|
Kiss My Tiara, Too
"I feel there is something unexplored about a woman that only a woman can explore."
--Georgia O'Keeffe
"The Bible contains 6 admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. This doesn't mean God doesn't love heterosexuals. It's just that they need more supervision."
--Lynn Larner
I was here at Oct 17, 2002 at 8:00
Hmmm. I forgot to allow everyone to make comments. So...for real this time...if you're still reading me, leave me a note, por favor.
This was offline for a lot more than I expected it to be. Anyone still out there reading me? If so, leave me a note to let me know.
Remeber JoAnne, my student who wrote all about her gay friend, Rachel, who just wouldn't accept that JoAnne was straight? Well, I have another really awesome journal from her. This question asked students to think about all of the identities they have to put on for different groups of people. One of the identities she chose to write about was with her different groups of friends.
"I also have another conflicting set of identities. One me is a girl who likes to go hang out at gay bars with my gay friends. When I'm at these clubs, or coffee houses, or MoKaBes I can be totally relaxed and comfortable and not care about the fact that people might see me and label me, because I don't know them. The other part of me is a girl who really values my relationships with boys. Although I have a lot of fun at the gay bars, there is something inside of me that is left unfulfilled even if I have a great time dancing with girls all night long. That is where my conflict is. I don't have a lot of fun with most boys because none of the boys I've dated have liked to dance. But I get in fights with my boyfriends because I tell them that I'm going out dancing. Go figure. Anyway, then I also have to think to myself that going dancing at gay bars is kind of wrong because I know when I go there that I don't plan on hooking up with anyone, but I dance and lead girls on like I might. I can only imagine how disappointed some of those girls would be if they knew I was an imposter. Anyway, I obviously have a lot of conflict in my life because I can define myself in so many ways, but I'm also really paranoid about how one of my selves can interfere with others."
Any opinions on that, guys?
There is an annoying student outside the office right now. He's waiting for Maxine, my officemate, to meet him. She teaches until 2:00, and then she has to get back over here. He's been here since 1:45. Not only does he have an annoying voice, but he keeps asking EVERYONE who walks past (we're right by the copy machine, so you can imagine how many people that would be in an English department) is they've seen Maxine. This is after the fact that I told him Maxine would get here as soon as she could after her class. He also keeps sticking his head in and looking around. There is only one door to our office--the one that he keeps peeking in and the one that he's sitting right next to. Idiot. At least he stopped pacing in the office. I finally looked at him and said, "Look, you can come in when Maxine gets here. Until then, I'd like privacy in my office." He walked out like a hurt puppy. Some students just have no concept of teachers having personal space and private lives. I mean, we are human. Geez!
I saw Rebekah (my counsellor) for the first time in two months today. We had a lovely session. I haven't been blogging lately because I've had some sort of meltdown. I mean, I'm a confident person, generally, and Monday I was wacked. I was sobbing and just kept saying over and over, "I hate myself, I hate my life, I hate myself." I've never done anything like that in my entire life. And I couldn't stop crying. It took Heather to tell me that I don't always have to be on the top of my game to get me to stop crying long enough to go work. And poor Lady that evening.
Anyway, I spent last night paper journalling about all the issues I've got going on in my life so I could figure out what the hell I needed to talk with Rebekah about today. We started off with my self loathing and feelings of undeservingness when it comes to healthy relationships. And somehow, I mentioned the tutoring center and how evil my boss there is, and Rebekah made the connection for me. That place is what makes me so completely self loathing nowadays.
My boss is literally a manipulative dictator. She's pitting Jessica and me against one another, lying to us about what the other one is saying about us. And she mentally abuses all of her employees. Literally. You should hear just the shit she's put me through this week.
Rebekah and I had our first ever out and out disagreement in our session today. She wants me to up and quit today, not even give them two weeks. She says I should forget professionalism and get out of there now because every time I go in, the child in me gets beat up and devastated. Also, the child cringes and cries every time I have to think about going in. I told Rebekah that I can't leave until the end of the semester. She told me that was a poor decision, but one that I had to make alone in the end.
She's right, but I cannot leave them before the end of the semester. I just don't feel like I can. Rebekah told me that, if that were the case, I needed to get something calming to bring in with me, something to hold to give me empowerment. Right now, the evil boss lady has all the power over me, and I have to do something to figure out how I'm going to get the power back. So...
When I left Rebekah's office, I felt so peaceful. I finally know why I'm such a despondant, miserable person these days. And I know that it'll end when the job ends. And she also told me that I should talk to my doctor about upping my Paxil dose until the job is over, so I have all the help coping that I need.
I think I shall.
I am addicted to The Vagina Monologues. I can't remember the last time I never wanted to put a book down.
Okay. I'm really curious about this. Are you for or against this war with Iraq? Leave me as brief or as detailed a note as you wish. Just please help me satisfy my curiosity 
PS--I've just changed it so anyone can leave me a note, not just members of this site.
Right now, I'm working on the Myth of Gender with my honors freshmen. They all blanched at the idea at first, swearing that they hated gender issues and feminazis. I knew they would react that way. I've built a strong unit that covers all sides of gender issues. I have readings that are both pro and con feminism. I have an article that questions what the hell feminism means today and wether it even still needs to exist. You could see the relief on their faces as I told them my intention was to get them to think from all angles, not to shove any one particular mode of being down their throats.
