I'm friggin tired. I've been tired all day. I bled from my nose for several hours. My #2 is iffy at best, explosive at worst. I have the donkey cough. I've barely been able to eat. I'm out of miiiiiiilk gah! I'm still awake because I am a.) unable to sleep and b.) waiting for my crops to mature for harvest. DONT JUDGE ME! I joined a co-op and I wold feel like an asshole if I didn't at least try...
My knitting will never get done. I finally got to 73 on weatherfield. I read all of "The Absolutely True Diary of a part-time Indian" today in about an hour or so. I wanted to cry when i was done. I actually got some research done, but of course it's all about Sherman Alexie. Surely Tim understands that he dominates the field of not just funny Native American literature, but Native American literature in general.
My cats all snore. Andy snores. I don't think I snore, but my nose and throat are so dry lately that it wouldn't surprise me.
I have a week left, then I graduate. Then I have to procure a real job. My annoyance level is rising at an alarming rate. I'm definitely taking it out on the wrong people, because I am too chickenshit to say anything to the right people. I just want to lay low until the 7th and let grad school become a distant "well that was interesting" memory/life lesson.
I don't think I was properly equipped or prepared to go to grad school. Undergrad wasn't difficult even in the slightest for me. Grad school, to be frank, was only difficult because I have shitty organization and prioritizing skills. Not to say that the work wasn't difficult... it kind of was, mostly just because of the quantity. At any rate, about a million things have fallen to the wayside, including my marriage. That's definitely the worst part.
I haven't worn my wedding ring in a week. I'm pretty sure I haven't kissed Andy in just as long, if not longer. I haven't told him I love him in a while either. I'm an asshole; I've been assured of this from outside sources. I have poor prioritizing skills, remember? I should be sleeping, curled up next to him, but I'm an asshole. I'm a selfish jerk. I'm a proud bitch. I'm just a confused 25 year old little girl that can;t get her head on straight. I am a chronic life ruiner.
No, no, I'm not asking for pity. Nor am I asking for more people to assure me of what a dick I am. Trust me, I get that shit daily. I'm just writing stuff down.
Andy asked me a few weeks back what I would ideally do if I could. I immediately responded that I wish I could make a living off of writing. I don't think I am the most well spoken or the most interesting person in the world, but christ if Laura Fuckin Bush can get her shitty book published (and I mean, come on, what the hell is so interesting about her other than her remarkable ability to put up with a moron 5 year old for a husband?), why can't I get anything published?
Because I haven't tried is why.
Without being too dramatic, that really is the story of my life.
I've gotten through this far without stretching myself out too far, without going out on a limb, without taking risks. I'm safe. I know that's not the foremost adjective that comes to mind when someone ponders my being, but in all honesty, I'm a pretty safe gal. I don't do a goddamn thing that makes me uncomfortable (because it's pretty hard to do that), I don't make myself do anything too difficult (I like to say I know my limits), and I definitely don't deliberately make things harder on myself.
Unlike some people I know...
At any rate, I'm fucking tired. I want to try and eat something and keep it down. I'm cold. I can' bring myself to knit anymore tonight, nor write anymore.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Rumple-Shaylin
My 8th graders don't know my first name, and it's KILLING them. It's becoming an excellent motivational tool. So far, they have "Sh _ _ _ in" and they know it's Irish, and that they probably haven't heard it before ("That's not FAIR!" "Blame my mom.").
One of my struggling students goes by my middle name. She seems to gave taken to me, so I let her know that we had the same name (quietly). That made her happy.
I couldn't take a picture because I forgot my phone at home, but the car next to me bore this message under their windshiled wiper: "It was real. And it will always be real." I was touched.
One of my struggling students goes by my middle name. She seems to gave taken to me, so I let her know that we had the same name (quietly). That made her happy.
I couldn't take a picture because I forgot my phone at home, but the car next to me bore this message under their windshiled wiper: "It was real. And it will always be real." I was touched.
Monday, March 1, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
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.
..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.
Monday, February 22, 2010
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
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
Monday, February 15, 2010
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.
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.
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