the constant rape and beating of two boys by their father. It describes it over and over again, in detail. It was difficult to read and even justify reading it. How do you justify reading of such horrendous events? Do we justify it by saying it is someone's story and we enter into the story and share the pain with the author? Do we become witnesses of injustice so that it might not be relived by others? Does reading as a form of entertainment become nullified in this context? I certainly wouldn't claim to reading anything so graphic as entertainment.

And here's the thing, if it is fiction, are these questions answered in the same way? My answer right now is "No." Knowing that this man who called himself Nasdijj spun this story makes me ill because he used these awful crimes as a means of profit. But, then, what of the other books that portray crimes? Am I sickened because he has stolen others' tragic stories for his own gain or because I feel my trust has been violated. Are the two mutually exclusive?

I will no doubt comment more on this later, since an issue has been broken open in the publishing world regarding memoir. Despite all my careful thought, the one question that keeps running in my mind is, "What the hell is wrong with these people?"

Monday, Jan. 23, 2006 - 7:06 p.m.

Not in a good mood. Basically, I am pissed at everyone. Everyone!

Friday, Jan. 20, 2006 - 11:15 p.m.

I haven't posted here in awhile, per my usual behavior. Sometimes I check in to look at my stats, because I get to see how people are accessing my blog. If I have more than five hits in one day, I am genuinely shocked. One thing I wasn't prepared for was a link to my blog by someone searching for my friend, Dr. C's blog, also known as Mistercup's poetry page, also known as the blog that never was and the comment circle of worthlessness. I have considered removing the link because I question its value, and I even think Dr. C is questioning its value. But I am lazy. And indecisive.

Plus, I am busy. These last two weeks have not been hectic but busy. The only reason they have not been hectic is because I actually worked really hard to keep myself on top of things, homework, writing, etc. Do you know how much you can get done before noon when you wake up even as late as 9:30am? I didn't either.

This past two weeks have included writing an essay, having that essay evaluated in workshop, writing my first syllabus, meeting and teaching my first English 102 class, who I must say, is incredible. I have the BEST students ever created. I am not joking. They are brilliant. I am having a blast. I don't know if they are, but they are awesome anyway.

Today it snowed in northern Idaho. My apartment complex's parking lot is pure ice. This is okay for my car, which has studded now tires. For me and my silly shoes, though, it is hazardous. I have to walk a round-about way to make it to my apartment without falling on my face. Or my ass. It is kinda fun to watch the drunk undergraduates slip and fall, I must admit.

I spent the evening with my friend, B, and as I was leaving her apartment, which is dead center in Greek Row, I saw two boys and a girl heading to only what I can imagine was a frat party. The girl was dress in a tennis mini skirt, layered tank tops, and tennis shoes. The boys were dressed in polo shirts with the collars practically starched in the upright position. Considering this style went out before I was born, I am guessing they were going to a prep themed party. My theory was only further supported by the two boys I saw as I was driving home. They were wearing audacious argyle sweaters (the sweaters actually had the deep v-necks of a woman's argyle sweater, never a flattering style for a guy) and white dress shirts with, you guessed it, collars starched upright.

Oh! The pain...is...too...much. Must...escape...the foolishness...of mis-dressed...youth.

Wednesday, Jan. 11, 2006 - 6:26 p.m.

Firsty day of class: check! Today was my frist day teaching a class with a schedule I largely designed myself. The first day, especially at 8:30am, is hard to guage. A lot of sleepy faces. A little nervous laughter. Nothing terribly interesting. Yet, it is over, thank god.

Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2006 - 12:18 p.m.

Today is my last day of freedom before the new semester officially begins tomorrow. I had every good intention of waking up at a decent hour. Actually, I kinda did; I woke up to the incessant buzz of a carpet cleaner downstairs at 8:30am. I knew I should just get up and drink coffee and suffer through the sleepiness. Ah, but screw it, I fell back asleep until 11:30am.

Then when I wake up, I feel guilty and awful, and that is the problem I really think I need to correct. Sleep is good. My body needs the sleep and rest. And I like to lie in bed and think, all warm and cozy. Plus, I have all kinds of plans to wake up on time tomorrow; I teach at 8:30am. I am going to set my normal arlarm, my cell phone alarm, and have either my mom or my friend, M, call me until I answer. Maybe I'll have to have both of them call.

I have this fear that I will wake up at 9:30am and miss my first day of class. Oh the terror! This would be especially sad since this is the first class where I actually plan most all of my syllabus. This is very exciting. It's another step in really feeling like true teacher.

The time has come to delete some of the pictures from my earlier entries here. I need the space for new pretty pictures. I should be getting around to this in the next month or so.

Now that the afternoon is here, I need to begin writing on my newest essay. I have a nonfiction workshop this semester, and it is unusual because it has 18 students in it. This is a lot of students for a workshop class, which should only contain around 10. Some of my friends are pissed, but I oddly don't really care. If the chemistry between a group of people works, whether there are 5 or 20 people, I am happy. Case in point, last semester's workshop had 14 students in it, and the chemistry was terrible. My techniques class last semester had about the same number of people, a little more, and the chemistry was great.

Of course, chemistry is all a matter of personal opinion. What works for me won't work for someone. But, because 18 students is so many, people had to volunteer to hand out essays this Thursday, our first day of class. When I hadn't heard of any one volunteering, I did, because I guess I figure I will at least get points for going first. Plus, going first gets some stress over with early.

So, I have go now and get the stress over with.