Anyway, today was the first real class on gender myths, and I was surprised at the responses I got. While no one wanted to talk about things in class, most of them wrote journal entries two or three times the length they normally have been writing. Here are parts of my two favorites.
"I am JoAnne. I am a girl. I am 18 years old. I am a sister, a daughter, a cousin, and a friend. I am straight. Normally I wouldn't include that last one, but lately I have felt a lot of pressure to define myself in such a way." She goes on to talk about how a lesbian friend of hers insists that she's still closeted because "I like to climb trees and rocks, I like to ride my bike, and I love fierce competition in sports." She describes a number of situations her friend puts her in and her frustration at her friend not just letting her be. She end the piece so well. Here's part of her last paragraph:
"I think, at times, that she thinks I am a closet case and I don't even know it yet. However, if the tables were turned and I said to her 'Don't knock it til you try it,' our friendship would end like the snap of fingers. She is a firm believer that gayness is born into people. I believe that it is learned. And I think that if she can be perfectly normal and gay, I can be perfectly normal and straight. I don't understand why she can't just accept me for who I am. Gay or straight, I am still JoAnne. I am still 18 years old. I still have two brothers and lots of cousins, and I am still her friend. I don't understand what else I could possibly do to let her know that I know who I am and have no desire to delve any further."
Now, I don't agree with all of JoAnne's ways of thinking, but the point comes across loud and clear. I think she does a lovely job. And this from a girl who has generally been rather aloof in her journal responses.
The other is from Brandon and is a paragraph from his three-page journal response entitled "How a Man is Supposed to Act."
"I get a lot of flack from people who just meet me for the first time or even some who have known me for a long time. I get asked if I am gay or I am made fun of for being too feminine. I am a guy. I like girls. I like guns, cars, and motorcycles. But I, unlike my friends, will cry if a movie strikes me a certain way. I am compassionate towards my friends and genuinely want to know how they are feeling and will openly share how I am feeling. I like to learn about people and what they think and I love to talk to people about how I feel and think and most importantly why I have those feelings. I am a very open and honest person. I don't try to hide my feelings but rather expose them to show who the true Brandon is. Many people have had problems with this. My chivalry is many times seen as weak, when to me it is expected and proper. I think a guy should open doors for girls, a guy should be able to talk about girl issues, and a guy should be able to put himself into other peoples shoes and try to see what they are feeling. I have been told by many girls that I should teach a class on how to be a good boyfriend or guy friend. I try to live my life now by example."
Again, I can't condone everything he says, but he's so honest and upfront, and that's so respectable.
Both JoAnne and Brandon are doing what I want my students to do in my class, a feminist class. I want them to open up and think and not be afraid of saying what they want to say. Yeah, I don't agree with all of it--or, with some students, even some of it--but that doesn't mean I won't hear them out or let them develop into the people they want to be. The only think I stamp out is blind, unquestioning intolerance. The rest of it, I encourage. I am, after all, a teacher, not a brainwasher.
Fuck the San Francisco Giants. I've hated them since the 1985 playoffs, and this really hurts.
My boss at the tutoring center just hung up on me. On purpose. She is such such such a bitch. I can't stand her. She's quite two-faced, can never be wrong, and has absolutely no tact. I would love nothing more than to hand in my two week's notice today. Nothing.
But I'm torn. It would be highly unprofessional for me to do that in the middle of the semester. I think what I'm going to do is type up my notice right now so she knows that I will not be back after Christmas. Blah. I am so angry at her that I'm shaking.
Okay. So I'm anal. I have finally hit the limit of my patience for disorderliness in my teaching life. I can never tell which stack of papers belongs to which class. And it drives me damn near batty when I get a bunch of unstapled pages from a student. So...here's the elementary school teacher wanna be coming out in me. I made an emergency stop at Target on the way to the tutoring center and damn near bought out their supply of two pocket cheapy folders--15 red, 17 purple, and 23 green. That way each class will have its own color and I can tell in a glance who and what topic I am dragging to the coffee shop with me to attack in a bleary eyed, over caffinated grading marathon. And, as if that weren't bad enough, I am now awake at 1:00 am writing their names on the top, right hand corner. Um...they're going to think I'm being patronizing when I'm really just being anal beyond belief.
I'm also trying to look for some sort of lesbian/gay webring to submit this blog to. I found Dykewrite about a week ago and totally loved the attitude etc it emanated. But...they're irritating me because it's been a damn week and I've heard nothing from them. Well...forget them then.
I just want some regular readers. Waaah. I'm so mistreated, you know.
Watched the ball game at Julie's. Theresa came over, too. I really like Theresa. She's intelligent, has a large vocabulary, loves politics, watches the sports I adore, and listens to Sheryl Crow. What's not for me to love? Anyway, the other day Lady was telling me how much Theresa and I would have to talk about since we're both uberpolitical. I was so excited to have a likeminded lesbian in our circle. But, of course, that was just me assuming that no self-respecting gay person would be Republican. And Thereas is. So now she and I can have truly heated debates because I am, well, the antiRepublican.
