Two good reasons a diabetic shouldn't wear heels all day.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

 

 I rest my case.

Heels and all

Right now, I should be writing my teaching journal, but I can't think about it right now. My head it too full of other things. That, and I lost my schedule from the last month (since it changed so much due to snow and illness) so I can't really recall much.

This morning I got up at 7. Nibbler was chewing on the paper Stackbucks bag of Tessica's clothes again. I sprayed him several times with the water bottle. I was really close to just throwing it at him. Out of spite, I didn't feed them when I got up. They still have food, don't you worry, but they are such drama queens that when one or more bowls is down below half capacity, they freak out.

Myself, I took a shower last night and shaved my legs and all, used deep conditioner in my hair, and went to sleep at 11 or so. I finished "The Pine Barrens" in one sitting more or less, and started on "Tracks." I'm trying to maintain normality. Therefore, I dressed for a Monday (heels and all), wrote the rent check out, signed our incoming checks, and left the house. I dropped the rent check off, no problems, but the bank wasn't open yet.

I decided to get to the office at 8 for one reason or another. Of course there were no parking spots. I 4-wheeled it into a snow-covered spot behind the church. The person next to me will probably be pissed, but it's not like I care.

At about 20-till, I walked to Wachovia (from Washington Hall), heels and all, down a snow-encrusted hill on the sidewalk. My heels, thankfully, seemed to have been a good idea this morning, as I was able to dig in to the grainy snow like ice picks. I of course, was too early, and the tellers just stared at me like I was a moron. I stood there, what elese could I do?, until I checked my ATM balance to see what time it was. 9 am on the dot. The jerks still hadn't opened the door. When they finally did, they acted like I was some vagabond off the streets asking for money, when in fact I was depositing a nefarious amount (664... so close!). I left, slightly miffed.

Again, my icepicks aided me greatly in climbing back up that hill in front of what was once Chancey's. Stopped at 7-11, I helped myself to a coffee and a bottle of water. Of course, their credit card machines went offline when they tried to run mine, thus messing up the morning for many othe rpatrons behind me. Again, like I cared. I had a fresh $20 bill ready for spending.

I want to have everything be normal. Instead, I am dealing with 2 impending divorces involving innocent children and 2 suicidals. In short, 6 people that I care about are suffering somehow, and I can't do a damn thing about it.

And I am worried about wearing the right kind of shoes today. Heels and all.

I hope you die. I actually kind of do.

I've been trying to get away from the emo part of me that posts lyrics. Whatever:

..You must die I alone am best!
I hope ya flip some guy the bird,
He cuts you off and you're forced to swerve,
In front of the Beatles' tour bus,
A Bookmobile and a Mack truck,
Hauling hazardous biological waste,
The light turns red you have no brakes,
And "Hard Copy" gets it all on tape,
So you can see the look on your face,
...Die Die Die Die Die Die Die,
...Die Die Die Die Die Die Die,
I hope your Pinto begins to spin,
Takes out a disabled Vietnam Veteran,
Mows down a Nobel Peace Prize Winner,
And maybe some orphans having Christmas dinner,
Perhaps even the British Royal Family,
And the Rabbi that's clutching the bottle-fed puppy,
And we can't forget the newlyweds,
And those Jerry's Kids are as good as dead,
I hope this helps to emphasize,
I hope this helps to clarify,
I hope you die,
I hope your cellmate thinks he's God,
But C.N.N. refer to him as "Bowling Ball Bag Bob",
Serving time again for abuse of a corpse,
Only this time the victim's a Clydesdale horse,
While he masturbates to photos of livestock,
He does the "Silence of the Lambs" dance to Christian Rock,
Eats feces and quotes from "Deliverance",
And fights with his imaginary playmate Vince,
...Die Die Die Die Die Die Die,
...Die Die Die Die Die Die Die,
I hope he grins like Jack Nicholson,
And forces you to play a game called Balls On Chin,
And whatever happens next is all a blur,
But you remember "fist" can be a verb,
And when you finally regain consciousness,
You're bound and gagged in a wedding dress,
And the prison guard looks the other way,
'Cause he's the guy ya flipped the bird the other day,
I hope this helps to emphasize,
I hope this helps to clarify,
I hope you die,
...I hope you die.