Monday, Jan. 09, 2006 - 5:55 p.m.

Pandas are cool too.

Monday, Jan. 09, 2006 - 5:50 p.m.

I am all about the Koala Cam. The koala hasn't moved yet, and I am still entranced. Koalas are cool.

Wednesday, Jan. 04, 2006 - 2:16 p.m.

Happy 2006! And, no, posting on my blog more often is not one of my New Year's resolutions. Suck it up. I was on vacation.

Time for Xmas 2005 Present Roundup! Get ready to be jealous (or to pity me)!

1) Camera phone! I didn't have my first cell phone until I was well into college, and I had that phone for five years, until it literally fell apart. Then I had my mom's old phone. So, this is the first new phone I have had in six years or so. I have taken many a picture on it (my brother has as well, don't ask), including of rainbow that ended at the Target Couer d'Alnene (who needs a pot of gold when you have Target?) which I forgot to save. But, I haven't figured out how to download them onto my computer yet. So just try to imagine the rainbow leading to the pot of gold that is Target.

2) A DVD/VCR combo! Because I thought my VCR was broken. Come to find out, it wasn't; my TV was. So, yesterday, I went out and bought myself a TV. Still, it is nice to watch DVD on a bigger screen than my laptop.

3) A teapot my granma painted for me. It is super pretty, with wild roses and a pink band around it. I love pink! My granmda is more talented than your grandma! I made some apple cinnamon tea in the teapot last night. Yum!

4) Arrested Development: Season 2. Love it! What is the liddle bruder going to get me when the show goes off the air? And Everybody Loves Raymond: Season 2. So much good TV to watch!

5) Clothes! Specifically, a pretty lavendar cardigan that will go nicely with a skirt or jeans, a couple pair of slippers with fun rubber anti-slip snowflakes on the bottom.

6) Foaming hand soap that smells nice.

7) A knitting calendar (oooo...all the pretty patterns) and a shoe calendar (oooo...all the pretty (and scary) footwear)

8) A stylish, striped contemporary vase that I put flowers in yesterday.

9) A bar of berry soap, made in Sitka, Alaska.

10) Soft, fluffy yarn I have already knitted into a cozy scar and a book that will teach me why boys are dumb (as if I don't already the Y chromosome is defective:)

11) Pretty paper things!

12) Enough hugs and kisses (and drool) from the baby to hold me over until I see him next.

It was a good, low key Xmas and a relaxing break. I watched seasons 1,2, and 4 of The West Wing, which the liddle bruder recieved for Xmas, ate good food, and didn't exercise. It was nice to be with my family. I miss them a lot.

Now I am back at school, to write my first syllabus for a class that begins in one week. I was going to do this at home, but did I? No. I watched The West Wing instead.

Thursday, Dec. 15, 2005 - 8:18 p.m.

I am being bothered incessantly by a) my mother b) my brother, and c) my father that I haven't posted here in some time. I think my family and I should team up and have a blog unto ourselves. Can you imagine the sacrilige?

My 24th birthday was yesterday! Yay for me! Next year I am going to have a quarter-of-a century bash. I am not sure what that entials, but it is going to be terrific!

This year, friends and I dined upon good Italian food. Of course, the life of the party was two-year-old Stella Blue, daughter of Brittney and Andy, the former being a fellow MFAer, who was previously a fiction writer but who has come to the light and is now a nonfiction writer. Welcome Brittney! You will be sitting by me during all workshops. Mandy from Minnesota (Mom, everyone is from MN.) will sit on my other side. Mike from Sandpoint (Sandpoint is a walking town.) can sit by Mandy, because he hates me because I treat him as if he were my liddle brother. Of course, if you follow the link at left that says The Crowded Lonesome West, you will read two very sad little posts by a poet who is scarily like my liddle bruder, if my liddle bruder were really me. It is very scary. Of course, this guy who's name is really Lucas, feeds me chocolate. I like that. Plus, he shares an office with fellow link Tales of a Gradschool Nothing and a distance relative of Wallace Stegner. Jesus christ! I am in the office across the hall from a distance relative of Wallace Stegner. Omigod! Dad, take notes.

Overall, it was a good birthday. I hope this is a good sign for my 24th year on this planet.

Thursday, Dec. 01, 2005 - 10:46 a.m.

I had an utterly awful day yesterday. I cannot point to any specific thing that made it utterly awful, but it was nonetheless. By the time I made it home, had eaten dinner, and finished preparing for today, I was so exhausted that I set my alarm for an hour later than I should have.

I wake up an hour late, call K to tell the student I am supposed to be meeting in 5 mintues that I am running late. I hurry and hurry, arrive at my office to find that the student is a no-show. I was unsure if I should be angry or relieved. I am leaning towards relieved. Because I was tired. And hungry.

It has stopped snowing, but the roads and sidewalks are ice, which makes it difficult to walk to class, even wearing snowboots. My life feels like a bunch of little inconveniences that I cannot seem to shake off. Coffee isn't even making me feel better.

I bet I am going through a Gilmore Girls withdrawal. Because my life has been boiled down to the point where I feel sad and lost when the misguided events of the lives of Lorelai and Rory Gilmore are not intertwined with my own. I shouldn't have just stopped watching the show. That's the kind of addiction you need to taper off of.

Oh, happy December. I am so tired.

Wednesday, Nov. 30, 2005 - 1:06 p.m.

Omigod do we have snow! Inches upon inches upon inches. My feet are cold and wet.

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