My new boss at the tutoring center really pissed me off today. She's teaching the same developmental course I am but at a different community college in the system. In fact, she's at the school I'd love to teach for full time. Forest Park Community College. The most diverse college campus in the United States. I mean, how cool is that? Anyway, she hates her job as much as I love it, and so she always bitches to me during down time at the center (she and I went to grad school together, by the way). Today she was telling me about two students who somehow always manage to get under her skin. She said, and I quote, "So it turns out the worst students in my class are LaShon and Tasha, of course." Now, I don't mean to stereotype, but I'm assuming from their names that both of these students are African American. And something about the way she said "of course" let me know that she expects them to do poorly not because of their writing skills but because of their skin color. Ooooh. I did not like that. Not one little bit. Especially from a developmental writing teacher. I mean, these kids are in the class because they've been overlooked and underestimated by the system for years. This is the class where we're supposed to finally believe in them, where we give them the chance to learn what they've never learned before, where we let them know that they can succeed in college. If you've got a developmental writing teacher who just perpetuates the stereotypes and dismal cycle of so many other classrooms, what the hell is the point?
The thing is I take my job seriously. I take my students seriously. I belive in them and their ability to do absolutley anything that they set their minds to doing. The way I see it, it's my job to let them know that they have a teacher--an authority figure, of sorts--on their side. And nothing irks me more than seeing a teacher--any teacher--who doesn't take the job as seriously as I do.
Well, here is my rant for the day. What are we going to have left when he's through with his term?
I found this on feminist.org, a really awesome and comprehensive website. I highly recommend it.
Bush Administration Considers Anti-Abortion Nominee for Crucial FDA Post
"The Bush Administration plans to appoint a heavily religious and anti-choice doctor to head the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) Reproductive Health Drugs Advisory Committee, according to Time magazine. Dr. W. David Hager, an obstetrician/gynecologist in Kentucky, is a member of the Christian Medical Association (CMA) and represented the group in the recent petition to the FDA asking for an immediate ban on mifepristone (also known as RU-486 and the “abortion pill”) as well as a complete review of its approval, claiming that the drug endangered the lives of women and their “unborn/newborn offspring,” according to a CMA news release. The committee that Hager would lead was responsible for a “key recommendation” in 1996 that led to FDA approval of mifepristone.
"Hager is on the Physicians Resource Council for Focus on the Family, a conservative, anti-abortion group. Hager also combines religion in his medical advice. Among his writings are books called As Jesus Cared for Women: Restoring Women Then and Now and Stress and the Woman’s Body, both of which combine medicine with religion. Hager puts “an emphasis on the restorative power of Jesus Christ in one’s life,” recommending specific Scriptures and prayers for ailments such as headaches, premenstrual syndrome, and postpartum depression, according to Time and Focus on the Family’s magazine. Time also reports that in his private practice, Hager refuses to prescribe contraceptives to women who are not married.
"The Reproductive Health Drugs Advisory Committee is an important, 11-member panel that can heavily influence women’s health policy, according to Time. The Committee will lead the FDA’s study on hormone-replacement therapy for menopausal women, a very controversial topic right now in the medical community. Time reports that FDA senior associate commissioner Linda Arey Skladeny selected Hager for the position of chairman—Skladeny is a former lobbyist for the drug industry with 'longstanding ties to the Bush family.'"
"First is was a question, then it was a mission: how to be American, how to be a Christian."
I spend about two hours per day driving. This is my thinking time and I never listen to the radio. I always put in an awesome cd--not a decent one--and just let my mind go. Above is a lyric from a Dar song about Vietnam, "We Had No Right." I started thinking about how well it captures our present situation in both Afghanistan and possibly Iraq.
Isn't that what bush is trying to do? Make the world American and Christian? He makes me so mad. I don't even want to start in on it.
But what really dawned on me (because admitting that bush really pisses me off is nothing new) is that we're on the verge of another Vietnam here. In both respects. World-wise: we have no right to do what bush wants us to do in Iraq. We need to leave our goddamned nose in our own fucking messes. Sadam has done nothing--NOTHING--to provoke us to invade. And on the home-front: this nation is not in support of this war. Yeah, there are people who do think we have the right to demolish and demoralize people who don't think, act, pray, and speak the way we want them to. But there are just as many people who are wondering why the hell Iraq is such an enemy all of the sudden. Are they doing anything they haven't done in the last eight years?
I only wish the university students I see were as politically motivated as those during Vietnam. Really, all I see is enough to depress a thinking human: TV watching, NSYNC loving, capitalist brainwashed, non analytical children. They will not protest because they are children of Reganites, the man who hated blacks and women, the man who allowed nuns and volunteers to be slaughtered in Guatemala, the man who tried to sneak the Iran-Contra affair past his country.
This poor, poor country. Whenever I start to think about how apolitical people are anymore, I get so depressed. Blah.
Random thoughts running through my head when I can't sleep at this wee hour:
Thing 1 (god, I love Dr. Suess): In the faculty bathroom at my community college, they put the tampon and pad machine actually in the stall. A novel idea, so we don't have to get ourselves decent just to get a tampon and then fight for another stall to put it in, thereby making us a good five mintues later than we would have been. Anyway, what really irritates me is this. Underneath the pad side, the sign says "Feminine Napkins." Albeit, napkins is a really stupid term for them anyway, but I do understand the necessity of the "feminine" modifier. I mean, this is a country where McDonald's actually lost a law suit because a moron was not aware that the coffee she just purchased WOULD BE HOT. But what really kills me is the sign underneath the tampon side: "Feminine Tampons." Come on. a) It's in a freaking female bathroom, for god's sake. b) What the hell other kind of tampons are there? "Tampon" is not a multipurpse work.