I should have expected this.

Ugh. I just did preliminary midterm grades and without brekaing the law or anything, they are bad. Then, I get two emails in a row from students saying that they can't turn in their final paper today because some tragedy has befallen them. I have no idea how to reply.

I don't take stuff via email. Nothing. So when they say: "Can I email it to you?" it should be so easy for me to just hit reply and say: "No." But I can't. I'm not sure why. Maybe part of me believes that they are acturally telling the truth, but for the most part, I don't.

I don't want to send out a mass email saying "Hey kids I don't accept stuf via email" but I also don't want a confrontation in class over it. I am so very annoyed.

I just thought about it for a moment.

Student-

I cannot accept anything--especially major papers-- via email. You are more than welcome to bring it to me during my office hours, but please bear in mind that each calendar day that it is late is 5 points off the paper as a whole.

-Shaylin

The Rejects of Bravo Company

So I finished my mini- memoir. I told my students I would be unavailable from 2 this afternoon till 8 tomorrow morning, because I figured I would need that time to work on it. I finished at 15 till 4; it was due at 5 pm tonight. I'm feeling pretty good about myself.

I got to the part about Fletcher, and had to make a hard decision. Yeah, the dude jumped out of a window, but was it my job as the narrator to comment on how little I cared? I decided it was. That guy was a dick, regardless of what ended up happening to him.

For obvious reasons, I will not post it here. If you are interested in my time served--err spent in Basic training, I can send it to you via email. Only, it's 16 pages long (Emilee's was 6 pages. Whoopsies) and is not written chronologically. I like to jump around in my writing.

Do I want to get it published? That would be awesome. However, I would need to change names, and I fear that people I knew back then would come forward and points out the holes in my story. For instance, I combined characters. You have to though, I think, in order to make this sort of thing interesting. I know for a fact that the base will deny Fletcher jumping from a 5th story window. We only knew about it because, well, if you ever read it, you will know.

Rick kept commenting on my previous free writes on this subject: "You must write about this!" so I figured that's what he wanted. The exercises in the book kept telling me to crack scenes open, ad nauseum, so 16 pages of cracked scenes is what you get.

Reliability of the narrator, my ass.

The first of the last

I got the first essay from this batch of essays (critical analysis) and it was GREAT! I wanted to cry it was so great.

Boy, am I ever disgusting.

I left the house early because I didn't feel like making dinner there. I remembered that I had General Tso's chicken to finish at my office. So, that's what's for dinner. Old General Tso's chicken. Please don't ask me how old it is because I will lie to you. It tastes awful and of course I had to reheat it so it's all tough and gnarly now. But I can't bring myself to throw it out. If I get sick in class tonight, you will know why.

Seriously though, my house is kind of a mess. I hate looking at it. and of course Andy does nothing (have I mentioned this?) about it until I fuss at him. I don't want to be that kind of wife. I definitely don't want him to be that kind of husband. Our wedding anniversary is on Friday, we are broke as shit, and it's looking like we are headed down that path of constant nagging.

Clean the litter boxes- the cats belong to both of us. Put away the fucking dishes- both of us use them. Vacuum- okay, I know I said that I love vacuuming (I actually do) but it doesn't mean I want to do it every time it needs to be done. Don't bother with watering the plants. Part of me wishes they would just finally die anyway.

I have class for 3 hours tonight. It wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't thinking about how goddamn cold it is outside, how much I really hate wind, and the fact that I chose an ancient Chinese secret to be my dinner accompanying black tea.

One way or another, it's going to be one hell of a night.