Thing 2: We have SBC-Yahoo DSL. Everytime I open a browser window, this little advertisement comes up. Now, isn't the check I write every month enough to guarantee our not getting harassed by pop-up ads? What really irritates me even more than that, though, is its title: Free Debt. Um...what is that? I don't want the debt I acrue, muchless more debt, even if it is free. It's actually for free debt consolidation, but what moron thought of shortening the title to merely "Free Debt"? How many people out there think, "Oh, wow! I can take on extra debt without paying a cent. Sign me up, buddy!"
Seriously, now. Don't you think these bizarre thoughts should be enough to merit a perscription for a sleeping pill? Wanna contact my doctor on my behalf?
After tons of Women's and Gender Studies Courses in my undergraduate career, I was braindead. Nothing I learned, nothing I read pertained in the slightest to my real life--or even anything I could fathom happening in a real life even remotely resembling mine. Maybe this was partially because most of the classes I took had non-real-life-relevant titles like "Jane Austen and Hollywood" or "20th Century American Women Poets." I was utterly relieved to take real "feminist" classes as a grad student. However, I discovered, yet again, that nothing was relevant or even remotely pertinent to any life I wanted to live. I mean, I was the student who asked, "Why did anyone publish a book called Women's Ways of Knowing? Wouldn't things have been more beneficial and less segregated if we studied human's ways of knowing?" That one comment bought me an A- in my last graduate class of the University of Missouri-St. Louis.
In the past few months, Heather and I have accidentally stumbled upon real, applicable feminist writing out there. By people in their late 20s. Who have all the same questions about contemporary feminism's relation to the 70s movement. By people who also question--without necessarily denying the tradition of--marriage, child raising, and corporate powerhouses. By people--women, men, gay, bisexual, straight, married, committed, child-raising, child-less--who call themselves Third Wave.
I've finally gotten around to finishing one of the first books I found. It's called Kiss My Tiara: How To Rule the World as a Smartmouth Goddess. It's both funny as hell and practical as hell. Although stupid bookstores like Borders and Barnes and Noble (if you can find it in your local one), put is under self-help, it's certainly better suited under women's studies (though maybe not, since all of the books there have to do with either finding a man or having an abortion--the only two, real women's issues out there today, you know).
The author is heterosexual, but she is careful not to isolate her lesbian audience. But...bisexuality is something she rarely discusses. And, although she tries very hard not to be too biased and succeeds most of the time, you could tell she was straight even if she didn't tell you.
Anyway, in an effort to not quote the entire book verbatum yet to give you an idea whether you'd like to pick it up or not, I'm just going to list all of her chapter titles. You'll know just from reading these if you should read it. And the author is Susan Jane Gilman, by the way.
Introduction: Forget Rules for Catching a Husband. How 'Bout Rules for Catching a Life?
Part I: Mistress of Our Doman
1. Beauty Tips from Mental Institutions
2. Skip the Spa. Viva Las Vegas!
3. If You Can't Order Dessert, You Can't Ask for a Raise
4. We Don't Shape History by Shaping Our Thighs
5. Niceness: Barf
6. PMS Is a Power Tool
7. Your Clitoris as Disneyland
Part II: Playing Well With Others
8. Our Booty, Ourselves
9. Every Idiot We Date Is One Less Idiot We Risk Marrying
10. Fish Who Need Bicycles (A Thinking Girl's Guide to Love)
11. Marriage Ain't Prozac
12. So What's Wrong With a Little Lesbian Wedding?
13. We ARE the Fashion Police
14. Wisdom from Dickville
15. Family. Oy. How to Survive Your Relatives
Part III: Ruling the World
16. Everything We Need to Know We Learn From Shopping
17. Career Advice and Nail Polish
18. Never Mind a Penis, We'll Take a Bigger Paycheck
19. Latifah Weapon, Brooklyn Porn
20. Play Like a Girl, Watch Like a Girl
21. Give Us That Ol'-Time Religion--So We Can Clobber Sanctimonious Morons with It
22. How to Handle Lunatics, Perverts, and Right-Wing Republicans
23. Onward, Vixen Soldiers!
Conclusion: So Who Ever Said We Were Supposed to Be Happy?
Here's, I think, the greatest part of the book. Your Clitoris as Disneyland is all about female masturbation and how degraded it is in today's society. She opens her chapter with a discussion of all the terms men use to describe masturbation. She ends the chapter by listing numerous suggestions for terms for female masturbation. Her personal favorite and mine--hands down (and, yes, that pun was intentional)--is voting Republican. Although I said I wasn't going to quote, I lied. Here's her justification:
"While 'voting Republican' might not strike a lot of people as being in any way synonymous with masturbation, when you consider how self-serving a lot of the party's right wing is, voting for them and jerking off really aren't that dissimilar, are they? So, that oen gets my lusty, liberal vote. Next time you go to a store to purchase a vibrator, make sure you hold it up and announce as loud as possible, 'I'm getting ready to go vote Republican!'"
That is Susan Jane Gilman on masturbation. Heather and I have already adopted "voting Republican" ourselves, and I encourage all of you to do the same.
Lady's not home yet. I'm trying to decide: should I go to bed and risk having to wake up and go pick her up? or should I stay up on the off chance that she'll need a driver?
I'm all cozy here in a pair of flannel pajama pants I stole from Evil Bitch and an Honors College tee shirt that I stole from their orientation stash. As much as I love, love, love summer and hot weather, fall and spring aren't too bad. Especially when I can wear comfy stuff like this.
Hmmm. Maybe I should call her...but she rarely leaves her cell phone on.
This is so marvelous that I'm all teared up. I can't believe we swept them. I also can't believe that now both of last year's World Series contenders have been eliminated.
I remember the Saturday we were in Chicago. Lady had been to the game Friday night. She was running around the backyard, working on the pool and mowing the grass. I was lying on the couch in the great room, waiting for the game to start. It was already 30 minutes past the time it was supposed to begin and I remembered thinking "How odd. If it were a rain delay, Fox would mention something about that." I stuck my head out the back door and asked Lady if she heard anything about the game possibly getting rained out. An hour later, her friend Donna called and I picked up.
"Liz? Did you hear the announcement?"
"Huhuh. What?"
"Turn on Channel 5."
I did. A player from the Cubs was speaking, obviously fighting back tears. "Due to a tragedy in the Cardinal family, the Commissioner has cancelled the game. Please be respectful of the team and their fans. Exit the stadium now. You will receive information about refunds at a later date."
"What the hell?" I asked.
"I don't know, babe, but this is something big."
Jack Buck had died a week earlier, and Lady and I were still mourning over that. If you're not from St. Louis, you probably don't understand. Both Lady, at 42, and I, at 25, grew up with Jack Buck and Cardinals baseball. We listened to games as young, young children, falling asleep to the lullaby of his voice broadcasting the game. The past few years had been odd, only hearing one or two Jack Buck games a season. I still remember feeling abandoned in 1996 when he retired from all but home games. Baseball games were literally not the same without him in the booth with Mike Shannon.
Neither Donna and her girlfriend Amy nor Lady and I were ready for the breakin during prime time television that night. "The Cardinals have just held a press conference from Chicago and have announced that pitcher, Darryl Kile, was found dead in his hotel room. After he was 20 minutes late for call this morning, the hotel manager opened his room and found him dead in his bed. He apparently died in his sleep. Chicago police do not suspect foul play. An autopsy, scheduled for the middle of next week, should reveal that Kile died of natural causes, the coroner suspects." The phone rang again. Donna. Lady and she sat in silence on the phone. None of the four of us could speak.
All tragedy for his wife and children and the team aside, I took the news especially hard. Every year I have a favorite player. Generally, I have the same favorite player from year to year, and I was ten the last time my favorite player was a pitcher. I have a love-hate relationship with the Cardinals pitching staff. As in, I hate them much more frequently than I love them, and I'm always trying to raise money to send shitty pitchers to Memphis myself. But watching preseason games this spring, I fell in love with Kile. I never said a bad word about him, which is highly unusual when it comes to me and Cardinal pitchers.
And now he was dead.
They carried his jersey out on the field as part of the celebration tonight. And they put his name and number up on the scoreboards as the fireworks were going off. Other scoreboards broadcasted, "That's a winner," a favorite phrase of Jack Buck.
I truly believe we'll win the World Series this year. Talent aside, we have the determination. Our players feel they owe it to Buck and Kile, and they're going to do what it takes to dedicate a winning season to both of them.
This is why our players and our management--and our city, at that--feel such anomosity toward the Pheonix DJ who placed an on-air prank call to Darryl Kile's wife on Thursday, asking her if she had a date for the game that evening. You could hear her choking up as she bruquely said no and disconnected.
We are a baseball town. Mark McGwire agreed and choose to take less money to stay in St. Louis than sign with any other team after his record-breaking season. Edgar Renteria, a World Series MVP from the 1997 Marlins-Indians series, has made similar comments. Tino Martinez, formerly of the Yankees, has said that only in St. Louis will fans give a standing ovation to a slumping all-star.
Can Andy Benes do it for us tonight?
I'm hoping that Lady and Terry will call me when they get to the bar after the game. I'd love to spend at least a wee bit of time with her today.
Went to Value City after work to find something to make my office area of the living room more organzied. Got a cool wooden file cabinet/bookshelf combo for 30 bucks. Also got a real computer chair. I've been using a folding chair or a kitchen chair since, well, I got the computer.
To top it all off, though, I found a Faulk jersey for 17 bucks. That's the same price Lady paid for her Warner jersey. What a steal.
I hear cheering from the other room. Must go see what my boys are doing to Arizona.
Cute things to let you know I'm feeling a lot better at this moment, probably because I've been home from work for two hours and I've had the house to myself:
1) My sister has just rediscovered AIM (due to a new man in her life), which I think is so cool because now we can keep in touch much easier. Anyway, my mom told her that she needed to get her ass in bed so she didn't miss classes or work tomorrow. And the last thing she said to me was, "Good night, sleep tight. And don't let the Beth Bugs bite." This is cute, you see, because Lady's name really is Beth (damn! There went the anonimity she made me promise I'd give her. But we won't tell, will we?). Get it? I thought it was wonderfully pithy. Well, not pithy, but cutsie at any rate.
2) We have now defeated Curt Schilling, although without ripping him a new asshole, as we did to Johnson. Teehee, eat us, you darn defending World Champions. Let us clinch it at home Saturday (when Lady's there), and let us beat those Yankees this year. Teehee.
Also...
Lady and I had the most glorious love making last night. With her, I feel it so emotionally and physically and totally that it's overwhelming. And I mostly want to cry when we're making love because it is so beautiful. It's been almost two months for me. Don't get me wrong. We're total sex fiends. But she's training for the Chicago marathon, which really tires her out. And I've been sick, not to mention emotionally drained by the end of 12 hour work days. And then there's my rib injury--the fracture I gave myself from coughing so much. And then, there were the times when one of us would touch the other. And then there are my lovely vibrators, which are the only things that can actually get through my Paxil barrier. Hmmm. I'm rambling. I think it may be bedtime.
I need to fucking get my life under control. I am so upset right now because I won't be able to see Lady at all on Saturday because I have to work all morning and afternoon and now the baseball game has been moved to 6:00. She's going, I'm not invited, and I won't get to see her at all until she stumbles home, drunk off her ass after 10:00. Is this really something I should be upset about? No, not to the extreme that I am. But I don't know how else to respond, and all I want to do is spend some time with my girlfriend. At home. Alone. Is that really so wrong? No, but I'm acting childish by expecting her to revolve around my schedule. I'm the one who's working all the fucking time, but that doesn't mean that she should compromise her social schedule to be with me when I'm not at work.
I can understand all of this logically but not emotionally. Emotionally, I'm pissed as hell and just want to curl up in a ball and cry. But I can't afford to. I have to go teach in seven minutes and then go tutor until 8:30 tonight.
I fucking hate my life.
So now there are students in my developmental class at the community college who are mumbling about lesbians in their group. It happened Monday and I let it go by, but when I heard it going on today, I walked over and asked if their conversation pertained to the thesis statements and introductory paragraphs they were supposed to be writing. Nikki looks at me and say, "No. We were talking about the lesbian I rear ended. My parents want me to go on a date with her so I don't have to pay her 600 or 700 dollars to get her car fixed. You see, she's always liked me and she followed me to my high school and now I rear ended her and maybe I should just go on a date with her to make it all go away." My response: "Fascinating, Nikki, but not relevant. Nor is it nice to date people to get out of paying them money."
Sigh. At least the group was not overtly homophobic, like my honors kids. But it was still there. I mean, would they all be sitting there and giggling over the idea of Nikki dating a GUY that she rear ended?
Sometimes I really want to ask my students how they can be so sure there're no gay people around when they're talking so homophobicly. It's not like we all wear signs or look like every queer person in the media.
And I wonder how many would drop if they knew that I came home from work tonight and made the most wonderful love to Lady.
Sometimes it makes me angry to think like that. Other times, it makes me smile, like I'm in on some inside joke that they have no idea even exists.
Also, I'm not allowed to talk to Jessica at work any more. Apparently, it's bothersome to our colleagues. Here's the pissy part: I'm only free five minutes every hour, the five minutes after one tutoring session ends and before the next begins. How can that possibly be disruptive? Especially when you add in the fact that we whisper because we don't want to disturb the Math Masters students who are working nearby.
I really hate the tutoring center. Really.
So at least my Cardinals tore Randy Johnson a new one last night. 12-2. Can't wait to see what they do to Schilling Thursday.
Sign number one that I need to make an appointment with my counselor: I can't sleep because thoughts keep storming through my head.
Sign number two that I need to make an appointment with my counselor: I am honestly dealing with minor bouts of depression after Rams games every week. Furthermore, I lie in bed after every game, too depressed to sleep. This, my friends, is not healthy. One should not let the performance of a sport team control the way one feels about one's life--unless, of course, one is directly affiliated with the team, ie. coach, player, partner of player, owner. I am none of those, therefore, I need to call Rebekah in the morning.
Here is a paper from my asshole student who, in one week, argued with me about the F I gave him for not meeting my assignment guidelines, went off on me in class using the most vulgar language, and spent a class mimicking me. Between the lines, this paper is his bitch about what I need to do for him to get an A in my class. The funny part, though, is that I already am all of these things. I just don't pass asshole students who think they're too good for my assignments.
"There are certain qualities a good teacher must have. One important quality of a good teacher is flexibility. Although rules are important, if a teacher shows flexibility it could help with student's individual needs. Sometimes the student has a good reason for not meeting the teachers requirements. If the student has a good reason, it would be unfair of the teacher to give the student consequences. Another quality a teacher should have is patience with students. It always helps the situation if the teacher can show patience. Some slow learners need a patient explanation. Also, if the teacher understands there is a wide range of different types of students, the teacher will understand the need to use a variety of teaching methods. Each students has a different style of learning so good teachers won't try the same method with everyone. Most importantly, a good teacher has a positive way of giving feedback. Positive feedback will show the students that they can be successful if they try. Teaching is a hard job but it will make things easier if the teacher has some of these qualities."
It just burns me everytime I read his stupid paragraph. I kept resisting the urge to defend myself throughout typing that. I mean, he's just a spoiled, immature, bitter 18 year old who refuses to try to acclimate himself to the college climate. Here's a details of my last week with him.
Day 1: I return their descriptive paragraphs to them. The assignment was to describe one place in great detail. Buddy here described three different ski lodges. I wrote at the bottom of his page, "This is a fine description and it has wonderful details, but it does not meet the requirements of the assignment. You were to choose only one place, not three." In the 50 minute class, Buddy came up to me five times--that's right, every 10 minutes--to argue with me. The first three times, I calmly explained the assignment and his manner of not following it. The fourth and fifth times, I said, "Buddy, I already explained myself clearly to you more than once. I'm not discussing this any more. If you need to, feel free to take it to my supervisor."
Day 2: Although the assignment is on the syllabus, I know that my students aren't fully acclimated to college yet, so I remind them that they have a new paragraph to hand in on Wednesday. Quite a few students raise their hands. Buddy is one of them. I go over to his group and he says, "I didn't know anything about this assignment. You don't make things very clear." "Buddy, it's very clearly written on your syllabus." "Yes, but I don't have an assignment sheet." "Your syllabus tells you precisely what the assignment is." "How am I supposed to know to look at it." "In college, it is wise to use your syllabus DAILY so you know what's going on. That's what it's for." Silence. I walk over to Josh. I hear Buddy say to his group, "That's bullshit. I never know what's going on in this class. That bitch is awful." I am brief with Josh and then march back over to Buddy. His back is to me, but his group member can see me and are relieved that they didn't respond to his comments. "Buddy. If you have a problem with me, you can handle it in three ways. You can come talk to me in my office hours as an adult, but make sure you come with valid complaints and not just I wish and I want. You can withdraw from my class and reenroll next semester with a different teacher. Or you can take your problem to my supervisor. But you will not, ever, speak in that way about me in my classroom again and think I can't hear it." I storm away. His group and the remaining students are stunned silent. He meets me at the elevator and tells me three times that if he's not working out for me, he'll withdraw. I tell him the first time that this is his decision to make. Both of the other times, I mmmm and press the elevator button. He walks away only as the elevator doors are closing on me.
Day 3: I give my students group work to do and then move from person to person, helping them write strong thesis statements and topic sentences for their first essay assignment. When I am at his group, he spend the entire time mimicking me and making smartass comments under his breath. I decide to ignore them and to kick him out publically on Monday if he pulls any of that shit again. In fact, I half pay attention to my students and their topic sentences and half fantasize about saying, "Buddy, get out of my class and don't come back again until you lose the attitude." After class, I skim through their paragraphs quickly before meeting Heather and Melissa for lunch. I see his paragraph and wish that I'd kicked him out immediately.
I've spent the entire weekend mulling over how to handle this situation, especially since my supervisor has ignored two emails that I've sent him, one on Wednesday and one on Friday.
And I'm sure that I'll have a message on my phone from Buddy's parents. God, I hate it when students have their parents call like they're still in high school.
And PS. His name isn't really Buddy, but I figured that was better than calling him Asshole throughout.
I'm a regular reader of ladywriter's blog, and she does something that I think so so cool. She puts the DSM IV description of her diagnoses on her page. A lot of people think that mental illnesses are, well, not illnesses. So I think putting it out there in some way does a little something to change the way people think. Or not. But at least I can delude myself.
Anyway, all that was to say that I, too, have a disorder and I'd like to be a copycat and put up my diagnosis, too. So here's what the DSM IV says about anxiety disorder, the bane of my existence.
Diagnostic Features
A. The essential feature of Generalized Anxiety Disorder is excessive anxiety and worry, occurring more days than not for a period of at least 6 months, about a number of events or activities
B. The individual finds it difficult to control the worry.
C. The anxiety and worry are accompanied by at least three additional symptoms from a list that includes restlessness, being easily fatigued, difficulty concentrating, irritability, muscle tension, and disturbed sleep (only one additional symptom is required in children).
D. The focus of the anxiety and worry is not confined to features of another Axis I disorder such as having a Panic Attack (as in Panic Disorder), being embarrassed in public (as in Social Phobia), being contaminated (as in Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder), being away from home or close relatives (as in Separation Anxiety Disorder), gaining weight (as in Anorexia Nervosa), having multiple physical complaints (as in Somatization Disorder), or having a serious illness (as in Hypochondriasis), and the anxiety and worry do not occur exclusively during Posttraumatic Stress Disorder.
E. Although individuals with Generalized Anxiety Disorder may not always identify the worries as "excessive," they report subjective distress due to constant worry, have difficulty controlling the worry, or experience related impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.
F. The disturbance is not due to the direct physiological effects of a substance (i.e., a drug of abuse, a medication, or toxin exposure) or a general medical condition and does not occur exclusively during a Mood Disorder, a Psychotic Disorder, or a Pervasive Developmental Disorder.
The intensity, duration, or frequency of the anxiety and worry is far out of proportion to the actual likelihood or impact of the feared event. The person finds it difficult to keep worrisome thoughts from interfering with attention to tasks at hand and has difficulty stopping the worry. Adults with Generalized Anxiety Disorder often worry about everyday, routine life circumstances such as possible job responsibilities, finances, the health of family members, misfortune to their children, or minor matters (such as household chores, car repairs, or being late for appointments). Children with Generalized Anxiety Disorder tend to worry excessively about their competence or the quality of their performance. During the course of the disorder, the focus of worry may shift from one concern to another.
Course
Many individuals with Generalized Anxiety Disorder report that they have felt anxious and nervous all of their lives. Although over half of those presenting for treatment report onset in childhood or adolescence, onset occurring after age 20 years is not uncommon. The course is chronic but fluctuating and often worsens during times of stress.
It's been a really rough week. Monday I had to give my developmental kids the same lecture I find myself giving to freshmen every semester. The this-isn't-high-school-and-I'm-expecting-you-to-act-like-adults lecture. The one that ends with, "And so if you don't want to do the work, don't come. When you do, you're wasting your time and mine." They got all grumpy and onry after that and whined about all sorts of things.
My honors kids weren't much better this week. I have one--Steven--who is driving me up the wall. I honestly don't know how he got into the honors college. I literally have to triple explain everything to him and then let his group go over things with him before he grasps what's expected.
It's just getting to be that time in the semester, though, when students get grumpy. The newness of college has worn off and we're only halfway to midterm and it seems like everything is stupid and worthless unless it's worth 99 percent of their grade. A week or two after midterms, they'll be back and cheerful and then they'll fall off again. But by then you only have the real troopers left, so it's not as horrid.
This is also the point in the semester when I get depressed and begin to undermine everything in my life. My students aren't responding: I must be a horrible teacher. I'm not accomplishing as much as I want to accomplish: I'm an utter failure. I sneeze at home: I'm the worst girlfriend in the entire world and Lady is bound to realize it any minute and leave me sobbing on the floor. You get the picture.
I've been this way for a while, though. I think it's time to talk to my counselor about upping my Paxil dosage. Sigh.
I'm nearly certain that this is my last semester of teaching at the honors college. This truly upsets me because my boss is one of my closest friends. Our stupid govenor, though, is still slashing education budgets left and right and all the college can offer me for next semester is one class. Period. The community college where I'm also adjuncting has three full-time positions open in the English department, starting with the January semester. I'm applying and, although there's very little chance that I will get it in the scheme of things, I'm hoping I can land one of those positions. It'll be such a relief to have someone else finally paying my health insurance.
The tutoring center where I also work is looking to take me on full time in January, too. That would mean a clock in and clock out job there, as opposed to my hourly pay for tutoring and prepping. While it's nowhere near as tempting as the cc job, I'll take it in a heartbeat if I don't get the cc job. It'd be such a relief to only be employed at one place. Besides, as much as I can complain about the situation at the center, I really like working with most of my students. And I don't mean that in the it's an okay job way; I mean that in the I'm excited to work with the kids and I have a blast doing it, no matter what else is going on in my life.
Now for the light and breezy part of my entry.
The Sheryl Crow concert is tomorrow night. I cannot wait. She's my second favorite singer and I've never seen her live and I just know that I'm going to have such a fantastic time.
I'm also going to the Aerosmith concert on October 2nd. This, too, will be awesome. Lady isn't going because she doesn't like either Aerosmith or the outdoor pavillion it's at. I'm going with Amanda, her fiancee Ben, and her other best friend Marla. We're going to celebrate Marla's 50th birthday and my 26th. Tickets are on Amanda and Ben.
And, last but certainly not of the least importance, Lady and I are getting DSL on Thursday (finally). I know, I know. This isn't that big of a deal anymore, but we've been pretty much straggling along on her income entirely. Now that my cc and honors paychecks are finally coming in, I have money. So..I'm treating Lady to this as a kind of thank you for the way she's been supporting me both financially and emotionally.
Oh, my. I got two vibrators today, so Lady would have less of a complex. Although I told her I was going. And, let me tell you, wow. Paxil, while making my day-to-day life so much easier (I have anxiety disorder), has wreaked havoc on my sex life. Since October of last year, I've only had three or four orgasms. But first try with my little purple vibrator and I was just about in heaven. It's been so long and it felt so fucking awesome. Now I'm just waiting for Lady to get home. I've been having some wonderful sex dreams about her lately and it's about damn time that we do something about that...
What a lovely day! It's in the upper 70s, sunny, breezy, and utterly delightful. I just had a wonderful class, and I know that I could definately do this for the rest of my life.
What's better: when I'm finished with this, I'm meeting Heather for lunch, and then she's going to take me on a vibrator buying excursion.
The only downside to this weekend is that I have 23 paragraphs and 32 essays that I need to at least make a dent in grading. Blah. Still, I could definately do this for the rest of my life.
Just got Wine for Dummies in the mail yesterday. I love half.com so much. I got the book, shipping and all, for under 8 dollars. Anyway, I figured that, since I love wine quite a bit but know absolutely nothing about it, I should educated myself. So...I'm already getting to be quite a wine snob. Of couse, I still, with current financial situation, drink my merlot from a box, but now I can at least look cool in the Deirberg's wine aisles.
Speaking of current financial situation, I am applying for a full-time position at the community college I'm adjuncting at. Minimum start pay is 41,062. How sweet is that? There are three positions open, and I think I really have a chance. I think I should know in a month or so. Keep your fingers crossed.
The only down side? I'm going to hate having to leave Honors if I get it. I don't know what I'd do without Nancy around.
|